#RunningWilde Ch. 49 | Love Gun (Part I) (Full Version)
HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY, FANCY BETCHES!
In the spirit giving to your loved ones (yes, you betch, you are my loved one) I’ve decided to treat you to not only the first part of the brand new chapter of Running Wilde, but a WHOLE ASS VALENTINE’S DAY SHORT STORY TOO!
I’m gifting you the complete version of my Valentines erotica, Wolf Parts 1 & 2, which I have linked at the end of this chapter (or you can click the gif and read it now).
So get yo wine and your wine (we need 2 today because Valentines), light some candles for AMBIENCE, and get comfortable…because there is A LOT of dick coming your way, heaux lol.
Enjoy and make sure you leave a comment or hit me up on my socials (@scottyunfamous) to let me know what you think.
Love Scotty x
And maybe you’ll find a way
To keep me afloat when I can't
'Cause you know I won't,
'Cause you know I'll...
Fall too deep, too deep to get outta here
Too deep, too deep to get outta here
House burnt down, burnt down to the fucking ground
I don't even care now if I make it out
Make It Out Alive
-Nao ft SiR
Spent and suffused in lust, the lovers reluctantly unravelled and peeled their limp bodies off the bathroom tiles, then took turns preening themselves back to familiarity.
Ava indulged herself with every luxury she could get her hands on as if it were the first and last time. She took time to lather every inch of her skin, built white foam castles in her hair, stripped away all evidence of body hair till her skin was slick and slippery, then exfoliated it till she looked flushed all over. Once dry, she slathered herself in a thick layer of body butter, drowned herself in Aiden’s aftershave, manicured and painted her nails, and styled her hair.
After she washed off the last of her face mask, she observed herself in the mirror with proud scepticism. Though she looked like the cotton candy version of herself again, she knew wasn’t and accepted the likelihood that she would never be that girl again. Every step of this seemingly non-stop trial stripped her back, took something bright and shiny from her and implanted a glittering darkness in its place. She was slowly becoming less of herself and more of him, and the more she experienced the more she understood that, that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
Hell had been compressed and fired at her from all canons; the scars it left behind were crooked, raised, permanent -but she’d survived. As she stood staring at herself, she realised that she’d needed those things to happen to her; the shattering of her worldly illusions, the truth and the loss of her father and Max, the disconnection from her old friends, her old life, the revelation of her godfather’s true intentions. In a way, she felt better for it, the way one feels better about their first heartbreak after significant time passes and one realises that they and their lost love were never really meant for one another. Her old life was a lie. She was never really the girl she thought she was. She had always been a true Lockewood, but until she tasered that man, until she jacked that car, until she set that barn on fire…until she met Aiden -until she chose Aiden -she hadn’t really seen herself. Now she had no security blanket to fall back on when things got too tough. It forced her to really stand up in that moment and take notice, forced her to be stronger, sharper. Her naivete had been ripped away and her will to survive bolstered a fierce fighting spirit within her that she never knew she had. She was determined to thrive. She was borderline grateful for it all.
She was borderline grateful for him.
Draped in a floor length black satin robe, Ava reunited with the man of her irrevocable choosing in the final room on his jet; his bedroom. She slinked inside and saw him with a towel hung from his marble carved hips as he poured champagne and waited patiently for her, all sharp angles and lush, glossy blackness. She warmed so rapidly at the sight that any last droplets of water evaporated from her skin with a steamy hiss of desire.
He looked over at her all buffed and shined and paused as if he’d forgotten what the stars looked like in an uninterrupted sky. She looked like the galaxy arrayed and bound beneath roseate struck skin. She was phosphorescent. Their magnetic field reclaimed its effect and drew him to her. “I was worried I’d have to come in there after you,” he handed her a glass, turning his hand so that she’d have to touch him in some capacity to take it from him. When their skin made contact, notes of electricity sparked through his nervous system, enlivening him and he hardened for her.
Ava took a slow sip of champagne and eyed the telling outline beneath his towel. She swallowed. “We may have never left if you did.”
