His Absolute Authority: A Scandalous Billionaire Love Story (Jessika, #3)

by du Lys, Cerys

  "I... I want you, Asher," I whimpered, whispered. "I want you inside me. I want you to cum. I want to have your baby."

  "You will," he said with a devilish grin. "I'll give it all to you. You're going to have my baby and I'm already inside you, but I'll feel you with my thick, creamy cum in a second, my beautiful wife. First, I want to savor everything about you. I want to take in everything. Your look and how you feel. You're so wet and hot for me, aren't you?"

  I nodded, at a loss for words, clenching my eyes shut and biting my bottom lip instead. I thought that said about all that needed saying at the moment.

  I thought Asher must have agreed, too. He picked up his pace, thrusting hard into me, slamming against me, his body slapping hard against mine. We moved like that, not just making love, but rutting, reckless and beautiful. He arched his body against me, covering my newfound curves with his muscular torso. His hands shifted from my stomach to my breasts, squeezing, groping, hard and rough, fingers clamping onto my...

  Nipples. I lost it as soon as that happened. Both at once this time, with Asher deep into me, his pubic bone grinding against my clit while he did everything within his power to force every inch of his cock deep between my legs. My back arched again, but I didn't have anywhere to go but down. I couldn't move. Asher contained me. He kept me pinned to the bed, kept me begging and pleading, kept forcing unthinkable pleasure through my arousal-ridden body.

  I clenched my eyes shut, focusing on the feeling of everything, not even sure where to begin or what to think of or who or how or why or...

  I felt him twitch inside me before I felt more. Asher drove himself harder against me, digging so very deep inside of me, preparing me for... for him. For everything.

  He filled me with his seed and made me come completely undone in the process. Another orgasm flared through me, somehow stronger than the first. It startled me, almost scared me, sending me into absolute submission. I wanted to whimper and cry and laugh and smile all at once, but I felt like I couldn't do any of those things because I wanted to do so much more. I wanted everything. I wanted Asher. I wanted love and a family and happiness, and...

  And I had it. I had all of it.

  Asher watched me while I orgasmed, my body screaming out in need for him, my inner walls clenching and rocking against his desirous cock. Through half-lidded eyes, I saw him smile with genuine pleasure and happiness; happy to see me so very happy. He bent down and kissed me softly on the lips, then pulled out of me and lay next to me on the bed. I scrambled close to him, nuzzling against him, resting my head on his chest and his shoulder.

  "I meant it when I said it before," he said. "You're so fucking sexy, Jessika. I can't even begin to explain it."

  "I think you did a pretty good job of showing it just now," I said, laughing.

  "You think so? I don't know. I was just getting started."

  "You're going to have to calm down, lover boy!" I said, giddy, laughing more. "I need to rest."

  "No you don't," he said with a smile. "You don't have to rest, Jessika. This is just a—"

  I didn't hear the rest. A strange knocking sound blocked out his words.

  "What?" I asked. "This is just a what? I didn't hear you, Asher?"

  "This is just a—" he said, but the knocking wouldn't stop. Constant, at even intervals. Knock. Knock. "—dream." Knock.

  ***

  Knock knock knock.

  I jumped up, startling myself awake. What was that? Someone knocking, yes, but where, and why and who would knock? Asher wouldn't knock on our bedroom door, he'd just come in, and if he saw me sleeping he might decide to sneak under the blankets to cuddle with me. Or kiss me, or...

  A Note from Cerys

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  ~*~

  This one was tough, but I'm really happy with how it turned out. One of the things that I initially struggled with was the fact that Jessika & Asher and Elise & Lucent are in the same place for an extended period of time, so I needed to involve all of them. Obviously this is Jessika's Love Story, though, so... I wanted to make sure that she and Asher were the focal points. It was a little hard to figure out at first, since Elise and Lucent play a large role here, but I think it turned out well. And after that, I really liked how the story went.

