This Man Confessed (17 page)

To hold a person in place.

I slowly turn my eyes back to Jesse’s and find his are still on me, watching carefully, assessing my reaction to the piece of art. “Why is that here?” I ask quietly.

“Because I had it put in here.” He’s just as quiet, and his hands are draped loosely in his pockets, his legs slightly spread.

“Why?”

“I think it might…help.” His eyes are smoking out, his lip chewed.

Help? Jesse just stands there with rapt intention written all over that heart-stopping face, and it’s playing havoc with my vital signs. “What do we need help with?” My voice is a husky murmur, full of want and longing, and all of those vital signs escalate further when he slowly starts walking toward me.

“You want it hard,” he says quietly. “and I’m not very comfortable with that when you’re carrying my baby.” He removes his Grensons and socks, then slides his jacket off his shoulders and drapes it on the bed. “So I thought carefully and came up with the compromise fuck.”

My exhale falters in my throat and for some reason unbeknown to me, I step back. I don’t know why: I trust him, but I’m a little shocked by his obvious intention. “I don’t understand.”

He reaches up and pulls at his tie before slowly unfastening his shirt buttons. “You will.” He leaves his shirt draping open, teasing my eyes with only a sliver of his flesh, and walks across the room, opening a cupboard door and fiddling with something. Then the whole room is swamped with a slow building hum of spiritual, tingle-provoking music.

I go rigid. “What is this?” I ask as he walks slowly back to me, reaching my body and breathing down on me.

“This is Amber ‘Sexual.’” he says gently. “‘Afterlife.’ Appropriate, don’t you think?”

I couldn’t agree more, but my mouth refuses to speak and tell him so.

“It doesn’t always have to be hard, Ava. I hold the power, no matter how I take you.” He pushes me back gently until I’m positioned in front of the cross. “It’s not the hard you love, anyway. It’s me taking you so unapologetically.” His voice is low and sure. It should be. He’s totally right. It’s the power he has over me, not just the power of his body.

“You’ll never fuck any sense into me again?” I ask, just as low, but not so sure.

His lips break into a concealed smile. “Will you defy me again?”

“Probably,” I breathe out.

“Then I’ve absolutely no doubt I will, my temptress.” He rests his finger under my chin and brings my face up to his. “If I want to fuck you hard and make you scream, then I will. If I want to make love to you, Ava, and make you purr, then I will.” He places his lips gently over mine, and my eyes close. My breathing hitches quietly. “If I want to bind you on this cross, then I will.” He reaches around my back and lazily draws the zipper of my dress down before pulling it away and lowering himself with it so I can step out. Working his way back up my body, he takes my hand and kisses my wedding ring. “And you are mine, so I’ll do what I like with you.”

My eyes are still closed, my head dropped low. My breathing is weak and shallow, too, and my ears are saturated by the sensual tones of the calm music. My flesh screams for his touch. However he wants to do it. However he wants to take me.

I feel my bra being removed, and the slow lift of my hand to meet the gold manacle. It clips into place and he kisses me again before slowly guiding my free hand to the other gold shackle.

I’m bound, spread on the cross, and at his mercy. But I’m one hundred percent safe, and I’m one hundred percent comfortable.

“Look at me, baby,” he whispers, stroking my cheek.

My heavy lids lift and I’m crippled by dark green pools of pure love. Sliding his hand around the nape of my neck, he pulls me forward slightly so our faces are as close as can be without touching. “Better.” His mouth meets mine tenderly, and I close my eyes, opening to his soft lips willingly, but not frenzied. I feel calm and serene as he leisurely works his tongue through my mouth, rolling, lapping, and withdrawing before evenly plunging back inside to continue lazily seducing me. He’s holding my neck firmly, kissing me like I’m glass, and I have no physical hold of him. His mouth is giving me everything I need. Trailing his lips to my ear, he runs his tongue up the edge of my lobe, my cheek pushing into his jaw, his light stubble comforting and so familiar. I’m riddled with tingles, every scrap of my form buzzing to the erotic routine of his lips. And then they leave my ear and he pulls away. “Eyes, baby.”