His eyes followed hers. Bold and beautiful, he smirked and unwrapped the towel then laid it on top of the bed. “Come closer.” He caught the tail of her robe sash and pulled her against him. With another gentle tug it came undone, and there she was in full universal glory, all shiny, and soft, and pink, and new. He took the bottom corner of his lip in his mouth and made a wonderfully regretful sound, as if he was about to do something he really shouldn’t, but he was going to anyway, like have that fourth glass of wine when he was already tipsy or taking that additional toke when lucidity was on its way out. He sought the nirvana that could only be unearthed within her. He made a point of brushing the hard candy tip of his dick against her freshly shaven mound as he reached over to the bedside table and took a bottle of neroli jasmine oil from the drawer. His voice came low, husky and insatiably unsatisfied, “Lay down on your stomach.” As she did, he ran his finger down a panel on the wall. The cabin lights dimmed to candlelight gold and Alina Baraz sung about electric kisses in surround sound.
She smiled girlishly up at him and gathered her hands together as if it would help her contain herself, “What’s all this?”
Aiden crawled onto the bed, his lacquered muscles stretching and tensing in a predatory fashion. He seemed so much larger when she was beneath him, like the beast behind his ribcage manifested, tamed and wanting. “This,” he settled against her, “Is your aftercare.” He kissed her shoulder with the lightest touch of his lips, then poured the golden floral liquid into his palms. He warmed it between his fingers and smoothed it across her plump, patterned bottom the shades of ripe summer berries.
She hissed when he touched her, followed by an exquisite sigh of one who could never tire of such intense feeling; a pain that demanded to be felt before it would gift the kind of pleasure that made it all worth it.
He took his entire lower lip into his mouth and bit down on his smile at his woman untamed. “You took quite a beating today, Ava-Marie. This will take the edge off.”
She pressed her ass into his palm. She winced. She smiled. She purred, “What if I don’t want it off?”
“You say that now, but I assure you, you will regret it in the morning if I don’t, my little masochist.” He worked in circles, smoothing the oil onto her skin with his rough hands.
Her limbs burned and melted with every caress. “You’ve never done this for me before.”
“I’ve never wanted to punish you so badly before,” he said darkly.
She raised her eyebrow, “Not even when I pulled a gun on you?”
“Which time are you referring to, Ava-Marie?”
She laughed quietly to herself. “Which time made you angry?”
He paused. “At my brother’s funeral.”
She stopped laughing.
He remembered how she’d stood opposed to him, gun in hand, Max by her side, ready to take him out as The Syndicate made a grim day worse. She was going to kill him after everything he’d done to make sure she lived, even after he’d chosen her over his…
He shook his head. That wasn’t important now. Ava was by his side, on his plane, escaping with him to Jamaica to start a new life. This was what that mattered.
He continued, “The first time, however, I found it endearing.”
“Endearing?” She raised her brow again. Whenever he’d trained any weapon on her she hadn’t found it endearing in the slightest.
“Yes. You’ve got heart, Ava-Marie. You are braver than I thought. More resilient than I thought. You’re very spirited, which makes you a challenge,” his hands moved down to the back of her thighs and he poured oil over the raised ruby welts from his belt, “But I do enjoy a challenging woman. It’s a good thing you’re so durable. Your spirit will get you in trouble,” he groaned at the feel of his artwork under his hand and licked his lips. “You intrigue me.”
“I could have killed you.”
“Maybe,” he smiled as if it was an adorable trait that she’d wanted him dead, “But you didn’t.”
“Because you stopped me. You got lucky that time.”
“Let’s hope my luck doesn’t run out.” He moved lower to her calves.
“You say that like I’ll try again.”
He nodded casually, “I suspect you will. What you and I share is…complicated. Some days you’ll want me.” She purred for him as his strong hand eased the tension formed in her hamstrings from springing up onto her tip toes in their earlier session. “And some days you’ll want me dead. I can only hope that your affection for me outweighs your hate.”
“You think I hate you?”
“A part of you does.”
She looked over her shoulder at him, “Does it worry you?”
“No,” he poured more oil onto his hands and held her feet, “I’m used to complicated relationships with complicated women.” He met her eyes, “They all want me dead at some point.” Ava noted that though these women had in fact wanted him dead, he was still here, and they (Ashleigh and his mother) were not. “You have a lot of tension in your feet.” He slid his thumb along her instep. She groaned and let her head flop back onto the pillow.
“I imagine a lot of people want to kill you. How the hell do you survive them?”
“I pay close attention to everything and everyone around me, Ava-Marie.”
“Or you kill them first,” she muttered under her breath.
His hands paused. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, “Or I kill them first.”
She turned over to see his eyes hard and his jaw set. “Would you kill me?”
