This Man (37 page)

Oh God, I want him to take me here and now. Damn anyone who wants to watch.

‘I’m going to fuck you until you’re seeing stars, Ava.’ His voice is harsh as he grinds his hips against me. I whimper.

‘You won’t be going to work tomorrow because you won’t be able to walk. Get in the car.’

I would, but I already can’t walk.

Suspense has rendered me immobile.

After a few seconds have passed and I’ve still not convinced my legs to shift, he pulls me out of the way, opens the door and gently shoves me into the passenger seat.

Chapter 25

Our journey back to
Lusso
is the longest I’ve ever endured. The sexual tension bouncing around in his car is excruciating, and Jesse is almost violent when he gets stuck behind a Sunday driver.

‘Some people shouldn’t be allowed on the fucking road. MOVE!’ He performs a highly illegal manoeuvre, overtaking the car on a single carriageway.

He frequently adjusts his groin area, and in the dim light of the DBS, I see a shimmer of sweat across his brow. Oh, he’s a man on a mission. He skids to a halt outside the electronic gates of
Lusso
and presses a remote to open them, his hand drumming on the steering wheel as he waits impatiently for them to shift.

I smile. ‘You’re going to have a seizure if you don’t calm down.’

He pauses with the drumming and looks at me, all smoky. ‘Ava, I’ve had a fucking seizure every day since I met you.’

‘You’re swearing a lot.’ I muse as the gates open and he pulls into the car park, fast and carelessly.

‘And you’re going to be screaming a lot,’ There is no humour in his tone. ‘Out.’

he orders.

I’ve no doubt I will be, but I do love it when he’s in these frenzies. I take my time getting out of the car, and when I’m finally vertical, I glance up and find he’s stood in front of me, with a very irked look on his face.

‘What are you doing?’ he asks incredulously at my leisurely pace.

I gaze around at the black night-time sky and down to the docks. ‘Do you fancy a walk?’

His mouth drops open. ‘Do I fancy a walk?’

‘Yes, it’s a lovely evening.’ I return my gaze to him, doing a rubbish job of hiding my smug smile.

‘No, Ava, I fancy fucking you until you beg me to stop.’ He bends, grabs me around the back of my thighs and hoists me over his shoulder, kicking shut the door of his ridiculously expensive car.

‘Jesse!’ My stomach catapults into my mouth at the swift movement. ‘I’ll walk!’

He starts striding into the foyer of
Lusso
. ‘Not fast enough. Good evening, Clive.’

I brace my hands on Jesse’s lower back, craning my head up to find Clive observing me draped over Jesse’s shoulder. What must he think of me? The last time I entered
Lusso
I was being carried too. ‘I’m not drunk!’ I yell, watching Clive disappear from sight as Jesse carries me into the elevator and punches the code in harshly.

In my sassy state, I slide my hands beneath his jeans, onto his fantastic, tight arse, to feel the tense and swell of his muscles and smooth, warm skin as he strides out of the lift.

‘No fucking about. I want inside you now. You fuck about, I swear to God...’

He’s deadly serious.

‘You’re so romantic.’

‘We’ve got all the time in the world for romance, lady.’

Have we?

He barges into the penthouse, slamming the door behind him. I’m a touch disorientated when he lowers me to my feet in the kitchen. I stand before him, my hands resting on his shoulders, trying to get my bearings.

‘You know, you’re really not going to be in a fit state to work tomorrow.’ His hot breath is leaving condensation on my face.

‘Strip, now.’

I’m shaking – visibly shaking. I demand my hands to remove themselves from his shoulders, but they’re having none of it. I try to pull myself together, but it’s impossible when he’s looking at me like that. I feel his hands lay over mine and peel them away from his shoulders. He places them on my stomach.

‘Start with the shirt.’ His voice is throaty, tinged with a bit of desperation.

I can do this; I can be audacious. ‘So, am I in charge?’ I ask, inwardly bracing myself for his scoff.

It doesn’t come. He looks at me, the slight surprise at my question clear, but he doesn’t laugh. He can’t be in control all of the time.

‘If it makes you happy,’ He unclasps his Rolex and slides it onto the island.

Oh, it does. I give myself a mental pep talk. I can do this, I can do this. I take a deep breath and, staring him boldly in the eye, raise my hands to my top button, willing my fingers to co-operate. Every button I undo, his face strains harder, and I become bolder. If this isn’t fucking about, then I don’t know what is.

