by Rina Kent
Holy. Shit.
His cock isn’t only hard and thick, but it’s also massive. No kidding, I’ve seen my fair share, but Jonathan wins the crown. Literally.
Oh God, does he expect to fit that thing in me or something? Even though being aroused is no longer a foreign concept to me, I don’t think I could ever take him inside me.
Not in this lifetime, at least.
“Do you like what you see?”
I shake my head frantically, and I mean it. I might be in awe at his size, but I want to continue being in this phase while staying far apart.
Then why the hell are my thighs clenching?
Jonathan smiles, and the motion reaches his dark, stormy eyes, lightening them a bit.
Woah. I didn’t know he could smile, let alone do it so lethally.
That smile could kill. It’s not only the beauty in it. No. It’s the sheer promise it carries.
“The reason I didn’t fuck you is because I needed to get you ready, but since you want it so bad…”
“I don’t.” I meant for my voice to be firm, but it’s similar to a moan.
What the hell is wrong with me? Do I…want this?
Before I can figure out an answer, Jonathan yanks the cover away. Now I have no defence line. Without his tailored clothes that somehow tame his raw self, he appears like the roguish predator he actually is. The slight stubble on his jaw gains a dark shadow within seconds.
He crawls atop me and undoes the buttons of my blouse, as slowly as he did his and with the same level of confidence.
It falls from my shoulder, exposing my black satin bra. Jonathan’s fingers trail over the material, eliciting a shudder at the base of my spine.
“Next time, I want red. Like that lipstick.” He snaps it open, pulls it off me, and throws it beside us.
I’m breathing so harshly, I’m surprised he doesn’t notice. Every inch of my skin is attuned to his touch, and my entire body is homed in on his presence.
I take in his woodsy scent with every inhale and purge some of my inhibition with every exhale.
Somewhere in my mind, I recognise this is wrong, but I can’t think of the reasons why right now. They’re trapped, unreachable. Almost invisible.
He unbuttons my trousers and slides them down my legs, then throws them on top of the pile of clothes.
We sit opposite each other, completely naked. Or more like I’m sitting while he hovers over me like a dark promise in the middle of a moonless night.
“You’re now the property of Jonathan King, wild one.”
“I’m no one’s property.”
He narrows one of his eyes. “If you have nothing useful to say, shut that mouth.”
“I mean it. I might have agreed to this deal, but you don’t own me, Jonathan. No one does and no one ever will.”
He grabs me by the hips and flips me over. I yelp as my front hits the mattress and he lifts my arse up in the air.
“I was going to give you what you crave and fuck you, but I changed my mind.”
“W-what?”
His hand slaps my arse. Hard. I moan into the pillow, my voice wanton, even to my own ears.
“You’ll beg for it.”
“Screw you, Jonathan.”
He spanks me again, this time circling a finger on my slick folds until a whimper escapes my throat. “Add a please and I might.”
Ugh. Damn him.
His length slides up and down my wetness, slow and unhurried. The sheer confidence he exudes with his movements turn me into a puddle. My nails dig into the sheets, trying to find refuge in Jonathan, and failing miserably.
His assault continues, getting more ruthless by the second. The crown of his cock aligns with my entrance and I tense with anticipation, but he removes it all too soon.
He thumbs my clit just to back off.
He spanks me just to push me into the highest throes of lust.
The small bursts of excitement, arousal, and then disappointment hit me over and over again. I’ve never been this turned on in my entire life. It’s torture in its deadliest form and all I want is more.
“I hate you,” I mutter.
“But your cunt wants me.” He glides his cock up and down my folds, teasing. “See how much it’s soaking wet for me? I didn’t even inflict any pain.”
“Jonathan…” I whimper.
“Say the words, Aurora.”
“I…ugh…”
“Those aren’t it. Try again.”
“J-just do it.”
“Not quite there.”
“Fuck me, you arsehole.”
“And?”
“P-please —” the word catches in my throat as Jonathan thrusts inside me in one brutal go. Just like everything about him.
Holy…
My body bucks off the bed as he fills me in a way I never thought I could be filled. The stretching sensation leaves stinging pain that hurts so good. Our bodies aren’t only joined, they’re so absorbed in one another as if falling into an unknown dimension.
“Fuck.” His long, masculine fingers with perfectly manicured nails savagely grip me by my hip. It feels so bare and weak under his grip. So vulnerable. That hand can bring me so much pleasure, but its price is always pain.
“Do you feel how your tight cunt traps me inside? It’s made for me.”
I want to tell him to shut up, but I can’t speak. Besides, his dirty words tighten my nipples even more, which is almost impossible, considering they were already hard.
Jonathan pounds into me slow at first, rocking his hips in moderate circles. Then just when I get used to the rhythm, he picks up his pace.
It’s so relentless that my body physically slides on the mattress. I soak in every thrust and every jerk of his hips.
Something inside me unlocks and a needy moan rips in the air. That’s when I realise it’s mine.
