NOVEL NEXT Chapter 294: Ava~ (Minor R-18)
The moonlight illuminated Ava; carving her. Every line etched in silver and shadow – the sharp, desperate cut of her collarbones, the tense coil of her biceps, the devastating dip where her waist flared into hips that promised ruin. Her skin was fever-flushed, slick with a sheen of sweat that caught the pale light like molten metal.
Muscles trembled beneath the surface, not soft curves but living wire, strung tighter than a bowstring. My eyes were consuming, branding the image onto my soul – a goddess forged in moonlight and raw need.
Her breath hitched, a shattered sound in the heavy silence. It wasn't fear twisting her features, but a desperate, aching hunger mirrored back at me. Covetousness surged, dark and possessive.
This was beyond admiration; it was claiming.
My hands moved, not gentle guides, but inexorable chains closing around her wrists. The heat of her pulse thundered against my thumbs, frantic as a caged bird.
I placed her palms on my chest; I crushed them there, forcing her to feel the violent hammering of my heart beneath the thin fabric of my skin– a drumbeat of raw, barely contained violence. Her fingers spasmed, then curled, claws digging into bare skin, rippling the same rhythm of her frantic need to eliminate the barrier.
She yanked me closer, a desperate gasp tearing from her throat as the rigid points of her nipples scraped against my chest, the friction sending jolts of electric heat straight down my spine.
I slid one hand south, fingers biting into the sharp curve of her hip. The skin was hot satin over stone, yielding just enough before the unyielding muscle beneath. I gripped possessively, a brand, a statement of ownership.
My other hand fisted in the thick silk of her hair at the nape, pulling – not a suggestion, but a command. Her head snapped back, throat exposed in a pale, vulnerable arc, the tendons standing out like bowstrings.
A low moan vibrated against my collarbone, surrender made audible.
Her hands moved to my back becoming frantic instruments of desperation, scraping nails down my back. They weren't just lines; they were furrows, searing trails of fire that bloomed into immediate, stinging welts. Then they shifted, clutching mine, dragging them upwards. Her touch was feverish, urgent.
She pressed my fingers against the ladder of her ribs, feeling each bone beneath taut skin, then shoved them down over the knife-edge of her waist, into the sharp, heated V where her thigh met her torso.
She didn't just show; she imprinted, forcing me to learn the map of her desire – where to press, where to skim, where to linger and torture, and where to finally, desperately, worship.
My fingers slid beneath the soaked lace of her panties. The heat was staggering, a furnace radiating against my knuckles. The scent rose, thick and primal – musk, salt, and a dizzying sweetness that made my mouth water.
I felt the slickness, not just moisture, but hot, viscous desire coating my skin, dripping onto her inner thighs like liquid honey. I was millimeters from her core, hovering over the sacred heat that pulsed like a second heartbeat, yet I denied us both. Pure agony.
She guided my other hand, palm flat, pressing it hard against the trembling plane of her lower stomach, just above where she ached. The skin burned under my touch, muscles jumping with each ragged breath she drew.
Every pulse vibrating through her core transmitted right through her belly and into my hand.
Each shudder, each whimper torn raw from her throat wasn't just sound; it was vibration, a physical tremor that shook against my palm, exquisite torture for us both.
"Please," she breathed, the word fractured, stripped of pride, laid utterly bare. "Touch me there." The sound clawed at my control.
Gods, I wanted to dive, to bury my face in that slick heat, to taste the essence of her on my tongue. But not yet. Instead, I slid my thumb under the elastic band of her panties, hovering it just above the swollen, glistening folds of her cunt.
Air was the only contact. A violent shudder wracked her entire body, a convulsion of pure, unadulterated need.
Her own fingers intercepted mine again, dragging them relentlessly between her legs, pressing my palm flat and hard against the junction of her thighs, mashing it against her drenched entrance through the drenched fabric.
I could feel the flood – every pulse of her core dripping hot liquid against my palm, soaking through. Her entire being felt focused in that one point of crushing, denied contact.
Every thrash of her head against my shoulder, every broken whimper was a lash on my own self-control.
"Yours," she gasped, the word ripped from her, eyes wild, blown black with hunger. She stared at my hand, at the fingers coated only in the essence trapped against her skin, starving for the taste of herself on me.
I lowered my face, an inch, maybe two. My mouth didn't take her; it haunted her. I inhaled deeply, drawing the thick, musky perfume of her arousal into my lungs – it was ambrosia, dark and intoxicating.
Then, deliberately, I brushed my thumb, not over her center, but down the slick, hypersensitive skin of her inner thigh, tracing a path of fire towards her bent knee.
My fingers ghosted alongside her folds, so close the slick juices coated the very edge, so close I felt the heat radiating like an open furnace. I saw the drops falling, gleaming like wet diamonds onto the floor below.
A raw, animal whimper escaped her. She thrashed, head rolling back against my shoulder, spine bowed like a strung wire.
"Yours," she keened, the sound shredded, a raw plea for the possession of her cunt now, before anything else was taken tonight. Her body quivered violently, a live wire demanding release, completely denied. My mouth remained a phantom torment.
A smile stretched my lips, fierce and drunk on the absolute power humming in my veins. "Ava," I breathed into the shell of her ear, my voice a low, dark promise, thick with lust. "I want to smell your tears when I finally touch you with my tongue."
The words hung in the air, a vow. My hand slid back up her thigh, fingers tracing the damp, burning crevices, she'd shown me earlier – the hollow beside her hip, the dip just inside her thigh.
Still avoiding her core, still denying the release she whined for, the release only the devastating touch of my tongue could grant. Her body writhed against me, a desperate, friction-seeking thing, hands tearing at my shirt, fingers tangling roughly in my hair, teeth grazing my collarbone hard enough to leave marks.
Her voice broke, raw and ragged. "Not enough, Eros! Please!"
Her hands flew down again, abandoning my hair to scrape new, stinging welts down my back. She grabbed my wrist, shoving my palm against the heavy, heated weight of her breast. The flesh was hot, dense, demanding.
She forced my fingers to cup, to squeeze, then took her own nipple between her thumb and forefinger – not rough, but precise, twisting until it flushed deep, bruised red, glistening with the sweat and need coating her skin.
A sharp cry tore from her throat, not pain, but pure, distilled need, a whimper that snapped with each twist of her own fingers, all without me breaching the searing core of her cunt.
She wanted me to make her weep, to shatter her with frustration, to prove the depths of her desperate craving for my control.
Sweat beaded on my own brow, dripping down my temple. I watched her struggle, the way her body fought against itself, straining to submit utterly, to dissolve under my hands exploring every inch except the one she craved most.
She bucked wildly, hips grinding against my thigh, seeking friction she wouldn't find.
She wrapped her legs around my hips, trying to trap my hand, desperate to force it downwards. Her cunt gleamed, utterly drenched, inner lips swollen and dark, clit hard and peeking from its hood, glistening like wet diamonds, weeping slick trails down her thighs and onto the sheets below – a monument to denied, agonizing hunger.
My focus was absolute, my touch a deliberate, agonizing promise of the devastating storm to come. Her breathy sobs were the only soundtrack to the unbearable tension, the delicious torture only I could end.