Chapter 4: The Unexpected Encounter
The Christmas lights strung across the Deacon’s backyard twinkled like cold, distant stars. Halle stood by the fire pit, the heat kissing her cheeks, a cup of mulled wine warming her hands. She wore a simple black dress, sleeveless, cut just above the knee. Her hair, grown out a little, was swept back with a silver clip. She felt the eyes on her—the divorced woman, the quiet one—but the scrutiny no longer felt like an indictment. It felt like gravity. She was a planet in her own right now, with her own atmosphere, her own pull.
Work was sharper, clearer. The late-night fantasies, once a source of shame, had been channeled. She’d found another escort online—Marisol, with laughing eyes and hands that could unravel a soul. They’d spent a Wednesday night in a boutique hotel, and Halle had left feeling not ravaged, but reassembled. She hadn’t dated. The thought of dinner, conversation, the negotiated dance toward a bedroom felt tedious, like a childish game. She wanted the truth that lived in the dark, the unspoken contract, the pure transaction of sensation.
She saw Ava across the patio, a silhouette backlit by the kitchen’s golden glow. The girl was a flame in a green velvet dress that clung to every impossible curve. She was laughing, head thrown back, a hand on some man’s arm. The same old twist of envy and admiration coiled in Halle’s gut, but it was different now. It wasn’t a wish to be her. It was a hunger to consume her.
Halle waited. She sipped her wine. She chatted with Mr. Henderson about property taxes, her voice calm, a smooth rock in a stream. She watched Ava move through the crowd, a magnet drawing glances, leaving a wake of stirred air. An hour passed. The party’s noise became a blanket of sound.
When the moment came, it was casual. They met by the beverage table, reaching for the same bottle of sparkling water.
“Halle,” Ava said, her voice that same honeyed whiskey. “You look incredible. The hair is everything.”
“Thank you,” Halle said. She took the bottle, poured a glass. Her hand didn’t shake. She turned, leaning her hip against the table, looking directly into Ava’s dark, knowing eyes. The memories didn’t flood; they ignited. The whisper at the cookout, the breath on her ear, the promise of ‘inappropriate.’ It had been the first spark. Now she was the furnace.
“You look… festive,” Halle said, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
Ava’s smile widened, a flash of white. “It’s that time of year.” She leaned in, as if to share a secret about the punch. The familiar scent of jasmine and clean skin hit Halle, a Proustian cannonade. “I’ve heard things,” Ava murmured, her lips nearly brushing Halle’s ear.
“Oh?”
“Mm-hmm. You’ve been… busy.”
Halle didn’t flinch. She turned her head just slightly, so her own mouth was at Ava’s ear. She could see the tiny, perfect whorl of her cartilage, the fine hairs at her temple. “I have.” She let the words hang, then dipped her voice to a raw, private register, the one she’d learned in dim rooms. “I’m ready for inappropriate.”
Ava stiffened, a tiny, delicious intake of breath. She pulled back just enough to search Halle’s face. The playful mask slipped, revealing something hotter, more direct. A predator recognizing another.
Halle didn’t blink. “My house. Tomorrow. Two o’clock.” It wasn’t a question.
Ava’s grin returned, but it was feral now. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
She pushed off the table and walked away, leaving Ava by the drinks, the Christmas lights reflecting in her wide, stunned eyes.
Halle spent the morning in a state of serene preparation. She cleaned nothing. She baked nothing. She did a sun salutation on her living room rug, the pale winter light stretching her muscles. She showered, letting the water beat against her shoulders, thinking of nothing and everything. She chose lingerie not for how it looked, but for how it felt: a black lace bralette, matching panties, sheer stockings. A cashmere wrap dress over the top, charcoal grey. Bare feet.
At 1:58, she opened a bottle of Sancerre, poured one glass, and set it on the coffee table. She lit a single candle. She sat on the sofa, knees together, hands folded. She waited.
The doorbell rang at 2:02.
Halle rose, smoothed her dress, and opened the door.
Ava stood on the porch, the winter sun making a halo of her loose curls. She wore a long wool coat, belted tight. She looked young, suddenly, and unsure. The power dynamic had shifted, and they both felt it.
“Come in,” Halle said, stepping back.
Ava entered, her eyes taking in the tidy, sunlit living room, the single glass of wine, the candle. “Where is everyone?” she asked, her bravado trying to reassert itself.
