Wha'um baby love, ya all right?
Shout out to the readers that spotted me at Notting Hill Carnival last week and told me to update the story haha, you lot are too legit. Big up unnu self!
Right, so I had a thought about a scene so I tried a ting and...well I hope you all like it.
IMPORTANT: As you all should know, I've entered Running Wilde in the Watty Awards in the Urban category and VOTING IS NOW OPEN, so if you love this story and you want it to win, please, please, please take to Twitter and make sure you cast your votes using the hashtag #MyWattysChoice and #Urban, stating the title of the book and a link back to it. Votes and comments on the actual story itself helps too.
So put on your slow jams, light two, two candle, pour yourself a BIG glass of wine and get ready for enjoyment and womb pressure...it's one of THOSE chapters ;)
x
***
I'm here, I'm here
Look into my eyes
And tell me that you're here too
-I'm Your Doll
FKA Twigs
*
Most of the city had laid its head to rest, traffic lights merely transitioned due to sequencing, and with nothing but the moon's unblinking eye watching them, they made the drive back to reality in the dead of night.
Ava was tucked away in the backseat, blindfolded, her wrists bound with a black cable tie and her hood pulled low to hide her famous face and her brilliant hair. Jamie was sound asleep next to her in his car seat, with Trish on the other side, while Aiden sat upfront with Driver. All that could be heard was the baby's light snores, the purr of the engine and the brush of the tires against the tarmac. Aiden didn't want the radio on; it would be too much of a distraction when he had to be on high alert. The streets had been waiting for his return.
For Ava, the silence was deafening and her heart wouldn't stop clattering -she had no idea where they were or how much further there was to go until she was back inside the hostile confines of the Diamond Mafia's compound, with the possibility of escape even more miniscule than it was at Aiden's suburban hideaway. Every time the car came to a stop, she tensed. Although it was only to move her from point A to point B, it was nice to be outside again. She'd missed the bite of the British breeze on her skin and the starless nights filled with echoes of engines and fleeting conversations. She missed being free and she knew that for now, being restrained in the back of the SUV was as close to it as she was going to get until a miracle happened.
The car came to a stop, the engine cut off and her heart jumped into her throat. Trish got out and unbuckled Jamie, taking care not to wake him lest she be prepared to be up all night trying to get him to go back to sleep again.
Aiden took care of Ava. He guided her out of the car and looked up at the unassuming grey building in the middle of the warehouse district –his precious compound, the life he thought he could run from. Looking at it now, he realised how foolish a dream it had been for him to think he could just up and leave like that. He was the king and this was his castle, hidden in plain sight on the outskirts of his hard won underground kingdom. South London. This was DM territory, it belonged to him, and he to it. He'd spent many years accruing his turf by any means necessary, and now it embarrassed him that he'd been so willing to throw it away just because he was sad. Everybody was sad over something, over someone, so that wasn't reason enough for him to give up the way he had.
It didn't matter now.
He was back.
When they'd cross the threshold from Croydon back into South London he knew it wasn't over, he felt the streets calling to him, welcoming him home, and awaiting his orders. So far he'd seen nothing out of the ordinary, but he felt it. There was something strained lingering in the atmosphere; things were calm here, too calm, and Aiden was no fool. This 'peace' meant nothing, it was a façade, a quivering veil that would soon fall and reveal the storm that had been brewing all along. He was ready for it.
He looked at Ava and then to Trish who stood cradling Jamie's still sleeping frame against her chest. "You okay?" she mouthed to him.
He gave her a sharp nod and took Ava's hand. "Home, sweet home."
Driver unlocked the door to the compound and the group stepped inside. It was dimly lit, most of it shrouded in darkness except for the lights from the hallway and the silvery blue glow of computer screen from the meeting room. It was time to face the music.
"You and Jamie can stay in my room for now," Aiden pointed Trish in the direction of the hall.
"Where will you stay?"
"I'll take Ashleigh's room."
