Today I decided that you’re right. We will be okay.
And yes, I do have a bump… ish, and I love you for giving it to me.
I’ll always love you.
End of.
Replacing the lid on the pen, I take a deep breath and finally face my Lord, bumping right into his chest and getting a waft of his fresh, minty scent. I look up at him, finding a straight face and clouded green eyes. ‘I’m done.’ I whisper quietly, but he’s not looking at me. He’s studying all of my captions, his eyes travelling across the wall and pausing every now and then to read what I have written.
He takes the pen and moves towards the picture of me fleeing The Manor, and then gets up close and personal with the wall. I can’t see what he’s writing, and I shift to try and look around his body, but he’s too close. He finally moves away, and I see it, scrolled across the top of the image.
Today my heart started beating again.
Today you became mine.
I press my lips together and watch as he moves across to an image of me seated in the long grass of The Manor’s grounds in my wedding dress, top to toe in ivory lace and with the sun shooting bullets of light through the trees behind me. I’m looking away, probably at the photographer. Again, Jesse gets up close to the wall, and then moves away, chewing the end on the pen. He’s drawn a perfect halo above my head and written;
My beautiful girl.
My defiant temptress.
My lady.
My angel.
My Ava.
I smile and step forward, taking the pen from his mouth and dragging him from his daydream. I replace the lid and drop it to the floor, then gracefully climb up him until I’m wrapped around his big body.
His palms are cupping my bum and his eyes and burning into mine. ‘Ava, today has been the longest fucking day of my life.’
‘Longer than the last longest day?’
‘Each day gets longer. I’ve gotten too used to having you twenty four seven. I believe that I owe you some special time.’ Those words have me pushing his suit jacket from his arms and my lips crashing to his, ravenously. ‘Easy,’ he warns gently, moving each arm in turn so I can rid him of his jacket. ‘What’s the rush?’
I force my lips to slow their devouring of him—easier said than done when I haven’t had him for two full days. ‘It’s been too long.’ I mumble, pulling at his tie, probably strangling him in the process, but I’m not releasing his lips to confirm it.
‘Hey,’ He’s pulling at my limbs, trying to pry me from him. I’m not making it easy for him, although it’s not long before I’m on my feet again, breathing heavy and with no contact. He steps back and pulls his tie over his head before kicking off his Grensons and socks. His eyes are ablaze and virtually burning my dress from my body. ‘Take your dress off.’ he orders, working the buttons of his shirt, and then starting on his cuffs, never breaking our eye contact. It’s not helping me in my hungry state, not at all.
It takes me three seconds flat to unzip my dress and pull it up over my head, leaving me standing in my lace and taking a quick glimpse down at my stomach to see if it’s grown throughout the day. I breathe in to try and gage it, getting slightly side-tracked from my masterpiece of a husband, who’s standing only a few feet away. He’s definitely right, and I have the black pencil dress to prove it. It’s all downhill from here. My hand lifts and slides onto my navel, my rings sparkling as I rub slow circles around my bellybutton. The bond is growing, and it’s growing fast. A piece of me and a piece of Jesse, two pieces, in fact, are growing inside of me, and the very thought has me overcome with a sudden sense of warmness that I’ve never felt before—a warmness that deepens when Jesse’s hand lays over mine and he stoops down, nuzzling my face upwards so he can access my mouth.
‘Incredible, isn’t it?’ he asks, reattaching me to his body with an effortless pull of my upper thighs.
‘Yes,’ I agree, wholeheartedly. ‘Just like you.’
‘And you.’
‘More you.’ I argue. ‘Show me how incredible you are. I’ve forgotten.’ I provoke his arrogance with those words and bow my back, lifting myself higher to him so he has to drop his head back to maintain our kiss. The low rumbling growl emanating from deep inside of him, travels through our joined mouths and warms me further.
He starts walking from his office through the vast openness of the penthouse, where I’m laid on the huge corner couch and my backside is pulled to the end so my lower body is propped up on the arm. He removes his trousers and boxers, revealing the beauty of his cock, hard, ready, and within touching distance, but he kneels down at the end of the couch, taking it clean from my view. I don’t have time to complain. My knickers are removed, my legs are pulled apart and his mouth is on the inside of my thigh fast, kissing gently, shifting to the other thigh and teasing softly. Forward and back he goes, moving from one side to the other, getting higher with each set, his hands spreading me further as he makes his way to my pulsing centre.
‘Jesse,’ I take in air, my legs needing to move. My hand flies up to grasp the leather on the backrest of the couch, my other cupping the back of his head.
‘Have you remembered how incredible I am?’ he asks seriously, pulling back and blowing over my raw flesh.
‘Yes!’ My hands are twitching as his cool breath spreads over me and travels down my thighs. ‘Shit!’ I try to close my legs when I feel the first dash of contact from his tongue on my clitoris, but he’s just teasing me, giving me a taste of what’s to come, and my legs are going nowhere, except where he decides, which is wider, making me sensitive, more open and more frenzied.
‘Mouth, Ava,’ His tongue enters me and then licks an unspeakably delicious stroke up my middle. I cry out, my head thrashing from side to side. ‘Incredible?’ He’s cocky and sure, and has earned that privilege. ‘Tell me how it feels, baby.’
My fisted hand that is now clenching at his hair should tell him all he needs to know—that and my inaudible mumbling. I’m seeing stars, my belly is aching and my poor legs are unable to move. And then his fingers are inside me and my hands leave the sofa and his hair in favour of my own head. My stomach muscles are rigid as I lift my upper body up to try and quench the charging surge of pressure that’s descending from my tummy to my core. I decide in my fevered bliss that I want to see him, so I prop myself up on my elbows and gaze down the length of my body, seeing his palm resting on my stomach, while his fingers fuck me slowly.
‘Tell me,’ he pushes, sweeping through me with agonising precision.
‘It feels like you were made to fit me.’ My words are even and as sure as the expression on his face. He thinks that, too.
He smiles and leans in, tenderly kissing my sensitive skin before rising to his feet and grasping me under my thighs, lifting my lower body to position himself. I find my upper body lifting, too, my hands palm down behind me so I have the best view of him entering me. And it really is the best view. We both focus on his rigid cock as he brings it to me, no hands required, like it has a homing device that will take it to where it belongs. He meets my entrance and hovers for a while, just skimming my damp void, teasingly. I’m ever impatient, my lower legs curling around his lower back and pulling him towards me, but he’s going nowhere. Not until he says so. And he doesn’t say so. He just smirks that almost undetectable smirk while he keeps his eyes down, still teasing me with irregular and torturous skims of his slippery head across the very tip of my oversensitive small nub of nerves. He’s killing me, and I’m dying to lay myself back down, but I’m too engrossed by his cruel pleasure.