The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside. Clyde had left hours ago, caught up in a late-night studio session. He had kissed Ava before leaving, his fingers trailing along her jawline as he promised to return soon.
She lay there in the lacy pajama shorts set he had bought her, the fabric delicate against her skin. It was warm outside, so there was no comforter, just the thin sheet that barely covered her.
Somewhere between wakefulness and slumber, she heard the apartment door open.
A familiar voice echoed through the space.
“Ava?”
She recognized that deep timbre instantly.
“Jk?” Her voice was hushed, laced with confusion.
Footsteps. Slow and deliberate. Then his silhouette appeared in the doorway, tall and broad, his dark eyes unreadable in the dim light.
“Clyde’s not here,” she murmured, pushing herself up slightly. “You should come back tomorrow, or maybe go keep him company at the studio.”
Silence.
Instead of responding, Jk stepped forward, his movements controlled yet heavy with something unspoken. He reached the foot of the bed, his fingers grazing the sheets as he stared at her.
“Jk, what are you doing?” she asked, though her voice had lost its earlier certainty.
He lifted the end of the sheet, crawling onto the bed with an intoxicating slowness. His lips, warm and searching, brushed against the soft skin of her inner thigh, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
Ava shuddered, her breath hitching. “Jk… we can’t… Clyde—”
His lips moved higher. She felt his breath ghost over her bare skin, and when his tongue flicked out to taste her, her protest melted into a broken gasp.
She shouldn’t allow this. It was wrong.
But when his hands gripped her thighs, spreading them apart as his tongue worked sinful magic against her slick heat, all reason slipped away.
“Jk… oh…” Her fingers tangled in his hair, gripping, pulling, as waves of pleasure crashed over her.
His name fell from her lips like a prayer.
When he pulled back, his chin glistened with the evidence of her release. His dark eyes held hers, a silent question lingering between them.
She knew the answer.
Without another word, he shed his shirt, revealing the sculpted perfection of his torso. The muscles of his abdomen flexed as he moved, each motion deliberate, controlled. He stripped away his joggers, then his boxers, standing before her in all his raw, unfiltered desire.
Ava swallowed hard.
He leaned in, pressing his body against hers, his lips grazing her ear as he whispered, “I’ve wanted this from the first moment I saw you.”
Her breath came in short, desperate gasps as he positioned himself between her thighs. The moment he pushed into her, slow and deep, a shuddering moan escaped her lips.
“Jk…”
He moved with purpose, each thrust pushing her deeper into the sheets. Sweat beaded on his skin, his muscles flexing with every stroke. He watched her—studied every reaction, every gasp, every plea that fell from her lips.
Ava’s body arched beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders. “It feels so wrong, but—”
He silenced her with a deep kiss, swallowing her words, tasting every ounce of doubt and desire mixed into one.
Then he flipped her over, pulling her hips up as he drove into her from behind. The angle sent her spiraling, her moans lost in the hush of the night.
His grip on her waist tightened, holding her steady as he plunged deeper, his breath ragged. “Ava…”
He turned her back over, eyes locked onto hers as he moved slowly now, savoring each moment. “I want to watch you,” he murmured, his voice rough, edged with need. “I want to remember you like this.”
Her body trembled beneath him, pleasure coiling tight until it finally unraveled in waves of release. His name tore from her lips as she shattered around him, dragging him over the edge with her.
He groaned, his body tensing before he collapsed against her, their breaths mingling, their bodies slick with sweat.
For a moment, there was only silence—only the sound of their racing hearts.
Then…
Ava’s eyes fluttered open.
She gasped, her chest rising and falling rapidly as reality settled in.
The room was dim, just as she had left it. The sheets beneath her were damp, her body still pulsing with the remnants of pleasure.
A dream.
A fucking dream.
And yet, as she lay there, staring at the ceiling, her body still tingling from something that never really happened… she wasn’t sure if she wanted to wake up.