Trish frowned at him, "You don't have to do that." She placed her hand on his arm but Aiden flinched away. He wasn't weak. He didn't want her pity. "Aiden..."
"I have to pack up her things anyway."
"I can do that."
"I didn't ask you to," he said sternly letting her know that the topic was no longer up for discussion. He appreciated her concern, he knew she meant well, but if he was to put this shadow to bed he had to power through it and come out the other side. He needed closure. It wasn't like he could talk to Ashleigh and work things out -she was gone, gone forever, and how they'd left things would remain that way, forever, but at least he could control how he dealt with it, and that was to let her go as gracefully as he could.
"What about the Lockewood girl?" Trish whispered, nodding at Ava standing silent and rigid in the middle of the entrance hall.
"She has a room. Put Jamie to bed."
Trish surrendered and walked down the hall, sparing Ava an anxious glance at as she passed. Aiden was back on his turf; he was the formidable Aiden Michaels again, the stoic, cold and controlling Godfather of the Diamond Mafia. What is that poor, sweet girl in for? She wondered.
He waited until Trish was shut away with his nephew in his bedroom before he advanced on her. Heaven. Her name was Heaven now, and she was his wife.
This was the beginning of the evolution of Ava-Marie Lockewood and the revolution of Heaven Michaels.
"I like you blindfolded," he touched the cable tie around her wrists and pulled his knife from his boot. "It's..." She flinched as the cool steel slipped into the tight space between and jerked up, slicing through the thick plastic like butter, "...interesting." His dark eyes flashed and he inched closer.
Not being able to see him made all of her remaining senses heightened. She could hear his deep, measured breaths, feel the heat radiating from his skin, smell the sweet aroma of Molten Brown and his heady cologne...
He pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her and she kissed him back, and she could taste him; all of the sorrow, and desperation, and longing to fill that empty space with something that didn't hurt, poured from him into her. She murmured her arcane submission and fell against him, her lack of sight needing her to feel more of him, to make him just as real as before.
He stopped her. "Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Respond to me the way you do?"
She wished she could see him to glare at him for asking such a thing. Did he think she knew any better than he did what force compelled them to collide the way they did? And it was a collision; there was nothing gentle or easy about the way they came together, just stars, and sparks and burning, and crashing, and crashing, and crashing...and falling. Every time she felt them falling, deeper into something.
She straightened up and raised her hand to yank off the blindfold when_
"Did I say you could remove it, Heaven?"
Heaven.
She gritted her teeth, "My name is Av_"
"Your name is Heaven Michaels and you are my wife, now put your hands down," he growled.
She jumped at his ferocity. Aiden Michaels, her husband -one moment, her lover, and the next, a beast. A mercurial, maddening man that made her want to tear her heart out.
He took her by the waist and brushed his open mouth against hers. She felt the points of his teeth nip at her. "What is your name?" he asked in his low, attractive voice.
"Heaven," she fluttered.
He kissed her. "And who are you?"
"Your wife," she breathed.
"Good girl."
That was that. She was...Heaven.
She resented the name. Aiden had just plucked it out of the air with his pretty mouth and suddenly she was someone new -a tattered Lolita doll with pink curls and a tangled heart. It infuriated her, but at the same time, the look he'd given her just before her alias came tumbling out of his mouth...god, it was like the earth stopped moving and it was just them and nothing else.
Thus was the paradox of Aiden Michaels; as much as she wanted to hate him she couldn't deny that despite the wrong he'd done, all the pain he'd inflicted, the lives he'd ruined with all of his notorious lord of the underworld bullshit...there was just something more to him. He was beautiful. Built like a warrior, regal, decorated with scars and stories, with the face of an angel and the heart of a sinner. And he was brutish, and charming, and at times almost polite (in his own way). Chivalrous, domineering, erotic. Too much and somehow...never enough. Aiden was stifling. He made her feel like she was drowning in him and it was terrifying, and complex.
