This Man Confessed (This Man 3)

He separates our mouths and withdraws his finger, re-entering with two. ‘Like that?’ He pushes hard and high. ‘Like that, Ava?’

My head falls back against the mirror, my mouth gaped, my eyes closed. ‘Just like that.’

‘Or would you prefer my c**k slamming into you?’ His voice is carnal and a massive surprise, given his delicate approach to my body in recent weeks. If this is the effect that Casey will have on my Lord, then I hope he stays forever. I’m being claimed and reminded of who I belong to—not that I ever need a reminder, but I’ll always take it. I drop my head and find his greens, then reach forward and slip the buttons of his fly free, before sliding my hand into his boxers and wrapping my palm around his hot, throbbing cock. He pulls in a short breath. ‘You haven’t answered my question.’

‘I want this.’ I squeeze his base and draw a long stroke to the tip. ‘I want you inside me.’

He sweeps one last circle with his fingers before removing them and lifting me to his body, my legs wrapping around his waist, my hands seeking out his nape. ‘I knew you were a sensible girl.’ The elevator doors open, I’m carried out into the penthouse foyer, where the door is opened without delay, and we’re quickly on our way upstairs to the master suite. ‘You make me a desperate f**king mess, Ava.’ I’m placed on the edge of the bed and my dress is pulled up over my head quickly before he yanks his t-shirt off, kicks his Converse to the side and pushes his jeans down his legs, taking his white boxers with them. He really is desperate, and I’m all the more delighted for it. He’s going to f**k me.

I’m pushed back onto the bed and my knickers are pulled down my legs, my bra disposed of just as quickly. He’s working fast, but it’s still not quick enough. My impatience is my undoing—that and his glorious nakedness looming over me. I need to touch him. I sit up and slide my hands around his solid arse and pull him forward so he’s standing between my spread thighs, his lower stomach at my eyelevel. Placing my lips gently in his abdomen, I trail kisses across to his scar, but it doesn’t make me wince anymore. It’s a massive imperfection, a mar on his beautiful body, but it just makes him all the more perfect to me. My perfect imperfect Adonis. My God. My husband.

I feel his fingers thread through my hair, and my eyes creep up the firmness of his abs, then his chest, until I’m staring into green eyes filled with… love. Not hunger or carnal want—it’s love.

He’s not going to f**k me, he’s going to make sweet love, and he does it so well, but I’m desperate for his ferocity, desperate for him to stop treating me like I’m breakable. My hands flow back down his torso until my palms are resting on the edges of his perfect V. I lean in and kiss his stomach again before working my way up, standing as I go until I’m feeling his neck out and pulling him down to meet my lips. I lift myself gracefully to his body and link my legs around his waist, feeling his arm snake around me, holding me to him as he accepts my demand for mouth contact.

Heavy mouth contact.

Indulgent mouth contact.

All consuming mouth contact.

He doesn’t lower me to the bed. He walks me into the bathroom and straddles the chaise lounge, standing me over him. He looks up at me. ‘We need to make friends.’ I’m yanked down and our mouths crash together. ‘No one will ever stop me taking you, Ava.’ he says around our lips relentless colliding and tongue battling.

‘Good.’ I pull at his hair, trying to draw out his animalistic traits. He knows what I want and need right now, he damn well knows it, and he’s going to give it to me.

‘My girl wants it hard.’ He breaks away, and I’m the one growling this time. He stares up at me, panting and sweating. He wants to give it me as well; I can see it in the glaze of his green stare. They’re smoking out, darkening with desperation. I make him desperate.

I’m gently tugged down as he holds himself upright, ready to enter me, but I stiffen, preventing him from seizing me. I might be desperate for him, but I still have to maintain my sensibility, just like I’ve done over the past few weeks. He’s not wearing a condom, and judging by the sharper tug of my arm, he knows exactly why I’m holding back.

‘Jesse,’ My breathlessness is completely giving away my pent up lust.

‘Ava, I’m taking you now, and you’re not going to stop me with trivial f**king requests.’ He yanks me down and seals our lips, working into my mouth with deadly determination. I don’t try to resist, and I really don’t want to. This might be the hard f**k I’ve been waiting for.

He keeps our mouths locked, and then levels himself up and slides straight in. My legs naturally snake around his waist and lock at the ankles, pulling us closer together.

‘Oh Jesus,’ he pants against my mouth. ‘Fucking perfect.’

It does feel perfect. I’m swiftly reminded of the perfection that is no barrier between us. Just flesh on flesh. Me on him. I’m gasping into his shoulder and digging my nails into his biceps.

‘Move.’ I demand. ‘Please move.’

‘In time, baby. Just let me feel you for a moment.’ He takes my hands and guides them around the back of his neck where my fingers naturally feel out his hair and tug gently. Then his big hands slowly skate down my sides, over my br**sts and onto my waist. He holds me still. The only sounds in the air around us are our strained breaths. They are heavy and desperate.

Tightening his grip on my waist, he lifts me on a deep moan before letting me slide gently back down onto him. My eyes close in pure, comforted bliss, and I gasp, removing my hands from his hair so I can get them onto the firm warmth of his chest. I marvel at his solid, bunched muscles, just flawless hardness before me, screaming to be touched, begging me to feel his perfection. My insatiable hands wander all over him and smooth across his pecs as I’m lifted from his body again and grinded down, slowly and meticulously.