Ava

 

“Wow, Ava,” he breathes, lying next to me while I am wrapped up in his arms, feeling small and vulnerable, but oh so fucking good.

“Wow, yourself,” I tease him, for which I receive a loving pinch in the butt, right on my tortured skin.

“Ouch!” I yelp. “That is going to hurt for a while.”

“I hope so,” he says. “I don't want you to forget about tonight.”

“I won't,” I whisper. “Even without the pain, I could never forget.”

He squeezes me. “Good girl.”

“So, am I right to assume that you enjoyed yourself?” he asks.

I nod. “Yes, Sir. A lot.”

That is a major understatement. But what else could I possibly say? Please, let's do it again? Please, let's do this all the time and have a nice dinner together afterward? Please, Derek, the hottest man I have ever been with and who is way out of my league, please want to be mine as much as I want to be yours?

Sure. That is what a man like him would want to hear after a good fuck.

“You were well prepared,” I say instead. “Did you plan for this to happen?”

“I wouldn't say I planned it,” he says. “But I was hoping for it, yes. And it never hurts to be prepared.”

“So, the room, the suit, the condom,” I list. “All of this is ready to go for you whenever you... feel the need?”

He looks at me with indignation.

“I am not the kind of playboy you take me for, Ava,” he says. “Even though I may not have behaved much like the gentleman I promised on the first day we met.”

I giggle. “Oh, I don't think there was anything inappropriate about your behavior.”

“There was,” he insists. “You are just the little minx I hoped you to be. Sexy, obedient and naughty.”

He squeezes me with his strong arm and plants a kiss on my forehead.

I smile. My hand is resting on his perfect abs, stroking along the sexy little hills of his incredible muscles. Never in a thousand years did I expect myself to ever come close to a man like him, let alone touch him or be desired and fucked by him.

“You are so out of my league,” I whisper the uncomfortable truth.

“Nonsense,” he objects. “Stop saying things like that. It is insulting—to yourself and to me.“

He strokes along my upper arm and gently squeezes my breast.

“You are beautiful just the way you are,” he whispers. “Sensual, fierce and elegant. I loved watching you work out. Your strength and determination is beautiful, as are your curves.”

I blush at his words. How can he be so utterly sweet to me?

“Thank you,” I whisper helplessly.

He pinches me again and I flinch.

“Thank you, Sir,” I correct myself.

“Do you think we could do this again?” he asks.

“Well, there’s one more Advent Sunday coming up,” I say.

“Oh, and after that you’re done with me?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Um, I’m… no,” I stutter. “But by then you might be done with me.”

He sighs. “Right now, I don’t feel like I could ever be done with you.”

“Wow,” I breathe. “This is seriously the best Christmas season ever.”

“It is for me, too,” he agrees, planting another kiss on my cheek. “So, you’re not done with me? Not now and not once Christmas is over?”

I chuckle. “I hardly believe so.”

“Good,” he says. “Because I have a lot more in store for you. Let’s just hope my magic works on you even when the season is over.”

I look at him, this Adonis of a man who thinks I could be a good match for him. There’s a sinister darkness about him that I’ve yet to figure out, but if he lets me in, I don’t think there’s anything that could chase me away. Even after only seeing him twice, I feel so much closer to him than any other man I’ve dated before.

That means something.

“I can't believe how lucky I am,” I say. “Who would have thought that winning a silly Christmas party raffle would lead to this? To you.”

“We're both lucky,” he whispers. “So, why leave it at this? It would be foolish to stop now, wouldn't you agree?”

I snuggle up to him, smiling.

“Yes, I would agree, Sir.”