by Quell T Fox
While I’m in the kitchen by myself, I peek in the oven wondering what the hell he is doing for dinner. I didn’t notice him cooking anything. It’s then I notice the stacks of containers at the end of the counter. The black ones from Jonathan’s bar, branded with his logo. My mouth starts to water; I’m hungrier than I thought. Quickly closing the oven, I take a step away, needing something to do to keep my mind occupied. I’m letting myself get worked up over something that will probably end up being nothing.
My eyes move up to the liquor cabinet and boy do I wish I was old enough to drink. I’m sure I could sneak something and no one would complain. I mean, I’ll be twenty-one in a couple of years. Mom has let me have wine a few times, so what’s the difference? I can’t imagine Jonathan caring… I strain my ears again, listening for voices. Hearing nothing, I pull down the closest bottle of alcohol that is half empty and don’t look at it as I twist the top off and take a long swig. The liquid burns my throat as it goes down. I hold my breath and try not to gag at the taste. It’s awful, reminding me of rubbing alcohol, and burns the whole way down. Putting the cap back on and the bottle back on the shelf, I try to wish the pungent taste from my mouth. Just as I shut the cabinet, voices fill my ears as their steps get closer to the kitchen.
“Thank you for the tour, Mr. Hunt.”
“You’re welcome, Jace.” He slaps him on the back in a way only guys do. “Have a seat in the dining room, we’ll be out in a moment,” he tells him.
Jonathan walks to the oven and opens it, slipping on the oven mitts before pulling out the food, ignoring me completely. Which really grates on my nerves for more reasons than one. I hate how after just a few times, I’m already hoping for his touch when we’re alone. The thought makes my stomach bottom out and I know, right in this very moment, I am never getting over this. I may have to learn how to live with it, but these feelings I have for him won’t disappear.
I quickly make it to his side, the heat from the oven hitting my face and causing me to perspire. “What are you doing?” I whisper harshly, yet quietly. As I pull back, a small part of me worries he’ll smell the alcohol on my breath.
The unknowing is what’s killing me. I don’t know what kind of game he’s playing or the point in any of this. I should have just told him no when he told me to invite Jace over for dinner. Is the constant worry my punishment? Because it’s working. It’s fucking working so much that I’ve already chewed my nails to the beds. I’m only nineteen and I think I may have a coronary.
He places the aluminum pan on the stove, slowly peeling the oven mitts off his hands and placing them on the counter. Turning towards me, my breath catches in my throat at what I see. He’s at least six foot three, which is almost a foot taller than my short height. Standing this close, I finally take him in. Noting how sharply he’s dressed in a crisp white button up shirt that’s tucked into a pair of dark gray Chinos. My mouth goes dry.
God, he is beautiful. Any woman would be lucky to have a piece of this man. Even with his almost twenty years my senior, you’d never know he was pushing forty. Sure, there are a few stray grays in his hair and beard, but it only adds to his beauty.
His mouth turns up in a smirk as he takes a step closer, a knowing look on his face. As gorgeous as he is, he does not come across as arrogant or cocky about it. It’s almost like he doesn’t know how good looking he truly is. He brushes a stray piece of hair away from my face before leaning down to get close to my ear. “Punishing you, princess.”
I don’t know where the nickname came from, but something about the way it rolls off of his tongue sends shivers up my spine. My eyes fall shut and I take a deep breath, needing just a second to relax. He backs away and moves to the cabinet, pulling three plates down.
“Help me with the food.” It’s a command but his tone is kind, not said in a way that makes me want to defy him. He has this way of making demands that make me want to submit to him. And anyone who knows me, knows I don’t submit to anyone. I do what I want and no one will tell me otherwise; respectfully, of course. But this man… this man has always been different and I sure as fuck wish I knew why.
He sets the plates onto the counter, side by side, and pulls out two serving spoons. He hands me one and gets started on putting food on each plate. He adds the chicken and pasta while I add the vegetables. We don’t say a word but work in sync as if this was meant to be. As if we’ve done this a hundred times when it’s never happened prior to this night. My heart squeezes in my chest and it almost makes me sick at how easy things are with him. If I could just relax… if things could just be… this could be good. Wonderful. Perfect.