“No,” he frowned like this was a failure on his part, “It’s too late for that. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. You’re in me.” He looked down at her with black eyes full of witch light and the kind of unravelling fixation that precast love. “I don’t think I ever want to be without you, Ava-Marie.” She turned onto her side to face him. “You’ve seen the very worst of me, and you’re still here and that counts. It counts more than you know.” He reclaimed her feet, “Lay back down so I can finish up,” he said abruptly, afraid he’d said too much.
She quickly turned back onto her front, afraid she’d heard too much.
It was one thing to assume the way someone felt about you based on their actions, but to hear it…to hear it was like parting gauzy curtains that comfortably diffused the light, to stare directly at the sun. It was bright and warm and brilliant…and it burned. It was still too early for her to decipher if the burning was the kind that would make them glow and their sparks fly like amber.
Or if it would start a fire that would turn them both to Ash.
With her back to him and her stunned look hidden away, he exhaled and continued, “The more that I’m around you, the more I realise how much I need you. You’re good for me.”
“And you’re bad for me,” she snorted lazily, her eyelids drooping as he pressed and eased her last taut threads into soft submission.
“I am,” he kissed the nape of her neck with a wicked swirl of his tongue and the pinch of his canines, undoing all his hard work and causing her body to tighten. “You need me too.”
She felt inclined to agree when he put it like that. “You have your uses,” she grinned. “What could the great Aiden Michaels possibly need me for?”
“Balance. You remind me that there are things worth fighting for. That there are things worth saving.” His hands wrapped around her ankles and he slid them up her sepia legs, slowly, “That though I am a powerful, it’s okay to be vulnerable.” His fingertips met between the tops of her inner thighs. He spread her legs, stared at her freshly shaven pussy and growled deep in his throat like a beast ready for the kill. “I want complete control of you,” he snarled and shifted closer. He traced his index finger around her slick outer lips with the lightest touch. She opened her eyes and exhaled. “Just so I can lose control with you.” Ava roused her hips, exposing more of herself to him, all glossy and pink like bubble-gum. He licked his lips, all possibility of sleep burnt to ash by the heat he’d rekindled. “What we have is dangerous.”
“Then we should stop right here.”
He slipped his finger between her folds. His lone finger opened her celestial floodgates and she spilled over it with warm, inviting stickiness. “We should,” he twirled his finger slowly and edged closer till he hovered, his girth poised and quivering to squeeze inside. He grabbed a condom from the bedside and brought his lips to her ear, “So tell me to stop.” She shivered. Aiden entered her in one fluid stroke. They made the collective entry sigh; a harmonious sound of relief, as if from the shower to the bedroom had been too long for them to exist as two separate beings. He pushed her pink curls to the side and kissed her shoulder. “Tell me you don’t want this,” he pushed deeper, “Tell me to stop.”
“Aiden…” she moaned soulfully.
He burrowed his face into the crook of her neck and thrust again, “Say it, baby.” He grabbed her wrists and pinned her body to mattress with his welcomed weight. His arms and legs came down on all sides, creating a hulking cage of rhythmically convulsing manhood that she was glad to be imprisoned in. The restrictive entrapment left her unable to move; all she could do was let herself be thrusted over the edge with his length and bear the insurmountable stretch of his width, her only release being the soft sounds that overflowed from her open mouth like waterfalls of divine chorus. Aiden gyrated and rolled his waist, giving her his lust, deeper and darker. “Tell me you don’t want me to make you fucking cum.”
She gasped and bucked beneath him. He fell deeper than lucidly comfortable. She screamed, “GOD!”
“Fuck!” he grunted as the pressure of his cock crushed up against her cervix made her walls clench all the more. He gripped the nearest pillow in his fist, planted his toes in the mattress and increased his speed. The sheer power of his thrusts caused the springs in the bed to vault her body back onto his. “You’ll never tell me to stop. You’re fucking mine and you know it.”
“Goooodddd, baby, you’re so big it hurts,” she whimpered. It was maddening, like being repeatedly jabbed in her gut, but although the blunt sting of each point of contact came, it didn’t linger. It warmed and spread to her trapped limbs and all she could do was try to breathe through it. “Please don’t stop.”
“Heaven,” he growled, even though they weren’t in front of company; that was what she felt like, “I can’t hold it.” As soon as he spoke the words, she felt his dick swell beyond pacification. She screamed and salty tears pricked her eyes; the gift of war and glory. He roared his climax and fucked her harder at top speed, his member pulsing as he spilled into the condom.
She gasped, enjoying the thickening throb of him, “Stay there, baby. Stay right there.” She pressed back on him, her own ending on the precipice, and massaged her insides with him until she trembled and let go.
