Elite (Elite Doms of Washington Book 1)

by Elizabeth SaFleur

  “Now can you show me?” His touch lulled her into a courage she didn’t know she possessed. But then Christiana had grown tired of being in the dark, and if this was her moment to indulge in a little fantasy, she wouldn’t punch the universe’s gift in the mouth.

  “Yes," he said. "I want to show you."

  Jonathan ran his hands down her arms and pulled her up. “Let’s take our drinks inside. The vampires are out.” She raised her eyebrows in question. “The mosquitoes. They can’t have you. You’re mine.” He tucked the folder under one arm and opened the door, gesturing at the couch inside. “Sit.”

  Christiana curled her feet underneath her butt on the cool, white leather loveseat. Jonathan stood a few feet away in front of the fireplace. Soft recessed lighting shone down on his gold hair and accented the angles in his face.

  “I mentioned I have short relationships.” Jonathan paced.

  Christiana sat up straighter. “When you said you wanted me to be—.”

  “Mine. If you agree, you’ll be involved solely with me. Until you leave for school.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  He smiled. But then his face grew serious. “I need to know you want to spend time with me the way I want to spend it with you.”

  “You want to sleep with me.”

  “I would like to do more than sleep. Would you like that?”

  “Yes.” Being with Jonathan was all she’d thought about since meeting him. She would let this man do anything to her tonight, including things requiring a non-disclosure agreement.

  “I’m a sexual Dominant. Do you know what that means?”

  “Sort of.” She had no idea.

  “I will dominate you. And you will submit to me.”

  “Submit.” She measured the word in her mouth. “You want to control me?”

  “Not exactly. You’ll tell me what you like. From there, I’ll say when and how those things will happen. I will direct you. Ultimately, I want you to lose all inhibition with me. If you do, it shows you trust me. I require that.”

  “You want me to be a sexual dynamo?” She hoped her joke would lighten him up a bit.

  He smiled. “Well, if you are, that would be a side benefit.”

  Jesus, she walked right into that one.

  “You’re a sexual submissive,” he said. “You’ve already proven to me you feel better when I take charge. You’ve needed someone to take control of your environment for a very long time.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “You handed your panties to me without my having to ask. You wanted to please me.”

  “So?” Indignation rose in her chest as her eyes held his smirk. True, she’d never had anyone take such command—or care—of her. It felt good. But, panties or not, she wasn’t a doormat. “I’ve been taking care of myself for quite some time, Congressman.”

  “I know.” He sat down next to her and stroked the back of her neck. Her irritation stalled, though his eyes projected an empathy that put her nerve endings on high alert.

  “There’s nothing wrong with being submissive, Christiana. In fact, it’s a sign of great strength. When you give up total control to me, it’s a gift, one that I don’t take lightly. It shows you trust me to take care of you. You haven’t had enough of that, and I’m correcting your situation now.

  “It’s difficult to explain in words. The exchange of power between two people in this sexual dynamic is special, sacred. When you put yourself in my hands, it’s a great honor.”

  The apex of her thighs twinged at his words. She wanted his hands, everywhere. She wanted Jonathan, period. But him? Jonathan wanting her made no sense.

  “You’re a powerful man. A member of Congress,” she said. “I’d think women would line up.”

  “It’s not a matter of showing up, Christiana. You must give me your whole heart and mind for it to work. You’ve never been asked to trust anyone the way I’m asking you to.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “First, You must promise you’ll always be honest with me.”

  “Of course.”

  “If you’re ever dishonest, I’ll administer a punishment.”

  “Like what?”

  “That’s for me to decide.”

  She gasped.

  “I won’t hurt you, Christiana. Not ever.” As he brushed his knuckles over her cheek, her nerves settled. “But, I do mean it when I say discipline is part of this dynamic.”

  “I-I promise to be honest.”

  “Eventually I’ll learn your cues. But in the beginning, you must be open to extensive communication.”

  “Define extensive.”

