Текст книги "This Man Confessed"

Автор книги: Jodi Ellen Malpas

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 34 страниц)

‘I can’t wait.’ I answer without a second hesitation, reaching up to unbutton his shirt. I really can’t. This evening has been lovely, but I’ll be well and truly on Central Jesse Cloud Nine with no one else around. Pushing his shirt from his shoulders, I sigh. ‘You’re just too perfect.’ I lean in and kiss his chest, leaving my lips lingering.

‘I know.’ He agrees, with no humour or sarcasm. He really does know, the arrogant arse.

I drop his shirt and start working the button fly of his jeans before sliding my hands into the back and working them over the solidness of his arse. ‘I love this.’ I dig my nails in as I pass.

‘I know.’ he concurs again, making me smile. When I’m down to his thighs, I slip my hand around the front and grasp him loosely. He’s solid, as I knew he would be. ‘And you know how much I love this.’

He sucks in a hiss of breath through his teeth and pulls his groin away, but I maintain my hold. ‘Ava, baby, there is no way in hell I’m taking you under your mother’s roof.’

‘Why?’ I pout. ‘I can be quiet.’ I’m drifting into temptress mode.

He looks at me doubtfully, and so he should. I can’t guarantee that at all. ‘I don’t think you can.’

I lower to my knees and unlace his shoes, and he lifts each in turn for me to remove them, along with his socks. Taking the waist of his jeans, I slowly pull them down his legs. ‘I think you’ll be surprised by what I can do. Lift.’ I tap his ankle.

‘You mean I’ll be surprised by what I can make you do.’ He lifts in turn, so I can remove his jeans and boxers. ‘And I’m never surprised. I have that effect on you.’

Of course, he’s cocky, but one hundred per cent right, not that I’ll tell him. I don’t need to. It goes without saying. Instead of stroking his overinflated ego, I stoop down and kiss the top of his foot before moving my lips to his ankle, circling my tongue and kissing my way up his legs. I take my time, flattening my palms on the fronts of his thighs, just feeling him as my lips skim every naked inch of his flesh, but I soon find myself at his neck, despite my determination to drag out the whole episode.

I inhale his scent and lift up on my tiptoes to reach his chin, which is higher than usual because he’s looking up at the ceiling. I can’t reach. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘I’m trying to control myself.’ His voice is all gravelly.

‘I don’t want you to.’

‘Don’t say that, Ava.’ he warns.

‘I don’t want you to.’ I repeat, all low and throaty, biting at his neck.

He moves fast. His arm snakes around my waist, and I’m pushed up against the nearest wall on a growl. I’m ecstatic and trying to play it cool, but my lips are parted, and I’m breathing shocked gasps. ‘You seem to be making some noise,’ he observes quietly, holding one side of my face and pushing his mouth to my ear. I close my lips, clench my eyes shut and rest my head against the wall. I need to focus because he’s going to make this hard for me, even if he doesn’t give it to me hard. ‘Now, listen very carefully.’ He unhooks my bra while keeping a hand on my cheek and his mouth at my ear. ‘Your parents seem to like me. Don’t fuck it up.’

Oh good Lord, my confidence is diminishing fast. Why didn’t he book a hotel, damn it. I bite painfully down on my lip, determined to keep quiet, as my lace bra is pulled away from my body and dropped to the floor before he leans down, taking my nipple in his mouth and sucking my nub gently until it’s tingling and stiff. I hit my head against the wall, my face distorting as I try urgently to withhold a moan of pleasure.

I fail.

‘Ohhhh God,’ I groan, banging my head against the wall again.

‘Oh dear.’ He’s at my lips immediately. ‘You just can’t control it, can you?’

I shake my head, unashamedly agreeing with him. ‘No,’

‘Which just confirms what we both know, doesn’t it?’ He rolls his naked hips upwards, forcing me onto my tiptoes to try and escape the rub that will have me losing further control.

I fail again. ‘Yes,’ I pant, uncontrolled and grappling at his naked shoulders.

‘And what is that, Ava?’ He bites my lip and keeps hold while he waits for me to give the answer—the answer we both know.

