This Man Confessed (12 page)

“I love you.”

What is that? I splutter and rip my mascara-clogged eyes open.

“Drink,” he commands softly.

I groan and roll over into my pillow. “Leave me alone,” I whine, hearing him chuckle. My head is banging. I’ve not even lifted it off the pillow and it already feels like Black Sabbath are having their practice session in my skull.

“Hey, come here.” He curls his forearm around my waist, and then drags me across the bed, onto his lap. I feel his palm smooth my hair and pull it from my face, and I peek through my eyes to see a glass of fizzing water being held to my lips. “Drink,” he presses. I let him tip the glass to my mouth, and I sip the welcome cool, fizzing liquid.

I finish the whole glass and then collapse against his bare chest.

“How bad is it?” he asks.

“Bad,” I croak. My eyes are heavy, and I’m far too comfortable to open my mind to the events that have united me and this stinking hangover—united me with this maddening man.

I feel him shift on the bed and then lean back, taking me with him. At least he’s talking to me enough to look after me in my pitiful state. What sort of person punishes the alcoholic love of her life by going out and getting drunk? And when she’s pregnant, not that he’s aware. What sort of person torments her crazily possessive husband by shoving her tongue down another man’s throat? The same sort of person who hides the love of his life’s pills to try and get her pregnant on the sly, that’s who. We’re made for each other.

“I’m sorry-ish,” I say quietly.

He kisses my hair. “Me too.”

I lay in a sorry heap across him, drifting in and out of sleep and in and out of thought.

“What are you thinking?” he asks quietly, almost apprehensively.

“I’m thinking we can’t go on like this,” I answer honestly. “It’s not good for you.” I leave out the fact that it’s not good for me, either.

He sighs. “I don’t care about me.”

“What are we going to do?” I press.

He’s silent for a few moments, and then he shifts me onto my back and nudges my thighs apart to cradle himself between them. He takes a deep breath and drops his forehead to my chest. “I don’t know, but I do know how much I love you.”

I sag and look up at the ceiling. I know that as well but the saying
love conquers all
is being tested to its limit here. He plays the love card every time, like it’s an acceptable excuse for his neurotic ways.

“Why did you do it?” I ask. I don’t have to elaborate further. He knows what I’m referring to.

He looks up at me, his frown line crawling across his forehead. “Because I love you,” he says defensively. “Everything is because I love you.”

“You treat me like trash, fuck me in the toilet of a bar, and then walk out to go and feel up another woman? Did you do that because you love me, too?”

“I was trying to prove a point,” he argues quietly. “And watch your mouth.”

“No, Jesse, you were trying to be a wanker.” I shift slightly under him, and he looks up at me anxiously. “I need a shower.”

He searches my eyes but eventually rolls off to let me up. I drag myself from the bed and into the bathroom, closing the door behind me before brushing my teeth and getting in the shower. I feel completely deflated and want to crawl back into bed and forget about everything, but my racing mind is venturing into frightening territory, making my head ache further. I’ve not seen him for four days. I’m trying my hardest not to venture there, but I really can’t help it, especially in light of his last disappearing act.

I jump when I feel his hand slide around my stomach and his lips rest on my shoulder. “Let me,” he whispers, taking the sponge and turning me around. He kneels in front of me and takes my foot, resting it on his thigh, before starting to sweep the soapy sponge up my leg.

His frown line is nowhere to be seen. He looks content, peaceful, and relaxed, just how I like him to be. “Where have you been since Monday?” I ask as I watch him closely. He doesn’t tense or flick me cautious eyes; he just continues slowly washing me as the water beats down around us.

“In hell,” he answers softly. “You left me, Ava.” He doesn’t look at me, and he’s not using an accusing tone, but I know he’s pointing out that I broke my promise.

“Where were you?” I push, dropping my foot back to the shower floor and lifting my other when he taps my ankle.

“I was trying to give you space. I realize how I am with you, Ava, and I wish I could stop myself. I really do.”

He still hasn’t answered me. I know all of that. “Where were you, Jesse?”

“Following you,” he whispers. “Everywhere.”

“For four whole days?”

He looks up at me and stops with the sponge sweeps. “My only comfort was seeing how lost you were, too.” He reaches up and takes my hand, pulling me down to him so I’m kneeling, too, mirroring him. He pushes my wet hair from my face and leans in to softly kiss my lips. “We’re not conventional, baby. But we’re special. What we have is really special. You belong to me, and I belong to you. It just is. It’s not natural for us to be apart, Ava.”

“We drive each other crazy. It’s not healthy.”

