Jonathan heard quiet footsteps in the hallway headed to his office. He swiveled his chair just as Christiana appeared in his doorway.
“Shane, enjoy your weekend. Stay out of the office. That’ll ensure you won’t run into any more ex-Senators who wish they could turn back the clock.”
Shane chuckled, finally. “Yes, sir. You do the same.”
“Oh, I will.” Jonathan had no intention of letting news of his father’s untimely visit to his office eat into his weekend. Not when the beauty shyly shuffling from foot to foot in his doorway, silently questioning if it was okay to enter, stood mere feet from his growing hard-on. When Christiana was anywhere near him, his cock took over.
Jonathan loaded the car and debated how to discuss next weekend’s potential activities—there was so much more to show Christiana. Waking to her pink lips encasing his cock had almost caused him to lose the final shred of self-control he’d been hoarding since releasing her from her inexperience over the last thirty-six hours. If she had had more practice, he’d be buried inside her right now. But he’d already availed himself of her body far too often this weekend.
He’d left her at the breakfast bar, swaying as she shifted gingerly up on the stool. The aftermath of the weekend’s activity had to be akin to sliding down a concrete banister. He hoped she’d recover before next Friday.
Jonathan silently berated himself for the loss of his prized control. Something about her hit a vulnerable place inside him—a most undisciplined place where the only rule was seize and conquer. A mere inhalation of her honeyed skin impacted his judgment, the loss of which neither of them could afford. Until he got that weakness under control, it was better for Christiana that he couldn’t see her this week.
Next weekend would be pivotal to their agreement, and he had to plan it carefully. So much more awaited them both. But facing a week ahead of meetings and conferences, he had little time to coddle a newbie. Such succulent innocence came with a price—even as eager and quick as Christiana proved herself to be. Hundreds of questions would arise after he showed her what was possible.
No, it would be better to sequester her here next weekend and introduce his plans for her all at once. With her submission as the prize, he had to be sure he’d win.
“Ready, lovely?”
Christiana winced when Jonathan helped her into the front seat. Yes, they needed to be separated for the next five days. The uncanny passion lying underneath her quiet demeanor would slow her much-needed recovery. She’d be her worst enemy, her thirst now easily overtaking her capacity. It was the curse of a true submissive, always seeking to do more for her Dominant.
The gates of Covil Sereia closed behind his car.
On the slow drive home, Jonathan talked about mundane things—movies, books, current news—as he caressed her tiny hand. The small talk helped keep his hard-on at bay. Sort of.
He’d thought about asking about that scar across her forehead. What he knew about her past—and present—caused him great concern. Instead, he filed away the undisciplined emotions that came with the thought of anyone hurting Christiana. In the long run, it wouldn’t help her if he indulged in the feeling he hadn’t humored since he was eleven—wanting to kill.
15
Christiana exited Dr. Jevicky’s office building into the thick wall of Washington summer heat, like swimming through a haze. Still, nothing could quell Christiana’s euphoria.
She hadn’t expected the physician to make her feel so at ease, even with her feet up in stirrups enduring cold, prodding instruments. Now, graced with a clean bill of health and fully inoculated from pregnancy with Depo-Provera, Christiana nearly bounced out onto the street.
New York Avenue teemed with men in business attire and pencil-skirted-women, all weaving through the throngs of tourist families.
Christiana passed a café where women sat, lunching under an umbrella despite the sizzling temperatures. Clad in elegant high heels and skirts, they lifted sweating glasses of iced tea in a toast and laughed lightly. One of the women glanced at Christiana as she passed and smiled warmly. Even though dressed in her nicest sundress, her clothes were not on a par with what they were wearing. Christiana wondered what the woman saw in her to warrant such an open acknowledgement. Was one weekend with Jonathan enough to admit Christiana into the world of preferred women—women who had men who savaged them in dark, leather-scented rooms?