‘You have the power.’ I confirm quietly. His eyes sparkle in approval, and I reach down to stroke him, but he pulls away from me on a mild head shake.

‘I thought we just clarified who has the power.’ My hand is pushed away. ‘And I need to safeguard my current favourable standing with your parents, so you’ll keep quiet.’ He’s staring at me, obviously waiting for confirmation that I understand. I do, but I absolutely cannot guarantee my silence. ‘Can you be quiet, Ava?’

I lie. ‘Yes.’ I’ve been ambushed by him and his potency, and I’m not saying no if it means he’ll tuck me up in bed for a snuggle. Pregnancy is doing serious things to me. I’m more desperate than ever, if that’s at all possible.

His eyes blink lazily, an almost undetectable smile flashing across his face. He reaches up and pulls my hand away from my hair. ‘It looks like we have a problem.’ he whispers. ‘Don’t move.’ He backs away, and I want to yell at him, but then he picks something up and I’m distracted as he slowly comes towards me again, concealing whatever he’s holding behind his back.

I’m fidgeting, squirming and thinking real hard about what the hell he’s hiding, but I’m not left suffering for too long. He brings his hands around to the front of him and holds up my lace scarf, then wraps it around his fists and pulls it taut. My teeth clench, as do my thighs. In fact, every single muscle I have has tightened considerably at the prospects of what that scarf presents, and I know it’s not going to be used to blindfold me.

‘I think we’ll call this one the quiet fuck.’ He brings the scarf to my mouth and slips it between my lips. ‘Keep your tongue relaxed.’ he instructs softly, taking it around the back of my head and tying it firmly but not tightly. ‘If you feel the need to scream, bite down. Understand?’

I nod, my eyes following him as he leans down and removes my knickers. It really doesn’t matter that I can’t talk because my mind has gone blank. I can think of nothing to say, my only thoughts being of anticipation. And maybe there’s a little bit of me wondering whether he’s gagged anyone else before. Possibly. Highly likely. It’s unwelcome, but my docile state is preventing me from chasing the thought—that and the hot tongue running up the inside of my leg. I don’t want to scream, but I bite down on the scarf anyway, my eyes closing, my drumming heart beating an even pulse in my chest. I feel surprisingly calm.

He makes a point of breathing heavily in my ear as he laces his fingers through mine and pushes my hands up to the wall behind me before kissing down the sensitive flesh of my inside arm, softly and painfully slow. I quickly fear that the only screaming I’ll be doing will be in impatience. He’s going to take his time with me.

‘I think we’ll do this lying down.’ His low, sure voice has me praying for control as he brings our hands down, fingers still laced, and then starts walking backwards, encouraging me to step with him. Not that I need any encouragement. I’ll follow this man wherever he goes, whether it’s to a bed or to the end of the earth.

He bends and takes a hold of me before straightening his legs and kneeling onto the small, double bed and crawling up, resting me down gently. The tip of my nose is kissed, my hair smoothed from my face, and then I’m turned onto my side slightly, my leg lifted and bent so he can straddle the one still flush with the bed. He edges forward, holding himself with one hand and keeping my leg up with the other, watching what he’s doing, getting closer until he skims my opening. If I could, I’d yelp, but I’m resorted to reaching behind me to grab the headboard. My back bows, even though he’s just holding himself there. It’s torturous.

‘Ava,’ He kisses my foot, ‘Nothing can beat this.’ He sinks slowly into me, his head falling back, and I have to look. I overcome the overwhelming need to close my eyes in utter bliss, just so I can watch his face. His jaw tenses, his grip of my ankle increases, his now free hand rests on my waist and his torso sharpens, the lines of every muscle defined and protruding. I so want to feel him there, but I’m immobilised by pleasure, rendering me incapable of moving. He’s right. Nothing can or ever will beat this. It’s agonisingly good, and I’m transfixed on him, completely captivated by him. So incredibly in love with him.