We carry the plates out and I notice the table is already set. It’s unusual for us to eat in the dining room. The table is large and seats eight, though it’s rare there are even three here for meals. Jonathan must have set this while I was hiding in my room, wondering what I got myself into. I meet Jace’s gaze who smiles at me. But I silently curse him as I notice he’s decided to sit himself on the side of the table that was set for one.
“Sit, Charlotte. I’ll get the drinks.” I have this feeling in my stomach that I will not be able to get through dinner with Jonathan by my side. I take a seat directly across from Jace, wishing I had more alcohol. We wait to eat, knowing it’s rude to start before we are all at the table.
“You okay?” Jace’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“What? Yeah, I’m okay.” I smile.
“You seem, I don’t know… somewhere else?”
“I, uh… I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Jonathan walks in, carrying a couple of cans of soda, two empty glasses, and a glass for him that’s filled with alcohol. Maybe I can steal a few sips of that. Whatever I took a swig of is barely taking the edge off. I need more.
Once Jonathan takes a seat and we dig in, I finally start to settle down. We talk and chit-chat like a normal family who has a guest over.
That is, until we aren’t.
About halfway through dinner I feel something brush along my leg, causing me to jump. Jace looks at me curiously, but I clear my throat and take a sip of my drink. My heart begins to thunder in my chest and my face heats, no doubt turning my cheeks an embarrassing shade of pink.
I thought wearing a dress would be a good idea. I thought I was being proper, dressing nicely for a guest. I didn’t think I’d be kicking myself in the ass for it because my stepfather can’t keep his hands to himself.
Jonathan trails his rough fingers up my leg, sliding them along my skin so softly I can barely feel them. All the while he’s chatting it up with Jace who is none the wiser. Jonathan’s voice is steady, not giving a single thing away. His hand rests firmly on the top of my thigh, his fingers too close to that intimate area. Way too close. He can probably feel the heat coming off of me with how wet I am already.
Does he like it?
I’ve thought of his hands being there many, many times. Just not now. Not like this. He can’t be serious about… this.
He traces lazy circles with his forefinger on the inside of my thigh, the goosebumps run along my skin and I feel myself growing wetter at his touch. He slips his fingers under my dress and brushes his finger over my clit. I’m thankful for the cotton panties I have on that are providing a small barrier.
It takes everything in me not to react to his touch, to not let out the moan I feel building in my chest. I force my eyes to stay open even though they want to fall shut. I keep my body steady, even though I’m trembling all over. I grip my glass of soda so tightly I fear it’s going to shatter in my palm. Everything in my body wants to react, wants to melt underneath him. My hips try moving towards his hand, my fingers twitch to run themselves through his hair. My lips tingle at the need to meet his.
By the time we’re done eating, I’m a mess. A literal, shaking mess. My skin is flushed, my nerves are overloaded and my underwear is soaked. How can he get me this worked up just by barely touching me? With just one hand?
“But you’ve barely had anything to eat, princess,” Jonathan says with humor in his voice.
“I’m not very hungry,” I say. Jace frowns, but I smile and then he seems okay, accepting my answer.
I bring the dishes into the kitchen and leave them in the sink. I press my palms to the counter and take in a few deep breaths. This is way too much. But I need to get through this. I can’t let Jace think something weird is going on. It’s bad enough if my mother were to find out… I don’t think she would tell anyone, not wanting the looks or judgement. But someone on the outside? It would spread through this town faster than wildfire. Who knows what that would do for all of us.
I’m heading back to the dining room to ask Jace if he wants to go for a walk. I need to get out of this house, I need some fresh air. As I round the corner, I bump into someone.
“Hey, sorry!” Jace says, laughing. He takes a step back. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I smile, trying to hide my embarrassment about this whole ordeal. I open my mouth to suggest the walk, but he speaks before I can get anything out.