He was the most exhilarating and terrible thing to happen to her in her twenty-one years.
Heaven dropped her hands and scowled at him, "I don't respond to you in any way."
"Yes you do." He touched the back of her blindfold and pressed against her. She bit her lip and he smirked, "You'd make the perfect sub. You're so," he tugged the back of the blindfold, tilting her flushed face up to him, "Compliant." He removed her blindfold and watched her blink too many times as her eye readjusted to the light. "I'll draw up a contract."
She stopped blinking and stared at him. "What?"
"I want you to be my sub."
"I don't want to do that."
He leant in and brushed his lips against hers. She whimpered. "Yes, you do."
Before she could argue the door to the meeting room opened and Mighty stepped out with a drawstring bag clutched in his hand, his face more solemn than Aiden was used to, but his happy eyes shining the way they always did, like nothing could ever get him down. He envied that about him.
Heaven inched back from Aiden, embarrassed at being caught in such an intimate stance with him, but he laced his arm around her and held her to him, unapologetically. "Aiden," she hissed. What would the shaggy blonde haired boy think seeing her pressed up against his boss like that? Would he think her loose? Stupid?
Weak?
Aiden rubbed his thumb back and forth over the base of her spine, "Heaven, this is Mighty." She glanced at the blonde boy.
He gave her a lazy half wave and a blunt, "Hey."
She nodded and turned away. Up until that moment she hadn't thought of what it would be like to live with all of them, the Diamond Mafia. What it would be like to be integrated into their lives when she knew she was unwelcome by all but one (thank god it was the one that mattered). She'd forgotten that Aiden Michaels came with everyone else. It wasn't so bad back at Aiden's out-house having Trish and Jamie around –she only had to worry about one of them and it wasn't the sweet baby boy with the big doe eyes. She'd never met Trish before and Trish had played no part in her abduction, but that didn't mean that she trusted her any more than she trusted the rest of them. Jamie was a baby. An innocent. She liked him by default, not that they'd had much opportunity to bond –Aiden had scarcely let her near him. Any time Ava had been in a room with his nephew he'd made sure to keep a protective hold on him, and he'd watched her like a hawk if she looked at him too long, the same way he had when Trish first brought him up, like he was afraid of letting her too close.
Like she was the one that would taint him.
It made the whole 'Heaven Michaels' thing harder to swallow because when Jamie was there, Aiden looked at her the way the rest of his crew did, the way Mighty was right now –like she was the Lockewood girl.
"Have you got what I asked for?" Aiden asked. Heaven noted his authorative tone of voice. He always had an authorative tone, he used it to speak to her, to coax her into doing as he pleased, but it usually had more of a quiet sensual purr to it. The way he spoke to Mighty was firmer. Business like, with a just hint of warmth.
"Yeah, boss." He came closer to them and held out the bag.
"Show me."
"All righty," Mighty pulled the bag open and brandished a bunch of card and documents and some kind of contract -already signed. Heaven's heart constricted at the sight of it. Mighty grinned like he was demonstrating products on QVC, the kind that looked legit but upon delivery made you want to demand a refund. "You've got your Heaven Michaels passport, driver's licence, NHS and NI card, birth certificate_"
Aiden's eyes went to the contract and he arched his brow "Heaven Monroe?" Mighty laughed boyishly, throwing his head back and making his blond tresses dance. "Keep laughing like Dougie won't shoot you," Aiden smirked, seeing the humour in the inevitable fury of Dougie's reaction. His friend might not shoot Mighty (might not) but he'd certainly make him pay for his little joke in some way.
"He probably will," Mighty shrugged, "But she couldn't be a Lockewood. He and Trish are biracial, so it made sense."
"They look nothing alike!"
"They can be cousins."
"His mum's an only child."
"Second cousins."
"Whatever. So that's the marriage licence?" Aiden nodded at the contract.
"Yes it is. Congratulations by the way," Mighty winked.