I release my shirt, letting it hang open, and watch as he scrapes his eyes down my torso, his tongue running across his parted bottom lip. Liking this response I’m getting, I take my hands to my shoulders and pull my shirt away, accentuating the slow push forward of my breasts when I lower it down my arms. Like the wanton sex fiend that I am, I hold it out to my side for a few seconds while his eyes travel back up my body. Then, when our eyes meet again, I dramatically open my palm and let it fall to the floor, leaving my arm outstretched and hovering at my side for a few seconds. His eyes are blazing, his forehead damp. Oh, I’m really doing this well.

‘I love you in lace.’ he whispers.

I smile. I’m really into my stride now. I lower my steady hands to the fly of my trousers and lazily undo one button at a time as he watches. His panting is increasing by the second, and the drain on his self-control has him chewing his lip to the point of drawing blood.

Once all the buttons are undone and my trousers are gaping open, I stand with my hands tucked in the front, ready to drag them down my legs, but I don’t. I’m too enthralled by his reaction to my shameless strip. I like this role reversal.

He looks up at me, his eyes blazing and desperate. ‘I could rip them off in two seconds flat.’

‘But you won’t.’ My voice is husky and alluring. I’m stunned by my own brashness.

‘You’ll wait.’ I kick my shoes off, sending them flying a few yards across the kitchen.

He follows their course before looking back at me with raised eyebrows. ‘Taking this a bit far, aren’t you?’

I smile sweetly as little by little, inch by inch, I slide my capri pants down my legs and kick them off. I’m stood in my coral lace underwear before this glorious man, and I’ve lost all my inhibitions. It’s an eye-opener. Who would have thought I could be so brash? I like being in charge!

He lifts his hand to stroke my chest.

‘No.’ I utter firmly, his hand floating over my breast bone. It’s not touching me, but the heat emanating from it has me nearly hyperventilating. Here’s me telling him to wait, and I’m as desperate as he is. My self-control is wavering, but I really love this power.

‘Fuck you.’ he mumbles, dropping his hand.

‘Please do.’

He smirks. ‘Beg.’

Beg? How did this turn around so quickly? I don’t think so. ‘I would rather go without.’

‘Leave your hair alone, Ava.’ His eyes darken further. I drop my hair, while he drops his eyes. ‘You’re still wearing your underwear.’

I glance down. ‘What are going to do about that?’

‘
I’m
going to do nothing,’ he shrugs.

‘Unless you beg,’

‘I don’t think so.’ I say coolly. I’m not backing down.

‘We might be here a while then.’

‘We might.’ I agree.

‘Maybe longer than Friday,’ He’s pokerfaced.

Oh, the sly sod! He just can’t let it drop, can he? I narrow my eyes at him as he raises his eyebrows at me. So, we’re in a stand-off, neither one of us wanting to make the first move. He should! He’s the one who declared he wanted no fucking about, so help him God…

What to do? What to do? And then it comes to me.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t fuck about. I have work tomorrow.’ I turn to leave, hearing that familiar growl I love so much, his arm scooping around my waist and lifting me from my feet. I crumble in half over his forearm. I can’t help it...I laugh.

He paces towards the kitchen island and flips me around, sitting me on the cold granite. His eyes are full of displeasure at my little joke. ‘When will you fucking listen, lady? You’re not going anywhere,’

He nudges my thighs apart, edging between them with his hands on my waist, his face deadly serious.

I’m still recovering from my laughing fit, but it soon subsides when he pulls me forward to meet his groin, his erection rubbing me in just the right spot. I moan, placing my hands around his neck.

‘And watch your mouth.’ he grumbles, his concentration slash concern frown, not so light on his forehead. It’s concern this time. Is he really serious about me never going anywhere?

What? Ever?

‘I’m sorry.’ I say genuinely. I shouldn’t play with him like that. It’s obvious he has issues with non-conformity.

‘You really know how to rub me up the wrong way,’ he mutters. ‘We do things my way from now on.’

‘We always do things your way.’ I sulk on a pout.

‘Correct. Get use to it.’

He stands before me, pulling his jumper up over his head, kicking his Grensons off, before making quick work of his jeans and boxers. I sit patiently, more than happy to watch him undress. This man is a God. I drag my eyes down the full loveliness of him, briefly faltering on his scar and settling on his thick, pulsing erection.

