This Man Confessed / Page 53

Page 53


Author: Jodi Ellen Malpas


And there it is. My Lord, braced on one stupidly solid arm, his obscenely addictive eyes dropped low, his sickening long lashes fanning that stunning face and with a little flick of my eyes, I’m staring at that stomach and chest which should be deemed a hazard. With the added bonus of him holding himself, grazing my lips with the broad magnificence of his cock, I’m ruined. ‘Mouth.’ I demand calmly.


‘What do I do to you, Ava?’ he asks, clearly confident of the answer I’m going to give and teasing me with another dash of contact to my lips.


‘You fucking cripple me!’ I yell on a pointless writhe.


‘Watch your fucking mouth,’ he practically groans the words out, only heightening my simmering state and my aggravation.


‘Please!’


‘Are you used to me?’


‘No!’


‘And you never will be. This is our normal, baby. Get used to this.’ He slides himself into my mouth on a moan, and I accept willingly, elatedly, eagerly. I moan around his invasion, I suck, lap and bite, but I don’t have full control. He’s retaining the power, but I don’t care. It’s contact. ‘Keep it gentle, Ava.’ He forces the words out, and I glance up to indulge in the strain on his face as he watches my mouth indulge on his arousal. ‘I love your fucking mouth, woman.’ His free hand creeps behind my neck and locks on my nape, holding me in place whilst he gently thrusts forward, slow, evenly, deliciously. No hard necessary, but that’s not to say he isn’t fulfilling his obligation to be dominant Jesse. He’s worked out the happy medium in our normal relationship, even if I haven’t, but I’m beginning to get it, and he is doing a bloody fine job of showing me the way.


Biting down gently mid-way up his steel length, the tell-tale signs of a regular throb, accompanied by the tensing on his legs which are securing my arms, give me all the prompt I need. My licks and strokes become more forceful, ignoring his demand to keep it gentle. He’s going to come. I moan around him, he bucks on a round of explicit language, but then he’s not in my mouth anymore. He’s pushes himself up to his knees, fists his swollen cock and watches me with parted lips as he finishes. I’m annoyed, but one of my favourite mental images of all time is being refreshed—the erotic, extraordinary vision of Jesse working himself to climax, but this time it’s better because he has just reached up and swept his wet hair from his face, trailing his hand through his dirty blonde mass, ripping the muscles of his chest further. I nearly choke with satisfaction. Given a few more moments, I think I’d orgasm just watching this. Holy shit, he looks divine.


‘Jesus!’ he barks, resting back on his heels and yanking my vest and bra down before positioning his erection between my breasts and spilling his seed all over my chest. He pants, sweating and wet, rolling himself around, spreading himself everywhere.


Marked.


‘Wherever, whenever, baby.’ he puffs, leaning down and hitting me with a forceful attack of his lips. I accept this willingly, too, letting him continue to take whatever he wants. ‘Fucking perfect.’


‘Hmmm,’ I hum, not needing to actually say anything. It was perfect. He is perfect. ‘Come here.’ He sits up, re-arranges my bra and top before standing and lifting me. He carries me to the table, puts me on my chair and points at my plate. ‘Finish your dinner.’


‘I didn’t throw up.’ I say, almost proudly.


‘Well done.’


‘Why didn’t you come in my mouth?’ I ask, as he buttons up his fly.


His serious face falters, but only a little. Taking his seat, he nods at my knife and fork in a silent instruction, and then takes his own. ‘Might poison the babies.’


If I had a mouthful of lamb, I’d choke, but instead I splutter all over the place in a helpless fit of laughter. ‘What?’ I giggle.


He doesn’t repeat himself, he just winks, and I fall in love that little bit more. ‘Eat your dinner, lady.’


Grinning at my plate, I resume my meal, utterly satisfied, despite my lack of orgasm. I’m still bubbling slightly, but I’m not concerned. ‘What are we doing tomorrow?’ I ask.


‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m bingeing.’


‘You’re keeping me locked up in Paradise all weekend?’ I don’t mind, but it would be nice to go for a walk, perhaps, or maybe even have dinner.


‘I wasn’t going to, but locks can be arranged.’ He slips his fork into his mouth and pulls off a piece of stuffed pepper slowly as he looks at me with raised eyebrows. I’m putting ideas in his head.


There’s no comeback from me. I just widen my grin, consumed with happiness as I continue my attempts to finish my meal.


‘God, I love that fucking grin. Show me.’


I’m not grinning now. I’m smiling properly, and he blesses me with his one reserved only for me, twinkling eyes and all. ‘Happy?’ I ask.


‘Fucking delirious.’


Chapter 24


I know that I’m smiling in my sleep. I don’t even need to open my eyes to grasp my bearings. The cool sea breeze wafting in from the open doors, the mix of salty sea air and that pungent perfume is all the reminder I need. Both of those aromas, though, don’t overpower my most favourite scent in the world that’s embedded in every fibre of the crisp cotton sheets that he’s slept in. But he’s not in the bed.