Heaven's heart relaxed knowing that it wasn't the contract she thought it was; the one that Aiden mentioned earlier. How embarrassing would it be to have one of his cronies waving around a contract outlining the blue arrangement Aiden desired? Her fists tightened in response to the marriage licence though, and Aiden felt the tendons in her arm flex and the temperature of her body rise. "You said it would just be in name," she seethed.
"It is."
"Contracts are legally binding, Aiden."
"Did you sign it?"
"No but_"
"Then there is nothing legal about it," he said sharply, halting her tantrum. "Thank you, Mighty." Aiden took the bag and its contents from him.
"She's a feisty one," he nodded in Heaven's direction. He wasn't used to seeing people openly speak to his boss out of turn. Of course he knew it happened from time to time, but that was behind closed doors, and even then it was only really Dougie, Trish, Keegan or Ash who'd attempted it and that was only because Aiden's relationship with them was deeper than it was with anyone else. The Lockewood girl was braver than he'd assumed, but then again, entitled rich kids weren't known for holding their tongues.
Aiden brought Heaven's fist up to his mouth and brushed his full lips across the pale tautness of her knuckles. His dark eyes glittered with the marriage of a threat and a promise, "For now."
***
Heaven was in the meeting room. It was like being locked inside a cage...with the wild animals. One by one the rest of Aiden's close company had filtered in. After Mighty there was Stone, and after Stone came the person Heaven dreaded seeing the most -Dougie. Whilst Mighty's expression was not what Heaven would describe as pleasant (more neutral, a step below the faux friendliness Trish had displayed), Stone and Dougie didn't play up to the welcome committee. Their faces were rigid and cold, unwilling to pretend that they were okay with Aiden's decision to keep her around. They both - Dougie especially -looked like they wanted to finish what Aiden hadn't been able to that night near the collapsed iconic underground station. At least, Heaven thought, Ash wasn't there. She still bore the scar of Aiden's envious ex across her cheek and it made her glad she was dead. A horrible thought, she knew, but where the others would unwillingly allow her to live by Aiden's orders, she knew Ash would not. She had seduced Max, taken Heaven away from him and brought her to Aiden, then developed what Heaven could only identify as hatred for her, hatred enough to want rid of her more than anyone else. She was ruthless and Heaven still could not understand what Aiden saw in her that made him call her by the other woman's name.
"Ashleigh."
There had been so much love in his eyes and that love did not belong to her.
No matter how much she tried to tell herself that she didn't care, that it didn't matter, she did and it did. Ashleigh was a vile human who still had a hold over Aiden, even in death. She existed in his memory and her death had made her softer; a saint, underserving of the title. Every good and bad thing she'd ever done was in Aiden's head, and that was where she lived now. That was where he loved her now. How could Heaven compete with that? Better yet, why did she want to? It wasn't like she loved him...
They sat around the table with Aiden in his rightful place at the head of it, Heaven on his left and Dougie on his right. Stone sat on the other side of Heaven, as instructed, and Mighty and his laptop opposite. Heaven didn't know why Aiden couldn't put her next to the floppy haired white boy; although he wasn't exactly inviting, he had more of a carefree manner about him than the stone-faced stoner next to her, filing the air with thick lilac-grey swirls of high grade, but when she glanced down at his hip and saw the loaded gun poking out of his trousers she understood why.
Aiden didn't trust that she wouldn't run yet.
"We should cremate her. It's more than she deserves but at least it's proper." Dougie said observing his nails. They were dirty with thick black lines under the tips that he was attempting to scrape out. Some of it fell onto the black table top. Heaven fought a gasp. It didn't look black against the table, instead a deep, dark red.
Dried blood.
Her reaction didn't go unnoticed. Dougie looked at her and displayed his eerie smile. "Ash to ashes, dust to dust and all that."
Aiden's jaw tightened, "You think this is funny?"
"Not at all. Family we bury. Traitors we burn." His eyes flashed at Heaven. "Keegan was family, Ash was a traitor, regardless of how you feel about her."
