This Man
Page 116
I swing round on my stool when I hear a commotion coming from outside of the kitchen. Getting up to go and investigate, I’m nearly taken off my feet when Jesse’s naked chest flies at me.
WHOA!
‘Fucking hell, there you are.’ He grabs me, lifting me up to his sweat riddled body. ‘You weren’t in bed.’
‘I’m in the kitchen.’ I splutter in my dazed state. He’s squeezing me so tight, I’m struggling to breathe. ‘I saw you running. I didn’t want to disturb you.’ I wriggle a little to indicate that I’m being constricted to death. He releases me, setting me back on my feet, his glistening, stubbled face giving me the once over. His panicked features ease a bit as he holds me steady by my forearms in front of him. ‘I was just in the kitchen.’ I repeat. He looks like he could keel over at any moment. What’s wrong with him?
He shakes his head slightly, as if ridding himself of a nasty thought, picks me up and walks me to the worktop, sitting me on the cold granite. He pushes his way between my thighs.
‘Sleep well?’
‘Great.’ Why does he look like someone’s broken some really crappy news? ‘Are you okay?’
He blesses me with a heart stopping smile. I feel instantly at ease. ‘I woke up with you in my bed wearing lace. It’s ten thirty on a Sunday morning and you’re in my kitchen…’ He runs his eyes down my front, ‘wearing lace. I’m amazing.’
‘You are?’
‘Oh, I am.’ He tips my face up, planting a light kiss on my lips. Oh, I could wake up to this every morning. ‘You’re too beautiful, lady.’
‘So are you.’
He brushes the hair away from my face, looking at me affectionately. ‘Kiss me.’
I fulfill his request immediately, taking his lips calmly and following the slow, gentle strokes of his tongue. We both hum in harmony. Oh this is good. But our intimate moment is broken by the loud, shrill of Jesse’s phone.
He grumbles and reaches past me, still maintaining our kiss. He glances up at the screen as he holds it over my head. ‘Oh, go away.’ he gripes against my lips. ‘Baby, I’ve got to take this.’ He pulls away and answers, keeping himself firmly between my thighs, his free hand around my waist. ‘What’s up, John?’ He starts chewing his lip. ‘What’s he doing there?’ He drops a chaste kiss on my lips. ‘No, I’ll be there…yes…see you in a bit.’ He hangs up and studies me thoughtfully for a few seconds. ‘I need to go to The Manor. You’ll come.’
I recoil. ‘No!’ I blurt. I’m not being yanked off of Central Jesse Cloud Nine by her!
He frowns. ‘But I want you to come.’
Absolutely not! It’s Sunday, I’m not working and I’m not going to The Manor. ‘You’ll be working.’ I search my brain for a feasible excuse for me not to go. ‘You do what you need to do, and I’ll see you afterwards.’ I reason instead.
‘No, you’ll come.’ he presses forcefully.
‘I’m not coming.’ I try to wriggle myself free of his grasp, but I’m going nowhere.
‘Why?’
‘Just because,’ I snap, earning myself a mighty scowl. I’m not about to start whining about Sarah and off loading trivial jealousies on him.
He searches my eyes. ‘Please, Ava. Will you just do what you’re told?’
‘No!’ I shout.
I watch as he closes his eyes, clearly trying to gather some patience, but I don’t care. He can force me to do many things, but I’m not going to The Manor. I sit on the worktop, waiting for him to disintegrate under my disobedience.
‘Ava, why do you insist on making things more difficult?’
‘I make things more difficult?’ I gape at him. It’s him that needs some sense fucking into him. He’s deluded.
‘Yes, you do. I’m trying really hard here.’
‘Trying hard to do what? Send me crazy? It’s working!’ I beat him away from me and storm out of the kitchen, hearing him curse as he follows me up the stairs.
‘Okay!’ he yells from behind me. ‘You will wait here. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
‘I’ll go home.’ I shout over my shoulder, continuing on my way and shutting myself in the bathroom when I get there. I’m not waiting around for him to come back. His being reasonable and relenting to my refusal to go with him has just been trampled by the follow up of “you will wait here”. I WILL do no such thing! I splash my face with cold water to try and cool down my raging temper. Why has he not given me the countdown? That’s what he usually does when I don’t conform. I hear him in the bedroom on his phone. Wondering who he’s talking to, I open the door.