“I just came to tell you that I have to go. I’m sorry. Mom called and she isn’t feeling well. I have to get home.”
“Oh, of course. Don’t worry.” I’m both relieved and terrified that he’s going. Glad I’ll be able to breathe but worried I’ll now be alone with Jonathan. I walk with Jace to the door and open it. He heads towards his truck and I follow behind.
“Thanks for the invite, Charlie. It was nice. I don’t get out often anymore.” He holds his arms out for a hug and I accept it. “Talk to you later?”
I nod into his chest, inhaling his scent. It’s nice but it’s just not the same. I crave everything about Jonathan, nothing and no one will ever compare. “I’m glad you could make it. I hope your mom is okay,” I tell him before heading back to the house. Part of me wants to take off. Ask if I can go with him. Something. Anything other than staying here because I’m not ready for what awaits me inside of the house.
Chapter 8
Charlotte
When I get inside, my plan is to slip upstairs and hide away in my room. Force myself to sleep until my mother gets home in the morning and I’m safe.
No such luck. The moment the door closes behind me, I’m being summoned. Hearing my name come out of his mouth makes me tremble with anticipation. I should ignore him… but I don’t want to.
I take a deep breath before walking towards the den, which is where I know he waits for me. It’s the only place in the house he hangs out. Each step I take, my feet grow heavier. The emotions coursing through me are confusing. Everything battles with the other. This isn’t right, but I can’t help it. I know this is wrong. My body reacts to his, my body wants his. My brain? It knows how messed up this is. How wrong it is to be doing whatever it is we are doing.
Lusting after my mom’s fiancé is one thing. Actually having my mom’s fiancé is another. That’s a line I never thought I’d cross. Ever. Never in a million years did I expect to be in this position, no matter how many times I thought of it. Part of me had accepted we could never be and I think that’s what made the obsession worse. Knowing I could never have what I wanted. Jonathan was the forbidden fruit. I have no idea what I am supposed to do here. I know what I want to do, and have thought of it a million times. But can I actually go through with this?
I stop in the doorway, the den once again dark. The lamp is on, but dim. I find him standing beside his desk, looking at a few papers strewn about. It’s long past the sun going down. I glance at the clock and I know Mom won’t be home for hours. Too many to stall him, that’s for sure. But is that what I want? I’ve thought of this man for years. If he offers himself to me right now, what would I do?
I know exactly what I want to do and it makes me the world’s worst daughter.
I could turn around and leave. I could go up to my room and lock myself inside. I know, without a doubt, that if I said no and meant it, he would leave me be. I know he would but… I can’t. I can’t find it in myself to turn away and do the right thing.
“Sit,” he says with no amount of emotion, gesturing towards the couch. I take slow steps and sit when I reach it. “Did you enjoy dinner?”
My mind races, unsure of how to answer that. The memory of dinner is a blur, only filled with thoughts of his fingers roaming my leg.
“Charlotte?”
“Y–yes,” I say.
“Do you remember what I said about answering me when I ask you a question?”
“Yes,” I say, this time quicker.
“Be sure that you do.” He walks out from behind his desk and towards the bookshelf against the far wall. He browses the books, running his fingers along the spines as if he is looking for something to read. I doubt that’s what is on his mind right now. “It seems the boy has a crush on you. Do you feel the same towards him?”
I think about it for a moment. And when he clears his throat, I know I’m running out of time. I’m not sure why he has the power to control me like this, but fuck, I’d be lying if I said I hated it.
“No,” I answer, truthfully. Because I can’t say I have a crush on Jace. He’s good looking, and he’s fun, but I don’t like him like that. I mean, I’d hoped to, I wanted to, but I don’t. Not yet, anyway. I’m not sure that I ever will. Not when I know there are people like Jonathan in the world. Jace is safe… and dare I say, boring. I can see what a life with someone like him would bring me and I don’t like it. Don’t like knowing I can see how my life will play out, probably year by year.
And I get that from my mother. The need for adventure, to experience life. To do things how I want, and not to fit into a societal mold.