“Not healthy would be my life without you in it.” He encourages me up onto his lap and links my arms around his neck before circling my waist with his big hands. “This is where you’re supposed to be.” He squeezes my waist to reinforce his point. “Right here, always with me. Don’t ever kiss another man again, Ava. They’ll be locking me away for a long time.”

I reach up and caress his jaw. There’s no bruising or marks. “You need to stop with the crazy shit.”

He clenches my cheeks and pushes his lips to mine. “And you need to stop with the defiant shit.” He’s grinning around my lips.

“Never.” I soak him right up, there in the soaking shower.

W
e spend most of Saturday making friends. I’ve relished in the sleepy sex, and I’ve disagreed with almost everything Jesse has said, just to get some sense fucked into me. I then swiftly forgot what I’d agreed to during the sense fucking, instigating a reminder fuck. We had an alfresco fuck right after we ate on the terrace, followed by a retribution fuck when Jesse decided that breaking my promise warranted one. I’ve been fucked in every way, shape, and form, and I’ve loved every single second of it. I’m back to relaxing sweetly on Central Jesse Cloud Nine. With the absence of a pregnancy, he’s back to taking me how and when he wants and any which way, too. Yesterday has more than made up for my lack of dominant Jesse in recent weeks. I couldn’t be happier. But there is really no lack of a pregnancy.

Kate checked in, and I’m sure I heard my brother in the background, but she denied it, proceeding to ask me if Jesse and I had made friends. Yes. She also asked if I’d told Jesse that I’m pregnant. No. After a full day of being indulged in him and having things completely back to normal, just how they should be, I’m sure this is the right decision.

“Are you going to lie there all day, or are you getting dressed so we can shoot to The Manor?” He stands in the bathroom doorway gloriously naked, rubbing a towel over his dark blond locks.

I push myself up and crawl to the bottom of the bed, then flop down on my front, propping myself up on my elbows and resting my chin in my palm. I know what I’m doing, and so does he by the look in his twinkling greens. Not that I don’t want to go to The Manor. With the absence of a certain whip-wielding witch, Jesse’s country estate is a far more pleasant place to be.

“I might.” My voice is inviting and low, just how I intended it to be. “You’re hard.” I nod at his groin and flick my eyes back up to him, struggling to hold back my grin. I bite my lip and watch him closely.

“That would be because I’m looking at you.” He drapes the towel over his shoulders and leans on the door frame.

I drool at the mass of pure, tempting gorgeousness. “You’re hard everywhere.”

“Except here,” he says, all deep and coarse, tapping his chest. “Here, I’m as soft as shit. But only for you.”

I smile seductively. “You can be hard-hearted sometimes,” I muse, rolling over onto my back, my head hanging off the end of the bed.

“You’re a temptress, Mrs. Ward.”

I watch his upside-down body approach slowly until he’s standing looking down at me, his steel shaft brushing my top lip.

“You want it?” he asks, clasping the base and guiding himself from side-to-side across my lips. The hot dampness has my tongue darting out to taste, but he pulls back, his lips tipping at the corners. “Say please.”

“Please.” I reach up and run my fingertips down the center of his chest, and he moans, guiding his cock back to my lips. I open slowly while watching as his face contorts with anticipation, then close my lips around him.

“Ava, that damn fucking mouth of yours.” He groans, clenching his eyes shut.

“Should I stop?” I bite down lightly and drag my teeth across his smooth flesh. “Do you want me to stop?”

“I want you to shut the fuck up and concentrate on what you’re doing.”

I smile and release him before flipping myself over and sitting on the end of the bed between his thighs. I grab his cock and squeeze…hard.

“Stop teasing me, lady.” His hands find my hair, his fists clenching, and he pushes me on to him.

I don’t put up any resistance. I love taking him like this. My head drifts forward and my fingernails grip onto his firm arse.

“Oh fuck!” he barks, holding my head in place. “Just stay there.”

He’s brushing the back of my throat, and I’m struggling to stop my stomach from convulsing, but I keep quiet while he spasms against me, his head dropped back and his fists tightening in my hair. I need to keep control here. I can’t be throwing up. I’ll never explain it; so instead of concentrating on my mouthful of solid cock, I focus solely on keeping myself from retching. I close my eyes and inhale through my nose. What is wrong with me? If pregnancy brings aversions and mine is a sudden intolerance of Jesse’s manhood in my mouth, then I
never
want to be pregnant again.