"True dat," Stone co-signed.
"Hold on; you're tellin' me if your gyal did some dumb shit and died you wouldn't even give her a proper fuckin' burial." Aiden was getting really worked up now. His cool collected demeanour was falling away and his mother tongue was showing.
"If she pulled dat shit Ash did, yeah. Fam, the bitch put all of us at risk, even Jamie and Trish? How can you forgive dat?"
"Coz she paid for it! She's dead, killed by the same mutha fuckers who killed my brother."
"And one of them is seated at the table with us," Dougie hissed, glaring at Heaven. She thought his smile was terrifying, but to have him look at her with such contempt made her bones rattle.
Aiden reached under the table and put his hand on her leg, "She's done nothing wrong."
"She's not one of us."
"Ash was, and you want us to go out there, knowing that all eyes will be on us, and show the enemy that they won? That they got to us enough to disregard one of our own? Fuck that!" He towered over his lieutenants but kept his tone low and full of power, "This ain't a fuckin' democracy. I make the rules, you follow. We're burying Ash, properly. You don't have to like it but you will be there and you will be respectful or so fucking help you..." Aiden trailed off an made deliberate eye contact with each of his men, lingering a little longer on Dougie until he looked away and tightened his jaw in reluctant defeat. It reminded Heaven of when Aiden told her that Dougie was not the one she should really be afraid of. To see the menacing man silenced by just a look from Aiden spoke volumes. She believed him now.
Satisfied, Aiden sat back down and laced his fingers together on top of his desk, "Stone, alert the soldiers that they are to spread the word to the other crews for a ceasefire. I will not have any of those mutha fuckers disrespecting our fallen. Dougie, speak to Officer Dobson and tell him and his men to lay low. Don't go any higher than five. Mighty, I wanna see a game plan by 5pm tomorrow. Friday we bury Keegan and Ash, Saturday, we go to war."
"Finally," Dougie smiled, "Something we can all agree on."
***
It was his fifth glass of E & J, straight, one cube of ice, no chaser, and he hadn't eaten since he left his out-house. The term 'drowning your sorrows' became unequivocally clear to Heaven as she watched him knock back shot after shot of the spicy bitter liquid, though with a drink as potent as that she could hardly call it drowning -more like killing something inside of him with poison.
He'd been like this since they'd left the meeting room -sombre, quiet and removed -and though she didn't wish him happy, she didn't wish to see him this sad either. It disturbed her. Aiden Michaels, the walking thunderstorm who felt too intensely, drinking so he could feel nothing. So he could stop thinking.
Heaven knew who he was thinking of.
As she'd followed him silently down the corridor to her former prison which was to now be her room, his pace had slowed by one of the doors and touched his rough hands to it. She'd seen the way that his eyes emptied once he pulled away from the cool wood, and she was burned by the way he hadn't looked at her since.
She was here, she was with him and all he wanted was her –the one he lost.
"Ashleigh."
He took a black negligée from her chest of drawers, this on filled with clothes meant for her, then gathered his half empty bottle and newly empty glass. He poured another one, "I'm across the hall if you need me," he said robotically, like he didn't want her to need him.
"You're really going to leave me alone in here and stay in her room?" she asked in disbelief.
"Yes," his eyes regained some life as he watched her quizzically, "I thought you'd be happy to have some time to yourself."
"So did I."
"But?"
"Nothing. Forget it. Go and sleep in your exes room. What do I care?" She questioned herself more than him.
Aiden huffed irritably, "Heaven, you know I have rules."
"For your subs, yes, but I am not your sub, Aiden."
"No, you're not." He sounded disappointed. It ate at her.
She twisted her mouth in spite of what followed, "Was she? That Ash girl, was she your sub?"
"Yes."