‘It’s rude to stare.’ he says softly.

My eyes jump to his, uncertain as to whether he’s referring to me looking at his scar or his beautiful manhood. He doesn’t elaborate. He moves back into me, reaching around my back to unhook my bra, slowly drawing it down my arms and tossing it behind him.

Resting his hands on the edge of the worktop, he watches me as he leans down and takes a nipple in his mouth, slowly swirling and flicking it with his tongue.

In pure, unashamed bliss, I sigh, reaching up to lace my fingers in his hair as he divides his attention between each of my breasts. My head falls back and I close my eyes, absorbing his attentive mouth. I really don’t mind letting him take control.

In fact, I love it.

His tongue starts a lazy trail up the centre of my body, finishing with a soft kiss on my chin. ‘Lift.’ he commands, grasping my knickers. I brace myself up on the worktop, letting him pull them down my legs. ‘I’ll be back. I’m a bit peckish.’

I reluctantly release his hair and he wanders, boldly and with poise, over to the fridge-freezer, completely butt naked. I sit rapt by the tremendous view of his impossibly taut arse, long, lean legs and powerful, smooth back. His gait is all the better when he’s naked.

‘Enjoying the scenery?’

Looking up, I see him stood watching me. I don’t know how long I was daydreaming. I could watch him forever.

He holds up a can of squirty cream, grinning, before taking the lid off, giving it a little shake and squirting some in his mouth. I watch him carefully. He looks very pleased with himself.

‘And that’s a staple food in your world?’ I ask.

He saunters back towards me, shaking the can. ‘Absolutely,’ he says seriously, replacing himself between my legs, nudging my chin upwards with the tip of his finger. ‘Open.’

I open my mouth, and he rests the funnel on my tongue, watching me as he presses the notch, releasing a blob of cream into my mouth. I lick my lips, the cream disintegrating in my mouth instantly.

I place my hands behind me and lean back as he runs his eyes down my front.

‘Do your worst, Mr Ward.’ I tease.

His eyes sparkle and he grins that roguish grin. ‘This might be a little cold.’

he warns, as he squirts a long trail straight down my middle. I inhale quickly at the initial shock of the freezing cold cream, running from the hollow of my throat, all the way down to the juncture of my thighs.

He smirks, squirting a little extra where it counts. I look down at the long path of white puffs, feeling my nipples pucker tighter at the chilliness close by. He stands back, his eyes dancing with delight.

‘It’s a bit if a
cliché
, isn’t it?’ I look at his satisfied face.

He squirts some in his own mouth. ‘The old ones are the best.’ He starts walking away again. Where’s he going? I sit on the breakfast bar coated in cream, watching as he rifles through cupboards. ‘Here it is.’ he declares.

Here’s what? He opens a drawer, pulls out a spatula and walks back over, tapping a jar of chocolate spread mischievously.

As he arrives back between my legs, he unscrews the lid and tosses it on the marble counter.

I arch a brow at him, questioningly, even though I know damn well what his intent is.

He twirls the spatula in the jar, scoops out a big dollop and abruptly slaps it onto my breast.

‘Ouch!’ My boob stings from the smack.

He smirks as he starts circling the chocolate around my nipple, the sting mixed with the rhythmic swirls having me purring deep in my throat. His frown line makes its appearance as he begins to chew his lip, working the chocolate spread all the way up my body on both sides of the cream, swirling and smearing as he goes.

When the jar is completely empty and he’s satisfied he covered every part or my torso, he puts his instruments down and stands back to admire his handiwork. The smile that spans his handsome face makes me want to dive on him and tackle him to the floor. He looks thoroughly thrilled with himself.

‘My very own Ava éclair.’ he declares, licking his lips.

I look down at my coated body and back up to his dancing eyes. ‘I guess, now you’ve had your fun, I should go take a shower.’ I make to move and he’s on me in a flash, grasping me in his arms as I knew he would be. I’m locked to his chest, sliding all over the place. I give a little shimmy on a laugh, just to rub it in. And not in a smug way.

‘Sneak.’ he mutters, pulling away, the chocolate and cream stringing between our bodies. He takes my hands, gently pushing me back until I’m flat on my back and looking up at him. ‘I’ve not even started with the fun part, lady.’

I grin. ‘I’m filthy.’