by Sharon Page
His eyes are intense. “You value me and you value yourself. It’s taken me a few days to understand what is so special about you. I like the way you know your own mind. I like the way you set and respect limits. I’m used to getting what I want. I’ve always needed to be in control. With you, I am often not in control. That’s unsettling. But I’m starting to like it.”
He rings a small silver bell, and a maid in an impeccable uniform enters from our kitchen area. She serves the food, refills wine.
Piers got us paper crackers, which we pull. Trinkets fall out, like little rings and toys. I put the crinkly paper hat on my head, which makes Jonathon laugh.
I can be myself with him. I can be natural. I’ve never felt so accepted in my life.
Jonathon is incredibly special.
For dessert, a trolley comes in carrying plum pudding with brandy burning on it, along with a pumpkin praline cheesecake.
Jonathon dismisses the maid, after she serves the cake on gold-rimmed plates and the pudding in crystal bowls. “Eat up, angel,” he says. “I want to give you my gifts now.”
He was incredibly appreciative of my simple gifts: the blindfold, a Swiss army knife, a sketch I did of him, placed in a wood frame, and an IOU for unlimited blow jobs. It was all I could do on a small budget. Yet he seemed touched.
Jonathon disappears in his bedroom, returns with a slim box of deep blue velvet. It looks like a jewelry box and I swallow hard. “I didn’t wrap it,” he says, apologetically.
“You didn’t need to get me anything more.”
“But this was perfect for you.” He grins and puts the box in my hands.
Holding my breath, I open it. Oh God.
It’s a choker of deep red stones, with a heart that dangles from the middle.
“Lift your hair, Mia,” he instructs softly, and he puts the choker around my neck, fastening it. It’s a two-inch band of jewels entwined with lace-like silver. It’s stunning.
“I knew rubies would suit you.”
Rubies? “They aren’t real, are they?”
“Of course.”
“Oh my god, I can’t accept this.”
His brow lifts. “It’s a gift, Mia. Of course you can.”
My vow, to buy everything myself, is flying out the window. This is a gift, but it is too extravagant. Yet I know he won’t take it back.
“You got me beautiful gifts. This is one of mine to you.”
“But my gifts were—”
“From the heart and priceless,” he says.
But he got this before he had any idea I would spring Christmas on him. “If you don’t do Christmas, why did you get me this amazing, beautiful gift?”
“I just wanted to get you something. It felt like the right thing to do. Merry Christmas, Mia.”
I am so deeply touched my heart aches and feels way too big for my chest. Then Jonathon’s eyes change—he watched me open the gift with anticipation. Now his eyes are very green and intense. “I’m clearing my next gift with you first,” he says. “If you aren’t interested, it’s gone.”
I frown, confused. “What is it?”
“A threesome. You, me, and Devlin Crane. It’s not vanilla, but it’s not pain. I guarantee it will be intense, erotic pleasure.”
Chapter Nine
Some people spend Boxing Day at sales. I’m going to spend the day after Christmas making love to two gorgeous guys at the same time.
I’ve never done anything quite this wild. But Jonathon is so enthusiastic and sweet about it, I’m swept along in the sheer excitement. He brings me breakfast to my bed, pampers me all day, and promises me I will have the sensual experience of a lifetime.
I told him I was will to try it, but I’m nervous when the hour approaches. To be honest, I’m hiding in the bathroom when billionaire Devlin Crane arrives. I hear Jonathon and he exchange quiet words, then Crane heads out to the terrace.
Jonathon instructed me to wear one of my bikinis. I choose my new emerald green one which has a generously padded bra. Then I take five minutes arranging my breasts. In my head, I argue it’s to give me good cleavage. In reality, I’m stalling.
I meet Jonathon in the living room. Wearing swim trunks with a thick white towel slung over his tanned shoulders, he leads me to the pool. Crane is already in the shallow end, holding two flutes of champagne. He hands me one.
The azure pool tiles make Devlin Crane’s eyes as blue as the clear sky. His peach-fuzz blond hair is wet, which turns it into a caramel color. Water droplets glitter in his eye lashes.