‘Do you like what you see?’ he asks as he withdraws slowly. I’m so fixated on the movement of his muscles, I’ve not noticed his head has now dropped and he’s studying me. He gags me, inflicts this pleasure on me, and then expects the impossible. He wants me to reply? I shouldn’t need to, he knows the answer very well, but I nod anyway. He doesn’t smile or show any approval of my answer. He just gradually works his way deep inside of me, as if rewarding me for my silent response. ‘I like what I see, too.’ I’m blessed with a precise grinding of his hips. I might not be able to cry out in pleasure, but I can moan. So I do.

Pulling out slowly, he plunges straight back in. He’s starting to work up a steady rhythm. It remains controlled, it remains exact and it remains profoundly powerful, but without the force I know he’s capable of. He’s determined to make his point—the point of unnecessary hardness, the hardness that I think I need, and the point that I’m not sure would need to be raised if I wasn’t pregnant. I’m being thoroughly indulged. I’m being doted upon. I can live with this for the next few months.

I’m moaning again as he grinds, and when I feel his teeth graze my ankle, my head flies back and I’m unexpectedly overcome with heated tingles, stabbing all over my skin, but more intensely between my thighs.

‘She’s losing control.’ he gasps quietly, lifting up higher on his knees, taking my lower body with him. I start shaking my head, tightening my grip of the headboard and twisting my body to try and get onto my back. I’m attempting in vain. I could never overpower him. He has a firm hold on my hip, keeping me where he wants me. ‘Don’t fight me, Ava.’ He strikes firmly but carefully It’s nowhere near the power that I know he’s capable of. But it’s still good.

I don’t need it. I crave it. Big difference, but my insatiable want has been fed good and proper, and now it’s expected. In he goes again, definitely and on a supressed hiss. I try to flip myself over again, but it’s useless. I’ll never win, only knacker myself out, and I want to store my energy for the building release that’s brewing. I bite down on the scarf and let out a muffled yell.

‘Am I making you crazy, baby?’ he asks, the tinge of smugness clear as he reverts back to a smooth, even pace.

I don’t look at him. I close my eyes and turn my attention to catching the booming beat at my core before he tells me to control it. He’s ruling me, and even though it’s slow and almost effortless, it’s still very deep and it’s still very pleasurable, and I’m still going to erupt.

‘You’re doing well, Ava.’ In he sinks, around he grinds, out he comes. ‘My temptress is getting stronger.’ Back in, back around, back out.

I whimper, flexing my hands on the headboard. The flowing of his body into mine is inconceivably good. So good. Holy shit! I try to shout his name, but all I achieve is a stifled, inaudible howl.

‘Ava!’ he whispers loudly. ‘Shut the fuck up!’ With that harsh demand comes a less controlled buck of his hips. It just pushes another yell from me, but it’s no more decipherable. That cusp of pleasure is teasing me as he turns his mouth into my leg and bites down, and then reaches down to circle his thumb over my clitoris. That does it. I gulp, my body being yanked into a rigid arch as every muscle starts to spasm, and I bite down on the lace scarf. If I could talk, I would be firing fucks off all over the place, so it is undoubtedly a good job that I can’t. I’m shaking, moaning and Jesse is still plunging into me, still solid and still biting on my ankle. I’m riding out the pleasure, but it’s just going on and on and on.

I’m immensely grateful when my leg is released and I’m allowed to roll onto my back. I’m wrecked, and still relentlessly contracting around Jesse as he keeps himself buried deep and arranges my legs so he can settle between my thighs.

‘Good?’ he asks, his brows raised confidently as he looks down at me. I nod, my eyes closing, no matter how desperate I am to keep them on his damp, handsome face. I also want to feel his hair out and give it a little yank, but my arms are welded to the headboard. ‘You’ll never know how much satisfaction I get from watching you fall apart under my touch.’ he whispers, and I flick my eyes open briefly, seeing him raising his torso so he’s braced on two muscle swelling arms. He doesn’t make any attempt to get any friction, instead seeming quietly content to just hover above me. After a few moments have passed and he’s unmoved but still twitching within me, I force my eyes open properly. He gazing down at me, waiting for my eyes. ‘She’s back.’