Opening my eyes, the first thing I see is a ginger biscuit, some folic acid and a glass of water. I smile, collecting the pills and swallowing with the water before munching my way through the biscuit. I shuffle to the edge of the bed and don’t bother with underwear or clothes. We’re alone on a deserted beach, and I haven’t forgotten his demand for me to come down to breakfast just like this every morning, except now I can without the worry of Cathy arriving. So I take my naked form out into the main part of the villa to seek out my Lord, but after a few moments of searching, no Lord. I notice the voile at the doors of the living area that lead to the veranda are flapping as the light wind gusts through, so I fight my way through the mass of moving material until I’m on the wooden veranda and taking a deep inhale of fresh air. Perfect. It’s early because the sun is low, but the heat is intense, only slightly weakened by the breeze which is whipping my hair all over my face. I fight to secure it in a loose, messy knot and once my vision is clear, I see him in the distance. He’s running, and he’s running in loose shorts, no t-shirt and no trainers. I lean on the wooden balustrade and happily watch him get closer and closer, his muscular frame shimmering under the morning sun. He could be a mirage.


‘Morning,’ I chirp when he’s a few yards away, sweating and actually a little out of breath. This is unusual. He’s a robot when running, never displaying any signs of fatigue or over exertion.


He grabs a towel that’s draped over a railing and starts rubbing himself on a smile. ‘Good morning, indeed.’ His eyes travel down my nakedness, which is only slightly concealed by the posts that I’m standing behind. ‘How do you feel?’


I have a quick think and do a bodily assessment, concluding that I feel perfect. I don’t feel sick at all. ‘Fine.’


‘Good,’ he approaches the pavilion and looks up at me. ‘Give me a kiss.’


I lean over and peck his lips, his signature smell enhanced by the clean sweat riddling is body. ‘You’re soaked.’


‘That’s because it’s fucking hot.’ He pulls away. ‘Breakfast?’ He asks it as a question, but he doesn’t mean it as a question. If I say no, then without question, I’d be growled at and possibly hauled in and force fed.


‘I’ll make you breakfast.’ I start walking across the veranda, towards our bedroom.


‘Where are you going?’ he calls after me.


‘To put something on.’


‘Hey!’ he shouts, and I turn to see a face awash with disgust. ‘Get your naked arse in that kitchen, lady.’


‘Excuse me?’ I laugh.


‘You heard.’ He’s looking at me expectantly, daring me to defy him.


I look down at my bareness and sigh. He won’t be making such demands when I’m fit to burst. I’ll put him off his food, but for now, I’m comfortable in my skin and he’s clearly comfortable looking at it, so I retrace my steps and enter the villa, via the doors to the kitchen, receiving a swift slap of my backside as I pass Jesse.


* * *


If our normal is me preparing and eating breakfast with both of us butt naked, then I love our normal. If our normal is taking three hours to get ready because neither one of us can keep our hands off each other, then I really love our normal. If our normal is me putting on a summer dress and being looked at like I’ve totally lost my mind, then I’m not so keen on our normal.


‘Think again, lady.’ He rummages through my clothes, cursing and scoffing to himself as he assesses and tosses each of my beach dresses aside. ‘You’ve done this on purpose.’


‘It’s hot.’ I laugh, standing in the centre of the room in my lace, watching as Jesse actually loses his own mind.


‘But Christ, Ava!’ He holds up a strapless playsuit with very short shorts.


‘You said I have great legs.’ I argue.


‘Yes, you have great fucking everything, but that doesn’t mean I want everyone to know it.’ He chucks the playsuit aside and grabs a long, floaty black dress with spaghetti straps. ‘My eyes.’ he affirms. ‘Just for my eyes.’


‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ I snatch the dress from his hands. ‘You were fine with the gown at the anniversary party and my denim shorts.’


‘I wasn’t fine at all. I made an exception, but I saw the way men were looking at you.’


Is he winding me up? ‘I see how women look at you!’


‘Yes, and could you imagine how they’d look at me if I was prancing around half naked?’ He nods at the dress. ‘You can wear that.’


‘You’re often shirtless.’ I point out. ‘You don’t see me rugby tackling you to the floor to conceal your body. Lighten up!’


‘No!’ he yells.


Our scowls are in competition, but his has definitely got the edge. ‘You’re unreasonable.’ I spit. ‘I’m wearing what I like.’ I chuck the black dress at him and retrieve my dusky pink, halter neck summer dress, stepping in and pulling it up my body.


He watches me violently yanking the dress on. ‘Why do you do this to me?’ he asks, impatiently.


‘Because it’s unreasonable for you to think that you can dictate my wardrobe, that’s why.’ I knot the dress behind my neck and smooth it down, ignoring the low, rumbling growl emanating from my unreasonable Lord. I’ll never back down on this element of our normal relationship. ‘It’s not so bad.’


‘You’re too fucking beautiful.’ he mutters sullenly.


I smile and slip my feet into my flip-flops. ‘But I’m your beautiful girl, Jesse.’


‘You are.’ he replies quietly. ‘Mine.’


I take a calming breath and step into his chest. ‘No one will ever take me away from you.’ I don’t know how many times I have to tell him. I know this a fear, but I also know his problem is the army of naked women who have paraded around him naked for the most part of his life. He doesn’t want men to look at me like they look at those women—the way Jesse looked at those women before me.


‘I know,’ he sighs. ‘But is it necessary to pick the tiniest dress on the fucking planet?’


I kiss his cheek. ‘You’re over exaggerating.’


‘I don’t think I am.’ he grumbles, pushing his freshly shaved cheek into my lips. ‘Can we compromise?’


‘Compromise how?’ I ask. He squats and picks up a cardigan, and I start shaking my head. ‘No way, Ward. I’ll pass out.’


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