I rip my eyes open with some determined effort and watch as he shrugs off his shirt, the revealing of toned, smooth flesh attacking my eyes. My gaze drifts all over the hard vastness of his chest, over his pecs, over his abdomen, over his scar. The sight makes me shift in my heels and wish that I wasn’t bound. But I’m quickly distracted from my need to lay my hands on him when his belt is unfastened, along with his button and zipper, and he’s pushing his trousers down his robust thighs.

He’s standing before me, uncovered and unforgivingly phenomenal. I’m not serene any longer. I’m fighting the instinct to wrestle with my restraints and shout a demand for contact. He must catch my pending loss of control because he’s pressed up to my body in a split second and looking down into my desperate eyes.

“Let the music sink back in, Ava. Control it.”

I try, but with his naked muscles spread all over my restrained frame, it’s just way too hard. “I can’t,” I admit unashamedly. I’m not ashamed. I’m consumed. I close my eyes again, willing some strength from my weakness to obey him. My hands are suddenly warm from his palms encasing the fists I have formed and I flex them silently, showing my cooperation. He releases me before lightly dragging his fingers up the insides of my arms, a flurry of goose bumps tracking their path, until he’s on my chest and cupping both of my breasts. My eyes are still closed, but I know his mouth is moving in. I can feel his breath spreading further over my skin the closer he’s getting. And then there is the unmistakable heat of his mouth completely closed around my right breast. His tactic is exact. He sucks deeply, rolls his tongue slowly, and pulls back to kiss my nipple sweetly before repeating, sucking, rolling, and kissing. My head falls back, and I moan, a low, raspy noise of surrender. I soak up the attentive motions as I quietly sigh and let my head go completely limp. A buzzing has developed between my thighs and is beating a steady, consistent thrum.

I feel his teeth clamp painfully onto my nipple and my head flies up on a small cry. He doesn’t release me, even though it’s obviously painful. He just gazes up through his long lashes at me struggling to deal with the pressure. He smiles a little around my breast, and my nipple is released, the blood rushing back in as he sucks it back to life. I release a quiet gasp.

“My beautiful girl is learning to control it,” he muses, drawing my knickers down my thighs and tapping each ankle to lift. Pecking his way between my breasts, up my throat, and back to my lips, he cups me delicately and then slowly pushes two fingers inside of me. I’m panting immediately.

“Shhhh,” he whispers. “Soak it up, Ava. Feel every single bit of pleasure that I bless you with.” His fingers pull free and firmly drive forward again, deep and high. He might be measured and soft, but my muscles are gripping him harshly. And then they’re gone, but before I can voice a frustrated complaint, I feel the soaking wet head of his cock meet the very tip of my clit. I don’t miss the slight, sharp intake of breath from him, but I’m too drunk on his heated touch to tell him to control it. He guides himself around, rolling the steel, slippery head across me, getting his face up close to mine and breathing heavily all over my lips. Our eyes lock, complete adoration clashing between them, and he slowly lowers his lips to mine. It’s a kiss of passion and it’s full of heat and devotion.

This time, we both groan, we both lose our breath, and we both shift on the spot to steady ourselves.

“Are your arms okay?” he murmurs into my mouth.

“Yes.”

“Are you ready for me to take you, Ava?”

“I’m ready.”

He stoops and hovers at my entrance, then releases my lips. “Open your eyes for me, baby.”

I instantly comply, the magnetism of his own pulling me straight to where they should be, and I watch him as he unhurriedly breaches my opening and slides into me. “Oh God,” I breathe, maintaining our eye contact, refusing to break this incredible intimacy.

“Jesus.” His cheeks puff slightly; he shakes his head very mildly and a shimmer of sweat materializes across his brow as he reaches down and takes the backs of my thighs and lifts them to his narrow hips before drawing back and pushing forward on a low, throaty moan, dipping his head and latching onto my throat. My head naturally falls to the side. My eyes close as he lazily licks up the column, finishing with a tender kiss under my ear. “I set the pace,” he murmurs, “and you follow.”

His words make me swallow hard and turn into his mouth, capturing his lips and worshipping him while he truly blesses me with the consistent, calm, and controlled advances of his hips.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

We’re surrounded by this calming music, gliding against each other’s bodies and completely out of our mind on pleasure. Out he pulls, and in he goes again. He’s filling me wholly and not just with each and every perfect stroke. My heart is full, too. It’s full of fierce, powerful, undying love.