Yes, only just and she’s still pulsating around his throbbing cock. I attempt to say something, my exhausted mind having forgotten that I’m gagged, but as soon as I realise my limitation, I convince my arms to lift and sandwich his face between my palms. His stubble is nearly two days’ worth. I love it.

He turns his head and kisses my palm before lowering himself onto his elbows and tucking his fingers under the scarf, pulling in down over my chin so it rests on my neck. I can talk, but funnily enough, I don’t want to say anything now. I’m holding Jesse’s face, soaking up the happiness oozing from his beautiful greens, and I’m happy to do just that.

‘I want to kiss you.’ he declares, but while his little proclamation is sweet, it’s also light-years away from the usual kiss me demand. That is probably why my brow is completely furrowed and Jesse’s eyes are sparkling in amusement.

‘You do?’

‘Hmm,’ He drags his thumb across my bottom lip and watches intently. ‘I really do.’

‘You can kiss me.’ Being gagged has dried my throat out, making my voice rough and low.

His thumb reaches the corner of my mouth, and then sets off again, back across my lips. ‘I’m not asking permission,’ His eyes close and re-open, landing directly on mine. ‘I’m just thinking out loud.’

‘Why don’t you stop thinking and do.’ I raise my hips, signalling that kissing me is not the only thing I’d like him to do. Jesse working himself up is really going to work me down. I’m still buzzing, his arousal still held snuggly inside of me.

‘Are you demanding, Mrs Ward?’

‘Are you denying, Mr Ward?’

‘No, but you do…’

‘I know who has the power.’ I interrupt, and he gives me that roguish grin as he slowly dips, his lips finding mine, and takes what I’m so willing to give.

‘I’ve never tasted anything so good.’ His hips swivel, sweeping through my remnants of pleasure.

‘Not even an Ava éclair?’ I ask around his lush, wet mouth.

‘Not even an Ava éclair.’ he confirms, nibbling his way up to my ear. ‘Not even peanut butter.’ he murmurs, reaching down and hooking his arm under my knee. He pulls my bent leg upwards and plants his fist in the mattress so my leg is draped over his arm. ‘Just pure,’ he sucks my earlobe. ‘Raw,’ he bites down. ‘naked,’ and then drags it teasingly through his teeth. I shudder as he skims across my cheek and plunges his tongue into my mouth. ‘Ava.’ he finishes on a whisper. ‘Pure, raw, naked, Ava. And I’ve got her for three whole days… all…. to… myself.’

I smile around his lips and find his hair, unable to resist a playful yank as he moans and pleasures me with those damn delectable, wonderfully talented hips. Deep grinds. Firm dives. Easy retreats. I sigh, and he rumbles, low in his throat, but I’m not interested in coming again. I could, but I don’t want to. I want to concentrate on him, so I meet his rotations with my own, ensuring optimum contact and pleasure, just for him.

When I feel the rolling waves of his muscles tensing around my body, I know that he’s tipping the edge, so I harden my kiss, yank at his hair a little more and moan. He’s blazing, and when he pulls away on a gasp, I know he wants my eyes. My hands move straight to his neck. The feeling of his throbbing neck vain is matching his laboured breaths. Our eyes lock, his full of hunger, mine full of surrender.

‘My heart’s bucking wildly.’ he murmurs, pushing into me one last, deep, steady time and just holding himself there as he inhales severely and begins to shake. ‘Fuck, that feels good.’

I’m not joining him in his climax, but it doesn’t stop me from whimpering shallowly and sucking in my own sharp breath, my thighs finding his waist and my arms moving to his shoulders to pull him down. I kiss him deeply, invading his mouth forcefully, helping him through the twitching and jerking of his body.

‘Good?’ I ask around his mouth.

He keeps our kiss up and bites my tongue lightly. ‘Don’t ask stupid fucking questions.’ he warns seriously, rolling onto his back and lifting his arm for me to find my happy place. My fingertips find his scar and start their usual trailing from side to side as he pulls me in snuggly and breathes into my hair. ‘Okay?’

‘Don’t ask stupid fucking questions.’ I grin into the side of his chest.

