I feel his teeth clamp painfully onto my nipple and my head flies up on a small cry. He doesn’t release me, even though it’s obviously painful. He just gazes up through his long lashes at me struggling to deal with the pressure. I’m not relenting. I’m not telling him to stop, so I block it out and meet his stare with my own determined one, and when he smiles a little around my breast, I know I was right to ride it out. My nipple is released and the blood rushes back in as he sucks it back to life, and I release a quiet gasp.

‘My beautiful girl is learning to control it.’ he muses, drawing my knickers down my thighs and tapping each ankle to lift. Pecking his way between my breasts, up my throat and back to my lips, he cups me delicately and then slowly pushes two fingers inside of me. I’m panting immediately. ‘Shhhh.’ he whispers. ‘Soak it up, Ava. Feel every single bit of pleasure that I bless you with.’ His fingers pull free and firmly drive forward again, deep and high. He might be measured and soft, but my muscles are gripping him harshly. And then they’re gone, but before I can voice a frustrated complaint, I feel the soaking wet head of his cock meet the very tip of my clit. I don’t miss the slight, sharp intake of breath from him, but I’m too drunk on his heated touch to tell him to control it. He guides himself around, rolling the steel, slippery head across me, getting his face up close to mine and breathing heavily all over my lips. Our eyes lock, complete adoration clashing between them, and he slowly lowers his lips to mine and kisses me. It’s a kiss of passion and it’s full of heat and devotion.

This time, we both groan, we both lose our breath and we both shift on the spot to steady ourselves.

‘Are your arms okay?’ he murmurs into my mouth.

‘Yes,’

‘Are you ready for me to take you, Ava? Tell me you’re ready.’

‘I’m ready.’ I’m floating away.

He stoops and hovers at my entrance, then drops my lips. ‘Open your eyes for me, baby.’

I instantly comply, the magnetism of his own pulling me straight to where they should be. I watch him as he unhurriedly breaches my opening and slides into me. ‘Oh God,’ I breath, maintaining our eye contact, refusing to break this incredible intimacy.

‘Jesus,’ His cheeks puff slightly, he shakes his head very mildly and a shimmer of sweat materialises across his brow as he reaches down and takes the back of my thighs and lifts them to his narrow hips before drawing back and pushing forward on a low, throaty moan, dipping his head and latching onto my throat. My head naturally falls to the side, my eyes closing, as he lazily licks up the column, finishing with a tender kiss under my ear. ‘I set the pace.’ he murmurs, ‘and you follow.’

His words make me swallow hard and turn into his mouth, capturing his lips and worshipping him while he truly blesses me with the consistent, calm and controlled advances of his hips.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

When we’re like this, nothing and no one else exists. We’re surrounded by this calming music, we are both calm, but we are both sticky, gliding against each other’s bodies and completely out of our mind on pleasure. Out he pulls, and in he goes again. He’s filling me wholly and not just with each and every perfect stroke. My heart is full, too. It’s full of fierce, powerful, undying love.

He pushes forward, but this time I hear a clear, harsh pull of breath. ‘You’re going to come.’ My words come out on a quiet rush of breath.

‘Not yet.’ I watch as his eyes clench shut and his frown line trails the entire width of his brow, and he still maintains his steady pace. He is remarkably controlled, but I’m moving fast to where I need to be. Just looking at that face has sent the spiralling rush of pressure descending downwards and now I’m worried that I’ll break before Jesse.

I pant and rest my lips on his again. It’s me who teases this time, and he eagerly accepts, his tongue darting into my mouth and mimicking my big sweeping circles. His fingers dig into the backs of my thighs and lift me a little higher so he can get more leverage. He hits me firmly and yells into my mouth as I free his lips and take refuge in the crook of his neck on a supressed cry as I’m attacked by feverish spasms. He’s grinding firmly, retreating slowly, and flowing back in, so controlled.

‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ he mumbles quietly, drawing back and striking precisely and expertly one last mind splitting time.

‘Jesse!’ I latch onto his shoulder and bite down hard, while I ride out the violent pulsations firing off all over my body. He bucks, yells and squeezes my thighs as he comes, the feeling of his scorching essence filling me, warming me, completing me. I’m light headed and limp, but oddly feel stronger than ever before.

His face is buried in my neck, mine in his, and despite the calmness of that whole lovemaking session, the ending wasn’t a calm roll over into orgasm, and it wasn’t a frenzied rush to explosion. We just found our middle ground—a mixture of pure, gentle Jesse, and the dominant sex Lord I love.

‘That was perfect.’ I whisper in his ear. I really need to hold him, but I don’t need to ask. He’s already grasping me with one arm and reaching across with the other to undo me. He then swaps arms and releases my other hand. In spite of the slight ache and lack of life in my limbs, they still find their way around Jesse’s strong shoulders. I smother him completely, my thighs tightening and my cheek resting on his shoulders as he carries me over to the bed and takes us down, me beneath him. The cool satin is a welcome sensation across my hot, clammy back, and it doesn’t escape my notice that he isn’t spreading his full weight all over me, instead opting to hold himself up slightly across my tummy.

‘Do you like our room?’ he asks into my hair.

I smile up at the ceiling. ‘Are we going to have a cradle put in here? You know, for when we bring our baby to The Manor.’ My question is enough to plant the seed, and judging by the stilling of his heaving body, my seed has settled well.