"Oh." Was that why he liked her more, because she was exactly what he wanted, the perfect drug to satisfy his twisted addiction? Was that why he couldn't let go of her? Why even though she had crossed him and his crew so badly, he still had her up on that pedestal? Despite her better judgement (as most things were when it came to Aiden), Heaven didn't want her up there. She had this petty urge to knock the memory of the dead girl off, to be more important to him than she was. She ran her tongue over her lips, "If I was your sub...what would I have to do?"
Aiden paused, surprised by her question. "That would be entirely up to you, Heaven."
"I wasn't under the impression that that was how it worked. I thought you were the one in control."
"I am, once I know how far you are willing to go."
Before she could stop the words they jumped out of her mouth in a competitive rush, "How far did she go?"
"As far as she wanted to."
"That's vague."
Aiden cocked his head to the side. She had his attention. "It's private. Why are you so curious all of a sudden?"
"If I'm meant to agree to this I'd like to know what you expect of me."
"But why now?" he pressed.
Heaven dropped her gaze and knotted her fingers together, "I don't know."
Aiden waited knowing she was lying. She knew, and when she said nothing he finally realised what it was. "Heaven, you're not jealous are you?" he teased.
"No." Her tone was too defensive, too revealing.
"You are." He placed the bottle of brandy back on the table and slung the negligée over one shoulder then walked in front of her and took her face in his hands, tilting her tell-tell face up to him. She hesitated to meet his eyes. "You have nothing to be jealous of, Heaven."
It was hard to believe him when he'd rather spend the night in his ex-lovers room than by her side. Ash was gone, Heaven was right there and still it wasn't enough. Ash still held his heart.
Slowly, Aiden pulled the fabric from over his broad shoulders and dangled it in front of her face by one of the thin straps, then dropped it into her lap like he was performing a strip tease. He hadn't even removed any of his clothes but she felt a flutter in her tummy as his energy shifted from melancholy to something more potent and compelling.
"Put it on." Heaven looked to the expensive black material crumpled in her lap then back at Aiden. He swirled the ice in his glass, the cube clinking noisily against the sides like a broken wind chime, and he watched her, waiting, his full mouth roguish and appealing, glistening with bittersweet liquor, his eyes tight and impatient. He looked frustrated, like he needed release. This was another one of his games; she knew it without question and foolishly found herself eager to play along. It was like that when you'd taken your first bite of the forbidden fruit and discovered how sweet it really was. You couldn't get enough. You craved more of the sweet sin, no matter the cost.
He sat on the bed and she stood in front of him. She undressed for him and slipped into the satin negligée. Aiden drank and watched.
"Come here, Heaven," he purred, admiring the way the rich fabric fell against her slender curves, "Lay on your back and put your head in my lap."
She laid down, her stomach trembling and her heart fluttering manically against her rib cage as she settled into a spot across his thighs.
Aiden gazed down at her adoringly as he stroked her candyfloss coloured curls off of her face, "Good girl."
Her lips puckered awaiting the erotic delight of his sensual mouth, and when she realised she drew them back in, conscious of her fatal attraction to him. So ready to kiss him, to touch him, taste him –to feel him all over again. She squirmed like a serpent was sashaying up her spine. It was enigmatic; this loaded dynamic that drew them together.
The very force that could so easily tear them apart.
Aiden grunted a throaty, inviting sound and caressed the curve of her neck. It was like being seduced by a night thing –he was dark and dangerous, smoother than the satin she wore and deadlier than the poison he drank. God-like in his way; he made you want to obey him, to please him, to favour you over anything...and anyone.
"I want to see your mouth," he said, running his fingers across the tight line of her pursed lips. She exhaled and relaxed. Aiden hummed with quiet satisfaction and trailed his index across her lower lip, "I love your mouth. You've got such a pretty fucking mouth, baby." He slipped her finger between her lips, "Suck."
Ava wrapped her lips around his finger and pressed her tongue against the grooved padding of his fingertip, and sucked him softly. It drove her crazy that she couldn't say no to this man but the feeling of nirvana he gave her outweighed her irritation too much for her to resist. He really was her drug, this man of flesh, bone and a heartbeat was what she couldn't bear to forswear. He was just a man, and like it or not, a part of her that she resented, was his woman.