Christiana slowed her pace and lifted her chin to a few passers-by, clad in business suits. They responded in kind. Perhaps she not only felt different, but looked different too. Would Avery notice when they met later?
Buoyed by her weekend of very adult activities, Christiana finally had broken down and returned one of Avery’s messages. Avery acted like nothing happened in the ladies room at The Oak, which suited Christiana fine. Avery simply said she and her mother had gone to California for the weekend—and didn’t she get any of her texts over the weekend about the hot surfer guys? Christiana hoped Avery had moved on to her next potential conquest and abandoned her designs on Jonathan. He was hers now.
A sheen of perspiration covered Christiana’s body when she finally flopped on the lounger next to Avery at the club. “Thanks for saving me a seat.”
“Yeah, well it wasn’t easy. Mrs. Darden kept asking for it. Where were you anyway?”
“Errands. Hey, you got a phone charger with you?” Her phone died before she had a chance to call Jonathan. Her father had conveniently borrowed her phone charger for his road trip, and she hadn’t had the chance to pick up a new one.
“Nope, but someone here might. Ask the front desk. Expecting a call?”
“Oh, uh, no. That’s okay. I’ll get it later.” A dead cell phone might be better than Avery checking her recent call list or getting an unexpected call from Jonathan. Christiana still wasn’t sure how to broach the subject of Jonathan with Avery. She couldn’t figure out how to tell her and live.
Mercifully Avery steered the conversation to her favorite subject—herself.
“I don’t know, Chris. Chase is cute and all and, man, he’s on me all the time.”
She’d heard those words from Avery a hundred times, but never responded so physically. She let her mind wander. Jonathan pushing her deep into the mattress with his weight. Jonathan kissing her into utter stupidity. Jonathan’s clever tongue dancing around her clit. Jonathan doing anything . . . and everything.
“What do you think?” Avery asked her question to the sky.
“Me?” She was asking Christiana for advice? “I think you should do whatever your heart tells you.” Was it bad she hoped she’d get back together with Chase? Or with anyone not Jonathan.
Avery snorted. “I don’t have time for that lovey-dovey stuff. I need to choose wisely. I need someone more settled, stable. Like—”
“You sleeping better now?” She couldn’t chance Avery saying his name.
“My internal clock is messed up. I’m out so late at events these days. Jesus, you’d think my mom was afraid to go out alone.”
“There must be some cute guys at those events.”
“Oh, yeah, married men who can’t keep their eyes off my breasts, and old geezers who can’t get it up anymore. Hey, you want to go out this weekend, the two of us? We can go trolling in Georgetown or that new club in Adams Morgan.”
“Oh, um, sorry I can’t.”
“You’re acting like you’re thirty or something. Hey, speaking of thirty-year-olds, has your father said anything about Congressman Brond?”
Christiana’s heart skipped a beat. “Um, Dad’s on the road.” There. Not a lie.
“Oh, man, score! I can come over for a sleep over.”
“Let me check my work schedule.”
“This weekend!”
“I’m pretty sure I’ll be all tied up. But, hey, how was California? You didn’t tell me about your trip.”
“The Dean wants to sleep with me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” Christiana leaned up on her elbows.
“Is he harassing you or something?”
“No, I’m fine. Look, we need to go out soon. I don’t care if I have to march into The Oak Room and suck off your supervisor’s cock to gain your release.” She let out an awkward laugh.
Christiana stared at her friend. Avery had shadows lining her eyes. She looked older. Perhaps they both had unwittingly moved into a new stage, like crossing a state border and not realizing it until the road filled with cars bearing new license plate colors.
Avery dropped her chin onto her bent knee and picked at her already chipped red toenail polish. Christiana had never known Avery to miss a pedicure.
They didn’t talk again, but kept their faces turned toward the bright sunshine. Christiana didn’t try to fill the empty space, and Avery didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, Christiana let the strange new secrets settle between them in the heat.