I relax a little when he withdraws and quickly drop him from my mouth before crawling up his body and wrapping my legs around him. I need to play this perfectly, especially judging by the incredulous look on his handsome face. He doesn’t like me halting things. That’s his call. I lean in and bite his lip. “I want you inside me.”

“I was quite happy where I was,” he splutters in disbelief. It makes me laugh. “I’m glad you find it funny, Ava.”

“I don’t. I’m sorry.” Pushing my lips to his, I wave the
need
card. It’s my only option. “I need you inside me now.”

He pulls back and narrows his eyes. It worries me, but then he knocks me out with his smile, reserved only for me. “You’ll never have to ask me twice, baby.” He lowers me to the bed and comes down with me. “Get rid of the towel.”

I yank the bath sheet from around his neck and fling it across the room.

“Put your hands in my hair,” he orders. I comply immediately, lacing my fingers though his mass of wet, dirty blond. “Pull it.” He leans down and licks my lips as I tug at his hair on a moan. “Kiss me hard, Ava.” His stern tone just spikes my need further. I tackle his mouth with desperation and conviction. “Stop,” he orders, and I do, even though I really don’t want to. “Kiss me softly,” he whispers, and I sigh, gently sweeping my tongue through his mouth, so very lazily. It’s heaven. “Enough,” he says harshly, and again I stop. He pulls back and drops a loving kiss on my lips. “Why can’t you do everything I ask that quickly?”

I grin and pull him in closer, reclaiming his mouth. “Because your power-hungry persona is rubbing off on your wife.”

He laughs and rolls over so I’m astride his hips. “Take the power, baby.”

“Okay,” I agree quickly, lifting myself from his groin. He reaches down, and I slap his hand away. “Excuse me.”

“Oh, sorry.” He grins sheepishly. “Don’t fuck about, though, will you?”

“You’re forgetting, God.” I grab his erection and guide him to me. “You’ve just relinquished the power.” I lower gently, his grin soon disappearing, being replaced with thorough appreciation.

He moans and grabs the tops of my legs. “I might give you the power more often.”

I lift and slowly sink back down, running my hands all over his chest. “You like?”

“Oh, I love.” He looks up at me and starts smoothing his hands over the tops of my thighs.

“You’re so handsome.” I lift and lower gently again on a sigh.

“I know,” he says simply.

“You’re arrogant.”

“I know. Up you go.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Who has the power?”

“You do, but you won’t for long if you abuse it. Up.” He’s restraining a smile, and I scowl, but lift myself anyway. “Good girl,” he pants. “Faster.”

Sinking back down, I grind gently. “But I like it like this.”

“Faster, Ava.”

“No. I have the power.” I work my way back up, but don’t get the chance to tease my way down. I’m flipped onto my back and pinned down.

“You lost your chance, lady.” He drives straight in with purpose. “I’m taking the power back.”

Bang!

I yell, my legs falling open.

Bang!

“Fuck!” I scream as he hits my womb.

“Mouth!”

Bang!

“Jesse!”

“You pushed your luck, baby,” he grunts, flexing his grip of my wrists and hitting me over and over and over. My eyes close. “Eyes!” I rip them open on a shocked yelp. “Better.” Sweat is pouring down his face, dripping onto my cheeks. I need to hold onto him, scratch him and bite him, but I’m completely powerless, just as he likes me.

“Let me hold you,” I cry, pulling at his grip as he thunders on.

“Who has the power?”

“You do, you fucking control freak!”

“Watch,”
Bang!
“your,”
Bang!
“mouth!”

I scream.

“Fuck!” he yells. “Come for me, Ava!”

I can’t. I’m trying to focus on the climax that’s lingering somewhere deep, but every time I think I’ve captured it, he hits me again with those punishing hips and knocks it back. My eyes close and I can do nothing more than accept the assault my body is under.

“Jesus, Ava. I’m going to come!”

And with that he shouts, grinds, and collapses on top of me, releasing my hands from his fierce grip. His breathing is chaotic, his body twitching, and his skin wet. I’m all of those things, too, minus one satisfying climax.

“You didn’t come,” he says, panting into my neck. I can’t talk, so I hum and shake my head, my arms flopped limply at the side of my head. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

I hum again and attempt to lift my arms to cuddle him so he knows that I’m fine, but my muscles are on shut down. Our sweaty chests are compressed together and our erratic breathing is loud. We’re both completely shattered. I want to stay in bed, but then I feel the absence of his weight, and I’m being lifted into his arms. I mumble an audible protest as I’m carried to the bathroom. He turns the spray on, grabs a towel from the shelf and chucks it on the floor of the shower before laying me down on it. I just about muster up the strength to frown up at him as he lowers himself to the floor and spreads my legs.

