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
Advertisement1

Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 198235 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 991(@200wpm)___ 793(@250wpm)___ 661(@300wpm)
<<<<109119127128129130131139149>209
Advertisement2


I frown at him. What was the point of all that? ‘Is something worrying you?’ I ask.

‘No,’ He answers far too quickly.

‘Yes, there is.’ I fire back, and I think I know what it is. ‘Are you suddenly considering the possibility of no wherever and whenever with two babies around?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Look at me.’ I demand, and he does, but he’s looking at me in shock. I don’t give him a chance to scoff at my order, or ask me who the hell I think I’m talking to. ‘You are, aren’t you?’

His shock turns to a glower. ‘Wherever, whenever.’

‘Not with two babies around.’ I could laugh at him. He has. He’s suddenly well aware that his possession over my body is going to be curbed. I return to my dinner, delighting in this revelation. I can’t believe he hasn’t thought about this already. ‘They’ll need a lot of my attention.’

He points his fork at me. Not his knife, but his fork. ‘Yes, you’re primary role will be the care of our children, but a close second, and I mean a very close second, will be for my indulgence. Wherever, whenever, Ava. I might need to control my craving for you to a certain extent, but don’t think that I’m going to sacrifice devoting my life to consuming you. Constant contact. Wherever, whenever. That’s not going to change, just because we have babies.’ He stabs at a piece of lamb and yanks it off the fork with his mouth.

If wanting me to cook for him was chauvinistic, then I have no idea what that little speech would represent. ‘Even if I’m knackered from night feeds?’ I’m poking.

‘Too tired for me to take you?’ he asks, shocked.

‘Yes,’

‘We’ll get a nanny,’ His lamb takes another vicious stabbing, and I mentally laugh my socks off.

‘But I’ve got you.’ I remind him.

He sighs and drops his knife and fork to his plate. ‘You do,’ His fingertips go to his temples and start rubbing calming circles. ‘You do have me, and you always will.’ He reaches over and takes my hand. ‘Promise me you’ll never say I’m too tired, or I’m not in the mood.’

‘You’re the one who tells me I’m too tired!’ I practically screech. ‘It’s okay for you to knock me back.’

‘That’s because I have the power.’ he says frankly. ‘Promise me.’ he presses.

‘You want me to promise you that I’m here for you to take as and when you please?’

He looks away, only very briefly, before returning thoughtful eyes to me. ‘Yes,’ he says simply.

‘What if I don’t?’ I’m being insolent for the sake of it. I’ll never be too tired for this man, but his sudden epiphany is really quite amusing. He should have thought about all of this before he nicked my pills.

He laughs, and then the arrogant swine only leans back and pulls his t-shirt over his head, revealing himself in all of his clean cut perfection. He looks down at his chest, as if refreshing his own memory of just how incredibly flawless he is. My eyes are on that chest, too. I might even be salivating all over my lamb, but I’m defiantly resisting his tactics. I drink in his godliness, my eyes skipping over every hard piece of him, my mind making a mental note to refresh my mark. It’s fading. ‘You’ll never resist this.’ He gestures to his torso.

My eyes whip back up, seeing self-assured, bright greens. ‘I’m used to it.’ I rip my greedy stare away from the equal perfection of his face and back to my plate. My eyes are not happy and are pulling in my sockets to get another fill. ‘It kind of gets the same old after a while.’ I add as casually as I can.

He’s on me in a second, pulling me from the table and taking me down to a rug on the floor. I don’t get a moment to register what’s happened until I’m barely breathing and he’s coating me completely. ‘You’re a shit liar, baby.’

‘I know.’ I concede. I’m crap at it.

‘Let’s see how used to it you are, shall we?’ He moves my arms to my sides and sits astride of me, pinning me in place. I’m immobile and suddenly very concerned by this situation. I’ve been here plenty of times before, and most of them I came out the other end a very unhappy girl.

‘Jesse, please don’t.’ I beg, for very little purpose. I know it will get me entirely nowhere. He’s in a trampling mood, his sudden realisation of how he might be side-lined sparking his animal instinct to stake his claim, and probably mark me, too. He’s like a lion.

‘What?’ he asks, despite knowing damn well what. ‘You’re used to it.’

He’s fully aware that I was feigning nonchalance. I’ll never get used to it, and I’m so glad. I’ll look at him this way, appreciate him this way and become consumed with desire this way for the rest of my days. And I can’t wait. That desire is coursing through my veins right now. It’s always lying dormant in the background, simmering gently, ready for a few right words or a touch. Then the simmering transforms into a fizzing, deep in my tummy, and then impatience, and then torturous pleasure until explosion, whether it’s of the soft, rollover kind, or the mind-bending, screaming kind. I’m starting to fizz now. My tummy muscles are squeezing and he’s probably aware because unlike previous encounters lately, he’s resting on my stomach. Has he had enlightenment that he won’t hurt his babies, as well as being enlightened that I won’t just be his anymore?


Advertisement3

<<<<109119127128129130131139149>209

Advertisement4