This Man Confessed (This Man 3)

‘Kiss me,’ I demand harshly.

He ignores me and shifts one of my arms across to meet the other, then takes both of my wrists in one grasp. With his other hand, he reaches down and places his fingertip on my knee, and slowly, lightly, he starts a painfully tormenting trail up my thigh, over my hip, across my ribs, my breast and up, up, up, until he has my neck completely encased by his palm, his thumb resting on the hollow of my throat, his fingers splayed at my nape. My pulse has accelerated, my heart is bucking wildly in my chest and my knees could give at any moment. And all of the time, he is burning holes through me with his addictive eyes. I could scream with frustration, which is no doubt his plan. I lean forward again, but he dodges my lips stealthily and homes straight in on my chest, nudging my dress down with his chin and latching onto my breast. He’s freshening up his mark.

My head falls back against the wall and my eyes close in hopelessness. The continuous buzzing between my thighs is excruciating, and I fear he’s going to leave me like this. He’s done it more than once. He’s trampling me. He has no right to, but I’m not putting the stoppers on this. I’m craving this touch, and now it has started, I never want it to stop.

With the music pumping loudly around us, you would think all other sounds would be drowned out, but they’re not. My feverish breaths are thick and piercing. Jesse’s breathing, though, is slow, shallow and controlled. He is in complete control and calm in his tactics. He knows what he’s doing.

I’m about to shout in frustration, but I’m spun around and pushed back into the wall, my body crashing harshly against the tiles. I turn my face and rest my hot cheek on the coldness, and his knee comes up, separating my thighs. He takes my hands and places them, palms flat, against the shiny surface. He doesn’t need to verbally tell me to keep them there. His firm placing and the slow removal of his grip tells me what’s expected of me. That and his lips pushed to my ear. When his palms rest on the outside of my thighs and clench the hem of my dress, my breathing hitches further, and I begin to physically shake. He slowly pulls it up to my waist, and then I hear the fly of his jeans being pulled down. Impatient, I push my arse out invitingly, only to have his hand collide with my cheek, the instant sting on my bareness spiking a scream.

‘Fuck!’ I pant, earning myself another swift slap. ‘Jesse!’ I turn my face towards the wall, resting my forehead against the tiles, my scorching breath steaming up the black, shiny surface. How long is he going to do this? How long will he make me suffer? But then my hips are pulled back, my knickers yanked to the side and he slams into me. I yell at the shock, fast invasion, but he is silent, not even panting, not even shaking. He slowly pulls back, holding himself steady for a few moments, before he powers forward again. My stomach twists, my head is whirling and my forehead is rolling from side to side across the tiles. I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m struck again, hard and fast, and I scream, but the music drowns me out. Slowly, he pulls out, and I feel a hand leave my hip, sliding up my body until he’s holding the back of my neck. His grip twists, prompting my head to turn out to the side, and then his lips are on mine. I moan, accepting his hard mouth and delighting in the familiarity. I don’t get nearly enough, just a little teaser of what I’ve been missing out on, before he leaves me craving so much more.

Keeping deadly still for a few seconds, he then shifts his feet and rears back before really letting go of his control. I’m yanked back to meet him over and over again, each forceful, punishing blow assisting me in achieving my main aim:ultimate detonation. And just when I think I’m there, he pulls out and spins me around, lifting me up to straddle him. He slips straight back in, my arms fall around his neck and he charges forward, quickly re-capturing my bubbling orgasm. My head falls back and the warmness of his mouth is straight on my throat, biting, sucking and licking. I start trembling as the pulses riddling my entire body all collect together and find their way to the tip of my clitoris. I’m screaming before I’ve even climaxed, but then the rush of pressure soars and flings me into an abyss of intoxicating pleasure and I shatter, screaming louder, and I know he’s come too, even though he remains silent. My head drops, finding a sweat covered face, glazed greens and still a straight, unemotional, unaffected face. It completely baffles me. I shift my hands to his hair and pull him forward, but he resists, instead moving his hands to my legs and pushing them down from his body. I find my feet, keeping myself relatively stable by leaning against the wall while I watch him. He slides his hand into my knickers, collecting the wetness, and runs his palm all over my chest before he wipes his brow, re-fastens his trousers, turns and walks out.

Chapter 10

I straighten myself out and do my best to compose my ruffled state. It’s no good. I’m shocked. He never said one word from finding me on the dance floor to leaving me alone in the disabled toilet of a bar, where he’s just f**ked me. Not made love or even had wild sex. He just f**ked his wife, like I’m some tart who he picked up in a bar. I’m injured, my uncertainties even stronger than ever before. What do I do now?

I fly around when the door swings open and Kate barrels in. ‘There you are! We’re leaving!’

‘Why?’

She looks panicked. ‘Sam’s here.’

Is that all? ‘You can cope with that, can’t you?’

‘And your brother.’ she adds dryly.

‘Oh…’

‘Yes, oh. Come on,’ She grabs my hand and pulls me from the toilet. ‘Where’s Jesse?’ she asks as we pass the bar entrance.