legs while I thought about you?”
Fuck.
Before I can stop them, thoughts of Ava massaging her pussy flood my brain. Image after image come racing in, playing in my head like a perfectly dirty compilation, and my body responds by rushing blood into my cock.
“Umm,” I stammer, trying to control myself and not give in to Ava like I’ve done so many times. “Ava, if you were at my house because you were expecting me tell you it was okay to come when you asked, then just say that. It’s okay. If you were anticipating being there, I won't be mad at you. I just want to know the truth, Ava, because if it wasn't you, then I’d be concerned about that. I’d have a reason to be worried, actually. So, you can put my mind at ease by just admitting it was you.”
“I told you, Malcolm, I was at home, coming all over my bed to thoughts of you. I wished I was with you, but I had to settle for the memories of what we’ve done in the past—what you've done to me. I wasn't at your house.”
I know she’s lying, but the more she says, the less my body cares. My mind is still in the fight, but the needs of my cock are hard to resist.
I let out a sigh of frustration. “Ava…”
Ava suddenly starts to scoot to the end of her seat. Without another word, she steps out of the booth and comes over to my side, forcing me to slide over to make room for her. I want to protest, but my mouth doesn't speak the words. The smell of her perfume has me wrapped up and it’s like I’m in a warm blanket on a snowy day—I don't want to leave.
“Look, Malcolm,” Ava says. She leans forward on her hand and stares into my eyes. “I know where this is going, and I do have something to admit. I admit that I’m addicted. I’m addicted to this.” Ava’s free hand shoots underneath the table and grabs ahold of my stiffening cock. By the time I think to do something about it, it’s too late.
“There, I admit it,” Ava continues. “I’m addicted to your cock, and to our sex. I can't get enough of it. When I’m at home, I daydream about the way you fuck me. I fantasize about your cock, and the way you can bring me to orgasm like no one has ever been able to. No one I’ve ever been with has ever come close to you, and I can’t get enough of it. I’m obsessed. There, I said it.
“On the opposite side of that coin, though, I think you're addicted to me, too. I think you can't get enough of fucking me. I think you fantasize about my wet pussy all the time, and even now, you want to make me kneel in front of your bed and follow your every instruction. I think you crave my pussy, Malcolm. Well, I want to give you what you crave right now. I don't want to be here. I don't want to eat, I want you to eat me out. I don't want to suck down this wine, I want to suck your cock. I want you to feed my addiction right now. So, do us both a favor and shut up about the car outside your house. You don't even care about that. All you care about is how wet my pussy is right now. So, take me out of here, drive us to your house, and fuck me like you've missed me. If you're mad about the car outside your house, good. Fuck me like you're mad at me. Make me come, Malcolm, like I know you want to.”
I stare at Ava with my words caught in my throat and my cock stiff in her hand. My heart pounds with excitement, and my brain feels like it’s scrambled and unable to pinpoint a thought. My body is in control now, and when I see the waiter place our plates of chicken fried steak on the table in front of us, I know we’re not going to eat it.
My worries about Ava sitting outside my house are now being held hostage by my new thoughts—thoughts of Ava’s dripping wet pussy. I feel brainwashed by her, like I have no choice but to give in.
Maybe Ava’s right. Maybe I’m addicted to her just as much as she’s addicted to me. I’m not