Aiden's other hand crawled down her stomach and pulled the hem of her negligée up, unveiling inches of her golden russet skin to his midnight eyes. They glinted as his hand caressed her trembling thigh, "You have no idea how beautiful you are." He dragged his palm along the inside of her leg, spreading them as he did so, "How intoxicating you are." His hand cupped the inviting softness at her apex. Heaven's breath burst from her lungs. She was restless, over-excited, anxious like she was already on the brink of explosion. He watched the way her autumn eyes brightened as if she'd just been woken from a reality that she was glad to be free of, high off of his touch, and how the swell of her breast rose and fell with the erotic rhythm of her breathing, and her skin, her soft, soft, skin was starting to warm to his favourite shade of rose gold. He pulled his finger from her mouth and applied more pressure between her legs as he caressed her. She made a soulful sound. His body started to grow firmer. He applied more pressure and she sang more passionately. He loved that about her; the way she moaned. It was liked she was made of lust and stardust; the kind of sound that made a man feel like he had met his equal. The kind of woman who was as much his master as his slave.
She did something to him.
His palm came down on her sex and Heaven arched her back and threw her head back, her eyes closed, her mouth made for secrets and romance, open wide and singing songs of war, and her throat exposed. He ran his fingertips along the centre of it. "Trust that I want you and only you, Heaven. Always." She looked up at him and saw how his onyx eyes burned with his profession. He meant it. "I wanted you from the moment I saw you. I told myself that I would keep it in control but, fuck," he stroked the side of her face as she gazed up him, "Look at you, Heaven. Heaven," he sighed, "You're magic. You have this power over me and it drives me crazy. I want to be inside of you all the time." He applied more pressure and pressed his middle finger between her slit to press on her opening through her lingerie, "All the fucking time." He massaged her opening in small circles and soon he felt the fabric of her frenchies become damp to the touch, "Right now."
Heaven moaned and opened her legs wider for him, willingly, wantonly, aching for more of his touch and eager to hear the rest of his spoken lust letter to her.
"I love touching you," he smiled, slipping his fingers beneath the fabric. She moaned again, "I love the sounds you make, the way you writhe for me. If I slept beside you we'd never get any sleep. You'd be fucked all night until the sun came up, until your throat was raw from calling on me and God. Fuck, I can't wait to take you back to my playroom."
He tipped his glass up into his mouth and caught the ice between his lips then bent down to meet her mouth. He dragged it along her lips, swirling it seductively around their kissable circumference, top and bottom, making them wet and numb as he pulled her panties to the side. Dropping the ice back into the glass, he ran his warm tongue over her cold mouth. The sensation of the contrasting temperatures was like an influx of what it meant to be seduced; his heat warming her cold till it melted away and matched his heat. Till she melted away and matched his arousal.
"I just wanna make you feel, baby," he groaned, his soft mouth caressing hers as he continued to unravel her. Suddenly Aiden begun to swat at her sex ferociously, over and over, striking her lips and clit until both were swollen and hot before he fished the ice cube out of the glass and traced wet patterns over them, writing his name in cursive, branding her, claiming what she already knew was his, contract or no. The chill of the ice on her was even hotter than it had been on her mouth, it was like it had gotten colder, but then she supposed that with her sex raw and teetering on the line of an delicious soreness from his sudden attack, it was bound to be that bit more...more.
God, this man knew what he was doing, stroking her, kissing her, reciting his sexual sonnet for her ears only.