“Gone,” Halle said, closing the door. The click of the latch was final. She walked to the center of the room and turned. “Take off your coat.”
Ava hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then, watching Halle’s face, she slowly unbelted the coat, shrugged it off, let it fall to the floor. Underneath, she wore a simple t-shirt and jeans. She looked like a college student.
Halle approached her. The space between them crackled. “Do you know why you’re here?”
“Because you invited me,” Ava said, a challenge in her tone.
“No.” Halle stopped just inches away. She could see the rapid pulse in Ava’s throat. “You’re here because you whispered a promise in my ear months ago. You lit a fuse. I’ve burned through everything else waiting to get to this. To you.” Her hand came up, not to touch, but to hover beside Ava’s cheek. “This isn’t you doing me a favor. This is me collecting a debt.”
Ava’s breath hitched. Her lips parted. “Okay.”
Halle’s hand finally made contact, cupping her jaw, thumb stroking her lower lip. It was possessive. “Okay what?”
Ava’s eyes darkened, surrendering to the script. “Okay, Halle.”
“Good.”
The kiss wasn’t like Lena’s hungry devouring or Solana’s practiced control. It was slow, deep, and utterly claiming. Halle licked into Ava’s mouth, tasting mint and the faint, sweet trace of lip gloss. She wound her other hand into those lush curls and pulled, just enough to tilt Ava’s head back. A soft whimper vibrated against her mouth.
Halle broke the kiss. “Strip.”
Ava’s hands went to the hem of her t-shirt. She pulled it over her head, her breasts springing free—full, heavy, tipped with dusky pink nipples already pebbled tight. She shimmied out of her jeans, kicking them aside. She stood in just plain cotton panties, suddenly vulnerable, her confidence stripped away with her clothes.
Halle’s gaze was a physical weight. “Those too.”
Ava hooked her thumbs in the waistband and pushed them down, stepping out. She was bare, shaved, beautiful. She tried to cover herself, an instinctive gesture, but Halle caught her wrists.
“Don’t.” Halle pushed her hands down to her sides. “I want to look at you.” And she did. She circled Ava, a slow appraisal that made the younger woman tremble. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Halle murmured, stopping behind her. She pressed her body against Ava’s back, her lips to her shoulder. Her hands came around to cup Ava’s breasts, squeezing, rolling the nipples between her fingers. “How many times I’ve thought about this perfect body.”
“Halle…” Ava breathed, her head falling back against Halle’s shoulder.
“On your knees.”
The command was soft, absolute. Ava sank to the rug, the posture both submissive and elegant. She looked up, her eyes wide.
Halle stood before her, letting her own wrap dress fall open. She pushed the bralette down, freeing her breasts. “You look good there,” she said, her voice thickening. “Now put that mouth to work.”
Ava didn’t need further instruction. She leaned forward, taking one nipple into the hot, wet cavern of her mouth. She sucked greedily, her tongue flicking, her teeth grazing just enough to make Halle gasp. Her hands came up to knead Halle’s other breast.
Halle fisted a hand in her hair, guiding her, setting a rough, demanding rhythm. “Just like that, you perfect little bitch. Suck them. You wanted my attention? You have it.”
The filth in her own mouth, the power in her grip, sent a violent thrill through her. She shoved Ava back, just enough to look at her glistening, plumped lips. “Lie back. Legs open. Show me that pretty cunt.”
Ava obeyed, stretching out on the rug, spreading her legs. She was glistening, flushed a deep rose, already wet for this, for the takeover.
Halle knelt between her thighs. She didn’t lower her head. Instead, she spit, a direct, wet glob that landed on Ava’s clit. Ava jerked, a sharp cry tearing from her.
“You like that?” Halle growled. She used two fingers to smear her spit, circling the swollen bud with a ruthless, focused pressure. “You like being used by the lonely divorcée you felt sorry for?”
“Yes!” Ava gasped, her hips lifting off the floor.
“Tell me.”
“I like it! I like you using me, Halle, fuck, please…”
Halle drove two fingers inside her, hard and deep. Ava screamed, her back arching. She was so tight, so hot, clenching around the invasion. Halle fucked her with her hand, a steady, pounding rhythm, her palm grinding against Ava’s clit with each thrust.
“Who do you belong to right now?” Halle demanded, leaning over her, watching her face contort.
“You! I belong to you!”
“Damn right.” Halle curled her fingers, searching, finding that same rough spot Lena had taught her. She scissored them, stretching her, and Ava came apart.
