by Unknown
It was after Shannon disappeared that Mr. Silver decided to regale his family with news that Jonah was leaving the states for Japan for a year after the retreat. There was no cheer in his proclamation, only disappointment. Maybe a little disgust.
Mr. Silver poured more champagne into his glass and into those glasses around him. “Because my money, my fortune, my legacy isn’t good enough for Jonah. He’s got to make his own name as far on the other side of the world from us as possible. Isn’t that right Jonah?”
I stood on the other side of the fire, but it was impossible not to see the smoldering humiliation in his dark, handsome face. The muscles in his jaw flexed and he kept his eyes on his glass. I couldn’t tear my gaze from him. It felt wrong to leave him to the wolves like this.
“I had no idea I wasn’t allowed to have my own future,” he said into his glass. “I’d have made wiser choices if I had known.” His tone was icy and quiet, but unsettled. No one interfered, most of the tipsy family members pretended to ignore the display, just like Shannon and Eric had the night before.
My gaze must have been heavy indeed, because finally he looked up straight at me and held me still beneath his commanding stare. I tried to anchor him, tried not to blink. He might have behaved atrociously to me last night, but I also hated that he had to endure this moment just the same. It was a little too familiar to me to not feel sympathy pains.
“Here’s to the only Silver to ever abandon the family. Cheers.” Mr. Silver raised his glass in the air but none of the family members clapped. The noise rushed in as everyone busily turned back to their conversation, their poured drinks. The music was suddenly turned up to drown out any follow-up proclamations. Everyone wanted to pretend it had never happened.
Jonah polished off his mixed drink in one swallow and came at me with determined steps that overtook me in seconds. He wrapped his fist around my upper arm and dragged me away from the fire and away from the celebration without a word. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say, but then everyone was trying to avoid looking at Jonah entirely.
He dragged me up the beach to the docks where the boats were kept. Jonah said nothing and I didn’t dare speak until we were out of sight of the bonfire and he pushed me against the back wall of one of the outbuildings along the shore.
“Lift up your dress,” he demanded and pressed his palm against the metal wall beside my head.
“W-what?”
He growled, a rumble of anger I could feel in the space between us. His mouth fell close to my ear and his voice lowered to a dangerous level. “Lift. Up. Your. Dress.”
My hands shook as I obeyed, excited and also a little scared. I clasped the soft, slippery material in my fists and pulled the hem up my thighs to my belly.
Jonah leaned against the wall, his face above mine but intimately close. He pushed his knee between my legs and forced my feet apart shoulder width. And then he touched me, pressed his hand between my legs and rubbed me hard over my panties. My eyes opened wide and I groaned because finally, finally I could find release where he’d denied me the night before, even if it was in this humiliating position, legs spread in the shadows in public where anyone could walk by and see what he was doing to me.
“Listen to me,” he instructed and it was difficult to compose myself enough to turn my eyes up to his hard gaze. He was bathed entirely in darkness, but the moonlight caught the whites of his eyes just right so I could see them burning hot into mine. “You are not to orgasm until I tell you to. Do you understand me?”
I had no idea what he was saying. The way he was fondling me was exquisite and needy, desperate in the way we’d both been the night before. I needed to feel that release, needed it so badly. Was he asking me not to? How could I not?
Jonah suddenly pressed his hand against my increasingly dampening panties and held me tightly against the wall with his body. “Look at me.” That got my attention. I looked up at him, hardly breathing, offering him my whole obedience. I knew what was happening, knew this was his response to his father’s verbal public whipping. I could feel the need in his voice to control something, anything. Me. And I very badly wanted him to control me. “You will not climax. Not until I give you permission. Do you understand?”
“Y-yes.”
“Don’t you dare disobey me.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
He held my eyes and I didn’t dare look away. I needed his power to keep me from disobeying him, especially when he slid my panties aside and pushed his fingers into me. His face remained hard and impassive, but his breathing became quick and irregular when he discovered how desperately turned on I was by him.