Shane droned on about Congressman Blanchard’s offer to support the Internet privacy bill. Jonathan couldn’t take his eyes off his phone. Christiana hadn’t called back.
“So, that’s my summary of the issue,” Shane said.
“Whatever you think’s best. I trust you.”
Shane’s shock registered Jonathan’s break in protocol. Jonathan rarely relegated decisions.
“You know Blanchard as well as I,” Jonathan explained. “Call him today. Make it short. Don’t let him prattle on.”
“Yes, of course.” Shane retreated to the back room where the interns crouched over tiny desks, opening mail and answering the phone.
Jonathan turned his phone over in his hand. Christiana couldn’t still be with Dr. Jevicky, and she knew to call him right after her appointment.
Yvette also hadn’t called Jonathan since he’d met with her on Sunday. She had fussed and preened, but all her attempts to provoke some much-desired discipline had failed. Jonathan was singular in his sexual relations, not at all interested in the promiscuous play that too many in the scene called “practice” and “education.” He’d have his hands full with Christiana.
He hit Christiana’s number on his speed-dial. Hadn’t he told her there would be consequences if she didn’t communicate with him? Perhaps she didn’t believe his conviction around such matters. He would be happy to exact a reminder—and prove his position.
After picking up a new phone charger, Christiana barely made it to The Oak in time for the four o’clock shift. Tuesday was not her usual day, but she had managed to convince Brian to let her serve the dinner crowd. Her time with Avery was peculiar, and nothing shook strangeness faster than working. Plus she needed to stockpile as many tips as possible. Weekend work was jeopardized by Jonathan’s super seduction skills.
The Oak crowd thinned early so she was let go at nine-thirty. As she drove home, she fingered her useless cell, eager to get it charged, so she could connect with Jonathan. She had no privacy at work, especially not with Henrick’s constant hovering every time she had a minute to herself. And Brian refused to let staff plug their phones in around the kitchen.
When she turned onto her street, Jonathan’s SUV idled in front of her house, Jonathan waiting inside the vehicle, as if that would make him go unnoticed. His car alone was enough to draw suspicion in her neighborhood.
He stepped out of the driver’s seat. “Where were you? I’ve been calling.” He sounded livid.
“I was at the pool with Avery and then work.”
“Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“My battery died. I didn’t have my charger and—” He grasped her arm and led her up the walkway. At the doorway, he took the keys from her hand and opened the front door.
She turned to him in the entranceway. “I’m-I’m glad you’re here. But I smell like sunscreen and fry grease.” She stepped backward when he tried to embrace her. “I’d really like to take a shower before we talk.”
“Trying to avoid me already?”
“N-no, not at all. I just feel icky.”
He brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Go on. I’ll meet you in your bedroom.”
She scooted around him. After stripping off her clothes, she stepped under the warm water and took a few steadying breaths. She’d never handled anger well, and she needed a minute to regroup. Okay, she’d promised to call and didn’t. Why the big deal?
She scrubbed her head vigorously with shampoo. It felt nothing like Jonathan’s fingers digging into her scalp. Her insides jumped to attention remembering the way he’d handled her in his shower at Covil Sereia.
When she stepped inside her bedroom, wrapped in a towel, wet hair trailing down her back, her body hummed with anticipation.
Jonathan sat on her bed, fingering a photograph Christiana had on her bedside table, of herself with her parents on the sands of an Outer Banks beach—North Carolina, she thought. She had only vague memories of the vacation, but the photo comforted her. Like she had a family, once.
“You didn’t tell me how it went with Dr. Jevicky.”
“Fine. She gave me Depo-Provera.”
“Good. We’re going to need it.”
Her heart fluttered. Had he softened? Christiana plugged her phone into the wall jack and then sat on the bed next to him. Her legs ached, and she felt like several days had passed instead of one.
“Today I didn’t know how to get in touch with you. I didn’t know where you were. If you were ignoring me, or if, God forbid, you were in the car with your father—”
“No. It wasn’t like that. My phone died.”