"I want to watch you cum for me, Heaven." He scrawled his signature in ice over her inner thighs until the last of it melted away into the pool of moisture on the bed between her legs, then he stuck his finger back in her mouth, making her warm it back up again before he delved back inside of her whilst stroking her face. He pressed his thumb and rubbed her clit in slow concentrated circles. "I think I'll start with the St. Andrews cross," the image of the long polished planks of wood shaped like an X with holes at each end flashed in her mind, "cuffing your wrists and ankles to it so you can't move, so you have to take it everything I do to you, so you have to feel every moment, so you have to feel me." His fingers pushed deeper inside of her. She gasped. "And I'll blindfold you. I did so enjoy having you blindfolded earlier. I wanted to fuck you right there in the entrance way. It was so hard for me not to." He vibrated his thumb against her clit and amped up the rhythm of his thrusts, "You make it so hard for me, Heaven."
"Jesus...Aiden..." He pressed harder, faster, quickly leaning down and swallowing her sounds with his mouth, groaning gutturally, melding their voices into an arduous melody as she stormed for him.
He slowed his pace and went back to admiring her blissed out expression as he built her up again, anxious to see what she looked like when he sent her crashing down. "Then I'll pick up where we left off last time...the Ben Wa balls, right in here," he pushed further into her and her back bowed, "and I'll make you count again, but not for my lips on you beautiful skin, fuck you have such beautiful, brown skin -no, it's will be the leather riding crop for you. Thirty-eight times if I remember correctly."
She breathed.
"From head to toe."
She writhed.
"Until you're blushing all over and you're as wet as you are now." He pulled his fingers out to the tips and teased her opening, making her body conjure wet suckling sounds every time he entered and retracted his inebriating touch. Heaven's body glowed like a sunrise waiting to happen, her skin a marvel of rose gold, russet, and rouge with faint hints of lavender around her wrists. She was the morning sky and he was the night. He made her see stars with every deliberate nuance in his technique. "And when you are as wet as I want, I will soothe your body with oil and my hands," he stopped his teasing and pushed back into her. Her mouth hung open and she watched him as he spoke, "Caressing everywhere my riding crop landed, starting from your chest right down to your feet, taking my time with you until the Ben Wa balls are heavy inside of you and you ache for release."
He shifted her body along his thighs, pushing her up with the pressure of his touch against her ending until her had hung over the other side. He took a sip of the brandy and dribbled it from his mouth and onto her pulsating sex. The liquid was warm, then cold, then hot as the alcohol warmed her to boiling point. He tugged down on the back if her hair, candyfloss and cupid curls sprouting between his grip, holding her in place as he began to pound her g-spot.
Heaven chocked out a growl, so raw and unplanned, filled with a pleasure, a pain, an urgency that left her heart hammering inside of her chest and a hurricane in her stomach set to implode and leave her weak and shattered in his arms.
"Oh Heaven, you're perfect. You're so fucking perfect. I want to keep you there and I'll fall to my knees and I'll kiss you where you like being kissed the most, tasting you until you're trembling."
She clenched her eyes shut.
"And as you cum, I'll tug on the string and I'll swallow every..."
"Aiden."
"Last..."
She bit down on her lip, "Aiden!"
"Drop."
Electrical volts shook her bones and tensed her muscles. She screamed clung to him, the power of the two fantasies colliding, his words and his touch, like canons blasting though her, demolishing everything in a burst of fire and starlight until her body was nothing more than smoke and static.
Aiden released her hair and pulled her trembling frame against his chest, kissing her face cooing that she was his good girl until she fell asleep.
When she woke in the morning she was alone again.
***
Thank you for reading and whatever you do, don't call your wasteman ex. Just do like the rest of us -cross your legs and deal with it haha.
So Ava's...sorry HEAVEN, is back in the compound and Keegan/Ash's funeral and a turf war is around the corner. What could possibly go wrong and how do you think it will affect her and Aiden? Let me know in the comments below.
Once again my sweetiekins, please remember to cast your votes for Running Wilde on Twitter using the hashtag #MyWattysChoice and #Urban.
If you want more fantabulous fiction, make sure you check out my Unfamous books and webseies at WWW.THEUNFAMOUSSERIES.COM
Until next time
Keep it trill
Love Scotty x