The orgasm wrecked her. It wasn’t a gentle wave but a seismic shock. She thrashed under Halle, a wild, wordless shriek tearing from her throat, her cunt pulsing and gushing around Halle’s driving hand. Halle rode her through it, never slowing, until Ava was sobbing, pushing weakly at her wrist.
Only then did she withdraw her slick fingers. She brought them to her own mouth, sucking them clean, tasting Ava’s salt and musk. The flavor of triumph.
Ava lay spent, panting, her body glistening with sweat.
Halle stood up, looking down at her masterpiece. Her own need was a sharp, urgent blade in her gut. She undid the rest of her dress, let it pool with her lingerie. She toed off her stockings. She was naked, powerful, aching.
“Get on the couch. On your hands and knees.”
Ava moved slowly, languidly, her limbs loose from her climax. She assumed the position, her perfect ass in the air, her face buried in a cushion.
Halle knelt behind her. She ran her hands over the curves of Ava’s ass, spreading her open, staring at the wet, pink flesh between. “You’re going to remember this,” she whispered. Then she leaned in and licked a long, slow stripe from her clit to her asshole.
Ava moaned into the cushion.
"God you're perfect Ava" Halle said quietly almost to herself. She slowly licked from clit to asshole..over and over "My perfect Ava" she said as Ava was getting frantic. Halle no longer wanted to be dominant , now simply wanted to make love she wanted to confess her masturbation virtually every night after Ava's eye opening life altering touches.
Her tongue slowed, the punishing rhythm softening into something exploratory, almost reverent. The taste of Ava, musky and deep, filled her mouth, and instead of domination, a profound, aching tenderness swelled in her chest. She pulled back, breathing hard, her forehead resting against Ava’s trembling thigh.
“Look at me,” Halle whispered, her voice ragged.
Ava turned her head, cheek smushed against the cushion, her eyes dazed and wet.
Halle crawled up beside her, guiding her to turn over, to lie back on the couch. She hovered above her, caging her in, studying every detail of her face—the parted lips, the flushed skin, the trust now shimmering where defiance had been. “That first time,” Halle began, the words sticking in her throat. “At the cookout. You just… breathed on me.”
Ava’s hand came up, fingertips tracing Halle’s jaw. “I knew.”
“You knew what?”
“That you were a volcano. I saw it. All that quiet, and underneath…” Ava swallowed. “I wanted to be the one it erupted on.”
Halle let out a shaky breath. “For months, Ava. My fingers, my shower, my bed. It was your voice in my ear. Your imaginary hands. Every goddamn night.” The confession hung between them, naked and humid. “You ruined me for anything ordinary.”
Ava pulled her down into a kiss. It was deep, unhurried, a shared breath. When they parted, Ava’s eyes were fierce. “Show me,” she murmured. “Show me what you did when you thought of me.”
Halle’s composure fractured. A soft, broken sound escaped her. She shifted, settling her weight between Ava’s legs, their bodies aligning. The heat was immense. She reached down, her hand sliding between their pressed stomachs, finding her own wetness, then guiding her swollen clit against Ava’s.
The contact was electric. Ava gasped, her head pushing back into the cushion.
“Like this,” Halle whispered, beginning a slow, grinding rock of her hips. Her clit slid through Ava’s slick folds, catching on her own hardness, creating a friction that was blinding, intimate, a closed circuit of pleasure. “I’d think about your mouth. Your laugh. That fucking yellow dress.” Her rhythm faltered as sensation spiked. “I’d imagine you watching me.”
“I’m watching you now,” Ava breathed, her hands clutching Halle’s shoulders, her hips lifting to meet every grind.
Halle’s movements became more urgent, less controlled. The raw, dirty talk of minutes before melted into gasped, honest sounds. “Feels so good. Oh god, Ava, you feel so fucking good.” She was losing herself, the careful script gone. This was just need, amplified by months of fantasy, finally made flesh.
Ava’s leg hooked over Halle’s hip, opening her wider, deepening the contact. “Come for me,” she urged, her voice a hot whisper against Halle’s neck. “Come on the cunt you’ve been dreaming about.”
The words, filthy and perfect, tipped Halle over the edge. Her whole body locked, a silent scream in her throat, as a climax detonated from her core, radiating out in violent, pulsing waves. She ground down against Ava, milking every shocking ripple, her face buried in the curve of Ava’s neck.