“Let’s bring you back to life.” He flicks the shower to cool and settles between my thighs before
really
waking me up with a stretched out, agonizingly soft stroke of his tongue, right up the center of my core.

My back arches, my lifeless arms spring to life, and my voice comes back. “Ohhhhh Godddd!” I grab his wet hair and push him farther into me, the previously deep, misplaced orgasm now gushing forward. I don’t even try to control it. I start panting, my stomach muscles tensing, my head lifting, as the cool, fresh water rains all over me. He’s everywhere, licking, biting, sucking, trailing kisses down the insides of my thighs and slowly back up again to plunge his tongue in deep.

“Awake yet?” he mumbles around my flesh, then bites lightly on my clit.

“More!” I demand, yanking at his hair. I hear him laugh a little before he follows through on my order and seals his mouth completely around me and sucks me gently to climax.

I burst. I see stars. I moan and throw my hands over my head. Way too good. Just way way too bloody good. I’m pulsing against him and completely limp, and the cool spray is divine, the consistent purring of the shower relaxing.

“I love love love feeling you throb.” He kisses his way up my body until he finds my lips, giving me more special attention. I only respond with my mouth, unable to convince my muscles to move, and not bothering to make much effort of it, either. “Am I redeemed?”

I nod against his kiss and he laughs, pulling back to study me. My eyes are still working fine. He’s just beyond fucking beautiful. “I love you.” I just about manage to squeeze the words past my fitful breaths.

He dazzles me with that smile…my smile. “I know you do, baby.” He gets up, far too spritely for my liking. “Come on. Now that I’ve fulfilled my godly obligation, we need to go to The Manor.”

He takes my hand and heaves me up with absolutely no effort at all, then spends some quiet time rinsing me down and washing my hair.

“You’re done, lady. Out.” He slaps my arse and sends me on my way, while he finishes his shower.

We have lots to catch up on. We’ve broke the back of it, and this is all the more reason for me to remedy the situation that will undoubtedly take me back to being treated like I’m breakable if I remain pregnant.

I walk into the kitchen and find Jesse rummaging frantically through the cupboards. With his arms raised, his broad back is accentuated by the pull of his white polo T-shirt, the vast expanse of firmness making my hands twitch at my sides and my eyes blink to confirm he’s real. I smile. He’s real all right, and he’s also mine.

“What are you doing?” I ask, pulling my hair up into a messy mass of wildness on top of my head.

He turns around and looks at me in alarm. “I’ve run out of Sun-Pat.”

“What?” I laugh at his genuine distress. “You’ve run out of peanut butter?”

“It’s not fucking funny!” He slams the cupboard door shut before stalking over to the fridge, yanking it open, and shifting endless bottles of water. “What the fuck is Cathy playing at?” he barks to himself.

I can’t help it. I double over with laughter. This is not the normal behavior for someone who merely
likes
something. He’s addicted to it. My Lord is addicted to peanut butter and, quite possibly, is going to have a seizure if he doesn’t get his fix soon. I’m happily tittering away when I hear the fridge door slam. I bolt upright and do a rubbish job of restraining my grin. I’m clamping down painfully on my lip to prevent it.

“What are you grinning at?” He scowls at me, good and proper.

“Why the compulsion for peanut butter?” I ask quickly, before reclamping down on my lip.

He folds his arms across his chest, still scowling. “I like it.”

“You like it?”

“Yes, I like it.”

“You’re in a bit of a pickle, considering you just
like
it.” My lip drags through my teeth as I completely lose the battle to keep back my smirk.

“I’m not in a pickle,” he argues on a small laugh. “It’s no big deal.”

“Okay.” I shrug, still grinning. It is
such
a big deal.

He walks across the kitchen and around the island toward me, his eyes widening as my lower body comes into view. “What the hell are they?” he blurts.

I look down at myself and back up to shocked green eyes. “Shorts.”

“You mean knickers?”

I’m grinning again. “No, I mean shorts.” I grab the hem on each leg of my denim shorts and pull them up. “If they were knickers, they’d look like this.”

He gasps a little, still studying the offending garment. “Ava, come on, be reasonable.”

“Jesse,” I say and sigh. “I’ve told you. If you want long skirts and roll-neck jumpers, then go find someone your own age.” I pull my shorts back down and kneel to tie the laces of my Converse, ignoring the grumbling and bristling emanating from every delicious fiber of my unreasonable man. “I might go for a swim at The Manor.” I look up at him, finding his grumpy face is back to horror.