This Man Confessed (25 page)

“Say good night to your father,” Jesse instructs as we pass the lounge.

“Good night, Dad.”

“Good night, you two.” Dad doesn’t even crane his neck around from the television.

I’m pushed up the stairs and guided down the hallway until we reach the guest room, where he begins to strip me down. “That was nice,” I muse as my dress is pulled up over my head.

“It was, but your mum is still a pain in the arse,” Jesse replies dryly. “Give me your wrist.”

I hold my hand up to him and watch while he removes my Rolex and slides it onto the bedside table. “You trampled her again.” I’m smiling.

Reaching up to my neck, he starts unknotting my cream lace scarf. “She’ll learn eventually.” My scarf is removed, revealing my diamond, and he smiles, straightening it out. “Are you looking forward to a few days of constant contact?”

“I can’t wait,” I answer without a second hesitation, reaching up to unbutton his shirt and pushing it from his shoulders on a sigh. “You’re just too perfect.” I lean in and kiss his chest, leaving my lips lingering.

“I know,” he agrees, with no humor or sarcasm. The arrogant arse.

I drop his shirt and start working the button fly of his jeans before sliding my hands into the back and working them over the solidness of his arse. “I love this.” I dig my nails in as I pass.

“I know,” he concurs again, making me smile. When I’m down to his thighs, I slip my hand around the front and grasp him loosely. He’s solid, as I knew he would be. “And you know how much I love this.”

He sucks in a hiss of breath through his teeth and pulls his groin away, but I maintain my hold. “Ava, baby, there is no way in hell I’m taking you under your mother’s roof.”

“Why?” I pout. “I can be quiet.” I’m drifting into temptress mode.

He looks at me doubtfully, and so he should. I can’t guarantee that at all. “I don’t think you can.”

I lower to my knees and unlace his shoes, and he lifts each in turn for me to remove them, along with his socks. Taking the waist of his jeans, I slowly pull them down his legs. “I think you’ll be surprised by what I can do. Lift.” I tap his ankle.

“You mean I’ll be surprised by what I can
make
you do.” He lifts in turn, so I can remove his jeans and boxers. “And I’m never surprised. I have that effect on you.”

Instead of stroking his overinflated ego, I stoop down and kiss the top of his foot before moving my lips to his ankle, circling my tongue and kissing my way up his legs. I take my time, flattening my palms on the fronts of his thighs, just feeling him as my lips skim every naked inch of his flesh, but I soon find myself at his neck, despite my determination to drag out the whole episode.

I inhale his scent and lift up on my tiptoes to reach his chin, which is higher than usual because he’s looking up at the ceiling. I can’t reach. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m trying to control myself.” His voice is all gravelly.

“I don’t want you to.”

“Don’t say that, Ava.”

“I don’t want you to,” I repeat, all low and throaty, biting at his neck.

He moves fast. His arm snakes around my waist, and I’m pushed up against the nearest wall on a growl. I’m ecstatic and trying to play it cool, but my lips are parted and I’m breathing shocked gasps. “You seem to be making some noise,” he observes quietly, holding one side of my face and pushing his mouth to my ear. I close my lips, clench my eyes shut, and rest my head against the wall. I need to focus because he’s going to
make
this hard for me, even if he doesn’t
give
it to me hard. “Now, listen very carefully.” He unhooks my bra while keeping a hand on my cheek and his mouth at my ear. “Your parents seem to like me. Don’t fuck it up.”

Oh good Lord, my confidence is diminishing fast. I bite painfully down on my lip, determined to keep quiet, as my lace bra is pulled away from my body and dropped to the floor before he leans down, taking my nipple in his mouth and sucking my nub gently until it’s tingling and stiff. I hit my head against the wall, my face distorting as I try urgently to withhold a moan of pleasure.

I fail.

“Ohhhh God,” I groan, banging my head against the wall again.

“Oh
dear
.” He’s at my lips immediately. “You just can’t control it, can you?”

I shake my head, unashamedly agreeing with him. “No.”

“Which just confirms what we both know, doesn’t it?” He rolls his naked hips upward, forcing me onto my tiptoes to try and escape the rub that will have me losing further control.

I fail again. “Yes,” I say and pant, uncontrolled and grappling at his naked shoulders.

“And what is that, Ava?” He bites my lip and keeps hold while he waits for me to answer.