“Put your arms around my neck,” he said, softer than I imagined he could be, and I did as I was told. I crossed my wrists against his neck and he pulled in close so that I was entirely hidden by the size of him. I had never, in my whole life, felt small until I was in the shadow of this man.
My skirt fell across his wrist, hiding what he was doing between my legs. I swallowed, closed my eyes, and tucked myself against the curve of his neck. Very quietly I felt more than heard the barest moans breathe against my exposed shoulder.
Jonah slid his fingers in and out of me quickly, groping and probing feverishly for some hidden treasure within my soul. He pushed the heel of his palm against my clit and rubbed while he fingered me, sent shockwaves of intense pleasure into my body and I had no idea how he wanted me to obey him when he did this to me. Kittenish mewls escaped my lips, moans like begging I couldn’t possibly quiet. My thighs quivered under his expert ministrations, so much so I thought I was likely to collapse before I could possibly climax.
“Control yourself,” he whispered against my ear, but his voice betrayed him soaked in want. I was at once desperate and ashamed. How did this man have such wanton control over me like this? Why couldn’t I control myself? It made no sense. I’d never have been attracted to someone like him before in my life.
“Control yourself right now,” he hissed. “Don’t you dare take your pleasure from me without permission.”
I was panting and so was he. He worked his fingers roughly between my legs, pressing me back with his body, and his breath felt so hot on my face. He was so close I thought he might kiss me. He moaned quietly when I tilted my head back and whimpered, ashamed and insanely more turned on in that moment than I’d ever been in my life. His hand was absolutely soaked I was so hot for him. He groaned and pressed his mouth against my throat and sucked and kissed like some kind of unchecked teenager.
“Please,” I begged. “Please Jonah.”
“What?” he whispered, his mouth moving irresistibly close to mine.
“Let me come. Please let me come for you.”
He rubbed his body against me, the size of his engorged erection pressing into my hip through his pants. “Mm. Do you deserve it?”
“Yes, yes please, Jonah. Please.”
Abominable bastard stopped fingering me right at that moment, cupped my mound in his hand and leaned his mouth against my ear. He kissed my earlobe with almost affection. Almost.
“No,” he whispered, barely more than a breath. “You don’t deserve it. Not yet.”
And then he pushed away from my body, abandoned me there, and walked out from behind the building and back to the party without another word. I stood there with my head back against the wall, shock and shame and anger coursing through my body. My neglected pleasure soaked the thin fabric pressed between my thighs. Denied. Monster. How could he do this to me twice in a row? How could I have so eagerly let him?
Why did I wish, more than anything else, he’d change his mind and come back to fetch me, to press me into the sand and take me in the cooling waves?
When had I become this person?
I waited several agonizing minutes, but he did not come back and strangely, even though I was seconds away from bursting through the dams and letting the fireball in my belly explode, I didn’t touch myself. He’d told me not to climax until I was given pe
rmission and something in the way he’d said it, demanded it, and also made me want to listen even now. I fixed my dress, my panties, my hair, and stumbled down the beach back to the party as if nothing had happened. I didn’t look for him when I returned to the crowd, didn’t search for him, but I could feel him everywhere. I could smell him. He was near, always, but I didn’t have the strength to seek him out.
Cole lingered near me when I returned, dragged me to the fire to dance with the other cousins. I let him give me drink after drink so I could calm down, and after a while the scene behind the building almost seemed almost forgettable.
The dancing was fun, the alcohol helped me make a big fool of myself just like everyone else, and I loved the feeling of the sand between my toes. When a small Silver snatched my sandals and took off down the beach, me clumsily after him, I wanted nothing more than to be a Silver for the rest of my life. Not for the money, but for this, being a part of something bigger than myself.
But always Jonah lingered on my skin, leaving me aching and angry and wanting even after being used and abandoned twice in two days.
