This Man Confessed (This Man 3)

He starts walking from his office through the vast openness of the penthouse, where I’m laid on the huge corner couch and my backside is pulled to the end so my lower body is propped up on the arm. He removes his trousers and boxers, revealing the beauty of his cock, hard, ready, and within touching distance, but he kneels down at the end of the couch, taking it clean from my view. I don’t have time to complain. My knickers are removed, my legs are pulled apart and his mouth is on the inside of my thigh fast, kissing gently, shifting to the other thigh and teasing softly. Forward and back he goes, moving from one side to the other, getting higher with each set, his hands spreading me further as he makes his way to my pulsing centre.

‘Jesse,’ I take in air, my legs needing to move. My hand flies up to grasp the leather on the backrest of the couch, my other cupping the back of his head.

‘Have you remembered how incredible I am?’ he asks seriously, pulling back and blowing over my raw flesh.

‘Yes!’ My hands are twitching as his cool breath spreads over me and travels down my thighs. ‘Shit!’ I try to close my legs when I feel the first dash of contact from his tongue on my clitoris, but he’s just teasing me, giving me a taste of what’s to come, and my legs are going nowhere, except where he decides, which is wider, making me sensitive, more open and more frenzied.

‘Mouth, Ava,’ His tongue enters me and then licks an unspeakably delicious stroke up my middle. I cry out, my head thrashing from side to side. ‘Incredible?’ He’s cocky and sure, and has earned that privilege. ‘Tell me how it feels, baby.’

My fisted hand that is now clenching at his hair should tell him all he needs to know—that and my inaudible mumbling. I’m seeing stars, my belly is aching and my poor legs are unable to move. And then his fingers are inside me and my hands leave the sofa and his hair in favour of my own head. My stomach muscles are rigid as I lift my upper body up to try and quench the charging surge of pressure that’s descending from my tummy to my core. I decide in my fevered bliss that I want to see him, so I prop myself up on my elbows and gaze down the length of my body, seeing his palm resting on my stomach, while his fingers f**k me slowly.

‘Tell me,’ he pushes, sweeping through me with agonising precision.

‘It feels like you were made to fit me.’ My words are even and as sure as the expression on his face. He thinks that, too.

He smiles and leans in, tenderly kissing my sensitive skin before rising to his feet and grasping me under my thighs, lifting my lower body to position himself. I find my upper body lifting, too, my hands palm down behind me so I have the best view of him entering me. And it really is the best view. We both focus on his rigid c**k as he brings it to me, no hands required, like it has a homing device that will take it to where it belongs. He meets my entrance and hovers for a while, just skimming my damp void, teasingly. I’m ever impatient, my lower legs curling around his lower back and pulling him towards me, but he’s going nowhere. Not until he says so. And he doesn’t say so. He just smirks that almost undetectable smirk while he keeps his eyes down, still teasing me with irregular and torturous skims of his slippery head across the very tip of my oversensitive small nub of nerves. He’s killing me, and I’m dying to lay myself back down, but I’m too engrossed by his cruel pleasure.

‘Shall we try penetration?’ he asks, but he still won’t look at me. I’m going out of my mind, but that defiance in me, coupled with his self-assured attitude, has me determined to match his poise.

‘If you like.’ My calm, aloof words have his greens leaving their rapt focus point on a surprised twinkle.

‘If I like?’ He pushes into me, only very slightly, but enough to force me to repress a moan. I know I’ll be made to wait longer if I’m impatient and demanding, so I control it. ‘What about if you like?’ In a little further he goes. I know my lips have just parted, and I know my chest is expanding fast. I’m trying my damn hardest, but every fibre of my being is giving me away. I’m held in place with one arm while his other hand reaches forward and yanks the cups of my bra down. Each nipple is given a sharp pinch, and I bite back a scream of pleasure mixed with intense pain. ‘My beautiful girl is trying to play it cool.’ he muses, adjusting his grip of me, ready to pound forward. ‘It’s a shame she’s shit at feigning casualness.’ He doesn’t pound forward, though. He eases in lazily, and my head rolls back on a groan. ‘That’s more like it.’ He’s completely submerged within me now, the tip of his impressive c**k brushing my womb. ‘Show a bit of appreciation, Ava.’ He extracts himself, and this time he really does pound forward, surprisingly hard. My arms begin to shake, followed by my head in despair.

‘Again,’ I demand. He’s teased me too far this time. ‘Again!’

‘That depends.’

‘On what? You said it doesn’t always need to be hard.’ I’m battling to catch my breath, swallowing repeatedly. ‘Then you do this to me. Have you finally read the part of the book that confirms you won’t hurt the babies?’

‘Yes,’ He strikes with utter accuracy, buckling my arms, but then holds still again. ‘It’s a good book.’

‘It’s a good book now.’ I agree. Now that he’s read the most beneficial part, it’s a great book.

‘It was always a good book, but it did say you must listen to your body.’ He slides out again and pushes forward on a moan.