Jonathan wraps a fistful of my hair around his hand and pulls me up by it so that the slick warmth of his chest covers my back. The position is uncomfortable, but the angle of his cock gets deeper, hitting that most pleasurable spot inside me.
“Oh…oh…t-there…there…”
“Here?” He does it again and I nod frantically.
He slaps my arse, then reaches out with the same hand and closes it around my throat. “As much as you say you hate me, your body unravels around me, Aurora. This body is my fucking property.”
I don’t have the energy or time to answer as I’m shocked into an orgasm, instinctively screaming out his name. It’s so different from the other ones. This one goes on and on, and I feel like I’m going to faint or something.
Do people ever faint during sex?
Jonathan’s grunt fills the air as he pulls out of me and comes all over my arse.
The hot liquid burns a little against the sting of his handprint on my flesh. I bite my lower lip, relishing the sensation.
Is it supposed to feel as if I’ve ascended out of my body and have just now come back?
This must be what it means to be fucked.
Literally.
Figuratively.
When I think Jonathan will release me, he pulls me up by the hair, his hand still caging my throat, and whispers hot, sinister words at my ear, “The only reason you haven’t been owned before is because I hadn’t come along yet.”
23
Aurora
There’s sore and there’s the inability to move.
I’m in the latter category.
No kidding.
I rolled to my side to silence the alarm and stopped when stinging pain exploded through my whole body. It’s worse between my thighs and on my arse.
That was half an hour ago.
I probably need to call in sick or something. Jonathan broke me with his cock. I knew that thing wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near me.
Whenever I shift and feel the sting of pain, memories from last night rush to the front of my mind and my core tingles as if he’s still inside me. Like he’s still owning every i
nch of me and driving into me with feral power.
The control and ruthlessness he emanated still cause hot blood to rush through my veins. I never knew I needed that savage brutality until I had Jonathan – or he had me, to be more accurate.
I kind of passed out after we were finished. I don’t recall how my arse was cleaned from his cum, but I faintly remember moaning at the feel of soft cloth on my behind and between my legs.
Then there was the distinctive click of the door as his woodsy scent disappeared from around me.
It’s not that I want him to cuddle me or anything. We have separate rooms for a reason, and while I’m never allowed in his, I liked the arrangement of having my own space.
So why do I feel abandoned?
That’s stupid – utterly so. What the hell was I expecting? A bloody connection or something? I’ve already decided that it won’t happen in this lifetime. Just because Jonathan revived my body, doesn’t mean I’ll want other things from him.
I stopped wanting things that day when I stared up at the pouring sky and begged to be woken up, yet never was.
My guilt doesn’t help either.
The fact that I desire Jonathan when I shouldn’t cuts through my ribcage like the knife from that day. But this phantom pain is more stabbing than the real one. It’s not only a betrayal to my mission to unravel the truth, it’s also a betrayal to Alicia and to who I am.
For the life of me, I can't stop my body from craving him, no matter how much I try to.
And I have tried.
Maybe you're not trying hard enough.
Sighing, I reach for my phone, I’ll call in sick and work from here. Layla will shower me with her ‘daddy’ jokes if I go to work walking like I've been thoroughly fucked.
Not that I can even get up, let alone shower so I can go to work. Maybe it will get better with time.
The door opens and I think it’s Margot. But then I recall she always knocks before entering my room. The only one who barges in without warning is the tyrant of the house.
Sure enough, Jonathan strides inside with that infuriating confidence that he wears like a second skin.
He’s dressed in an elegant black suit, his jacket closed. Who knew there was an entirely different world hidden underneath that brutally elegant look? The cloth moulds to his well-built frame, outlining his hard muscles. Muscles I ogled last night, touched, and grabbed onto while —
I shut the door on those thoughts, refusing to get caught up in him all over again.
“You’re five minutes late for breakfast and you didn’t answer my email.”
People normally say good morning, but Jonathan reminds you of how you breached his rules.
The man is such a charmer. And I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible.
When I don’t reply, his tone shifts to that authoritative one. “Have you become a glutton for punishment, Aurora? Is that it?”
I face away from him. “I’m not feeling well.”
“What do you mean you’re not feeling well? You were fine last night.”
“Well, I’m not today.”
“You still have the attitude, so you can’t be too unwell.”
The bastard. “Well, I am. Now, leave me alone.”
“You need to quit the habit of chasing me out, Aurora. That will never happen unless it’s on my terms. Understood?”
I purse my lips but say nothing.
“What did I say about answering my questions?”
“Fine. Okay. As you wish, your majesty.”
“I thought you weren’t feeling well, yet it seems like you fancy a mouth fuck.”
“I’ll never let you do that.” I might like the pain he lashes out, but degradation is another thing altogether.
“I’m the one who decides whatever the fuck I want to do with you. After all, you’re my property.”
“I’ll never do it willingly, so if you’re in the mood to force me, go for it.”