  I had a few revelations with this one, too. Generally when I write, I try to figure out some things as I go, without any strict plans. I think it's more fun, you know? Like a discovery process! His Absolute Authority was absolutely that for me. Maybe it's a little strange, but I always search for little hints and clues in my own stories, haha. Like... maybe I'm trying to tell myself something, but I just don't know what yet? Well, I've figured it out, for sure. I'm excited for how the rest of the series is going to go.

  There were also some really interesting revelations about Lucent and Elise in this one, but not too overbearing, I don't think. They'll be on a starkly diverging path from Jessika and Asher going forward, which will be both a good and a bad thing. There will still be connections, but it's a crossroads of sorts, too. Neither path is better or worse for them, it's just different. Asher and Jessika will have to deal with things in their own way now, and Lucent and Elise will have to deal with theirs.

  Maybe things won't be as easy as they might hope... things haven't been easy so far. I think they'll make it through fine, though.

  Oh, and Jessika's pregnant! This is really exciting. If you haven't checked it out yet, you can actually vote for how many babies (and the gender) of her and Asher's children, too. That poll is on the right side of my website CerysduLys.com or you can find it here, as well.

  I hope you're liking the story so far, though. There'll definitely be more in the future. I'm still aiming for between five to seven total (per Love Story), so we're at about the halfway point right now. It's definitely a turning point in the story, though. There are still some unanswered questions, but I'll be making sure to tie up a lot of those in the upcoming books.

  Elise and Lucent's series is about to get quite interesting, too. Aruba? Hm... do you think they'll make it there, or will something happen? I don't know...

  If you like His Absolute Authority, and just the entire Jessika's Love Story series, I'd love if you'd rate and review it, as well. I read all of my reviews and they're very helpful. They can help me guide the story, give me insights into what you like, and overall they're pretty neat to check out. They help other readers a lot, too, so that's always great, as well.

  I hope you enjoyed it! There will be more to come, so keep an eye out!

  ~Cerys

  Sample (Sweet)

  Please enjoy this sample from the dystopian paranormal romance novel, "Breathless," by Cerys du Lys

  ~*~

  I am dead.

  This is how I feel, this is what I know, but a small part of me refuses to believe it. Wasn't I alive just yesterday? I have a doctor's appointment to go to next week and I need to leave a reminder for my office manager. He's forgetful and even though I told him about this a month ago, he won't remember.

  But, no, I don't have a doctor's appointment next week. That's already past. It's been four months, two weeks, and three days since the day I should've gone to the doctor. It was only a routine check up, anyways. Not absolutely necessary, but it would have provided peace of mind.

  My mind is anything but peaceful now. I don't know if I still have one.

  ...

  Five months ago I was sitting on my couch eating take-out Chinese and watching the news. I never knew why I enjoyed watching the news, but it seemed like the adult thing to do, you know? Granted, wearing my pajama pants with cartoon versions of cats and a grey athletic t-shirt didn't help my illusion of adulthood. Nor did eating directly out of the lo me
in carton with a pair of wooden chopsticks, but still. Sometimes it's good to feel more adult, even if the rest of your life isn't exactly there.

  There was a breakthrough announcement on the news that night, too. I remember them hyping it up at the beginning, saying it could change the face of humanity as we knew it. Dutifully, I watched through dull segments involving a local bake sale and a church's outrage at a movie theatre refusing to remove a supposedly risque poster from their front lobby. Maybe I should've switched the channel, though.

  What did this breakthrough announcement have to do with me? Was it another cell phone? I loved my cell phone as much as the next person, but the way they came out with new ones every year (and they always have new features that seem suspiciously like the old ones), I would never understand why people got so excited about those things. I wanted mine to work, I wanted to call people on it, and I'd like to be able to occasionally text someone and maybe check my email.

  The announcement wasn't about a phone, though. I stabbed a potsticker with my chopsticks and nibbled on the edges while some NASA scientist explained their newest discovery.

