‘Damn you, woman.’ he moans.
‘You don’t want me?’ I tease, nibbling at his ear, circling wet, firm strokes in the hollow below his lobe. His scent is intoxicating.
‘Don’t ask stupid fucking questions.’ He pushes against me, and I know he’s going to spin me over, seize control, and then probably instigate sleepy sex, so I force myself back down onto him.
‘Oh no, Ward.’ I watch his chest heaving, his stunning face strained. He is clearly fighting instinct to take over here, but I’m not giving in. I know he could tackle me onto my back in a split second, and with little energy or strength, but he won’t. On top of being far too gentle with me, he’s trying hard to prove a point—that he can relinquish the power, that he can be reasonable. He’s trying so bloody hard… and failing.
I reach forward and take his hand, and he watches carefully as I lift it, the cuffs chinking as they unravel. My eyes flick to his so I can gage his reaction, and I find a look of understanding surfacing. Then his arm tenses. I tug gently, but he won’t let me guide it to where I want it to be. This is the ultimate test. I know how he feels when he’s unable to access me, but it’s an unreasonable and unwarranted fear, and we have got to get past it. I tug again with slightly raised eyebrows. He’s reluctant, but he lets me guide it to the headboard.
‘You won’t leave this time.’ he pants. ‘Promise you won’t leave me this time.’
‘If you promise you won’t get mad.’ I snap the cuff over the wooden bar and look down at him. ‘Don’t get mad with me.’
He shakes his head faintly and takes a deep breath. I know how hard this is for him. ‘Kiss me.’ he orders harshly.
‘But I’m in charge.’ I remind him.
‘Jesus, baby, don’t make this harder than it already is.’ He reaches out with his free hand and grasps the top of my arm, pulling me down so I’m flush to his chest again. My lips land on his and his marvellous mouth saturates me.
I start working his tie loose as he claims me with his toungue, yanking it from his neck and then beginning on the buttons of his shirt until I’ve got the lusciousness of his hard chest under my palms.
Slowing our kiss down, I pull away and he growls, his eyes clenching shut, but I ignore his obvious displeasure and start trailing my lips down his neck, onto his chest, across his solid stomach until I reach the zipper of his trousers. My nose runs the length of his cock over his trousers, and his hips jerk up, a supressed bark flying from his mouth. My plan is working. I’m going to work him up into a frenzy so when I release him, he’ll be rampant and hopefully fuck me unconscious. We’ve got way too much hard fucking to catch up on.
I feel his hand land on the back of my head, and he yanks at my hair a little. I smile to myself in smug satisfaction, then slip the button of his trousers and slowly pull his zipper down, sliding my hand into his boxers and firmly grabbing his rock-hard length.
His hips fly up, the metal of the cuffs clanking loudly. ‘Fuck, Ava! Fucking hell!’ His head shoots up and he hits me with desperate, hungry eyes. ‘Mouth, now!’
I crawl back up his body and grab his cheeks in my palms. ‘You want me to take you in my mouth.’ I press my lips to his… hard.
‘Do it.’
‘Who has the power, Jesse?’ I bite his lip, and he moans.
‘You do, baby. Mouth.’
I smile against him and drift straight back down, pulling his cock free and licking a teasing, wet lash straight up his shaft.
‘Oh fuck,’ he groans, ‘Oh Jesus, Ava. Your mouth is amazing.’
‘Good?’ I ask, taking him halfway, before drawing back again.
‘Too good. I knew I married you for a reason.’
I bite into his flesh lightly, warningly. ‘All the way?’
‘Do it,’
I wrap my lips around him and glide all the way down, until he hits the back of my throat. He groans loudly, his groin pushing up. I try to relax my mouth, try to accept the invasion, but my gag reflex fails me and I’m suddenly retching.
What the hell?
I drop him fast and leap up from the bed, my stomach convulsing, a sweat breaking out across my brow. I’m going to throw up. I fly into the bathroom and collapse in front of the toilet, then proceed to evacuate the contents of my stomach, trying to hold my hair out of my face while aiming right.
‘Ava!’ he bellows. The sound of the cuffs start clanging loudly. ‘Ava!’
‘I’m…’ I throw up again, choking as I try to talk, try to assure him that I’m fine. Shit, I need to release him.
‘Jesus, Ava!’ The persistent clattering of metal on wood rings out through the suite, accompanied by Jesse’s panicked yells. ‘Fucking hell, AVA!’
I can’t talk. My throat is blocked, my eyes are watering and my stomach is aching from turning so much. What the hell is wrong with me? I’d hardly started. I’ve taken him endlessly like that and it’s never had this effect. Shit, I feel queasy. I grab some toilet tissue and dab at my forehead. I really need to get a grip and get my arse back in there to release him before he has heart failure.
‘Ava!’ There’s an almighty crash, and then he steams into the bathroom, shirt open, trousers undone, and a look of pure dread on his face.
I try to wave an arm at him, anything to reassure him that I’m okay, but I’m quickly grasping the side of the toilet again, bracing my arms as I continue to gag and choke.
‘Jesus, baby.’ He sounds so worried, the neurotic fool. I’m only being sick. I feel him close in behind me and gather my tresses, holding them and rubbing my back.
‘I’m fine.’ I wipe my face and rub my palms over my cheeks when I know I can’t possibly throw up anymore.
‘Clearly.’ he mutters dryly. ‘Let me look at you.’
I shuffle around on a sigh. ‘Still want to fuck me?’ I ask in attempt to soothe his obvious worry.
He rolls his eyes, ‘Ava, please.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Lady, you’ll kill me off, I swear.’ He pushes my hair from my face. ‘You okay?’
‘No, I feel sick.’ I collapse forward, my cheek colliding with his bare chest where his shirt is open.
‘Why do you think that is?’ he asks quietly.
I stiffen. I’m really not ready to deal with it yet. I’m not ready to rip him to shreds for hiding my pills. I haven’t got the energy right now, so I keep my mouth shut, but I need to take my head out of the sand and face reality—the reality that I’m most certainly pregnant. ‘Take me to bed, please.’
I hear him exhale deeply. It’s an obvious demonstration of frustration. I won’t be allowed to live in denial for much longer, but his need to care for me at the moment is getting me off the hook. He stands and pulls me up. ‘You are the most frustrating woman on the fucking planet. You want to brush your teeth?’
‘Please.’
He smiles down at me and brushes his knuckles across my cheek. ‘Everything will be fine.’
Will it? Fine for him. He gets what he wants, although why he wants it is a fucking mystery. ‘Okay.’ I agree feebly, catching a glimpse of a hanging handcuff from his wrist… and a huge red blister. ‘Jesse! What have you done?’ I grab his hand and turn it over, discovering the inner side on his wrist displaying a mass of angry red welts. I suck in a shocked breath. Shit, that looks sore.
He pulls his wrist from my grip and removes the cuffs, throwing them to the floor. ‘You keep my heart beating, baby, but you can also make it fucking stop.’ He shakes his head and lifts me onto the counter. ‘You said you couldn’t live without me, didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’
He narrows accusing eyes on me. ‘Then stop trying to kill me off.’
I feel a grin surfacing. ‘You’re such a drama queen.’
‘There is nothing dramatic about being worried when my wife throws up after I’ve just thrust my cock in her mouth.’