He narrows his eyes, but seems to let it go. It’s the deceptive type of reassurance he shows now and again. As for what he’ll actually do? Yeah, no one knows that.
“Now tell me, why are you feeling unwell?” He sits on the edge of the bed and places his knuckles on my forehead. “You’re not warm.”
If I wasn’t before, I am now. I suck in a breath at the way his skin burns on mine and swiftly pull away.
“Can’t you leave me alone?”
“That’s a no. You should’ve learnt by now that I always get what I want, so you might as well tell me.”
“Arrogant prick,” I mutter under my breath.
“I heard that. And I’m not arrogant, I’m goal-oriented. Arrogance comes from false beliefs I don’t have.”
That is true. Jonathan is the type who never starts anything unless he already knows the end result.
“I’m waiting, Aurora.”
“Don’t you have work?”
“You also have work and your black belt friend must be throwing a search party, but you’re not making a move to go. This is your last chance to freely divulge information before I resort to my methods.”
“And what are those? Spanking me?”
“Not in your current situation, but I’ll take a rain cheque on that.”
“You’re impossible, did you know that?”
“That doesn’t answer my question. You’re wasting both our time.”
“I’m sore, okay?”
He pauses, but his expression remains blank, non-existent even. “Huh.”
Huh?
I don't know what I expected, but ‘huh’ wasn’t it.
“How sore are you?”
“Enough that I can’t move.”
“Should you see a doctor?”
“No. It’s not as bad as that.”
“Then what do you need?”
“Rest, Jonathan. Ever heard of the word, or was that erased from your workaholic dictionary?”
“Very funny.” His face is caught in that snobbish state, which means he doesn’t find it amusing at all.
He pulls the covers off my body and I yelp as he wraps his strong arms around my back and picks me up. The room tilts off balance as he carries me effortlessly, bridal style.
There’s a faint recollection of us being in this same position before. Did he also do it yesterday?
Were those words that came to my mind his?
I must be imagining things. This is Jonathan, after all. He doesn’t feel — at all. Even if he does, he’s perfected the art of deception so well, no one sees past his cool façade.
I wince, but the palpitations of my heart take me more by surprise. “Jonathan? What are you doing?”
“Finding a solution.” He marches to the bathroom, and I catch a glimpse of us in the mirror. Me, entirely naked and small in his arms. Him, suited up and looking every bit the king from his last name.
My hair is dishevelled and my eyes are slightly puffy from sleep. I don’t only look fucked, but also like I enjoyed every second of it.
Jonathan gently lowers me into the bathtub and I wince as my hip bone touches the cold surface.
His attention slides to me at the sound I make. “Endure it for a bit.”
“Is that your answer to everything?”
“You have to endure it to get past it, Aurora. That’s how it works.”
That’s an interesting philosophy, but… “That doesn't mean it goes away, you know.”
“That’s why you have to endure and take action. It doesn’t make a difference if you only endure. If anything, that’ll hurt you in the long run.” He turns the tap on the slightest bit, tests the water on his fingers, and lets it fill the tub. And me.
My muscles relax a little as the cool water loosens the ache between my legs and the soreness in my arse.
He reaches over my head to the countless bath products and retrieves one that was already here when I moved in.
“I use the apple one.” I motion to the bottle beside it.
“Always an o
bjection.” He shakes his head, although he does comply and pours the apple-scented one.
Then he watches with unnerving silence as the water fills the tub and the bubbles cover me to my breasts.
I squirm under his scrutiny. While I’m good with handling silence, I’m rubbish when it comes to Jonathan’s. Considering his reticent nature, it always feels like he’s communicating something with silence.
And it’s not usually good. Jonathan’s silence is the type that’s meant to keep you on your toes.
“You can go. You don’t have to keep watching me."
He doesn’t move or say anything. He remains at the edge of the bathtub, his arms crossed over his chest, and studies me intently, as if reading imaginary words off my face.
The intimidation that is Jonathan King knows no bounds. It’s like he was born to play the role of a bastard with no soul.
The fact that he has his emotions trapped in a vault, or worse, they don’t exist at all, makes him unpredictable.
There’s no way in hell to figure out what he’s thinking about, and I guess that’s what turns me into this confused ball whenever he’s around.
Despite steering clear of puzzles, there’s no denying how much I love solving them. The idea of digging my fingers into something and figuring it all out fills me with a rush of adrenaline.
The thought of never being able to do that with Jonathan is what’s throwing me into an endless loop with no way out.
“You have work, right?” I mutter.
“It can wait.”
“Did you just say work can wait? Isn’t that like blasphemy in your work god manual?”
He raises a brow, probably because of my sarcastic tone, but he doesn’t comment on it. “I own the work. It’s not the other way around.”
“Are you telling me that you could stop working tomorrow if you choose to?”
“I could, but I won’t. There’s no fun in hanging around when you can use those hours to be productive.”
“More like destructive,” I mutter to myself.
“If you have something to say, say it out loud. Hiding makes you seem like a coward, and you’re no coward, Aurora.”