  Hibernation, hypothermia, an isolated virus that could mimic these conditions at a safe level. Once they finished with more rounds of experimentation, they could use this knowledge for extended space travel. The goal was to induce a type of suspended animation in astronauts so they could travel to distant planets with minimal necessities.

  It sounded like a bunch of Star Trek mumbo jumbo to me. I'm not stupid, I graduated college with a marketing degree, but this had nothing to do with me. In a hundred years when people finally colonized Mars and someone built a restaurant chain up there, they could call me in to help figure out their branding, but none of this affected me right now.

  This was what I thought then. In four days, everything changed.

  ...

  I wander through the city, confused. I am cold beyond belief and nothing I can do will warm me up. I try holding my hands tight against my chest and huddling on the ground, but it doesn't help. I've tried putting on more clothes, but this doesn't work, either. I've tried taking off my clothes, too. I go inside and outside, but no.

  My skin is a pale blue like the color of pure water. I feel sick and I know I should go see a doctor, but there are no doctors anymore; not for me or anyone like me. I am one of them and I am hated. I understand this, but I don't want it.

  It's hard to walk sometimes, but other times I manage it fine. I feel clumsy, as if I've had too much to drink at the bar, but I don't think I've had alcohol for months. I can't remember.

  And then it happens.

  As much as I feel it, I'm not alone. A majority of the people surrounding me are like me, but different. They give in to their urges or they think differently, or there's something that separates me from them. I think it's the fact that I can't give in no matter what. I have a doctor's appointment to go to next week, afterall.

  The others around me stand up and stumble forwards after the intruders. Men and women, regular, just like us except with peach-colored skin (or tanned, or darker, it makes no difference) rush through the city streets. They bash through a storefront window with a baseball bat. The crashing sound of glass makes me shudder.

  The others chase them with a speed none of us knew we had. I watch them run, legs creaking, frantic to catch the people breaking into the convenience store. The people in the store yell at each other, screaming.

  "Hurry! Grab what you can and go! We don't have much time!"

  I don't know what they're grabbing, but I know why they don't have much time.

  Most of them make it out fine. A younger man drags behind, though. When he went to jump out of the front window, he cut his leg on the broken glass and fell onto the concrete sidewalk. One of his group stopped for a second and looked at him, trying to decide what to do, but when the rest of his people run off to safety, he abandons the young man.

  The young man is stuck, limping. He won't escape.

  I can't watch and I turn away. It hurts; it's painful. I know why they do it and I'm tempted to do it myself. The feeling of warmth and closeness like a lover's embrace. Heat and intimacy.

  Except nothing they do is loving. They are ruthless and vicious and in their obsession for warmth they'll destroy the man.

  I hear him scream and I want to cry but I run away as fast as I can. My feet slip on the sidewalk and I stumble, hitting against the side of a building, but I keep going.

  Why is it like this? Why?

  ...

  After I ate a can of warmed beans, I felt better. It wasn't hard to get the can of beans, but it was difficult to heat them. Fortunately, I knew of a place on the outskirts of the city in a wooded area where there was a house with a gas generator and a microwave. I knew it wouldn't last forever, but it suited me for now. If I used the generator sparingly and made trips to get gas in the middle of the night, I could sustain myself for awhile.

  That's how I imagined it going, but it didn't always work like that. The problem was that, while the warm beans slipped down my throat easily and warmed me up, filling my stomach with a soothing heat, it never lasted. While eating them, I felt wonderful, though. I felt human and alive, like myself once more. If I flipped on the TV—if there was anything actually on TV—and sat on the couch, propping my feet up on the coffee table, maybe I could forget about all of this for awhile.

  The beans kept me feeling warmer for half an hour or so, but then the chill crept in. I didn't have enough energy or beans to keep eating forever, though. It also didn't help that I felt like I'd eaten a Thanksgiving dinner after only half a can of the things. I could only eat once a day at most without feeling wretched and sick. Most of the time I ended up going two days in between meals.

