Chapter 8 Ava: Gala (IV)

[WARNING: Mature Content]

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If someone had told me that, mere days after that incident with Todd, I'd be in a similar situation with a stranger and enjoying the fuck out of myself, I would have advised them to check in to a psych ward. That's not how trauma works.

But apparently it might.

Maybe it's just because he's so… Tall. Dark. Handsome. All the cliches you can dream, that's him. Especially when he makes no secret of his attraction toward me, despite all the harsh words Jessa and Mom had thrown my way while getting ready. Apparently this man doesn't think I'm too short, or that my hips are too wide.

He seems to like them a lot, actually.

So when I feel his tongue against my neck and realize that the sensation is completely different coming from someone like Tall, Dark, and Sexy, that primitive part of me goes absolutely wild.

That voice inside of me, the one that's absolutely me, tries to tell me that maybe I should step back and think for a second. That this connection is weird. That I don't act like this, and I should really respect myself more.

But the throbbing down below tells that voice to shut the fuck up and move over, that he's my fated, and then it asks him to slam me against a wall.

I have no idea where that level of bravado came from, and when my back hits the rough bark of the tree to add more bruises to my body, desire floods everything in a way even romance novels hadn't prepared me for.

Oh sweet baby Jesus in a manger. Sweet Moon Goddess. This man is magic.

Feeling the hard length of him shoved against the very core of me should have me running for the hills, and it doesn't. Nope. I arch closer instead, aching and begging for more, peppering kisses along his jaw and rolling my hips toward him.

I moan in appreciation when he pushes back, almost inside me if my damn panties could just spontaneously combust and get out of the way, but the moan changes to frustration as his hips pull back.

Then his fingers are there, yanking my panties to the side as he slides his cock up the wet lips of my pussy, and oh my God.

So warm.

So hard.

fuck me

Please.

shoulders, and my breasts ache to be touched, but everything's kind of busy on my lower half as I pray and plead for him

can feel running everywhere. I'm probably wetter than a

the rumble of his growl as he slams his hips into me, rubbing us together in the most

in an act of submission that should

Hurt me, please. Fuck.

I rock against him harder, the pain doing sinful things to the

far over the cliff that I cleared

hard as he sucks out

ends in an abrupt movement as he bites my lip and groans, something warm spreading against my abdomen. I can feel the sharp pain in my lip and know I'm bleeding, and he sucks at

slow and my limbs grow heavy as the normal part of me takes over my

stalking me

to. I want

Oh, my God.

happened finally hits me like a freight train, and I can feel my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. I just let a complete stranger dry

when I feel his hands on me again, but this time, they're gentle. He carefully adjusts my dress as best he can, despite the semen sticky against my abdomen. He does his best to pull it back into place and smooth out the wrinkles.

that it makes my heart ache in a way I've never

down my spine once again, as though I hadn't gotten it out

His phone.

pulls back, reaching into his pocket to retrieve the offending device. I can't

he says, his

is still reeling from what just happened, and I can't seem to

me to stay, but my brain is screaming at me to get the hell out of here. Plus, I need to run—in general. He'd mentioned me coming with him before we had, er,

even know who I am, and oh my God, he's the alpha of the Westwood pack. I can't

under this belated recall of his introduction when he returns, his expression unreadable. He takes my hand

Oh my God.

connection after all. This is

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