Home > This Man (This Man #1)(47)

This Man (This Man #1)(47)
Author: Jodi Ellen Malpas

His tongue sweeps his bottom lip and he pants through parted lips as he pushes forward, dragging my dormant orgasm back to life. My skin blazes as he pumps slow and hard, and as deep as he can get. Smoothing my palms through his hair, I pull him back down to my lips and devour him, while he continues with his deliberate drives, pushing me closer and closer to yet another orgasmic orgasm.

‘I’m going to come,’ he mumbles. ‘Come with me, Ava. Give it to me.’

And with three more strikes, my mind goes blank and fireworks start exploding in my head. I burst beneath him on a loud cry.

‘That’s it, baby.’ He strains the words, joining me in my pleasure as I rein in my shouts, and moan, long and low.

His hardness expands, jerking within me, before releasing round after round of his hot, wet seed deep inside me. He collapses on top of me, pushing his hips hard against me, ensuring he empties every last bit of himself. I’m obliterated. We both lay entangled, panting and struggling for breath.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ he whispers against my ear.

I’m only just cognitive, still recovering from my orgasm, but I heard that loud and clear, and I’m not quite sure what to make of it. I think we’ve both said too much already. My own little declaration has made me a bit uncomfortable. That’s what happens when you get caught up in the moment. Lust, want and passion take over, and before you know it, ridiculous words are flying out of your mouth.

After a few minutes silence, I’m beyond uncomfortable, so I shuffle a bit under him. ‘Can I use the bathroom now?’ I ask.

He sighs, long and deliberately, so wanting me to be aware of his frustration. I’ve no idea what he’s frustrated about, though. He’s had me plenty.

He slides out and heaves himself off of me, making a huge, exaggerated effort of flopping back on the bed. I peel myself from the covers, without a word, and pad across the white carpet into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. I know he watched my every step. I could feel his eyes hammering into my naked back. The inevitable awkwardness has been delayed, but it’s here now. And it’s here with a vengeance.

I use the loo, wash my hands and take a few moments to psych myself up before I open the door. He’s still sprawled on his back, unapologetically naked, staring straight at me. I don’t know what to do.

Eventually, I turn back into the bathroom, grab a soft, white bath sheet from the tall towel rail and wrap myself in it, tucking the end in under my arm. I exit the bathroom, head straight to the bedroom door and out into the large living area. I spot the shattered glass all over the kitchen floor, and it promptly reminds me of last night when he unexpectedly pounced on me. It was always going to happen, whether he jumped me or not, but the easiness of our joined bodies has completely diminished, leaving space for only one thing…awkwardness

I find my bags by the front door and rummage through to get my phone.

Holy shit! It’s seven thirty. Kate’s leaving in half hour – or supposed to be. I sent her a text to tell her that I was on my way home and I haven’t turned up. She hasn’t bloody called to find out where I am, though. Charming!

‘Fucking hell!’ I curse under my breath, spinning round and finding Jesse – still naked, looking really rather angry. What the hell has he got to be angry about? It riles me instantly.

‘Mouth!’ he growls at me on a scowl.

He’s really mad. Well, so am I. With myself! I scoop my bag up and head for his bathroom, collecting my discarded clothes on my way. ‘Can I use your shower?’

‘No!’ he snaps.

I laugh. ‘Don’t be a child, Jesse.’ My tone is condescending, and I give him an extra wide berth, passing him swiftly on my way back to the bedroom. I need not to be touching him.

I go to shut the door, but he slams his shoulder into it, all but barging in behind me. I make a point of glaring at him before I move away to turn the shower on. Is he mad about my crazy pillow talk? I can’t blame him. I’m pretty mad with myself. He’s absolutely right; I should keep quiet during sex. Come to think of it, so should he. He said some pretty crazy shit too.

I dig through my bag to get yesterday’s t-shirt, drop my flip flops to the tiled floor, throw my make-up bag by the sink and brush my teeth, and the whole time, Jesse stands there festering.

When the room is full of steam, I drop the towel, totally brazen – I’m pissed, I couldn’t give a flying f**k – open the shower door and get in to wash off four rounds of Jesse Ward. If I wasn’t so sticky, with sweat and cum all over me, I wouldn’t bother. I would be gone already.

The water is divine and relaxing, despite my scowling spectator, as I wash my hair, letting the water fall over me for the briefest of moments. But I’ve not got time to take full advantage of the soothing water. I open my eyes and the shower door is flung open, the cool air attacking my wet, naked body. Jesse is snarling at me.

‘You’re not going anywhere!’ he barks.

I look at him, completely exasperated, my jaw hitting the shower tray. He’s made the most of me while I’ve been here. Is he still not happy? ‘Yes, I bloody am!’

‘No, you’re not!’

‘Jesse, what’s your problem?’ I’m stood in the shower, hot water pounding me, cold air blasting me, and facing a brooding hunk of a male.

‘YOU!’ he yells.

‘Me?’

Oh, the man has a nerve. I turn the water off and push my way past his big body, ignoring the sparks that fly off of me from the contact. Does he think I’m an object he can f**k at will and order about? I wrap a towel around me, flinging one on my head, roughing it all over to expel the water. I’ve not got time to dry it, and I doubt Mr Unreasonable here has a hairdryer.

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