When Shannon didn’t return to the cabin after midnight, I left the cabin and headed towards the beach. Cole would be there and at first I thought that’s where I’d go. To meet him. To replace Jonah with someone else’s touch.
But when I was close enough to the water to smell its salty breeze, I changed my mind. I didn’t want to meet Cole. Instead I cut through the trees off the path and I went to the cabin without a pod, on its own at the edge where trees gave way to sand. I took off my shoes and tiptoed up the stairs to the front door, high off the water, and knocked softly. It was late. He might not even be awake.
He might not even be alone.
The thought came unbidden. Eva McAllister could be inside. I could be interrupting them right at that moment. But if they were, I heard nothing to describe it. I gave myself four seconds of bravery before turning back down the stairs.
The door opened before I got to the bottom, a lazy yawning sound on hinges rusted by the ocean water breeze. He leaned against the door, shirtless, shorts hung low on his hips. He had bed hair, messy and I liked him like this, sleepy and unkempt.
His body, in the bright moonlight, was exquisite. He didn’t have the bulging muscles of Cole or Henry, but narrow, cut hips and a serious strength in his shoulders that suggested he was made of something stronger than the rest of them.
Jonah’s sleepy gaze fixed on me, surprise mingling with something else for just a moment.
“Are you lost, little girl?”
“No.” I turned, took a cautious step closer to him.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
I took another step up. “Oh, I know I shouldn’t.”
“You should be meeting that boy who couldn’t take his eyes off you all night.” His breathing changed, I could see it in the rise and fall of his chest, quicker now. As fast as mine.
“I am meeting the boy who couldn’t take his eyes off me all night.” I took another step. Inches separated us. “Aren’t I?”
His mouth parted, an argument there, or something unkind. Finally he stepped back, held the door open further.
“Get in here.”
I did as I was told. His room was bigger than ours, but not by much. He had a desk and a queen sized bed, several pillows instead of my one. He shut the door and the only light seeped in through the cracks made by the curtains not being closed tight enough. It let me see him for a moment as he came toward me and then we were both in darkness. I was sure he could hear my heart pounding. Did he know, could he possibly know, how badly I hoped he’d satisfy me at last?
He touched my hair, let it out of its restraints. His fingers hesitated in the soft curls and I wondered if he knew I could feel him touching me like that, too gentle for someone who’d been anything but for two days.
His voice came out harsh, barely more than a whisper.
“I want you on your knees.”
I did as he wished. His hands followed, stayed in my hair, and briefly touched my cheek.
“Take them off.”
I hooked my fingers around his boxer shorts, pulled them down so he was free. It touched my cheek, hard already. I wondered if he’d been thinking about me as he lay in bed. I instinctively put my hand around the base of it. His breath sped up and I heard the softest of moans.
“Prove to me you deserve more.”
There it was again, the challenge and I whimpered hearing it. More. I wanted more. I’d do whatever was necessary to deserve it.
I took him into my mouth, not nearly as slow as I had last night, eager to feel his cock against my tongue. He gasped, an involuntary sound of him giving up power to me. I closed my mouth around him, dropped my hands to his balls to touch, to play gently between my fingers. He responded by pushing his hips toward me, to dig his fingers in my hair and pull me closer to him.
I launched an attack upon him, eagerly sucking, wanting to taste him and he rewarded me in kind.
“Shit,” he rasped desperate wanting noises I loved. He pretended like I didn’t have power, but I did. And this was proof.
I peeked up at him as he threw his head back, made unsteady by the heat of my mouth. I wrapped my hands around his thighs, felt the hard cut of his muscles where his thighs met his hips and pushed him deep into my mouth where he belonged which sent racking spasms of pleasure through his body. He hooked his hands into my hair to steady himself. When he finally spoke again, the words came out stilted and rough around the edges.