  “You know what it means, though you’re not used to it.” His lips twitched into a smile. “You’re the strong silent type. I can tell.”

  Her face broke into a return smile. “Okay, I can talk more.”

  “Next, tell me what you like. What you don’t. Everything we do must be consensual.”

  “With sex . . . I’m afraid to tell you.”

  “You can tell me anything. I’m sure you had your share of grabby boys joking about their supposed experience and then not delivering.”

  If he only knew.

  “Yes. It was all so . . . .”

  “Dispassionate.” He’d completed her thought, precisely.

  “Christiana, there’s nothing you’d like to do or try that I probably haven’t—”

  “You may not want me.”

  “Nothing could have me not want you, Christiana.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He chortled. “I’m sure.”

  “I’m going to disappoint you.”

  He lifted her chin with his hand. “You could only disappoint me if you say no.”

  “I-I haven’t done this. Not very much. Um, I mean, my experience is a little . . . .”

  “Christiana. Considering your age I don’t expect you to be Mata Hari.”

  She almost laughed, but the embarrassment of her one encounter washed her in shame. “It was only once, and it was—”

  “Disappointing?”

  She looked into his concerned face. He deserved the truth. “Boring.”

  He sat back at her word, even though it fit her encounter perfectly. Losing her virginity was honestly one of the most uninteresting events of her life and that was saying something. Before that night, she thought society events were the most dull events of the century. She’d been wrong.

  An intense burn spread across her chest, as if she’d taken an overdose of niacin. Being so inexperienced was embarrassing enough. The last thing she wanted to do was tell Jonathan Brond how she let Jeffrey Daniels from her English composition class take her virginity in her dorm room after they’d run into one another at a party. She hadn’t cared for him. Given how he looked right through her in class the next day, he hadn’t either. To this day, she couldn’t understand what she was thinking that night she spread her legs for him.

  She kneaded her palm with her thumb. “You’re not going to ask me about it, are you?”

  “It sounds like there wouldn’t be much to say. I’ll try my best not to be . . . boring.” He grinned widely, and the burn across her chest darted between her legs.

  She could barely think about the right words, let alone speak them. She had wanted something larger, more life altering. Instead, the next morning she stuffed pink-stained sheets into the washing machine in her dorm room laundry room and listened to the same whooshing of water and clanking motor the same way as she had so many times before.

  Jonathan Brond couldn’t be anything like Jeffrey Daniels. He promised an experience wholly incomparable.

  Thanks be to Christ, Allah and all the Greek Gods. Jonathan hadn’t dared to believe it was possible. No woman who looked like Christiana could have made it through the hallways of high school, let alone a full year at college, without falling into the backseat or dorm room bunk of some football player. So, she’d given some idiot the pass of a lifetime, and he�
��d fumbled. He didn’t feel bad for the prick—only remorse she’d somehow shouldered the blame for the outcome. For some reason, he wanted to cuff her father—probably the first male influence to show her anything that happened to her might be her fault.

  Jonathan took a deep breath and reassessed the situation. Short of the usual young girl’s romance novel fantasies, her naivety guaranteed she had few preconceived notions of what sex should be like. Uncorrupted. Simmering with potential. Mine to shape.

  Christiana had lowered her eyes to her lap, and her bottom lip trembled. Oh, my sweet girl. So shy. When she opens up . . . . He tucked his hand under her chin and lifted her blue eyes back up to his.

  “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Christiana. Your innocence pleases me.” Pleased didn’t touch what he felt. Her confession thrilled him. His cock throbbed in anticipation of being the first to fuck her into total abandon.

  Her eyes filled with wonder. Her expression sent the remaining blood supply from his brain to his cock, already impossibly tight under the rough denim. Christ, he was going to need her soon.

  But he’d have to go slower than anticipated. For her. The thought he’d do almost anything for this girl shocked him. All his former liaisons hung like paintings in his mind—beautiful, each unique, treasured, but all so flat and two-dimensional, especially compared to what lay before him now.