‘Ava, one day I’m going to shove a bar of soap in your mouth.’

He probably would. ‘What time are we leaving?’

‘Seven-ish. We’re flying at noon from Heathrow.’

‘Heathrow? We’ve got to drive all the way back to London?’ Is he kidding me?

‘Yes. It was the only place where I could get a flight from at such short notice.’

I sulk into his chest, but that tone was final and what would be the point of complaining further, anyway? It’s not like it’ll get me anywhere and not just because of the short notice and lack of availability. ‘You could’ve got something from Bristol, at least.’ I just can’t help myself.

‘Shut up. Let’s talk about our plans for the weekend.’

‘Have you made plans?’ I ask.

‘Yes, it involves lots of lace and even more naked flesh.’ he kisses my head, and I’m immediately distracted from my mood.

Just me, Jesse and lots of naked flesh, after lots of lace has been removed… slowly. I smile, snuggle deeper and let my sleepy mind wander to all things Jesse-ish.

Chapter 23

‘Have you got everything?’ Mum’s still in her dressing gown as she faffs all over the driveway.

‘Yes,’ I sigh with optimum exasperation, for the tenth time.

‘Oh, it was brief, but I’m so happy you came to see us.’ She clasps my cheeks and kisses me. I shouldn’t be getting the credit for this. If it wasn’t for Jesse, who knows how long I would’ve put this trip off. ‘You must take care.’

I roll my eyes, but hug her. ‘It was so good to see you.’

‘Are you insinuating that I can’t look after my wife?’ Jesse asks seriously as he shuts the boot of the car.

‘No, I was telling her to take care.’ She throws a small scowl over to Jesse. ‘And I would never insinuate that you couldn’t look after my daughter.’ She’s poking him. It’s like the O’Shea women have a compulsion to goad Jesse Ward.

Jesse strolls over, leaving my dad browsing around the fully loaned DBS. ‘She doesn’t need to take care because I do that for her.’ He pulls me from my mum’s grasp, reclaiming his wife from her mother. ‘Mine.’ He grins and smothers me to make his point.

‘Menace.’ Mum huffs, trying not to smile. ‘Joseph! Don’t get any ideas.’

We all turn to see my dad running his palm down the gleaming bonnet of the Aston Martin. If I was close enough, I’m sure we’d hear a sigh. ‘Just admiring,’ he says to himself. ‘I thought yours had black leather?’

I glance at Jesse and send a telepathic message to think of something fast to explain why the interior has gone from black leather to cream. ‘Mine’s in for a service. It’s a courtesy car.’ He reels off the explanation with complete ease and with no delay. He’s such a better liar than me, and I hate that.

Dad laughs. ‘I don’t get courtesy cars like this from my garage.’

Jesse smiles and leads me to the passenger side, pushing me down gently and buckling me in before adjusting the lap belt. I bat his hands away, earning myself a growl. ‘I’m not incapable.’ I mutter.

‘No, you’re very capable,’ he narrows annoyed eyes on me. ‘of driving me fucking nuts!’

‘You drive yourself nuts.’ I retort, pushing him away and shutting the door. I let the window down. ‘Bye!’ I blow my parents a kiss and watch as Jesse shakes hands with my dad and kisses my mum chastely on the cheek before making his way around the front of the car, drilling holes into me through the window as he does.

He slips in and starts the engine. ‘This weekend will be a lot more pleasant if you do as you’re told.’ he grumbles, pulling away from my parent’s house.

I wave them goodbye and turn in my seat to face him. ‘I can put a seatbelt on.’

‘But I want to do it.’ he mutters sullenly. ‘It’s my job.’

‘To put my seatbelt on?’ I laugh.

‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.’ He starts flicking a few switches on the steering wheel. ‘It’s my job to look after you. No sickness this morning?’

‘No.’ I sigh. ‘You shoving a ginger biscuit in my mouth the second I woke up took care of that.’ I quip, bolting upright when the car stereo kicks in and Mr JT himself joins us. I turn eyes mixed with surprise and amusement to Jesse. He knows that I’m looking at him, but he’s ignoring it. ‘You had them put this CD in, didn’t you?’ I’m using every ounce of willpower not to grin.