“Good afternoon, fantasy girl,” he says.
The nickname startles me. Jonathon used it on me at first, now he always uses my name. “Hi,” I answer, as casually as I can.
But a memory flares up. It sneaks out from behind the dam and assaults.
Once, before I made my vow to be a good girl—before I met Ryan—I was offered the chance to make love with two guys. One was my boyfriend. For two weeks, he tempted me with the idea of being shared by two boys. Finally I agreed—admittedly, I was intrigued by the idea. But when I said yes, my boyfriend suddenly freaked out. He broke up with me on the spot, calling me vicious names. His words hurt me badly. I was confused, unable to understand what had happened. They’d suggested it but I was the bad person because I’d said yes.
His words had made me realize I had to change. I had to value myself. I had to stop dating jerks.
But I’d also learned something else: sexual scenarios are way more complex in real life than in fantasy. In what ways will this erotic experience bite me in the butt?
It can’t, I think, as I go down the steps into the warm pool. Jonathon does this all the time. He’s my friend, this is all about sexual adventure, and no one is going to get hurt.
Even though he bought me a gorgeous choker, I’m sure he doesn’t think of me as more than a partner in carnal fun, just for a while.
Jonathon swims over to me from behind. We’re standing in waist deep water. “Ready, Mia?” His fingers slip down inside my bikini bottom and he plays with my clit, so I moan as I nod.
His tongue sweeps down my neck. I love this. I close my eyes, trying to focus on nothing but desire. Water ripples around me, and I lift my lashes a bit to see Devlin Crane’s blue eyes, hazy with lust. His broad chest is right in front of me. I shut my eyes again.
His hands rest on my bare waist. His mouth presses to my cleavage, where it’s lifted into plump curves by the bra. I feel the warmth of his tongue stroking them.
I should feel something intense. Jonathon is pressed against me from behind; Crane is licking the tops of my breasts. But I feel distant. As if I’m looking down on this scene from above again.
“Her eyes are closed,” Crane murmurs to Jonathon.
Jonathon’s breath whispers hot across me ear. “Do you want this, Mia?”
I’m so tense with nerves. What will happen after this? Do I want this? “Yes,” I say softly, eyes still shut.
“She’s gorgeous, Jonathon,” Crane says, as if I’m something Jonathon bought in a store. “Is she special?”
“Mia is very special.”
“She must be special to you if she convinced you to celebrate Christmas.” Crane’s hands skim up to my breasts and he cups them through my bra top.
“She did this for me. A gift because I haven’t had a Christmas in a hell of a long time.”
I wish they wouldn’t talk over me as if I’m not here. But they stop speaking and both focus on kissing my neck. Jonathon nibbles up to my earlobe, catches it in his teeth. Crane sucks on my neck, making my legs want to melt in the warm water.
“She’s wonderful, Jonathon. You’re a lucky guy.”
I haven’t done anything yet. Jonathon must have praised me already. I can hear their hot, fast breathing as they kiss me. Jonathon’s hand slides into my bikini bottom, cupping my ass. Crane’s fingers stroke the v between my legs through the suit.
Two handsome guys telling me I’m gorgeous and beautiful and sexy and wonde
rful? I can’t believe it. I’ve never had anything like this: two powerful men panting over me, admiring me.
I moan, trying to focus on how exciting this is. Trying to think only about the pleasure.
I can’t. I just can’t. All I can feel is that I’ve broken all my vows and promises and I’m going to hate myself for it.
I’m not into Crane’s caresses. He’s gorgeous and rich and sexy, but I’m feeling nothing.
I can’t do this. It’s not just about sex for me. I only want Jonathon. I’m not interested in Devlin Crane. But I agreed to this and don’t I owe this to Jonathon for springing Christmas on him, and dredging up memories he wanted to bury?
Jonathon turns me so I face him. His hands move over my breasts, while he kisses me deeply, teasing my tongue with his.
Someone undoes one of the ties on my bikini bottom. Someone’s hand cups my ass. A deep groan sounds by my ear and that must be Crane. Then Jonathon pushes back from me. He looks as if he’s in pain. “Damn it, I can’t do this.”