He pushes forward, but this time I hear a clear, harsh pull of breath. “You’re going to come.” My words come out on a quiet rush of breath.

“Not yet.” I watch as his eyes clench shut and his frown line trails the entire width of his brow, but he still maintains his steady pace. He is remarkably controlled, but I’m moving fast to where I need to be. Just looking at that face has sent the spiraling rush of pressure descending downward, and now I’m worried that I’ll break before Jesse.

I pant and rest my lips on his again, and he eagerly accepts, his tongue darting into my mouth and mimicking my big sweeping circles. His fingers dig into the backs of my thighs, lifting me higher so he can get more leverage, and then he hits me firmly and yells into my mouth. I free his lips and take refuge in the crook of his neck on a suppressed cry as I’m attacked by feverish spasms. He’s grinding firmly, retreating slowly, and flowing back in, so controlled.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mumbles quietly, drawing back and striking precisely and expertly one last mind-splitting time.

“Jesse!” I latch onto his shoulder and bite down hard, while I ride out the violent pulsations firing off all over my body. He bucks, yells, and squeezes my thighs as he comes, the feeling of his scorching essence filling me, warming me, completing me. I’m lightheaded and limp.

His face is buried in my neck, mine in his, and despite the calmness of that whole lovemaking session, the ending wasn’t a calm roll over into orgasm, and it wasn’t a frenzied rush to explosion. We just found our middle ground—a mixture of pure, gentle Jesse, and the dominant sex Lord I love.

“That was perfect,” I whisper in his ear. I really need to hold him, but I don’t need to ask. He’s already grasping me with one arm and reaching across with the other to undo me. He then swaps arms and releases my other hand. In spite of the slight ache and lack of life in my limbs, they still find their way around Jesse’s strong shoulders. I smother him completely, my thighs tightening and my cheek resting on his shoulders as he carries me to the bed and takes us down, me beneath him. The cool satin is a welcome sensation across my hot, clammy back, and it doesn’t escape my notice that he isn’t spreading his full weight all over me, instead opting to hold himself up slightly across my tummy.

“Do you like our room?” he asks into my hair.

I smile up at the ceiling. “Are we going to have a cradle put in here? You know, for when we bring our baby to The Manor.” My question is enough to plant the seed, and judging by the stilling of his heaving body, my seed has settled well.

He slowly pulls himself up and shifts to my side, resting the side of his head in his palm on his propped elbow. His fingertip starts circling around my bellybutton while he studies me. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.”

I put on my most innocent face. I know it won’t make a jot of difference. He’s cottoned right on to my little dig. “Just a question.”

His eyebrows slowly rise and serious eyes skate down my body to watch the slow rotations of his finger. “You have a bump.”

I shrink into the mattress on an offended snort. “Don’t be stupid! I’m barely pregnant.”

“I’m not being stupid.” His hand flattens and strokes softly. “It’s faint, but it’s there.” He leans down and kisses my belly before propping his head on his bent arm again. “I know this body, and I know it’s changing.”

I frown and look down at my stomach, but it looks perfectly flat to me. He’s seeing things now. “Whatever you say, Jesse.” I’m not arguing after that perfect moment, even if I do want to slap him for insinuating that I’ve put on weight.

He leans down again and gets his mouth up close to my abdomen. “See, peanut? Your mother’s learning who has the power.”

“No peanut!” I throw my head up and lob him a mighty scowl. He’s grinning at me. “Think of another name. You’re not referring to our child as something disgusting that you obsess about and devour daily.”

“I obsess about you. I also devour
you
daily. But I can’t call our baby a defiant little temptress.”

“No, that would be wrong.”

He jumps up and straddles my hips, pinning my wrists down, but still not resting himself on my stomach. “Let me call our baby peanut.”

“Never.”

“Sense fuck?”

“Yes, please,” I reply way too hopefully, grinning.

He laughs and kisses me chastely. “Pregnancy’s making you a monster. Come on. My wife and peanut must be hungry.”

“Your wife and
baby
are very hungry.”

His greens twinkle and he pulls me up from the bed, dressing me first before he pulls on his own clothes. I step into his chest and remove his hands from his collar, taking over the fastening of his buttons while he watches me quietly. Reaching around his back to tuck his shirt into his trousers, my cheek rests on his chest as I take my time making him look presentable.