This Man Confessed (This Man 3)

‘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 f**king cripple me!’ I yell on a pointless writhe.

‘Watch your f**king 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 f**king 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 c**k 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 br**sts 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 f**king 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.