Beneath This Man - Malpas Jodi Ellen - Страница 14
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‘Ava, answer me.’ He pushes high and grinds firmly, a sweat breaking out across his brow. ‘Don’t hold out on me.’
His words hit me like a lightning bolt. Hold out? He’s tried to fuck a love confession out of me before – in the en-suite last Saturday when he rammed into me repeatedly, demanding I say it. I thought he was looking for reassurance that I wasn’t leaving. I was wrong. How did he know?
There’s another perfect grind and my internal muscles start to spasm, tremors inching their way into the epicentre of my nerve endings. My legs stiffen. ‘How did you know?’ I cry, throwing my head back in despair, both mentally and physically.
‘Damn it, Ava, look at me.’ He hits me with a full, hard strike, and I drag my eyes open on an angry yell. ‘I love you.’ he shouts, reinforcing his words with yet another slow withdraw and hard fast attack of his hips.
‘I love you too!’ I scream the words that are literally punched out of me.
He stops his movements completely, our breaths rushed and frantic as he holds my hands in place and looks down at me. ‘I love you so fucking much. I didn’t think it was possible.’ His words penetrate me deeply, the intensity of our joining having my heart kicking into a higher gear as he looks down at me, tears pricking the backs of his eyes. He smiles faintly and slowly withdraws himself. ‘Now, we make love.’ he says quietly, rocking gently back into me and capturing my lips in a slow, sensual kiss, full of meaning. He releases his hold of me and my hands fly to his back, slipping across his damp skin.
His tactic has changed completely. Slowly and leisurely, he drives in and out of me, pushing me up towards complete rapture as I clasp at his damp back, holding as tight as I can. Sex with Jesse has always been beyond compare, but this moment holds a significant power that I never thought possible. He loves me.
I struggle to keep my emotions in check when he pulls back and holds his face to mine, nose to nose, eyes full of sentiment. I’m coming apart. The consistency of his controlled, deep thrusts has me shuddering and tensing around him as my core convulses and grips his shaft on each and every plunge. The sheen of sweat across his brow and his frown line deep with concentration tells me he’s tipping the edge too. Tilting my hips up on a thrust, I moan as he fills me to my absolute limit, the feel of his rhythmic, meticulous tempo having me wanting to squeeze my eyes shut, but I can’t drag them away from his.
‘Together.’ he says, his hot breath spreading across my face.
‘Yes,’ I gasp, feeling him expand and throb in preparation for his release.
‘Christ, Ava.’ A rush of air escapes his lips and his body goes rigid, but he doesn’t remove his eyes from mine. My back arches on reflex when the spiraling rush of pleasure reaches its climax and sends me tumbling into a hurricane of uncontrollable feelings. I cry out in complete despairing pleasure, my body trembling in his hold. I close my eyes to blink back the tears that have developed as my orgasm begins to recede slowly and lazily with his continued even strokes.
‘Eyes,’ he commands softy, and I obey, opening my eyes again.
He moans deeply and I tighten all of my muscles at my core to grip him and extract his release from him. How is he keeping his head up and his eyes open? I can see the battle he’s having with his instincts to hammer into me and throw his head back, but he’s keeping a rein on his control. And then, you can almost hear the snap of his release as his cheeks puff out and he pushes himself into me, long and hard, holding himself there, my muscles obliging his throbbing erection and continuing with their slow, easy constrictions as he pours into me.
‘I love you.’ I say quietly as he looks down at me, his chest heaving. There. I’ve put it out there. My cards are well and truly on the table, and he didn’t technically fuck that one out of me.
He rests his lips on mine. ‘I know you do, baby.’
‘How did you know?’ I ask. I know I’ve never told him. I’ve screamed it in my head a thousand times, but I have never actually voiced it.
‘You told me when you were drunk,’ He smiles, ‘After I showed you how to dance.’
I do a quick run through of the night when I got ridiculously drunk and relented to his persistent pursuing again. I remember admitting it to myself, but I certainly don’t remember blurting it out to him. Mind you, I don’t remember much after Jesse escorted me from the bar. I was in a state. That’s his fault too.
‘I don’t remember.’ I admit. I feel bloody stupid.
‘I know you don’t,’ He grinds his hips.
I sigh.
‘It was so fucking frustrating.’
It all comes flooding back. He really was trying to fuck a love confession out of me. He watches me as I figure it out, and his mouth forms an O on a small smile.
‘You knew all along.’ I say quietly.
Drunken confessions.
I had beaten myself up about it for days and days, and he knew all along? Why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t he just talk to me instead of trying to fuck it out of me? So much could have been so very different.
His smile disappears and is replaced with a stoic expression. ‘You were drunk. I wanted to hear the words when you were of sound mind. Women get drunk all the time and confess their undying love to me.’
‘Do they?’ I blurt.
He almost laughs. ‘Yes, they do.’ He drops his eyes, ‘I wasn’t sure if you still did after…’ His teeth start a vicious workout on his bottom lip, ‘Well, after I had my little meltdown.’
I inwardly laugh. Little meltdown? Bloody hell, what would be a big meltdown? Women tell him they love him? What women and how many are there? I screw my face up in my own private disgust. I’m extremely uncomfortable with how resentful I’m feeling about any other woman having him or loving him. I need to put these thoughts right out of my mind and fast. No good could come of me knowing.
‘I love you.’ I reinforce my words, almost grinding them out, like I’m telling all of those women who claim to love him too. I feel his whole body relax over me before he continues slowly circling deep inside me.
Pulling him down onto me, I wrap my entire body around him. I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, but then it occurs to me; I’m in love with a man and I have no clue how old he is.
‘How old are you, Jesse?’
He pulls his face up and I can see the cogs of his mind start revolving. I know he’s thinking whether or not he should just tell me his real age and stop with his silly diversion. ‘I can’t remember.’ He frowns.
Oh, I might be able to play this to my advantage. I think we may have got to thirty-ish. ‘We were at thirty three.’ I prompt.
He smirks at me. ‘We should start again.’
‘No!’ I pull his face down and rub my nose across his rough cheek. ‘We got to thirty three.’
‘You’re a rubbish liar, baby.’ he laughs, nuzzling into my face. ‘I like this game. I think we should start again. I’m eighteen.’
‘Eighteen!’ I exclaim.
‘Don’t play games with me, Ava.’
‘Why won’t you just tell me how old you are?’ I ask exasperated. It really doesn’t matter to me. He’s forty, maximum.
‘I’m thirty one.’
I sag beneath him dramatically. He does remember. ‘How old are you?’
‘I just told you, I’m thirty one.’
I narrow displeased eyes on him and one side of his mouth lifts into a semblance of a smirk. ‘It’s just a number.’ I moan. ‘If you ask me anything in the future, I won’t answer – not truthfully, anyway.’ I threaten.
His semblance of a smirk falls away immediately. ‘I already know everything I need to know about you. I know how I feel and nothing you could tell me will make me feel any different. I wish you felt the same.’
Oh, that’s below the belt! It wouldn’t make a jot of difference to the way I feel about him. I’m just curious, that’s all. I wish he would just give up the ghost. I’m already distracted by him and his challenging ways and we still haven’t really talked, but I do feel so much better, not empty and hollow anymore.
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