My hand, in the water, accidentally grazes his swim trunks. I haven’t touched either man. I was standing more like a puppet than a woman. But when my hand brushes his shorts, I realize Jonathon isn’t aroused.
His eyes—turquoise with the glimmer of the water reflected in them—gaze at me. He looks confused. “I’m not into this. Crane, I’m sorry, but I can’t share Mia.” He pulls me to him, and says over my head to his friend, “Hell, this has never happened before.”
***
I get sent to the washroom to dry off while Jonathon and Crane are talking. About what, I don’t know. I get the feeling from the raw disappointment on Devlin Crane’s handsome face that he wants to try to change Jonathon’s mind.
I’m relieved, but confused.
Why wouldn’t Jonathon play the games with me he always plays? Does it mean he cares about me? Or does it mean he isn’t into me?
I take a fast shower, but even the hot needles of the shower don’t soothe me.
What if Jonathon does care about me? Do I love him? For a year, I dated Ryan and I knew for certain I loved him. Can I really have fallen in love with Jonathon so quickly?
When I get out of the bath, I pull on a t-shirt and cut-off shorts. Casual, faded, comfortable clothes.
I’m blow-drying my hair when the bathroom door opens. I expect to see Jonathon, and my eyes almost pop out of my head as Devlin Crane comes into the bathroom, closes the door, and clicks the lock.
He has a towel wrapped around his hips.
I swallow hard, thinking there is probably nothing underneath it but his bare skin.
“Jonathon was right,” he says. “You are addictive.” Crane studies me with his vivid blue eyes as if he’s trying to understand why.
“Um, I’m drying my hair,” I point out. It’s an invitation for him to leave but he doesn’t take it. I set down the dryer. This feels wrong.
Crane comes up to me from behind, slips his arms around my waist. “I want to kiss you,” he says.
“Does Jonathon know you’re in here? Did he change his mind?” I haven’t. “Mr. Crane, I can’t do this.” I called him that the night I first met him at the BDSM club in fall term.
“Devlin. Come on, fantasy girl. You were willing to fuck me earlier. All I want now is a kiss.”
A kiss in the bathroom with the door closed, so Jonathon can’t see. The coarse way he points out I agreed to a threesome makes me shiver.
“No,” I say sharply. “I agreed to it for Jonathon, but I couldn’t have done it. It’s not who I am.” I can’t separate sex from caring about someone. I know that now.
I try to walk past Crane, but he braces his arms against the door frame, blocking me. “One kiss. If you still say no, I’ll let you walk out. But you have to expect me to do anything to possess you. You want a house? It’s yours. I’ll put a damn French chateau at your disposal if you want. Limitless credit. A life of sexual decadence. It’s all yours.”
I’m stunned by this. He’s offering all this, just to get me? He’s gorgeous. A billionaire. He could have anyone.
“I’m flattered—”
“No, don’t say that. Say yes. I can give you so much more than Jonathon.”
“I’m sure you can. But I’m already into him. I’m sorry.”
Crane bends to me, letting his warm breath tickle my ear. “One kiss. That’s all I’m asking for.”
Just one kiss. What would it matter? He’d leave me alone after that. But I’m shaking. To do it would be to slip back into what I used to be: a person who devalued her own rights and limits.
“I said no. Let me go.”
The door handle rattles. “Mia, are you in there? What’s going on?”
I glare at Devlin Crane, billionaire. “Let me walk out, damn you.”
He unlocks the door, steps aside, but then fakes me out—he grasps my wrists, pins me against the wall and presses his mouth to mine. At that moment, Jonathon shoves open the door. He’s fully dressed in jeans and a white dress shirt, holding a tumbler half-filled with amber liquid.
“Goddamn it,” Jonathon growls. His hand slashes through his black hair. Pain flashes in his eyes as he looks at me.
He turns on his heel and stalks out.
Oh hell. He thinks I was willing, that I wanted this. That I was going to betray him with Crane.
I’m beyond furious.
