#RunningWilde Ch. 49 | Love Gun (Part I) *PLUS BONUS V- DAY STORY*
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!
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.”