He slowly pulls himself up and shifts to my side, resting the side of his head in his palm on his propped elbow. His fingertip starts circling around my bellybutton while he studies me. ‘Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, lady.’

I put on my most innocent face. I know it won’t make a jot of difference. He’s cottoned right on to my little dig. ‘Just a question.’

His eyebrows slowly rise and serious eyes skate down my body to watch the slow rotations of his finger. ‘You have a bump.’

I shrink further into the mattress on an offended snort. ‘Don’t be stupid! I’m barely pregnant.’

‘I’m not being stupid.’ His hand flattens and strokes softly. ‘It’s faint, but it’s there.’ He leans down and kisses my belly before propping his head on his bent arm again. ‘I know this body, and I know it’s changing.’

I frown and look down and my stomach, but it looks perfectly flat to me. He’s seeing things now. ‘Whatever you say, Jesse.’ I’m not arguing after that perfect moment, even if I do want to slap him for insinuating that I’ve put on weight.

He leans down again and gets his mouth up close to my abdomen. ‘See, peanut? Your mother’s learning who has the power.’

‘No peanut!’ I throw my head up and lob him a mighty scowl. He’s grinning at me. ‘Think of another name. You’re not referring to our child as something disgusting that you obsess about and devour daily.’

‘I obsess about you. I also devour you daily. But I can’t call our baby a defiant little temptress.’

‘No, that would be wrong. But you could call it baby.’ It’s me who’s grinning now.

He jumps up and straddles my hips, pinning my wrists down, but still not resting himself on my stomach. ‘Let me call our baby peanut.’

‘Never.’

‘Sense fuck?’

‘Yes please.’ I reply way too hopefully, my grin widening.

He laughs and kisses me chastely. ‘Pregnancy’s making you a monster. Come on. My wife and peanut must be hungry.’

‘Your wife and baby are very hungry.’

His greens twinkle and he pulls me up from the bed, dressing me first before he pulls his own boxers, trousers and shirt on. I step into his chest and remove his hands from his collar, taking over the fastening of his buttons while he watches me quietly. Reaching around his back to tuck his shirt into his trousers, my cheek rests on his chest as I take my time making him look presentable. ‘Belt?’ I ask, as I pull away from him. He stoops down and retrieves it from the floor, handing it to me on an amused smile. I take it, returning his smile, and start feeding it through the loops of his trousers and buckling it up. ‘You’re done.’

‘No I’m not.’ He nods at his shoes. ‘If you’re going to do a job, do it properly.’

I ignore his insolence, instead pushing him down so he’s sitting on the end of the bed. I kneel in front of him, resting my bum on my heels and start putting his socks on for him. ‘Is this okay for you, Lord?’ I yank at a few of the dark blonde hairs at the bottom of his shins.

He jerks. ‘Fuck!’ he reaches down and rubs his shin. ‘There was no need for that.’

‘Don’t be cheeky.’ I retort dryly, placing his shoes at his feet before pushing myself up.

He slips his feet in and stands, grabbing his jacket and stuffing his tie in the pocket, all the time frowning at me. ‘You really are a monster.’

I smile sweetly, prompting his frown to iron out and his lips to twitch. ‘Ready?’ I ask.

He shakes his head and takes my hand, leading me from our room and down to the bar. I’m placed on my usual stool, and Mario is with is in a heartbeat.

‘Mrs Ward!’ His cheerful accented voice draws the usual response from me.

I smile. ‘Mario, it’s Ava.’ I scorn him lightly. ‘How are you?’

‘Ah!’ He flips a bar towel over his shoulder and leans forward. ‘I’m very well. What would you like?’

‘Two waters,’ Jesse interjects swiftly. ‘Just two waters please, Mario.’

I flip critical eyes straight to my husband, who has sat himself on the stool next to me. ‘I might like some wine with my dinner.’

He’s not at all perturbed by my reproachful glare. In fact, he doesn’t even look at me. ‘You might, but you’re not having any. Two waters, Mario.’ This time he’s not asking his head barman, he’s ordering, and judging by Mario’s wary eyes that are flicking between us, he’s not going to offer me a choice again. He scoots straight off to the row of fridges lining the back of the bar, while I glare at Jesse, but he still refuses to face me, instead signalling Pete over. ‘Two steaks, Pete. One medium, one well done. No blood, whatsoever.’

The confusion in Pete’s face is obvious, and the disbelieving look on mine must be clear, too. ‘Urhh… yes, Mr Ward. Salad and new potatoes?’ Pete asks. His puzzled eyes have drifted across to my dumbstruck face, I can feel them on me, but I’m too busy staring at my impossible husband to acknowledge him.

‘Yes, just make sure one steak is thoroughly cooked.’ Jesse accepts the bottled water from Mario and starts pouring mine into a glass. ‘Is there egg in that salad dressing?’

I actually choke on a cough, not that it makes a bit of difference. He’s just looking at Pete with an expectant raised brow. Poor Pete has no idea what’s going on. ‘I’m not sure. Should I check?’

‘Yes, if there is, leave the salad with the well-cooked steak un-dressed.’

‘Okay, Mr Ward.’

Mario backs away, as does Pete, and we’re alone at the bar, me in a stunned silence and Jesse busying himself with water pouring duties to avoid facing his astonished wife. He knows that I’m gawking at him, he damn well knows it.