“You couldn’t borrow one? Surely The Oak or the club have telephones you could have used.”
“I didn’t have a . . . secure line. There were people around. I was keeping our secret. Besides I would have called you later.”
Jonathan’s chin jutted upward sharply and his nostrils flared. “I see. You’re not taking our agreement seriously.”
His words didn’t make sense. She’d never taken anything so seriously in her life.
Jonathan placed a knuckle under her chin and lifted her face to look at him. “It’s simple. If you cannot keep the lines of communication open, then our agreement is not important to you. And if you are playing games with me . . . .”
She immediately regretted the heavy sigh that escaped her lips.
He dropped his hand and stood. “You are failing to grasp the most basic tenet of our arrangement.”
Christiana reached out and grabbed his wrist. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
He peeled off his jacket and laid it on the chair in the corner. “You remember what I said about discipline, if you didn’t do as I asked?”
“Yes.” The word almost got caught in her throat. Someone else seemed to shine through Jonathan’s eyes, smoldering with some unnamed intent.
He tossed her towel back on to the bed. “I want to look at you.”
She flushed a little, even though the man had seen her naked before—very naked.
He grasped the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss. His tongue reached inside and studied her mouth. Fingers tweaked her nipples, and his hold on her neck grew stronger. His hand slipped lower, between her legs. Christiana dampened when he drew a finger up between her folds.
He sat and snaked his arm around her waist. His strong arms pushed her down over his lap, facedown.
“Jonathan, what—”
“I’m going to spank you.”
She tried to lift herself off, but he pushed her back down. She grabbed the bed frame to steady herself, even though he held her firmly, one hand on her lower rib cage and the other on her neck. Her wet hair trailed down the side of her face.
Fingers ran up and down her spine and then cupped an ass cheek. Smack! A sharp slap stung across her butt. She gasped and twisted on his lap, but he held her neck down with one hand.
“Wait,” she whimpered.
“No.” His fingers brushed her stinging backside for a few seconds and then another slap.
Smack! Smack! Pain spread, followed by a warmth and a st
range tingle down her legs.
“You won’t make me worry about you. Do you understand?” He caressed where his hands had fallen.
“Y-yes,” she sniffled. Tears pricked her eyes, not from the sting but from something else. The bite across her backside threatened to loosen something inside her, something she’d been repressing.
His hands came down harshly on her ass twice more, and she let out a moan.
“Do you want me to stop, Christiana?” He leaned down and sent his hot breath over her neck.
“I . . . .” she started.
“You what?”
“I . . . don’t know.”
His hand lightly stroked her smarting ass. “Such a lovely pink.” Whack! The loud smack reverberated in her ears, and her pelvis ground into his erection.
Damn, her crotch moistened in response to the blows. She willed herself to stop wiggling. From the second Jonathan had first parted her legs, her body responded whenever he touched her, any way, anywhere. Even when spanking her backside.
“If anything ever happened to you. . . .” His words came out tight, focused, as if through gritted his teeth.
Another brisk swat, hard and focused, landed on her ass.
She cried out, frantically sifting through the conversation in which Jonathan had revealed what he wanted. What words did he use? Submission. She had agreed? Yes, she had. What else? Be his. Yes.
Jonathan stroked her hair and then cupped his hand under her chin to lift her head. He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “You will not make me wonder where you are. You won’t make me worry about you. Not ever.”
“I won’t make you worry,” she whispered.
“Good girl.” He let her head drop down. He ran his fingers over her sore behind and kissed her shoulder. “Mmm, nice and hot. Sit up.”
The comforter cover felt rough across her chapped ass as Jonathan dragged her across the fabric to sit on his lap. “My beautiful, Christiana.” He swept her hair aside, cupped a breast and tugged on the nipple.
Elite (Elite Doms of Washington Book 1) Page 13