He frowns at the road. ‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘You did. On the special request part of the form that you completed, you wrote… Please load the disc player with Justin.’ I pause. ‘Did you put a love heart and a few kisses on it, too?’ I’m most certainly grinning now.

He slowly turns un-amused eyes to me. ‘Do you think you’re funny?’

‘Yes.’ I reach forward and crank the volume up, and then start jigging in my seat, singing along and generally taking the piss out of my JT fanatical God. ‘Hey!’ I yelp when his fingers squeeze my hipbone and the music is suddenly low again. ‘I was enjoying that.’

‘You should. He’s a very talented man.’ Jesse states earnestly.

‘You’re a very talented man.’

‘I know.’ He shrugs. ‘We have a lot in common. He’s a great guy.’

‘You’ve met him?’

‘No, he keeps putting his requests in, but I’m too busy.’ It’s him concealing a grin now.

I laugh, and he slips his wayfarers on, but not before giving me a wink and a little jiggle of his shoulders.

Laidback Jesse. God, I love this man.

* * *

Jesse takes us on an adventure around the airport, dipping and weaving past cars, taking turns in the wrong direction and generally just seeming like he has no idea where he’s going. I watch the sign for the airport car park go sailing past my window and frown to myself. Then I look at the clock. It’s eleven thirty and we’re supposed to be flying in half an hour. We haven’t checked in, done security or anything.

‘Shit!’ I blurt, grabbing my bag up from the floor.

‘Ava, mouth! What’s up?’ He takes a corner too hard, and my hand shoots out to steady myself on the door.

‘Will you take it easy?’ I snap irritably. Would now be a good time to point out that his driving is stupid?

‘Ava, there’s no place you’re safer than in a car with me. What’s the matter?’ He doesn’t look at me, so he can’t appreciate the look of disbelief on my face, but then I swiftly remember why I was oh shitting in the first place.

‘My passport.’ I say, diving into my bag, looking in complete vain because I know it’s not in here. I didn’t put it in here, and my rummaging slows when I realise exactly where my passport is. He’ll go spare. ‘I’ve left my passport in my box of junk.’ I tell him, mentally cursing myself for not sorting that box out yet.

He reaches forward and flips the glove compartment open. ‘No you haven’t, but you have forgotten to get your name changed, Miss O’Shea.’ He drops it on my lap and tosses me a reproachful look.

‘So I’m travelling a single?’ I ask, opening it up and admiring my maiden name.

‘Shut up, Ava.’ He screeches to a stop and jumps out, making quick work of getting around to my side and opening my door. I would have done it myself, but I’m just staring out of the windscreen with my mouth slightly agape. ‘Come on.’

I look up as a well suited and booted man approaches with a man in a captain’s uniform. My passport is whipped from my grasp, hands are shook, paperwork and signatures are exchanged, and then our luggage is removed from the boot.

‘Are you going to sit there all day, lady?’ He holds his hand out to me, and I take it automatically, letting him pull me from the car.

‘What’s that?’ I ask, nodding at the toy-like plane sitting a few yards away from us.

‘That’s a plane.’ There is humour in his voice. I’m pulled towards the jet, not feeling any more enthusiastic as we get closer because it’s not getting any bigger, and I’m not filled with any further confidence when Jesse has to dip to enter the damn thing to avoid smacking his head. I halt on the ridiculously small amount of steps that will have me boarding, and Jesse turns to see what’s keeping me when our arms are pulled taut between us. ‘Ava?’

‘I’m not getting on that thing.’ I’m attacked by an unreasonable bout of fear. I’ve never been afraid of flying, but this little plane is really pumping the anxiety through my veins. I feel a little breathless, too.

He smiles, but frowns at the same time. ‘Of course you are.’ My arm is tugged gently, encouragingly, but I’m not shifting. In fact, I’m backing away. ‘Ava, you’ve never said you’re scared of flying.’ He re-dips and stands up straight, back on the outside of the jet.

‘I’m not. In big planes. Why are we not going on a big plane?’ I look behind me and see heaps of big planes. ‘Why can’t we go on one of those?’

