This Man Confessed Read online Jodi Ellen Malpas (This Man #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Series: This Man Series by Jodi Ellen Malpas
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Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 198235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 991(@200wpm)___ 793(@250wpm)___ 661(@300wpm)
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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 fuck 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.

‘What do I do to you, Ava?’ he asks, clearly confident of the answer I’m going to give and teasing me with another dash of contact to my lips.

‘You fucking cripple me!’ I yell on a pointless writhe.

‘Watch your fucking mouth,’ he practically groans the words out, only heightening my simmering state and my aggravation.

‘Please!’

‘Are you used to me?’

‘No!’

‘And you never will be. This is our normal, baby. Get used to this.’ He slides himself into my mouth on a moan, and I accept willingly, elatedly, eagerly. I moan around his invasion, I suck, lap and bite, but I don’t have full control. He’s retaining the power, but I don’t care. It’s contact. ‘Keep it gentle, Ava.’ He forces the words out, and I glance up to indulge in the strain on his face as he watches my mouth indulge on his arousal. ‘I love your fucking mouth, woman.’ His free hand creeps behind my neck and locks on my nape, holding me in place whilst he gently thrusts forward, slow, evenly, deliciously. No hard necessary, but that’s not to say he isn’t fulfilling his obligation to be dominant Jesse. He’s worked out the happy medium in our normal relationship, even if I haven’t, but I’m beginning to get it, and he is doing a bloody fine job of showing me the way.

Biting down gently mid-way up his steel length, the tell-tale signs of a regular throb, accompanied by the tensing on his legs which are securing my arms, give me all the prompt I need. My licks and strokes become more forceful, ignoring his demand to keep it gentle. He’s going to come. I moan around him, he bucks on a round of explicit language, but then he’s not in my mouth anymore. He’s pushes himself up to his knees, fists his swollen cock and watches me with parted lips as he finishes. I’m annoyed, but one of my favourite mental images of all time is being refreshed—the erotic, extraordinary vision of Jesse working himself to climax, but this time it’s better because he has just reached up and swept his wet hair from his face, trailing his hand through his dirty blonde mass, ripping the muscles of his chest further. I nearly choke with satisfaction. Given a few more moments, I think I’d orgasm just watching this. Holy shit, he looks divine.


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