“Your choice right now, beautiful,” Crane says, utterly unconcerned. “Stay with me. Go with Jonathon.”
“I’ve just lost Jonathon.”
“No,” Crane says, “I can—”
But I’ve heard enough from Mr. Arrogant Billionaire. I run out of the bathroom and chase Jonathon to the beach. When I reach the sand, he has stripped off his shirt and pants and is pulling down his silk boxers. He runs into the water, keeps running, and heads out toward the dark ocean with powerful strokes.
It scares me. I know raw anger when I see it. I know what it’s like to need to burn energy because it’s screaming inside you and makes you want to explode.
His powerful strokes are taking him out into the dark. He could get into trouble out there. I suspect he’s not exactly sober.
It’s been a few years since I swam seriously but in a few strokes, I’m powering through the water. I have to really pull and kick to catch Jonathon.
He stops, kicking and thrashing. I reach him, my hand touches his ankle.
“Fuck, I’ve got a cramp!” he shouts.
“Roll onto your back. Just relax.”
“Relax? I’m going to drown. Fuck it!”
I approach with one foot forward in case Jonathon panics and I have to kick him away. God, I don’t want to have to do that. The rolling waves and the power of the surf make this much harder than I’d expected. “Just do it, Jonathon. Even with a cramp, you can float. Relax!” I command. In this, I can be the Dom.
To my surprise, he obeys. He lies back, but he’s not relaxed. I swim up behind him. I wrap my arm across his chest. Then I start kicking. Being at college has sapped some of my strength for swimming—I never have time to swim in the college pool. In the School of Architecture, it’s not unusual to spend seventy or eighty hours a week in the workshops or our studio. But I was running to stay in shape, and I was taught how to be efficient when I swim.
Fighting the pull of the waves is something I’ve never done before. I throw everything I have into it. Of course, Jonathon is muscular—the hardest body type to tow.
Finally, shore seems to be getting nearer. My body is straining with effort, my muscles burning.
Suddenly Jonathon breaks free of me, and I shout, “No. Not if you have a cramp.”
But he is determined and he stands up. I didn’t notice we reached a depth where he can stand. I’m relieved, but so exhausted, I start to sink. I’m too spent to put my legs down—
The waves crash into Jonathon, sending him stumbling, but he grabs me. Lifts me. He carries me out to the beach, draped in his arms.
We both collap
se, panting harder than after we’ve had sex.
The warm salty water rushes around me—soothing, though it was just my enemy before. The sand is firm, soft, comforting.
“You saved my life, babe.” Jonathon rolls onto his side. Waves splash over him.
“What were you thinking to swim out in the dark like that?”
“I was losing you,” he says. “Goddamn, I saw you with him, and I didn’t care what I did.”
“Crane grabbed me and kissed me. I told him no. Then he propositioned me and I said no again, Jonathon. I don’t want him. It’s you I l—” I break off. It’s too early to say it. “I care about you, not him.”
“Crane forced a kiss on you. Deliberately. In front of me.” Jonathon pushes up on his arms. His back is covered in wet sand. Water streams off his skin, drips off his hair. “Fuck him.”
I sit up. My shirt clings to my puckered nipples, my jean shorts are sodden. “What? This is some kind of game between you two?”
“Not a game. He’s pushing me to reveal things to you.”
“Then do. Jonathon, you can tell me anything. You must know that.”
“I don’t—”
I grab his arm, breaking through his words. “You almost drowned. You want revelations? Okay. The whole threesome thing freaked me out. I’ve done things that I shouldn’t have done in my past. I agreed to a threesome once, though it never happened, and the whole thing made me feel like crap. You know about the things that happened to me—well, I did a lot of crappy things to myself afterward. I had sex because I wanted to hold someone and have pleasure. But I never valued myself and that means you likely won’t value me either. So that’s my revelation. Tell me yours. Some day you are going to realize you despise me because of what I’ve done, but you can always trust me—”
“Despise you?” Jonathon hauls me against him and his lips touch the top of my head. “I admire you. Adore you. You saved my life. You cared about me enough to give me a Christmas. Mia, you’ve done things for me that no one else ever has.”