This Man Confessed (Page 90)

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What do I say to that? I thought so much was clear, but today’s tub-talk has put all other enlightenment to shame. Two of the most important people in his life where taken prematurely from him, both involving cars, so why the hell does he drive like a complete nut-job? I don’t know, but all of this adds to the explanation of his over-protectiveness.

‘Our children will be whoever they want to be,’ I bite his chin. ‘As long as they don’t want to be playboys.’

My bum cheeks are clenched in his palms and squeezed tightly. ‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.’

‘I think it does.’ I retort quietly.

‘You’re right, it does.’ He slides me up and kisses my nipple. ‘My mark is fading.’

‘Freshen it up, then.’ I push my chest into him, like the little temptress he knows me to be, and he wraps his lips around my puckered bud and laps gently. I moan, long, low and deeply satisfied, my nose rubbing through his wet locks and taking a hit of his delicious scent.

‘Nice?’ he asks, clamping down with his teeth.

‘Hmmm.’ I feel peaceful, enlightened.

His lips drift across to the site of my fading mark, and he begins to suck gently, drawing the blood to the surface. ‘Ava, I’m not sure how I feel about our babies taking to your br**sts.’ He releases me, and I slide back down, brushing across something very hard. His eyes expand, and he inhales sharply. ‘Oh no, we can’t.’ He shifts me and sits up. ‘I won’t, Ava. And don’t you dare kick into temptress mode, either.’

I scowl at him. ‘Cornwall.’ I threaten, and he recoils in horror, but soon matches my scowl, his probably fiercer.

‘You’re not going anywhere!’ he asserts on a growl as he stands, his beautiful, smooth iron rod of flesh just at the right level for my kneeling form. I seize it quickly before he can step out of the tub, wrapping my palm around him and clamping down. ‘F**k, you little f**king tormenter.’

‘Are you going to walk away from me?’ I pull a long, slow draw. I’m so bad.

He shakes his head. ‘Ava, there’s not a f**king chance on this planet that I’m taking you.’

‘Sit down,’ I nod to the side of the tub and flick my tongue across the wet head of his huge c**k.

He hisses and looks up to the ceiling. ‘Ava, if you leave me hanging to throw up, I’ll lose my f**king mind.’ He thrusts forward gently.

‘I won’t,’ I don’t know that for sure, but there are other ways to do this. ‘Sit.’ I push him down onto the side of the tub and kneel between his thighs, but I don’t get a chance to be creative with how I do this.

He grabs my arms. ‘If I’m sitting on this side, then you’re sitting on the other.’ He hits me with a hungry kiss and pulls away panting, his eyes completely smoked out. Anticipation is making my tummy clench. ‘With your legs wide open.’

I gasp a little, and immediately curse myself for it. He’s luring me in to that place where he takes all control. He’s goading me with those eyes which are full of promise and pleasure, daring me to refuse. Slipping his hands under my arms, he lifts me to my feet before gently pushing me back. I find my place and rest my bum on the edge of the giant tub. It’s hard under my wet flesh, not that I’m particularly concerned. I can’t seem to focus on anything, other than this man sitting opposite me, all smouldering and hard. Then he runs his tongue across his bottom lip, and I find myself mimicking him.

‘Lick your fingers, Ava.’ he orders. There is no softly softly approach, which I was dreading. He’s in dominant Jesse mode. I’m in my element. I know there will be no hard f**k to wrap this up, but it’s that look, that stance, that commanding tone.

I take my fingers to my mouth and slide them between my lips, slowly and precisely, never removing my eyes from his. I couldn’t if I tried. The usual addictiveness is hard enough to pull away from, but when they are all hooded, his lashes fanned and hunger oozing from them… impossible.

‘Slide your hand down your front.’ he says roughly. ‘Slowly.’

I comply and lazily drag my palm down my body, brushing my ni**les and skimming my stomach. ‘Slow enough for you?’

‘Did I say talk?’ he asks, not taking his eyes from mine.

I pout but continue my journey downwards, arriving at the juncture of my thighs.

‘Stop.’ He rips his eyes from mine and they wander down, taking their time, drinking in his asset before they reach my hand. ‘One finger, baby. Slowly slide one finger in.’

Doing as I’m instructed, I insert one finger on a deep inhale of breath.

‘Remember, that’s mine,’ he flicks his eyes to mine. ‘So be gentle with it.’

Those words, the way he says them, and the fact that he absolutely means them, pushes me to close my eyes and mentally gather my wits.

‘Eyes, Ava.’

Using breathing exercises to try and calm myself down, I follow through on his order.

‘Good girl.’ He reaches down and takes a loose hold of himself. My heart rate multiplies. ‘Taste.’

I don’t feel shy. I never have, no matter what he does or asks me to do. My brain always registers some slight nervousness, maybe even a little apprehension, too, but one look into those eyes and it’s trampled all over. My hand glides back up my body, and then I slowly, seductively, teasingly slide my finger into my mouth and shamelessly moan as I do.

‘Good?’ He’s drawing easy strokes of his arousal as he watches me. It’s sending me wild with want, but I know that I’m not moving from this side of the tub. I know who has the power.

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