Scent of My Mistress

Ava's POV I pushed him down onto my bed, my body straddling his as I kissed him deeply, hungrily. His lips parted for me, his hands gripping my waist like he was afraid I’d disappear. His eyes burned into mine,wild, wanting, worshipping. There was no rush, yet urgency danced in the air between us. I leaned down again, brushing my tongue against his, coaxing a groan from deep within his throat. My hand slid down his chest, pausing to tease his n****e, already hard beneath my touch. The way his breath hitched only fed the fire growing inside me. But just as I started to rise, he caught me in one swift motion and flipped me beneath him. "Let me handle this," he murmured, his voice rich and commanding,a sound that made my thighs press together involuntarily. He rose from the bed, slowly undressing, piece by piece, like a man who knew exactly how to drive a woman mad. His jacket landed carelessly on the chair, then came his shirt, revealing broad, sculpted shoulders and a body carved like art. I couldn’t look away,even blinking felt like a loss. When he finally peeled off his trousers and boxers, I gasped. He was… breathtaking. Long, thick, and fully aroused. Just the sight of him made my core clench with need,I was already wet, aching for him. He returned to the bed, kissed me like he owned me, then moved lower, his lips tracing down my neck, my chest, until he reached my breasts. He took one into his mouth with aching tenderness, his tongue swirling around the peak while his hand slid between my thighs. He slipped off my panties, exposing my slick heat to his skilled fingers. When he brushed over my c**t, a moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. I was trembling, already on the edge, and he hadn’t even taken me yet. He paused only for a second. "Can I taste you?" he asked, voice hoarse with desire. "Yes," I breathed. "Please." He didn’t hesitate. His mouth closed around my c**t, sucking softly, licking with slow precision that made my back arch. My fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there, needing more. By the time he rose above me again, I was begging. He positioned himself, his tip teasing my entrance before he slid in,inch by inch,filling me completely. “God, Ava,” he growled, pressing his forehead to mine as we moved together in a rhythm that stole my breath. Every thrust sent pleasure spiraling through me. I wrapped my legs around him, meeting each stroke with equal hunger. Then I flipped us over, taking control, grinding on him in a slow, deep roll. He cursed under his breath, his hands gripping my hips as I rode him. The friction, the heat, the look in his eyes,it was all too much. We lost count of the rounds. There was no clock, no world outside that room,just moans, sweat, whispered names, and the intoxicating sound of skin against skin. Afterward, tangled in the sheets and each other, he held me tightly, as if letting go would break the spell. And maybe it would. But for that night, I wasn’t just his escape. I was his addiction. Damian's POV The moment Ava pushed me down, I knew I was in trouble,the kind I didn’t want saving from. Her lips crashed into mine, soft but demanding, and I gave in without hesitation. She tasted like fire and honey, like temptation wrapped in silk. Everything about her felt dangerous. Addictive. Perfect. When she leaned in again, slipping her tongue past my lips, my control began to unravel. The way her hand moved across my chest, teasing me, owning me,it took everything in me not to flip her over right then and there. But I waited. I let her play her game. Let her think she was in control. Until I couldn't anymore. I pulled her under me with a groan, whispering, “Let me do this.” She didn’t resist. Her body welcomed mine like we’d done this a thousand times before. I stood, never taking my eyes off her, undressing slowly—not to tease her, but to buy myself a second to breathe, to stop from exploding too soon. Her eyes devoured me, and damn, I’d never felt so wanted in my life. I was used to women looking at me like a prize. But Ava? She looked at me like I was hers. When I joined her back on the bed, everything disappeared—my job, the world, even the ring on my finger. There was only this moment. Only her. I kissed her again, rougher this time, tasting her need. Her body responded instantly,warm, wet, ready. I removed her bra slowly, revealing those perfect curves I’d been dying to touch, and when I sucked her breast into my mouth, she moaned—low and sweet. God, I could get drunk on that sound. My fingers found their way between her thighs. She was soaked. For me. Only me. I asked for permission,not because I had to, but because I wanted to hear her say it. When she whispered “Yes,” I knew I was done for. I took my time with her, worshipped her body like a man starved. Her moans were like music,each one sending shivers down my spine. And when I finally slid inside her, I nearly lost my mind. She was tight, warm, perfect. I moved slowly, savoring every second, every clench of her body around mine. Then she took over. Watching her ride me,head tilted back, breasts bouncing, lips parted,I thought I might die right there, and I wouldn’t have complained. She was beyond sexy. She was everything. Round after round, we gave in to each other. And when we finally collapsed in silence, my arms wrapped around her, all I could think was: I’m not going to be able to walk away from this. Not now. Not ever. Just as I was about to drift off with Ava curled against me, my phone buzzed. A single message flashed across the screen. “Your wife is back from London.”