“Good, that would have made things more difficult,” he says smoothly. He finally turns towards me, his face shadowed. He looks angry again, his jaw clenched. What did I do this time? He closes the distance between us and when he reaches me, he gets to his knees, his hands landing on my thighs. A small gasp leaves my lips at his touch. At the closeness of his face to my body.
He slides his hands up my legs, pushing my dress up higher. His mouth drops to my leg, placing one soft, gentle kiss before running his hot, wet tongue along the inside of my thigh. My hips involuntarily roll towards him, a moan leaving my lips. My hands find his hair and it’s just as soft as I thought it would be. Dragging my fingers through it, I grip and pull slightly. His beard brushes along my leg, making me want more.
“Do you like that? Naughty girl, aren’t you? I already knew that about you though.” He slides his fingers up and down my thighs, each time getting a little closer to my center. “You teased me for years and then you left. Just like that,” he snaps his fingers, slightly startling me. “This is the deal, Charlotte. This is how things are going to go from now on. You are mine, do you understand?” He brings his mouth to my leg again, nipping my flesh, and I hold back the moan that wants to escape. “You belong to me, no one else. You do as I say, when I say it. And if you’re a good girl, you’ll be rewarded. But if you misbehave, I’ll just have to punish you again. Only next time, I won’t go so easy.”
“Why?” I ask, suddenly finding my voice.
“Because you’re gorgeous, Charlotte. Because you were made for me.”
“But—” He holds up a finger and I immediately stop speaking.
“Let me give you a little something to ease you into this...” His hands slide around my hips and he pulls me up. When I stand, his face is right in front of my crotch. He’s so close I can feel his breath through the thin material of my dress. His fingers trail from my ankle, up my thigh, and under my dress. Hooking his fingers into my panties, he pulls them down, and helps me to lift my feet, one by one, to step out of them.
I swallow hard at the thought of what is going on, of what is going to happen. The touch of his fingers burn my skin and
I have never wanted anything more in my life than I want this right now. My clit is throbbing with the need to feel his tongue on me, his fingers inside of me. This is what I’ve been waiting for. For years I have dreamt of this man, and now I finally get to have him. There is nothing else I’m thinking of in this moment, just him and I. My heart pounds wildly in my chest, and my skin is warm with need, my lower belly on fire with want.
It’s just Jonathan and me.
I keep my hands in his hair, mostly to hold me steady as he grips the hem of my dress and pulls it up my waist, bunching it in the back and holding it tightly. He places a kiss right above my clit and then pushes me to sit back on the couch. All in one motion, his hands spread my knees apart before sliding behind them and pulling me to the end of the couch. His thumb glides up my slit, the sensation overwhelming.
“Fuck, you’re wet. Are you this wet for me? Tell me, Charlotte. Tell me this is all for me,” he growls.
“It is,” I whisper, throwing my head back on the couch.
This is really fucking happening.
“It is… what?”
“It’s all for you,” I say. A dark laugh leaves his lips.
“I’ve wanted to taste you since the first day that I saw you.” He moves closer, sliding his hot tongue along my thigh, so much closer to where I want him to be, I buck my hips and whimper at the feeling. “But of course, I couldn’t have you then.” He moves his head further between my legs, brushing his nose against my clit, the sensation causing me to whimper. He darts his tongue out, sliding from my hole up to my clit. I hold back the sounds needing to escape my chest, not wanting to fully give in to him just yet. I enjoy this back and forth and he needs to know this won’t be so easy. “Mm, delicious.” He goes in again, this time he slides his tongue up and back down before pulling away. “So fucking sweet.”
My chest rises heavily, my fingers digging into the couch. Jonathan brings his mouth back to my center, running the flat of his tongue up and down slowly. Nothing has ever felt like this. I’ve had guys go down on me, but clearly they didn’t know what they were doing. I had a feeling of that before, but now I’m sure. The way Jonathan feels between my legs, nothing in this world could beat this. He slides two fingers into me without hesitation.