‘See you in a while.’ He hangs up, throwing his phone on the bed. Who is he seeing in a while? He stands with his back to me for a long time, his head dropped. He’s thinking, and I feel like an impostor all of a sudden.
Eventually, he exhales heavily and turns towards me. He watches me for a short time before heading into the bathroom to take a shower. I stand in the middle of the room wondering what to do. He’s acting strange. No countdown; no manhandling. What’s going on? Yesterday was so perfect, and now I’m back to mind meltdown. It looks like I didn’t need Sarah to yank me off of Central Jesse Cloud Nine after all. I’ve managed to do that all by myself.
Ten minutes later, I’m still stood twiddling my thumbs, trying to work out what to do with myself. I hear the shower shut off. He comes out of the bathroom, heading straight into the wardrobe without a word. I’m troubled by his defeated expression that also harbours a bit of sorrow. I think I actually want him to explode or give me the countdown. I have no idea what he’s thinking, and it’s the most frustrating feeling in the world.
He appears at the wardrobe door. ‘I need to go.’ he utters regretfully. He looks completely tormented. ‘Kate’s on her way over.’
I frown. ‘Why?’
‘So you don’t leave.’ He goes back into the wardrobe, me following swiftly behind.
Pulling some jeans on, he looks up at me briefly but gives nothing away. He grabs a black t-shirt from a hanger, pulling it on over his head quickly, before he sets about getting his Converse on.
‘I’m going home.’ I assert, but he still doesn’t look at me. What’s wrong with him? I can feel my temper flaring at his lack of receptiveness, and not knowing what else to do, I start pulling down my clothes from the hangers, draping them over my arms as I do.
‘What are you doing?’ He takes them from my hands, hanging them back up. ‘You’re not leaving.’ he growls.
‘Yes, I am.’ I shout, yanking them back down.
‘Put the fucking clothes back, Ava!’ he yells.
I hear a rip of material as I fight him away, and within a few seconds, my arms are free of clothes and I’m being hauled from the wardrobe. I’m pinned to the bed, struggling against him in complete defiance, but I go nowhere. If he tries to fuck me, I’ll scream!
‘Calm the fuck down!’ he yells, grabbing my jaw and pulling it to the centre so I have to look at him. I slam my eyes shut, puffing and panting like an exhausted greyhound. I’m not going to let him manipulate me with sex. ‘Open your eyes, Ava.’
WHOA!
‘Fucking hell, there you are.’ He grabs me, lifting me up to his sweat riddled body. ‘You weren’t in bed.’
‘I’m in the kitchen.’ I splutter in my dazed state. He’s squeezing me so tight, I’m struggling to breathe. ‘I saw you running. I didn’t want to disturb you.’ I wriggle a little to indicate that I’m being constricted to death. He releases me, setting me back on my feet, his glistening, stubbled face giving me the once over. His panicked features ease a bit as he holds me steady by my forearms in front of him. ‘I was just in the kitchen.’ I repeat. He looks like he could keel over at any moment. What’s wrong with him?
He shakes his head slightly, as if ridding himself of a nasty thought, picks me up and walks me to the worktop, sitting me on the cold granite. He pushes his way between my thighs.
‘Sleep well?’
‘Great.’ Why does he look like someone’s broken some really crappy news? ‘Are you okay?’
He blesses me with a heart stopping smile. I feel instantly at ease. ‘I woke up with you in my bed wearing lace. It’s ten thirty on a Sunday morning and you’re in my kitchen…’ He runs his eyes down my front, ‘wearing lace. I’m amazing.’
‘You are?’
‘Oh, I am.’ He tips my face up, planting a light kiss on my lips. Oh, I could wake up to this every morning. ‘You’re too beautiful, lady.’
‘So are you.’
He brushes the hair away from my face, looking at me affectionately. ‘Kiss me.’
I fulfill his request immediately, taking his lips calmly and following the slow, gentle strokes of his tongue. We both hum in harmony. Oh this is good. But our intimate moment is broken by the loud, shrill of Jesse’s phone.
He grumbles and reaches past me, still maintaining our kiss. He glances up at the screen as he holds it over my head. ‘Oh, go away.’ he gripes against my lips. ‘Baby, I’ve got to take this.’ He pulls away and answers, keeping himself firmly between my thighs, his free hand around my waist. ‘What’s up, John?’ He starts chewing his lip. ‘What’s he doing there?’ He drops a chaste kiss on my lips. ‘No, I’ll be there…yes…see you in a bit.’ He hangs up and studies me thoughtfully for a few seconds. ‘I need to go to The Manor. You’ll come.’
