This Man
Page 93

After a few more incredible strikes, I feel him swell and pulsate in my mouth. I know he’s tipping the edge. One of his hands moves from my head to the base on his length, and he withdraws slightly, taking a firm grip, working back and forth urgently. I circle, lap and suck his swelling head as he sucks in a sharp, short breaths.
‘In your mouth, Ava.’ he yells, and I take his cue, wrapping my lips around his jerking erection and placing my hand over his as he spills hot, creamy cum into my mouth. I take it – all of it. I swallow around him, glancing up to see his head thrown back as he yells into thin air, a throaty cry of satisfaction. His hips slow their thrusts to a more level, lazy pace as he rides out his climax. I lick and suck the tension away. My debt is settled.
His chest is heaving as he looks down at me with a foggy, green gaze. He bends to drag me up his body, smothering my lips with his in a complete appreciation kiss. ‘You’re amazing. I’m keeping you forever.’ he informs me, showering my face with kisses.
‘That’s nice to know.’ I flip sarcastically.
‘Don’t try and pull a hurt with me, lady.’ He rests his forehead against mine. ‘You left me high and dry this morning.’ he says quietly.
Oh, I’m apologising for leaving him hanging. That makes perfect sense, but how will he repay me for all of his transgressions? What I’ve just sustained should repulse me, but it doesn’t. I’d do anything for him.
I lift my arms and rest my palms on his chest, smoothing over his toned pecs. ‘I apologise.’ I murmur, leaning in to rest my lips over his nipple.
‘You have lace on.’ He wraps his arms tightly around me. ‘I love you in lace.’ I’m lifted, my legs automatically curling around his narrow waist. He scoops up my bags and his t-shirt and carries me out of the lift.
‘Why lace?’ I ask. He always insists on it. And it’s yet something else I do to please him.
‘I don’t know, but always wear lace. Keys, back pocket.’
I reach under his arm, feeling in his pocket to drag his keys out before he turns slightly to give me access to the door. It’s soon kicked open and closed again. He throws my bags down and carries me all the way upstairs. I could get so use to this. He hoofs me about like I’m little more than a t-shirt on his back. I feel weightless and completely safe.
He places me on my feet. ‘I’m taking you to bed now.’ he whispers softly.
My ears are suddenly invaded by the low sounds of Massive Attack’s Angel. My body goes rigid. This is music to make love to. I start burning up as he slowly starts undressing me, his soft, green eyes remaining locked with mine.
The diversity of this man staggers me completely. This man is a brutal, demanding sex Lord in one breath, and a tender, gentle lover in the next. I love all elements of him, every single one. Well, almost every single one.
‘Why do you try to control me?’ I ask. It’s the only element of him that I’m struggling to deal with. He’s beyond unreasonable. But you don’t hear me complaining in the bedroom.
He pushes my shirt from my shoulders and down my arms. ‘I don’t know.’ he says on a frown. His perplexed expression has me believing that he really doesn’t, which is of no help to me in trying to understand why he’s like this with me. He’s known me for a few weeks. It’s crazy behavior. ‘It just feels like the right thing to do.’ He offers the explanation like it should explain everything. It doesn’t in the slightest.
I’m still none the wiser, you crazy man!
He unfastens the zipper of my trousers and slides them down my thighs, lifting me out of them and leaving me standing before him in my underwear. He stands back and takes a good look at me as he removes his shoes and jeans, kicking them off to the side.
He’s hard again. I run my appreciative eyes over his loveliness, finishing back at his sludgy pools. He’s like a science project of perfection – God’s masterpiece; my masterpiece. I want him to be just mine.
He reaches across to me and pulls the cups of my bra down, one at a time, brushing the back of his hand over each of my nipples, hardening them further. My breath skips, and he flicks his gaze to mine.
‘You make me crazy.’ he says, completely expressionless. I want to scream at him for being so thick skinned. He keeps saying this.
‘No, you make me crazy.’ My voice is a breathy whisper. I mentally plead for him to acknowledge that he’s an unreasonable control freak. He can’t believe this is normal behavior.
His lips curve, his eyes twinkle. ‘Crazy.’ he mouths.
I’m lifted against his chest and laid on the bed, his body spreading down the length of mine. Once he’s swathed me, his mouth lowers and his lips take me worshipfully, softly working their way over me, his tongue sweeping through my mouth slowly.
Oh God. I love you. I could weep at this moment. Should I tell him how I feel? Why can’t I just spit the words out? After today and his performances, you would think I would be scarpering, running as fast and as far as I can. I can’t, I just can’t do it.
I feel my knickers being drawn down my legs, my thoughts well and truly scattered when he shifts his body up to sit on his heels, pulling me up to straddle his waiting lap. He reaches under us and positions himself at my opening.
‘Lean back on your hands.’ he orders softly, his voice like gravel, his eyes intense. I lean back, his spare arm wrapping under my waist to support me.
He enters me slowly on a rush of air, his lips parted and moist. I moan in pure, delighted pleasure as he fills me completely. My arms shift a little, and I lock my legs around his waist. He feels so good inside me. I could die now a very happy woman. His other hand joins the one wrapped around my waist, his big hands nearly encompassing me, as he starts directing my hips around in slow, grinding circles, lifting me up slowly before pulling me back down and swiveling again. He’s working us in perfect time to the music. Christ, he’s good. I sigh, long and breathy at the exquisite sensations he’s creating as he lifts, pulls me back down and circles, his own hips following the movements that he has complete control over.
‘Where have you been all my life, Ava?’ he moans on a long, grinding circle.
Growing up! The unwelcome thought reminds me of my lack of knowledge with regards to his age. If I asked him at the height of pleasure, would he answer truthfully? I’m in love with a man and I have no idea how old he is. How ridiculous.
I gasp as I’m lifted and lowered again, the shimmer of a slow building, highly satisfying climax beginning to gather force. I’m hypnotised by him – completely rapt as I watch his face burning with passion, his chest muscles undulating as he guides my body on his. This is slow, meticulous love making, and it’s doing me no favours with regards to my feelings for him – none whatsoever. I’m as addicted to gentle Jesse as I am to dominant Jesse. I’m at a total loss.
His tongue sweeps across his moist bottom lip and his eyes flicker, his frown line working its way across his brow. ‘Promise me something.’ His voice is soft as he swivels his hips on another mind-numbing grind.
I moan. He’s taking advantage of my mesmerised state by asking me to make promises now. But then again, that was more of a demand than a question.
I study him, waiting for his request. ‘You’ll stay with me.’