‘Because they’re probably not going where we need them to.’ he says softly. I feel my arm go lax in front of me from where he’s getting closer, and then his palm is on my cheek. ‘It’s perfectly safe.’ he assures me, pulling my face away from all of the big planes that I’d like to board instead. I don’t care if they’re not going where we need them to. I’ll go wherever they take me.

‘It doesn’t look safe.’ I glance past him and see a perfectly positioned woman with perfectly styled hair, perfect make-up and a perfect smile. ‘It looks too small.’

‘Ava,’ His soft, re-assuring voice pulls my eyes back to his. He’s smiling down at me. ‘This is me, your possessive, unreasonable, over-protective control freak.’ He kisses me gently. ‘Do you really think I’d willingly put you in danger?’

I shake my head, fully aware that I’m being a complete baby. My fear has surprised me, though. I should be shocked that he’s booked a private jet, but I’m not. The fact that I’m expected to fly on this private jet is more shocking. ‘I feel a little nervous.’ I admit quietly, the visible closeness of all personnel, including the captain behind me, registering in my apprehensive mind.

‘Answer my question.’ he pushes.

‘No, I don’t.’

‘Good.’ He rounds me and clasps my shoulders, pushing me gently up the steps. ‘You’ll love it, trust me.’

‘Good morning!’ The perfect woman, who’s still standing perfectly in place, greets us, holding her arm out in a signal of where to go. It’s really not necessary. There are one of two ways, and I’m not going anywhere near the cockpit.

Peering inside, I notice just a few chairs, all massive, all leather, all reclining, and just two rows of them—one of each side of the jet. I’m directed to the middle, turned around and eased down into the soft plumpness. I keep quiet and resist the urge to bolt as Jesse secures my seatbelt and takes a seat opposite me. He immediately lifts my feet to his lap.

‘Champagne, sir?’ Perfect lady is back, and I spy her beaming at my God, but I’m too busy gathering my pathetic anxiousness to trample.

‘Just water.’ Jesse answers shortly, with no smile, no acknowledgment and no please. She beats a hasty retreat, and Jesse slips my ballet pumps from my feet, dropping them carelessly to the floor before getting comfy and repositioning my feet so they’re at a good angle for him to massage. ‘Okay?’ he asks.

‘Not really.’ I have no idea what has gotten into me. ‘There were regular flights available, weren’t there?’ I ask suspiciously, having a quick glimpse out of the under average size window.

‘I don’t know, I didn’t check. We don’t do commercial, Ava.’

‘You don’t. I do.’ I wiggle my toes. ‘I haven’t got swollen feet yet, you know.’

His thumbs are working delicious, firm circles into the instep of my feet. ‘Close your eyes and make yourself comfy, baby.’ he orders tenderly, and I do. My eyes slowly shut, and the last image I see is of my God lovingly massaging my feet, trying to ease me out of my unwarranted fit of nervousness.

I let my mind shut down and drift into a semi-conscious state of bliss. It’s not a difficult task to achieve when he’s touching me, even if it is just my feet. It’s the usual scenario of Jesse drawing all of my troubles out of me, whether it’s justified troubles, or completely trivial, unnecessary troubles, like a sudden fear of flying. My subliminal state only barely notes that regardless of trivial or justified troubles, Jesse is the maker.

And then my mind moseys through all things Jesse-ish–the lace, the calla lilies, the peanut butter, the scorns for swearing—and I mentally smile. All of the various degrees of Jesse style fucking’s, the temper, the playfulness, the gentleness. I might really be smiling now. The handcuffs, the lace gag, the crucifix, the rowing machine, the Ava éclair. My heart has sped up. The dirty blonde, the addictive, sludgy but bright eyes, the sculptured perfection, the one and two days’ worth of stubble. The way he flicks the collar up on his polo shirts, his various smiles—for women, for me, and now for my tummy, too. His fierceness, his protectiveness, his dominant ways. The way he walks and the way he tramples, and all of the ways in which he loves me, with unapologetic, raw adoration. The way I return that love.