“So eager,” he breathed and stroked my hair back from my face. We were at it again, power hungry and full of too much need, but when I dragged my tongue up the length of him to trace the hood, and he released a ferocious growl, grabbed my head and pulled himself entirely free.
He held my face in both hands, keeping me still, the tip of his cock pressed to my parted lips. Jonah’s whole body trembled as if to regain his composure and when he looked down and met my upturned, eager gaze, he roughly shoved his member deep into my mouth, until my lips could go no further, until I gagged against his size and briefly couldn’t breathe. It lasted only a moment before he drew back and began taking my mouth with complete, uninhibited abandon.
No one had ever treated me like this, princess and slut within moments, but all strangely exhilarating. I’d never wanted to please someone in my whole life and in this moment I knew I had pleased him well. So I held onto his thighs, licked him every time his shaft stroked my tongue, and let him have me.
“You’ll swallow it,” he growled. “You’ll swallow all of it.”
I would. God, I would do anything he asked.
I whimpered, looked up at him from where he held me still. He sped up, pounding my mouth until I was sure I couldn’t take any more and then buried himself shaft deep and let go with a cry. A shot of heat coated my throat, my tongue and I obediently swallowed every drop. I sucked gently even as he pulled out, trembling beneath my fingertips, holding my face and pushing me away in equal measure.
Once again that distinct vulnerability came to the surface in a way he never was any other time in his life. He stroked my hair, my face, my lips. He gazed down at me on my knees before him and I shook with my want. Please, I thought, please don’t make me beg for your touch.
“Good girl,” he said softly with so much affection I could hardly imagine it came from the same man who’d fondled me so roughly behind the shed. When he stroked my cheek, I pressed into his open palm. “Such a beautiful girl. Stand up. Sit on the edge of my bed.”
Beautiful? Me? Impossible…
Then I realized what he’d commanded. His bed.
There was something sacred about him calling it his bed instead of the bed. I sat down, not that my knees could have held me anyway. I was trembling, eager to finally have him touch me. My panties were damp and every inch of my skin sensitive enough to put me over the edge on impact. Oh god, I needed him to touch me, to finish what he’d started.
; He knelt at my feet and it was strange to see him paying me homage like this. The hardness in his face, in the dark like this, was almost entirely gone. He stared up at me and I wanted to kiss him very badly.
“Don’t resist me,” he said, and for the first time it was not as much a command as it was a plea.
“God no,” I whispered.
He pushed my knees apart, lowered a kiss to the inside of my left knee. His lips were hot and wet and I shivered. I had to put my hands out on either side of my hips to stay balanced. I didn’t think he’d make it to my panties before I climaxed.
He hooked his fingers on the hem of my skirt, pushed it up as he kissed his way up the inside of my left thigh, then my right. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t open my eyes. I couldn’t imagine him treating my thick body with such reverence but if he noticed I wasn’t anyone’s type, he never ever let on. The whole of me shivered and I could feel him smile against my skin at the effect he was having on me.
When he reached my panties he grazed the length of me through the fabric with his fingers, discovered just how wet he’d made me. I heard his breath hitch when I whimpered.
He took the edge of my panties at my hips. “Do you think you can be quiet?”
I opened my eyes, caught the light reflected in his. “Yes,” I breathed.
“I don’t think you can,” he said, an almost gentle tease, and started sliding my panties down. I was glad it was too dark for him to see they were plain and pink. He’d call me a little girl again, and I wanted him to think of me like Eva McAllister and her flat, unscarred stomach.
He pulled them down my thighs, over my knees, agonizingly slow. “I promise to be quiet, I swear. Anything you ask.”
“Anything?” he teased with his voice, tested just where my boundaries were with the challenge.
“Anything.”
“You won’t make a sound. If you make any noise I will stop immediately and you’ll leave. Do you understand?” He slid the panties down my calves, to my bare feet. He pulled them off and they disappeared into the dark.
“I promise. Not a sound.”