“You have the power.”

His eyes sparkle in approval, and I reach down to stroke him, but he pulls away from me on a mild head shake.

“I thought we just clarified who has the power.” My hand is pushed away. “And I need to safeguard my current favorable standing with your parents, so you’ll keep quiet.” He’s staring at me, obviously waiting for confirmation that I understand. I do, but I absolutely cannot guarantee my silence. “Can you be quiet, Ava?”

I lie. “Yes.” I’ve been ambushed by him and his potency, and I’m not saying
no
if it means he’ll tuck me up in bed to snuggle. Pregnancy is doing serious things to me. I’m more desperate than ever, if that’s at all possible.

His eyes blink lazily, an almost undetectable smile flashing across his face, as he reaches up and pulls my hand away from my hair. “It looks like we have a problem,” he whispers. “Don’t move.” He backs away and picks something up, and I’m distracted as he slowly comes toward me again, concealing whatever he’s holding behind his back.

I’m fidgeting, squirming, and thinking real hard about what the hell he’s hiding, but I’m not left suffering for too long. He brings his hands around to the front of him and holds up my lace scarf, then wraps it around his fists and pulls it taut.

“I think we’ll call this one the quiet fuck.” He brings the scarf to my mouth and slips it between my lips. “Keep your tongue relaxed,” he instructs softly, taking it around the back of my head and tying it firmly but not tightly. “If you feel the need to scream, bite down. Understand?”

I nod, my eyes following him as he leans down and removes my knickers. Soon I feel his hot tongue running up the inside of my leg. I don’t want to scream, but I bite down on the scarf anyway, my eyes closing, my drumming heart beating an even pulse in my chest. He makes a point of breathing heavily in my ear as he laces his fingers through mine and pushes my hands up to the wall behind me before kissing down the sensitive flesh of my inside arm, softly and painfully slowly. I quickly fear that the only screaming I’ll be doing will be in impatience. “I think we’ll do this lying down.” His low, sure voice has me praying for control as he brings our hands down, fingers still laced, and then starts walking backward, encouraging me to step with him. Not that I need any encouragement. I’ll follow this man wherever he goes, whether it’s to a bed or to the end of the earth.

He places me gently on the bed, and the tip of my nose is kissed, my hair smoothed from my face, and then I’m turned onto my side slightly, my leg lifted and bent so he can straddle the one still flush with the bed. He edges forward, holding himself with one hand and keeping my leg up with the other, watching what he’s doing, getting closer until he skims my opening. If I could, I’d yelp, but I’m resorted to reaching behind me to grab the headboard. My back bows, even though he’s just holding himself there. It’s torturous.

“Ava,” he says, kissing my foot, “nothing can beat this.” He sinks slowly into me, his head falling back. I overcome the overwhelming need to close my eyes in utter bliss, just so I can watch his face. His jaw tenses, his grip of my ankle increases, his free hand rests on my waist, and his torso sharpens, the lines of every muscle defined and protruding. I so want to feel him there, but I’m immobilized by pleasure, rendering me incapable of moving. He’s right. Nothing can or ever will beat this. It’s agonizingly good, and I’m transfixed on him, completely captivated by him. So incredibly in love with him.

“Do you like what you see?” he asks as he withdraws slowly. I’m so fixated on the movement of his muscles, I’ve not noticed his head has now dropped and he’s studying me. He gags me, inflicts this pleasure on me, and then expects the impossible. He wants me to reply? I shouldn’t need to, he knows the answer very well, but I nod anyway. He doesn’t smile or show any approval of my answer. He just gradually works his way deep inside of me, as if rewarding me for my silent response. “I like what I see, too.” I’m blessed with a precise grinding of his hips. I might not be able to cry out in pleasure, but I can moan. So I do.

Pulling out slowly, he plunges straight back in. He’s starting to work up a steady rhythm. It remains controlled, it remains exact, and it remains profoundly powerful, but without the force I know he’s capable of. He’s determined to make his point. I’m being thoroughly indulged. I’m being doted upon. I can live with this for the next few months.

I’m moaning again as he grinds, and when I feel his teeth graze my ankle, my head flies back and I’m unexpectedly overcome with heated tingles stabbing all over my skin, but more intensely between my thighs.

