spiraling rush of pleasure reaches its climax and sends me tumbling into a hurricane of uncontrollable feelings. I cry out in complete despairing pleasure, my body trembling in his hold. I close my eyes to blink back the tears that have developed as my orgasm begins to recede slowly and lazily with his continued even strokes.
'Eyes,' he commands softy, and I obey, opening my eyes again.
He moans deeply and I tighten all of my muscles at my core to grip him and extract his release from him. How is he keeping his head up and his eyes open? I can see the battle he's having with his instincts to hammer into me and throw his head back, but he's keeping a rein on his control. And then, you can almost hear the snap of his release as his cheeks puff out and he pushes himself into me, long and hard, holding himself there, my muscles obliging his throbbing erection and continuing with their slow, easy constrictions as he pours into me.
'I love you.' I say quietly as he looks down at me, his chest heaving. There. I've put it out there. My cards are well and truly on the table, and he didn't technically fuck that one out of me.
He rests his lips on mine. 'I know you do, baby.'
'How did you know?' I ask. I know I've never told him. I've screamed it in my head a thousand times, but I have never actually voiced it.
'You told me when you were drunk,' He smiles, 'After I showed you how to dance.'
I do a quick run through of the night when I got ridiculously drunk and relented to his persistent pursuing again. I remember admitting it to myself, but I certainly don't remember blurting it out to him. Mind you, I don't remember much after Jesse escorted me from the bar. I was in a state. That's his fault too.
'I don't remember.' I admit. I feel bloody stupid.
'I know you don't,' He grinds his hips.
I sigh.
'It was so fucking frustrating.'
It all comes flooding back. He really was trying to fuck a love confession out of me. He watches me as I figure it out, and his mouth forms an O on a small smile.
'You knew all along.' I say quietly.
Drunken confessions.
I had beaten myself up about it for days and days, and he knew all along? Why didn't he say something? Why didn't he just talk to me instead of trying to fuck it out of me? So much could have been so very different.
His smile disappears and is replaced with a stoic expression. 'You were drunk. I wanted to hear the words when you were of sound mind. Women get drunk all the time and confess their undying love to me.'
'Do they?' I blurt.
He almost laughs. 'Yes, they do.' He drops his eyes, 'I wasn't sure if you still did after...' His teeth start a vicious workout on his bottom lip, 'Well, after I had my little meltdown.'
I inwardly laugh. Little meltdown? Bloody hell, what would be a big meltdown? Women tell him they love him? What women and how many are there? I screw my face up in my own private disgust. I'm extremely uncomfortable with how resentful I'm feeling about any other woman having him or loving him. I need to put these thoughts right out of my mind and fast. No good could come of me knowing.
'I love you.' I reinforce my words, almost grinding them out, like I'm telling all of those women who claim to love him too. I feel his whole body relax over me before he continues slowly circling deep inside me.
Pulling him down onto me, I wrap my entire body around him. I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, but then it occurs to me; I'm in love with a man and I have no clue how old he is.
'How old are you, Jesse?'
He pulls his face up and I can see the cogs of his mind start revolving. I know he's thinking whether or not he should just tell me his real age and stop with his silly diversion. 'I can't remember.' He frowns.
Oh, I might be able to play this to my advantage. I think we may have got to thirty-ish. 'We were at thirty three.' I prompt.
He smirks at me. 'We should start again.'
'No!' I pull his face down and rub my nose across his rough cheek. 'We got to thirty three.'