  For now, for a little while, I felt nicer, though. I walked through the hallway to the master bedroom and grabbed a bathrobe off the back of the door, slipping my arms into the sleeves and tying it into place. Finding a book by Nicholas Sparks on the bedside table, I snatched it up and fell into bed. I slid beneath the thick blankets, hoping to keep warm for a little while longer, then opened to the dogeared page in the book and began reading.

  I read for a few minutes before the chill started. My feet grew colder and I started breathing slower, more shallowly. I felt tired, so tired, but I wanted to read a little more. I needed to know what happened to Ally and Noah. Did everything turn out fine? It was darker outside than I remembered, but I could still read. I needed to, desperately desired it, and yet...

  I folded the corner of the page I was on and carefully placed the book on the bedside table once more. Curling my knees up to my chest and closing my eyes, I lay in bed.

  ...

  No one knew what exactly happened, and least of all Evan. He wished he knew, because maybe that would put some sense into all of this, but even if he did there wasn't anything he could do about it.

  News stations reported an accident and a breakout. Contamination or something, but no one needed to act concerned. It was best if people remained in their homes and closed the doors.

  Of course, no one did that. Why should they? Well, Evan did it, because apparently he was an idiot. That's what his roommate told him at the time before he rushed out of their apartment and into the streets.

  It didn't matter if you left or stayed, though. It was something else entirely. He couldn't say why it didn't affect him or who it did affect, but it caused people to change. The virus released from the labs made people slow and stumbling. They could still talk, but in his experience they usually didn't want to. Sick and pale, shambling around the city, looking like...

  Zombies.

  He laughed thinking about it. Zombies, really? That was some serious movie shit right there. People rising up from their graves, eating brains, hordes upon hordes of the living dead.

  This wasn't exactly that, though. These people weren't dead; they were sick. He tried to tell everyone that, but no one listened to him.

  "You're not a docto
r, Evan," Alex said. "Just stick to hunting like you're good at. We need someone like you. It's safer if we stay away from the city unless we need supplies."

  The city. That's what everyone called it now. No names, no recognition. They didn't want to acknowledge that the buildings in the city had names and history. There was no past; it didn't exist. Maybe it was easier that way. Maybe it helped people cope with their losses and figure out how to live in this screwed up place.

  Evan didn't like it, though. He didn't want to live in a fake city in the middle of the woods made out of tents. He didn't want to act like none of his past life existed, and he didn't want to treat anyone like a zombie.

  It didn't matter what he wanted, though, it mattered what they did. And they—the zombies—killed people. There was some reason, some gut instinct told him so, but what? Why would they do it? What was their purpose?

  He wasn't anyone important. He was just Evan, a man who'd grown up hunting, played football in high school and college, and worked a respectable job as an EMT while trying to save up money to continue on with medical school.

  Yeah, like Alex said, he wasn't a doctor, but he would've been. And while higher learning had kind of gone out the window with the mass viral outbreak, if he had any say in things he'd still be a doctor some day. Maybe he couldn't get an official degree, but he could study. He refused to let anyone stop him.

  ...

  I'm walking through the city, confused. Why am I here? I can't remember. I need to go to my doctor's appointment, I'm sure of it, except where is my car? Do I have my keys? Reaching to my side for my purse, I realize I must have left it at home.

  My hand, my skin. I stare at my arm, unsure if what I'm seeing is real or not. My skin is a pale blue all the way from my fingertips and up my forearm, to my shoulder. It looks like I've painted my fingernails purple, but I never paint them that color.

  Then I remember everything.

  I can't remember why I came here or what I needed to do, but I can't stay. The others shamble around nearby or lay in a huddled mess somewhere in the shadows. No one wants to do anything, but I do. I must. Except what?