‘You’re the one who tells me I’m too tired!’ I practically screech. ‘It’s okay for you to knock me back.’
‘That’s because I have the power.’ he says frankly. ‘Promise me.’ he presses.
‘You want me to promise you that I’m here for you to take as and when you please?’
He looks away, only very briefly, before returning thoughtful eyes to me. ‘Yes,’ he says simply.
‘What if I don’t?’ I’m being insolent for the sake of it. I’ll never be too tired for this man, but his sudden epiphany is really quite amusing. He should have thought about all of this before he nicked my pills.
He laughs, and then the arrogant swine only leans back and pulls his t-shirt over his head, revealing himself in all of his clean cut perfection. He looks down at his chest, as if refreshing his own memory of just how incredibly flawless he is. My eyes are on that chest, too. I might even be salivating all over my lamb, but I’m defiantly resisting his tactics. I drink in his godliness, my eyes skipping over every hard piece of him, my mind making a mental note to refresh my mark. It’s fading. ‘You’ll never resist this.’ He gestures to his torso.
My eyes whip back up, seeing self-assured, bright greens. ‘I’m used to it.’ I rip my greedy stare away from the equal perfection of his face and back to my plate. My eyes are not happy and are pulling in my sockets to get another fill. ‘It kind of gets the same old after a while.’ I add as casually as I can.
He’s on me in a second, pulling me from the table and taking me down to a rug on the floor. I don’t get a moment to register what’s happened until I’m barely breathing and he’s coating me completely. ‘You’re a shit liar, baby.’
‘I know.’ I concede. I’m crap at it.
‘Let’s see how used to it you are, shall we?’ He moves my arms to my sides and sits astride of me, pinning me in place. I’m immobile and suddenly very concerned by this situation. I’ve been here plenty of times before, and most of them I came out the other end a very unhappy girl.
‘Jesse, please don’t.’ I beg, for very little purpose. I know it will get me entirely nowhere. He’s in a trampling mood, his sudden realisation of how he might be side-lined sparking his animal instinct to stake his claim, and probably mark me, too. He’s like a lion.
‘What?’ he asks, despite knowing damn well what. ‘You’re used to it.’
He’s fully aware that I was feigning nonchalance. I’ll never get used to it, and I’m so glad. I’ll look at him this way, appreciate him this way and become consumed with desire this way for the rest of my days. And I can’t wait. That desire is coursing through my veins right now. It’s always lying dormant in the background, simmering gently, ready for a few right words or a touch. Then the simmering transforms into a fizzing, deep in my tummy, and then impatience, and then torturous pleasure until explosion, whether it’s of the soft, rollover kind, or the mind-bending, screaming kind. I’m starting to fizz now. My tummy muscles are squeezing and he’s probably aware because unlike previous encounters lately, he’s resting on my stomach. Has he had enlightenment that he won’t hurt his babies, as well as being enlightened that I won’t just be his anymore?
My current position and the relentless beat between my thighs is not helped when he raises to his knees and starts unbuttoning the fly of his jeans. This is going to be painful. If he’s going to go full force into dominant Jesse, then I want to make the most of it, and I have no hope of seizing the opportunity with my body and arms pinned down. I feel a yell of frustration brewing and as hard as I try to pull my insatiable eyes away from those abdominals as his hands work his jeans, I’m failing miserably. Used to it? Fucking ridiculous thing to claim.
‘Jesse, let me up.’ I don’t bother wriggling because it will only tire me out, and I’m storing my energy for what I hope is to come.
‘No, Ava.’ He pushes the waist of his jeans down a little, revealing his tight, white Armani’s. This is getting harder.
‘Please,’ I plead.
There’s a glint of victory sparkling from his hooded eyes, even though we both know he’s not done yet. ‘No, Ava.’ he repeats on a husk, slipping his thumb into the waistband of his boxers.
I catch a glimpse of his dark blonde mass of hair and the unmistakable taut, smooth flesh of his cock. ‘Oh God,’ I close my eyes in hopelessness, hating him and loving him all at the same time. Keeping myself in darkness, I’m beyond mystified when I don’t get the familiar bark to open. I’m not mystified for long, though. Not when I feel movement, and then the sensation of something solid and wet slipping across my lips. Natural instinct kicks in and my lips open, but I don’t get mouth penetration. This might result in my throwing up, but I’m still praying for mouth penetration. I open my eyes to be met by his stomach from where he’s dropped a hand by my head so he’s leaning over me. Glancing up to find his face, I know what I’ll discover, but it doesn’t stop me. I know what look I’ll find, I know it’ll drive me insane with lust, and I know that I’ll be able to do f**k all about it.
And there it is. My Lord, braced on one stupidly solid arm, his obscenely addictive eyes dropped low, his sickening long lashes fanning that stunning face and with a little flick of my eyes, I’m staring at that stomach and chest which should be deemed a hazard. With the added bonus of him holding himself, grazing my lips with the broad magnificence of his cock, I’m ruined. ‘Mouth.’ I demand calmly.