As the tremors subsided, a new, demanding emptiness throbbed inside her. She was wet, open, desperate to be filled. The memory of Solana’s strap-on, of being utterly claimed, flashed through her.
She slid off Ava, her limbs trembling. “Wait here.”
She went to the bedroom, to the top shelf of her closet, behind the sweaters. The leather harness was there, the silicone cock she’d bought on a reckless, lonely midnight after the spa. It was dark blue, veined, substantial. Her hands shook as she fastened the straps, the weight of it a familiar, welcome anchor against her pubic bone.
When she walked back into the living room, Ava’s eyes went wide, then dark with hunger. She didn’t speak. She just rolled onto her stomach, presenting herself, arching her back in pure, silent invitation.
Halle took a bottle of oil from the side table. She poured a generous amount into her palm, warming it, then slicked the length of the toy. The sound was obscene in the quiet room. She knelt behind Ava, one hand smoothing over the slope of her back. “This what you want?”
“Yes. Please.”
Halle positioned the blunt, slick head at Ava’s entrance. She applied pressure, just a persistent, unyielding push. Ava’s body resisted, then yielded, swallowing the tip with a soft, wet gasp. Halle paused, letting her adjust.
“More,” Ava panted, pushing back.
Halle obliged, feeding her another inch, then another, in a slow, relentless slide until she was fully sheathed, their bodies connected. The feeling of fullness, of control, was absolute. She held still, both of them breathing hard.
“Fuck,” Ava moaned, her voice muffled. “You’re so deep.”
Halle pulled back almost all the way, then drove forward in one smooth, powerful thrust. Ava cried out. Halle set a pace, deep and measured, each stroke a precise reclamation. The slap of skin, the wet sounds of penetration, filled the room.
“You feel that?” Halle grunted, her fingers digging into Ava’s hips. “That’s for every night I spent alone, thinking about you.”
Ava could only whimper in response, meeting each thrust with a desperate backward roll of her hips.
Halle’s own pleasure was building again, the base of the strap rubbing against her sensitive clit with every movement. The dual sensations—giving and receiving—unraveled her. Her pace became frantic, brutal, her rhythm fracturing into pure need. “Gonna come,” she warned, a ragged tear in her voice.
“Me too, me too, don’t stop, fucking don’t stop!”
Halle’s vision whited out. Her orgasm was a silent, seismic event that clenched every muscle, locking her hips deep as she pulsed against the harness. Below her, Ava screamed, her inner muscles fluttering and convulsing around the silicone in violent, rhythmic clutches. They collapsed together onto the couch, a tangled, sweating, spent heap of limbs.
For a long time, the only sound was their slowing breaths. The winter sun had moved, painting the wall in long, cold stripes. Halle carefully disentangled herself, disposing of the harness in the bedroom before returning. She pulled a soft throw blanket over them.
Ava turned onto her side, facing her. She looked young again, soft, her makeup smudged. She traced a finger over Halle’s collarbone. “So,” she said, her voice hoarse. “That was inappropriate.”
A laugh burst from Halle, sudden and real. It felt foreign in her throat. “Just a bit.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence. The candle had guttered out. Halle stared at the ceiling, the high from the sex settling into a deep, bodily contentment. Yet, beneath it, a familiar hollow echo began. It was the same feeling that followed Solana, followed Lena. The transaction, however passionate, was complete.
“You’re somewhere else,” Ava murmured.
“Just thinking.”
“About the next one?” Ava’s question was gentle, without judgment.
Halle looked at her. The beautiful girl from the cookout, now here in her nest of blankets, smelling of her, of sex, of them. She wasn’t a transaction. She was a neighbor. A complication. “I don’t know,” Halle said truthfully.
Ava nodded, as if she understood everything. She shifted closer, her head finding a spot on Halle’s shoulder. “My flight back to school is January third.”
The statement was simple, a fact. It was also a boundary, a timeline. Halle wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. The warmth was good. The silence was better. She watched the light fade on the wall, feeling the steady beat of Ava’s heart against her ribs, and wondered what, exactly, she was supposed to do with all this newfound hunger now that it had finally caught its most desired prey.
"thats about 240 hours Ava --I'd like to see you for as much of that time as possible: Halle said now sounding vulneraable.
Ava went very still against her. The only movement was the slow expansion of her ribs under Halle’s arm. The digital clock on the cable box ticked over to 3:17. Outside, a car door slammed.