“She’s losing control,” he gasps quietly, lifting up higher on his knees, taking my lower body with him. I start shaking my head, tightening my grip on the headboard, and twisting my body to try and get onto my back. I’m attempting in vain. I could never overpower him. He has a firm hold on my hip, keeping me where he wants me. “Don’t fight me, Ava.” He strikes firmly but carefully. It’s nowhere near the power that I know he’s capable of. But it’s still good.

I don’t
need
it. I crave it. Big difference, but my insatiable want has been fed good and proper, and now it’s expected. In he goes again on a suppressed hiss. I bite down on the scarf and let out a muffled yell.

“Am I making you crazy, baby?” he asks, the tinge of smugness clear as he reverts back to a smooth, even pace.

I don’t look at him. I close my eyes and turn my attention to catching the booming beat at my core before he tells me to control it. He’s ruling me, and even though it’s slow and almost effortless, it’s still very deep and it’s still very pleasurable, and I’m still going to erupt.

“You’re doing well, Ava.” In he sinks, around he grinds, out he comes. “My temptress is getting stronger.” Back in, back around, back out.

I whimper, flexing my hands on the headboard. The flowing of his body into mine is inconceivably good. So good. Holy shit! I try to shout his name, but all I achieve is a stifled, inaudible howl.

“Ava!” he whispers loudly. “Shut the fuck up!” With that harsh demand comes a less controlled buck of his hips. It just pushes another yell from me, but it’s no more decipherable. That cusp of pleasure is teasing me as he turns his mouth into my leg and bites down, and then reaches down to circle his thumb over my clitoris. That does it. I gulp, my body being yanked into a rigid arch as every muscle starts to spasm and I bite down on the lace scarf. If I could talk, I would be firing
fucks
off all over the place, so it is undoubtedly a good job that I can’t. I’m shaking, moaning, and Jesse is still plunging into me, still solid and still biting on my ankle. I’m riding out the pleasure, but it’s just going on and on and on.

I’m immensely grateful when my leg is released and I’m allowed to roll onto my back. I’m wrecked, and still relentlessly contracting around Jesse as he keeps himself buried deep and arranges my legs so he can settle between my thighs.

“Good?” he asks, his brows raised confidently as he looks down at me. I nod, my eyes closing, no matter how desperate I am to keep them on his damp, handsome face. I also want to feel his hair out and give it a little yank, but my arms are welded to the headboard. “You’ll never know how much satisfaction I get from watching you fall apart under my touch,” he whispers, and I flick my eyes open briefly, seeing him raising his torso so he’s braced on two muscle-swelling arms. He doesn’t make any attempt to get any friction, instead seeming quietly content to just hover above me, and after a few moments have passed and he’s unmoved but still twitching within me, I force my eyes open properly. He’s gazing down at me, waiting for my eyes. “She’s back.”

Yes, only just and she’s still pulsating around his throbbing cock. I attempt to say something, my exhausted mind having forgotten that I’m gagged, but as soon as I realize my limitation, I convince my arms to lift and sandwich his face between my palms. His stubble is nearly two days’ worth. I love it.

He turns his head and kisses my palm before lowering himself onto his elbows and tucking his fingers under the scarf, pulling it down over my chin so it rests on my neck. I can talk, but funnily enough, I don’t want to say anything now. I’m holding Jesse’s face, soaking up the happiness oozing from his beautiful greens, and I’m happy to do just that.

“I want to kiss you,” he declares, but while his little proclamation is sweet, it’s also light-years away from the usual
kiss me
demand. That is probably why my brow is completely furrowed and Jesse’s eyes are sparkling in amusement.

“You do?”

“Hmm.” He drags his thumb across my bottom lip and watches intently. “I really do.”

“You can kiss me.” Being gagged has dried my throat out, making my voice rough and low.

His thumb reaches the corner of my mouth, and then sets off again, back across my lips. “I’m not asking permission.” His eyes close and reopen, landing directly on mine. “I’m just thinking out loud.”

“Why don’t you stop thinking and do.” I raise my hips, signaling that kissing me is not the only thing I’d like him to do. Jesse working himself up is
really
going to work me down. I’m still buzzing, his arousal still held snugly inside of me.

“Are you demanding, Mrs. Ward?”

“Are you denying, Mr. Ward?”

“No, but you do—”

“I know who has the power,” I interrupt, and he gives me that roguish grin as he slowly dips, his lips finding mine and taking what I’m so willing to give.