I recoil. ‘No!’ I blurt. I’m not being yanked off of Central Jesse Cloud Nine by her!
He frowns. ‘But I want you to come.’
Absolutely not! It’s Sunday, I’m not working and I’m not going to The Manor. ‘You’ll be working.’ I search my brain for a feasible excuse for me not to go. ‘You do what you need to do, and I’ll see you afterwards.’ I reason instead.
‘No, you’ll come.’ he presses forcefully.
‘I’m not coming.’ I try to wriggle myself free of his grasp, but I’m going nowhere.
‘Why?’
‘Just because,’ I snap, earning myself a mighty scowl. I’m not about to start whining about Sarah and off loading trivial jealousies on him.
He searches my eyes. ‘Please, Ava. Will you just do what you’re told?’
‘No!’ I shout.
I watch as he closes his eyes, clearly trying to gather some patience, but I don’t care. He can force me to do many things, but I’m not going to The Manor. I sit on the worktop, waiting for him to disintegrate under my disobedience.
‘Ava, why do you insist on making things more difficult?’
‘I make things more difficult?’ I gape at him. It’s him that needs some sense fucking into him. He’s deluded.
‘Yes, you do. I’m trying really hard here.’
‘Trying hard to do what? Send me crazy? It’s working!’ I beat him away from me and storm out of the kitchen, hearing him curse as he follows me up the stairs.
‘Okay!’ he yells from behind me. ‘You will wait here. I’ll be as quick as I can.’
‘I’ll go home.’ I shout over my shoulder, continuing on my way and shutting myself in the bathroom when I get there. I’m not waiting around for him to come back. His being reasonable and relenting to my refusal to go with him has just been trampled by the follow up of “you will wait here”. I WILL do no such thing! I splash my face with cold water to try and cool down my raging temper. Why has he not given me the countdown? That’s what he usually does when I don’t conform. I hear him in the bedroom on his phone. Wondering who he’s talking to, I open the door.
‘See you in a while.’ He hangs up, throwing his phone on the bed. Who is he seeing in a while? He stands with his back to me for a long time, his head dropped. He’s thinking, and I feel like an impostor all of a sudden.
Eventually, he exhales heavily and turns towards me. He watches me for a short time before heading into the bathroom to take a shower. I stand in the middle of the room wondering what to do. He’s acting strange. No countdown; no manhandling. What’s going on? Yesterday was so perfect, and now I’m back to mind meltdown. It looks like I didn’t need Sarah to yank me off of Central Jesse Cloud Nine after all. I’ve managed to do that all by myself.
Ten minutes later, I’m still stood twiddling my thumbs, trying to work out what to do with myself. I hear the shower shut off. He comes out of the bathroom, heading straight into the wardrobe without a word. I’m troubled by his defeated expression that also harbours a bit of sorrow. I think I actually want him to explode or give me the countdown. I have no idea what he’s thinking, and it’s the most frustrating feeling in the world.
He appears at the wardrobe door. ‘I need to go.’ he utters regretfully. He looks completely tormented. ‘Kate’s on her way over.’
I frown. ‘Why?’
‘So you don’t leave.’ He goes back into the wardrobe, me following swiftly behind.
Pulling some jeans on, he looks up at me briefly but gives nothing away. He grabs a black t-shirt from a hanger, pulling it on over his head quickly, before he sets about getting his Converse on.
‘I’m going home.’ I assert, but he still doesn’t look at me. What’s wrong with him? I can feel my temper flaring at his lack of receptiveness, and not knowing what else to do, I start pulling down my clothes from the hangers, draping them over my arms as I do.
‘What are you doing?’ He takes them from my hands, hanging them back up. ‘You’re not leaving.’ he growls.
‘Yes, I am.’ I shout, yanking them back down.
‘Put the fucking clothes back, Ava!’ he yells.
I hear a rip of material as I fight him away, and within a few seconds, my arms are free of clothes and I’m being hauled from the wardrobe. I’m pinned to the bed, struggling against him in complete defiance, but I go nowhere. If he tries to fuck me, I’ll scream!
‘Calm the fuck down!’ he yells, grabbing my jaw and pulling it to the centre so I have to look at him. I slam my eyes shut, puffing and panting like an exhausted greyhound. I’m not going to let him manipulate me with sex. ‘Open your eyes, Ava.’