“Two hundred and forty hours,” Ava repeated, her voice neutral. She propped herself up on an elbow, her dark hair a tangled curtain. She studied Halle’s face, her own expression unreadable. “That’s a lot of inappropriate.”
Halle felt the vulnerability curdle into exposure. She looked away, at the discarded wine glass, the single burned-out candle. “Forget I said it.”
“No.” Ava’s finger hooked under Halle’s chin, turning her face back. Her touch was surprisingly gentle. “I’m just calculating.” A slow smile, different from the party-girl grin, touched her lips. “That’s about… ten days. Non-stop.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant.” Ava leaned down and kissed her, a soft, closed-mouth press that felt more devastating than anything that had come before. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Halle’s heart hammered against her ribs.
“Okay, we’ll use up the hours.” Ava’s smile turned wicked. “Starting now. I’m starving. You have any eggs?”
The domesticity of the question was a bucket of cold water. Halle blinked. “Eggs?”
“Scrambled. I cook a mean scramble.” Ava untangled herself from the blanket, standing up naked and utterly unselfconscious. She stretched, a long, feline arch of her back, and padded toward the kitchen. The sight of her—the red marks from Halle’s grip on her hips, the elegant line of her spine—stole Halle’s breath.
Halle followed, pulling on her robe, watching as Ava rummaged in the refrigerator. She moved with a casual ownership, finding a bowl, cracking eggs with a sharp one-handed tap. The silence wasn’t awkward; it was dense, filled with the ghost of skin-on-skin friction and the sizzle of butter in a pan.
“You’re different,” Ava said, not looking up as she whisked.
“Am I?”
“At the cookout, you were a coiled wire. All that tension.” She poured the eggs into the pan. “Now you’re… a lit fuse. It’s sexy as hell.” She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes dark. “And a little terrifying.”
Halle leaned against the counter, the cold granite seeping through her robe. “You’re not what I expected either.”
“The dumb college flirt?” Ava sprinkled salt, a quick, professional flick of her wrist.
“Yes.”
“I’m pre-law.” Ava smiled at the eggs. “I pay attention. I watch. I knew what you needed before you did.” She divided the fluffy yellow scramble onto two plates, handed one to Halle. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”
They ate at the kitchen island, elbows almost touching. The eggs were perfect, peppery and soft. The ordinary act felt more intimate than the sex. Halle watched Ava’s mouth, the way her tongue caught a stray crumb.
“What happens on January fourth?” Halle asked, pushing her empty plate away.
Ava’s chewing slowed. She shrugged. “I go back to my life. You go back to yours.”
“Is that what you want?”
“It’s what is.” Ava met her gaze. “This is a Christmas miracle, Halle. Not a foundation.” She stood, taking the plates to the sink. “But we’ve got two hundred and sixteen hours left. Let’s not waste them talking about the end.”
She turned the water on, her back to Halle. The set of her shoulders was tight. Halle moved behind her, pressing her body along the length of Ava’s, her hands settling on the counter on either side of the sink, caging her in. She nuzzled the juncture of Ava’s neck and shoulder, inhaling the scent of sex and clean sweat.
“You’re right,” Halle murmured against her skin. “Talking is a waste.”
Her hands slid around to cup Ava’s breasts, her thumbs circling the nipples through the soft cotton of the borrowed t-shirt Ava had thrown on. She felt them peak instantly. Ava’s head fell back against her shoulder with a soft sigh.
Halle’s fingers trailed down, over the flat plane of Ava’s stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of her panties—Halle’s own panties, she realized with a possessive thrill. She found her wet, already swollen. “You’re still so fucking wet for me,” Halle breathed, biting Ava’s earlobe.
“You ruined me,” Ava gasped, grinding back against Halle’s thigh. “I’ve been wet since you opened the door.”
Halle pushed the panties down, letting them pool at Ava’s ankles. She turned her around, lifting her to sit on the edge of the counter. The cold granite made Ava hiss. Halle stepped between her spread knees, her robe falling open.
“Watch,” Halle commanded, her voice low.
She slid two fingers into her own mouth, coating them thoroughly with saliva, never breaking eye contact. Then she brought them down, not to Ava’s cunt, but lower, to the tight, furled knot of her asshole. She pressed the pad of her thumb there, a firm, insistent pressure.
Ava’s eyes flew wide. “Halle—”
“You said inappropriate,” Halle whispered, circling the sensitive pucker. “You have no idea.” She leaned in, kissing Ava deeply as she slowly, inexorably, pushed the tip of her thumb inside.