  “Do you have any idea how rare you are?” He brushed her hair back over her shoulder, and she quivered as his fingers trailed down her back. “This means you’ll really be mine. Do you want me?” he asked. He knew the answer, but she had to speak the truth vibrating from her body.

  She nodded slightly.

  “You have to say it,” he said.

  “Yes, I want you.” She barely whispered, but it was enough.

  “Then close your eyes.”

  Jonathan inhaled vanilla from her skin and spices from the stew they’d eaten for dinner still on her breath. He took her face in both hands and joined his mouth to hers. She leaned into him. He relished the smoothness of her lips, a constant thought ever since he pulled her into the empty conference room and leapt into this thrilling, dangerous obsession.

  Jonathan tried to be gentle, but he couldn’t. Her circled her back and crushed her against him. She yielded, completely.

  He speared her mouth with his tongue. Forced her to straddle his lap. When his erection pressed into her mound, she gasped into his mouth. The graze of tiny nipples into his chest through his thin shirt made his balls ache.

  Jesus, he couldn’t wait until she took his cock between her lips.

  Jonathan wound his hands in her hair and pulled her head back, releasing her mouth. Her dress had hiked to her hips, revealing pale skin against his lap. He ran a hand up her bare thigh and traced the crease in her hip with his thumb. She quivered but didn’t break her gaze. Her wide blue eyes showed surprise yet glowed with uninhibited, pure want.

  “Christiana, you have to be sure—.”

  “I’m sure.”

  If she had pulled back even an inch, he would have packed her up to the Hilton. Her face flushed a deep crimson, but her lips and eyes revealed her decision. Now Jonathan wasn’t about to let her go anywhere tonight except his bed. Fuck the hotel.

  12

  Christiana licked Jonathan’s kiss from her bottom lip. Sweet Jesus, his kissing was an art form. His hand crushed hers as he led her down the hall and through a set of double doors. Mahogany furniture surrounded a king-sized bed, ivory and taupe pillows scattered at the top. The room was drenched in masculine elegance.

  “Get on the bed.” He turned his back and opened the top drawer of a tall chest.

  She climbed onto the silk duvet, mesmerized by the shifting of his back muscles. What would it be like to rub her breasts along his back? Hundreds of women have probably gotten the chance. A jolt of insecurity stabbed her courage. She hadn’t the first idea how to satisfy this man.

  He lifted a slip of black fabric. “I’m going to blindfold you.”

  The little butterflies in her stomach were zapped dead by little lightning bolts. “Do you have to?”

  He pulled her legs forward, so she sat on the edge facing him. God, how he moved her body around with such ease.

  “Yes. If you can’t see me, your reactions will be more honest. Then I'll be able to distinguish between what you truly want and what you’re willing to do simply because I ask.”

  “Isn't that the same thing?”

  “Not at all.” He cupped her chin. “You want to please me. That’s very good. But I won’t be able to please you if I don’t know what honestly works for you.”

  Jonathan fastened the blindfold around her head. He cupped her cheeks and tipped her head to his voice.

  “Trust me, lovely. Your body will not lie. Concentrate on feeling the sensations that arise.” He rubbed a thumb over her lips. The darkness made his hands larger, rougher, and her imagination ran wild envisioning what he would do to her with them.

  “But—”

  “Christiana. Trust.” His voice, sharp and smooth, impaled the last surviving butterfly.

  “Is this what you wanted to show me?”

  “Part of it.”

  In the absence of sight, her own shallow breathing rushed louder in her head. Woods, honeysuckle, and his male scent rose under her nose.

  The bed dipped. Jonathan was behind her. His legs hugged hers, his broad chest connecting with her back. She gasped when his cock connected to the small of her back. He slid the straps of her dress down to her elbows and kissed her lightly on the shoulder. Then he gathered her hair with both hands and ran his fingers through the long strands. Her head fell back onto his shoulder.

