The Christmas Pic

25. Ava

CHAPTER 25

AVA

My key card beeps us into the hotel room as Jo keeps me balanced on my good leg, her other hand armed with a bag full of ice from the machine down the hall. She swings open the door and I hobble inside.

I wince as I sit on my bed. I knew I probably shouldn’t have tried ice skating for the first time at the ripe old age of thirty-six, but I couldn’t resist Jo’s enthusiasm, nay need , to fulfill my Big Bird dreams. I’ve had a lot of people make grand gestures for me over the years, but nothing has ever been so personal and special.

She hands me the bag of ice which I put on my rear, then walks over to the kitchenette to fill a glass of water.

“Do you have painkillers somewhere?” she asks.

“Toiletry bag by the sink,” I tell her, desperate enough for Advil not to hesitate about her rummaging through my jumble of meds and tampons.

She brings me two pills, then offers me the water, practically raising it to my lips herself. She’s babying me, which I would have listed as a top tier ick up until this very moment. Her overbearing care and concern wraps me in a warm cocoon where I barely need to think at all .

"Do you want the TV on or off?" she asks, her voice laced with concern as she scans for the remote.

"No TV.”

Jo looks around the room, at a loss as to her next task.

“Come sit,” I tell her. “You’ve done enough.”

She sits.

“Thank you,” I say.

“You’re welcome.”

We sit in silence, her leg a millimeter away from mine. I wonder if her mind is clouded with dirty thoughts about her previous display of artistry between my legs, or if it’s just me. Being here in a hotel room, on a bed together, after she took care of my every need like no one has before… I can’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to slip back into our sensual dance.

I hold my breath, waiting for her to challenge me like she did before. But she doesn’t.

So I go in on my own. I lean toward her lush lips, taking in the freckles dabbling her skin, beckoning me like an astronomer to the stars.

The kiss is electric, sending sparks through my body. Jo responds by parting her lips to allow my tongue entrance. Our bodies have been waiting for this moment, for the connection we’re finally allowing ourselves to have.

Jo’s hands slide up my sides, her fingers tracing the curve of my spine. I moan into her mouth, her touch like a brand on my skin.

Breaking the kiss, I whisper, “Lie down,” my voice brimming with need.

Jo lays back on the bed and I kneel over her, straddling her thighs. My bruise throbs, but the pain is distant, overshadowed by the fire burning within me. I lower myself onto her, the softness of her breasts pressing against mine as I align our hips.

Jo’s hands cup my face, pulling me down for another searing kiss. This time, I grind my hips against hers, eliciting a gasp from her lips. The sound fuels my arousal, making me want to push harder, faster. But I hold back, wanting to savor every moment of this encounter.

“Fuck, Ava,” she murmurs against my lips.

I press my forehead against hers. “Touch me,” I beg. “I need you.”

Jo doesn’t hesitate. She slides one hand between us, her fingers finding the waistband of my pants. With a deft movement, she unbuttons them and tugs them down, along with my underwear. I lift my legs, shaky with pleasure, and let her remove them completely before settling back down on her.

I’m bare to her now, and her eyes darken with lust. She runs her fingers along my inner thighs, causing me to shiver.

“So beautiful,” she whispers, her fingers brushing against my aching clit. I arch my back, moaning at the sensation.

Jo shifts beneath me, lifting her knee and positioning it between my legs. I adjust myself, pressing my wetness against the hard muscle of her thigh. The friction is exquisite, and I roll my hips, grinding against her in search of more pressure.

“That’s it, baby,” Jo encourages, her voice dripping with desire. “Ride my thigh. Feel how good it can be.”

The dirty talk sends a thrill through me, and I pick up the pace, rocking against her with increasing urgency. Jo’s fingers return to my clit, circling it in slow, deliberate strokes. The dual stimulation is almost too much to bear, and I cry out, my body trembling with the effort of holding back my orgasm.

“Come for me, Ava,” Jo commands, her voice low and rough. “Let go. Show me how much you like it.”

Those words are enough to push me over the edge. My body tenses, and I scream into her shoulder as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me. Jo keeps her fingers moving, riding out my orgasm with me until I collapse on top of her, face buried in her neck .

As my consciousness resurfaces, I mumble into her neck. “Your turn.”

She pulls her head back from me, eyes darkening. “Oh yeah?”

I nod, my desire winning a battle within me against self–doubt. “Show me what you like.”

Without hesitation, Jo flips us over, positioning herself above me. Her eyes are wild with passion, her hair falling forward to frame her face.

She reaches down, guiding my hand to her soaked pussy.

I slip my fingers inside her, mimicking the rhythm her own fingers had used on me.

Jo moans, her head lolling back as she begins to ride my hand. “Yes,” she hisses. “Fuck, yes. Like that.”

I curl my fingers, searching for that elusive spot that will drive her over the edge. When I find it, Jo jerks, her entire body tensing.

“Oh God, Ava,” she cries out. “Right there. Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

I don’t. I keep moving my fingers, my thumb circling her clit in time with my thrusts. Jo’s moans grow louder, her body shaking with the force of her impending climax.

“Come for me, Jo,” I urge, my voice hoarse with exertion. “Let me see you come.”

Her response is immediate. She throws her head back, her walls clenching around my fingers as she comes apart beneath me. I continue to stroke her, milking every last drop of pleasure from her orgasm until she collapses on top of me, breathing heavily.

For several minutes, we lie there in sated silence, hearts pounding in unison. The moment I catch my breath, I slide up onto my elbow so I can kiss her more, but I’m halted by her finger on my lips .

“We have to talk about this,” she whispers. Her stare burns me up from the tips of my toes to the backs of my ears.

“About what?” I avoid.

She laughs a little tiredly. “About what we’re doing.”

I get the rare urge to shrink in the face of her directness but I try not to show it. “We definitely should,” I say with false confidence.

“Great.” She looks at me a bit challengingly. “So what are your KPIs for this project?” She gestures between the two of us and I laugh, trying to ease the tight knot that winds up in my belly.

It’s hard to see any real path forward for us, despite how much my body wants it. And I can’t ask her for the type of patience I’d require to figure any of it out. I try several times to open my mouth and give her an answer, but I find myself mute.

Finally, I blurt out, “Help me out here. I’m not sure what to say or how to say it.”

I sense I’ve said something wrong but it's lost on me as Jo’s expression shutters ever so slightly.

“I think we should keep reasonable expectations,” she says. “Let’s enjoy the time we have, this week together, without pressure. This is all so new for you.”

Right. Jo probably doesn’t want to be with someone so inexperienced long-term. Which makes sense. It hurts a bit, but it’s the truth. I can’t knock her for it. If this is what Jo wants, then I’ll take what she’s giving. I don’t have a way to offer her more than that anyway; my life is entirely too complicated.

“Sounds good to me,” I say, slipping my mouth guard in. I’m gonna need it tonight.