Ava cried out into her mouth, her body seizing, then melting. It was a tight, hot, impossible clutch. Halle worked her thumb in to the first knuckle, a shallow invasion. “Breathe,” she murmured against Ava’s lips.
Ava obeyed, a shuddering inhale, and her body relaxed a fraction. Halle withdrew, then pushed back in, a little deeper this time, her other hand finding Ava’s clit, rubbing firm, slow circles. The dual sensation—the forbidden stretch, the direct friction—made Ava’s legs tremble violently.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, that’s…” Ava babbled, her nails digging into Halle’s shoulders.
“You can take it,” Halle growled, fucking her with her thumb in that tight, hot channel, her fingers a blur on Ava’s clit. “Take it for me. Let me in.”
Ava’s orgasm was a silent, stunning thing. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream, her back bowing, her cunt pulsing around nothing, her ass clenching rhythmically around Halle’s thumb. Halle rode her through it, relentless, until Ava slumped forward, boneless, her forehead against Halle’s chest.
Halle carefully withdrew, her thumb slick. She brought her fingers to Ava’s mouth. “Taste,” she said, her voice ragged. “Taste where I’ve been.”
Ava, dazed and obedient, sucked Halle’s fingers clean, her tongue swirling around the digits. The submissive act sent a fresh jolt of lust straight to Halle’s core. She was aching, empty, throbbing.
“Bedroom,” Halle managed, her own control fraying. “Now.”
They left a trail of clothing up the stairs. In the dim afternoon light of the bedroom, Halle pushed Ava onto the duvet. She followed her down, a tangle of limbs and hunger. There was no more script, no more power play. It was a raw, mutual devouring.
Ava rolled them over, straddling Halle’s hips. She reached for the nightstand drawer, yanking it open. “What’s in here?” she panted, rummaging. Her hand emerged with the dark blue silicone cock from earlier. She held it up, a question in her eyes.
Halle nodded, a frantic movement. “Yes.”
Ava scrambled to strap it on, her hands fumbling with the buckles. Once secured, she loomed over Halle, the toy jutting proudly from her hips. She slicked it with spit, her eyes locked on Halle’s. “You want this?”
“God, yes.”
“How do you want it?”
Halle’s mind flashed with images—bent over the couch, on her hands and knees. But now, she wanted to see. “Like this. I want to watch you fuck me.”
Ava guided the broad head to Halle’s entrance, already slick and open. She pushed in, not with a slow tease, but with a single, deep, claiming stroke that buried her to the hilt.
Halle’s vision swam. The fullness was breathtaking, a stretch that bordered on pain before melting into pure, mind-numbing pleasure. “Fuck,” she sobbed, her head thrashing on the pillow.
Ava set a brutal, punishing pace, her hips pistoning, the harness slapping against Halle’s flesh. Each thrust punched a ragged moan from Halle’s throat. She clutched at Ava’s back, her legs locked around her waist, trying to take her deeper.
“You feel that?” Ava grunted, sweat dripping from her chin onto Halle’s chest. “That’s my cunt you made come on your fingers. This is yours now.”
The words, the possession, the deep, grinding fill shattered Halle. Her climax ripped through her with violent, convulsive waves, her cunt clamping and fluttering around the hard silicone. She screamed, a raw, torn sound that seemed to come from the foundation of the house itself.
Ava kept fucking her through it, driving into her spasming heat, chasing her own release. With a final, guttural cry, Ava stilled, shuddering, her own pleasure found in the giving.
She collapsed, a dead weight, the toy still buried inside Halle. They lay connected, breathing in shattered gasps. The room smelled of sex and sweat and the dying winter light.
Ava was the first to move, carefully disengaging, disposing of the harness. She returned to bed, curling her body around Halle’s, her front to Halle’s back. Her arm draped over Halle’s waist, her hand splayed possessively over her stomach.
“One hundred and ninety-two hours left,” Ava mumbled into her shoulder, her voice thick with impending sleep.
Halle stared at the wall, feeling Ava’s breath even out behind her. The hollow echo was back, but it was different now. It wasn’t empty. It was filled with the ticking of a clock, the warm weight of a body that would leave, and the terrifying, exhilarating knowledge that she had, for ten stolen days, exactly what she wanted. The fuse was still burning. She just didn’t know what was left to explode.