  “Feel good?” he asked.

  “Mmm-hmm.” She couldn’t stop feeling his hardness against her tailbone.

  He peeled her dress over her breasts and snapped off her strapless bra. Before she could think, he palmed her flesh and rubbed his thumbs over her stiff nipples.

  “So soft, Christiana,” he murmured into her neck. “And so hard. Do you like this?”

  Words tumbled from her grasp, even the most basic vocabulary blocked by his pinching and twisting the tips of her breasts. Dragon wings had replaced the butterflies.

  “Tell me everything you like.” His voice was edged in a rough lust.

  “Oh, okay.”

  His hands and legs left her side, and the bed shifted upward, relieved of his weight. Where did he go? Sound of a zipper, of jeans dropping to the floor. Then more fabric rustled near the foot of the bed. He was right to blindfold her. The sight of a naked Jonathan would overwhelm her senses. At the same time, she was desperate to see the chest she’d felt.

  Jonathan climbed onto the bed behind her. He put his arms under hers and laid her back.

  Christiana’s sundress pooled at her ankles, but she didn’t dare move. He positioned himself alongside her, the hair on his legs brushing her skin. He lifted her arms up over her head and placed her hands on the low headboard.

  “Hold on to the bed.” Obediently, she gripped a smooth wood rail.

  “I will tell you everything I’m going to do. You can stop me at any time. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl.”

  Jonathan’s whole body drew closer, his cock—steel and velvet—lay heavy against her hip. He kissed her neck and then trailed his lips lower. He latched onto her bare nipple, and her back arched into his mouth. Oh, God. His chest hair, not rough but not soft, brushed her skin, and his thick erection pressed into her thigh. He suckled and pulled at her nipple peak until a raw unbearable ache settled below the surface.

  “You pink up so easily,” he said into her skin. He fixed himself onto her other nipple. Her ass wiggled on the silky fabric, and a hand forced down her hip.

  “Be still, lovely. Now talk to me,” he said. “Tell me if you like this.” His wet mouth took small bites.

  “I . . . like it.” She surprised herself with her ability to
speak.

  Fingers crept under the elastic of her panties and rested on her down.

  “What else do you like, Christiana?”

  “I don’t know.” Her whole body flushed, and he laughed.

  “Oh, I think you do.” His rough chin brushed across her belly, and he laid a kiss on her navel. He dipped his fingers lower and rimmed her clothed folds.

  Christiana inhaled sharply and gripped the bed frame harder, afraid if she let go she might try to push him away or seize the back of his head and pull him closer. Just feel, like he said. She tried not to moan as his finger traced her crevice, down and up, barely reaching her clit. Her knees rose, and he pushed them back down.

  “You need to be naked.” His voice coiled around the tension welling up inside her.

  Her panties were whisked down to her ankles. The absence of her dress and the slip of cotton sent a renewed rush of inhibition to the core of her being. Startled, she released the bed and reached her arms down to cover herself but contacted only his back. Smooth. Solid. Hot skin.

  He grabbed her wrists with one gentle hand and lifted them back above her head.

  Her body had to be crimson, there was so much blood rushing everywhere. “Please.”

  “Should I restrain you, Christiana? Tie your hands to the bed?”

  Like the Jefferson Suite. She shook, and a tear escaped from the blindfold, its warm trickle trailing down her cheek.

  “Shhh, lovely. You’re safe. Remember what I said. I’ll tell you everything I’m going to do.” His voice both soothed and electrified her nerves.

  He moved his lips over hers in a soft and gentle slide.

  She panted into his mouth.

  “Christiana. Breathe,” he said, releasing her mouth. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Accept that.”

  She took a lungful of air. “I-I do.”

  “Show me. Keep your hands on the headboard.”

  Jonathan slipped a small pillow under her head, and his arm snaked under the cushion. She vowed not to let go of the bed.

  He murmured into her neck as he ran a hand down the length of her body. “I’m just going to touch you . . . for now.”