Beneath This Man (This Man, #2)(51)

I scream, my throat instantly hoarse.

He pulls out slowly and controlled. ‘What did I say you would do, Ava?’ he asks on a grunt, slamming back into me again.

I can’t possibly talk. There is no air in my lungs and he is striking so deeply, my brain is being blown apart. No cognitive thought is possible, let alone speech.

He repeats the mind-blowing move. ‘Answer me!’ he roars and slaps my arse again.

‘Scream! You said I would scream!’ I choke on the words as he smashes forward again.

‘Are you screaming?’

‘Yes!’

He groans and then bangs forward again and again and again, driving me into orbit. ‘Is that good, baby?’

Oh God, it is! The sting of his slaps and the pounding of his cock have taken me to a whole new level of pleasure.

‘Where do you live, Ava?’ he shouts on another ferocious blow.

I want to cry. Cry with shock; cry with pain; cry with delight…cry with absolute mind-numbing pleasure. My brain is in meltdown and my body is wondering what the hell is going on. I can’t think or see straight. This is wild, intense and f*cking amazing, but other more unwelcome thoughts are fighting to the front, worming their way into my scrambled brain. How many women has he done this to? How many women have had the pleasure of a retribution f*ck? I feel sick.

‘Ava! Where the f*ck do you live?’ He punches out each word. I’m numb. Numb with complete, intense, mind-blowing bliss. ‘Don’t make me ask again!’

‘Here!’ I shout. ‘I live here!’

‘Damn f*cking right you do.’ His palm collides with my cheek again, reinforcing his words, before he’s clenching my hips again and pulling me back on each and every hard, punishing blow against my body.

Sparks start launching, the pressure at my core set to detonate loudly. I scream in delighted despair. This is way past severe. I really won’t be able to walk tomorrow. Is this part of his plan to keep me at home because if so, it’s going to work.

I feel his palm collide with my arse again and that last stinging slap rockets me into the most powerful, splintering climax I’ve ever experienced. I scream…very loudly – an echo around the room, sore throat, despairing, thrilling, satisfied scream.

‘Fuck!’ Jesse roars. I feel him tense, and then the grinding circles of his hips against my backside.

He moans.

I moan.

I’m shaking all over. Proper uncontrollable, tingling, rippling shakes.

One of my wrists is released from the cuffs and I pull my arm above my head as he collapses on top of me, flattening me beneath him. He holds himself inside me, jerking and kicking as he grinds around and around, extracting every modicum of pleasure from me.

I’m surprised at myself and my revelation. I’m a filthy, kinky minx! The heady combination of pleasure and soreness has totally knocked me out and despite my reservations, I’m glad I saw it through. That has just proved, beyond a doubt, I could never deny him.

He lays his arms over mine and dots light kisses at the nape of my neck while moaning and lazily gyrating his hips into me. ‘Friends?’ he whispers softly in my ear, nibbling my lobe. His soft velvet voice is a million miles away from the brutal sex Lord I’ve just encountered.

‘Where did that come from?’ I ask. I’m still in shock. I’ve met many levels of his sexual capabilities, but this one has dazed me completely. I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming. If that had been a sense f*ck, I would have foregone everything, but I’ll keep that to myself.

He drags my lobe between his teeth. ‘Tell me we’re friends.’

‘We’re friends.’ I sigh. ‘Tell me where that came from.’

He reaches up and releases my other wrist from the cuffs, the absence of the heavy burden a relief. He slips out of me and flips me over, holding my wrists at either side of my head. I look up at him, waiting for an answer, but it doesn’t seem forthcoming. Should I keep my mouth shut?

He eventually speaks. ‘I like hearing you scream.’ He grins. ‘And I like knowing that I’m the one making you scream.’

Ha! Mission accomplished. ‘I have a sore throat.’ I pout.

He drops a kiss on my lips. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘No.’ I’m really not, and I’m not getting out of this bed either. It’s not even eight o’clock.

‘I’ll go and get you some water and then we can snuggle, deal?’ he asks, circling his nose with mine.

‘Deal.’ I agree. Snuggle? Is he kidding me? After that? This man is like the sex version of Jekyll and Hyde.

He gives me a light kiss before peeling himself away from me, and I crawl up the bed, settling on my front and reveling in his scent all over the sheets. I’m absolutely bushed and my arse stings a little. If I wasn’t so satisfied and sated, I would be enormously pissed off that he has just gotten the upper hand. He doesn’t know it, but he has just derailed my evening plans. I’m way too tired to pursue my truth f*ck now.

I roll over onto my back, staring up at the ceiling and battle away the unwanted thoughts that are raiding my exhausted mind. How many women? I’ve maintained I don’t want to know the answer to that question – the one that keeps popping up, uninvited and pointlessly into my brain. But unreasonable curiosity is making its unwanted presence hard to ignore. If I wasn’t so shattered, I might give that direction of thought more attention, but I am, so I close my eyes and quietly thank Jesse for draining me of any energy to pursue my unreasonable fit of curiosity.