by Rina Kent
“Unless you give her space. If you want her to fall back into you willingly, then you should leave her alone for a while.”
“How long is a while?”
“As long as it takes.”
“What if she never comes back?”
He sighs and readjusts his glasses again. “Then it’s better to let her go.”
Let her go.
I know what that means, and despite my black mood, I recognise it’s probably the best option for her.
But how the fuck can I let go of the piece of myself I finally found?
26
Aurora
The following week passes in a blur.
It’s the longest period of my life.
Part of it is because of the upcoming trial and the imminent doom of facing my father again. Alan and I have been practising what I should and shouldn’t say, how I should react, and even what I should wear.
My solicitor is sure that the prosecution has nothing to bring me down, but I can tell he’s wary of the other solicitor pulling something from his sleeves.
However, that’s not the part that unsettles me the most. The reason I’m out of sorts is mainly because of the cold shoulder Jonathan has been giving me lately.
He doesn’t sit me on his lap anymore, although he does give me that severe look so I’ll eat. He runs me baths but doesn’t stay when I take them. He brings me meals but doesn’t linger. He’s in the know about all my meetings with Alan, but he doesn’t talk to me about the trial.
Jonathan doesn’t talk to me. Full stop.
When we had a family dinner the other day, he remained completely silent, listening to Aiden and Levi throwing jabs at each other. He didn’t stay for their usual chess game, and as soon as the meal ended, he went straight to his office.
Elsa and Astrid asked me if something was wrong, and Aiden said they’re getting back the Jonathan they all recognise.
He didn’t return that entire evening and stayed the night in his office. He does that a lot now, pulling all-nighters in his company, with Harris and a usually-tired Moses.
In the beginning, I thought the phase would wear off, and he’d eventually return to being the Jonathan I know — the man I grew accustomed to. He hasn’t.
Now, whenever Ethan is in sight, or one of the boys says something about me or to me, he doesn’t hesitate to tell them off, but his attention is never directed at me.
I hate how I can barely sleep anymore — if ever. The bed feels so cold and desolate without him. Before, nighttime used to be my favourite, but now, I dread it like nothing else. It means I’ll go home and sleep without him. It means I’ll continue watching the door, waiting for it to open, then sleep with tears in my eyes when it doesn’t.
The only times Jonathan talks to me is to tell me to eat or to not leave the house without security.
They follow me around everywhere now, especially to H&H. There are usually many reporters waiting there and making everyone’s lives a nightmare. Layla threatens to give them hell, but I manage to stop her by saying it’ll only make it worse.
By the end of the week, I’m so mentally exhausted, I want to curl into a ball and disappear.
But I don’t do that. Instead, I go one step further in a last-ditch attempt to get Jonathan back. Though talking to him would probably be a better option.
But have you seen Jonathan? It’s not like I can walk up to him and he’ll listen. He’s so hot-headed, and when he erases you, it’s hard to even look at him in the eyes, let alone talk to him.
So I invited Ethan over for afternoon tea. I mean, this is where I live too and Layla has been coming over the entire time. I also consider Ethan a friend, so he should be welcome to where I live.
Or at least, those are the excuses I tell myself.
Margot watches us peculiarly as she serves us tea near the outside pool area. Almost as if she’s asking me if I’ve lost my mind.
Perhaps I have, but I’m so sick and tired of Jonathan’s silent treatment. If Ethan is what it’ll take to have him talk to me again, so be it.
It’s a rare sunny Friday afternoon, and Jonathan is still at the office, so maybe he’ll pull another all-nighter.
I take a sip of my tea while Ethan twirls the ice in his scotch. There’s been a small smile on his lips ever since he stepped inside.
“What?” I ask from above the rim of my cup.
“I’m imagining Jonathan’s reaction. Fun.”
“You do realise that antagonising him isn’t the way to get back into his good graces, right?”
Tell that to yourself, hypocrite.
“It is. Jonathan lives for challenges instead of sappy emotions. On the day of his father’s funeral, which was only a few days after his mother’s, his older brother, James, was devastated. Guess what Jonathan did?”
I lean closer in my chair, the thought of him losing his parents so close together spreads an unusual ache through my chest. The pain I feel for him is mind-boggling, considering he has no emotions under his radar. “What?”
“He plotted how to bring down the man who caused his father’s death. That was his form of grief.”
“Alicia’s father.”
He pauses with the glass halfway to his mouth. “You know about that.”
“Jonathan told me.”
“That’s…interesting. You’re not her replacement, after all.”
“What do you mean?”
“At first, I thought he brought you in to alleviate his guilt about losing Alicia since the two of you look so much alike. Now, I’m sure that’s not the case.”
My heart picks up speed and the thing won’t slow down, no matter how much I try not to get caught in Ethan’s words. “How do you know?”
He takes a sip of his drink, his features relaxed, and he appears completely in his element, despite being in another person’s house.
But considering his history with Jonathan, he probably came by a lot in the past. The King mansion isn’t a strange place to him.
“Jonathan never opened up to Alicia. In his mind, it was unnecessary to worry her, and although he thought he was protecting her, he was only sealing himself off. The fact that he shows his emotions freely to you is, as I said, interesting.”
“He opened up to you too in the past, no?”
“Not by choice. I bugged him for it and I usually ended up getting cursed.”
An involuntary smile grazes my lips, imagining one of their bickering scenes. “I’m glad he had you.”
And I mean it. Ethan has the ability to deal with emotions, unlike Jonathan who purposefully keeps them in a vault.
“I’m the one who’s glad you are here, Aurora.”
“You’ll be less glad when I drown you in the pool.”
Both of us freeze at Jonathan’s strong voice. My hand gripping the cup trembles and I try to steady it to no avail.
Planning this was one thing, but having it become reality is entirely different.
He steps beside me, all tall and powerful in his sharp black suit. Tingles erupt all over my skin from just seeing him. Will there ever be a day when I don’t get tangled up by his presence?
“Jonathan.” Ethan smiles. “Always a pleasure to hear your threats.”
“Get out of my property.”
“I’m afraid I can’t. I’m Aurora’s guest.”
Jonathan’s jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look at me. Shit. If even this tactic doesn’t work, I’m completely lost here.
I stand in a frail attempt to dissipate the tension. One moment I’m up, the next, Jonathan wraps a hand around my throat and slams his mouth to mine.
A gasp leaves me, but he swallows the sound and everything I had to say. His lips claim mine in a possessive kiss that leaves me with no breaths, thoughts, or balance. There’s no use in trying to keep up with the powerful strokes of his tongue. They’re too fast and dominant for me to reciprocate.
A feeble whimper is the evidence of my surrender as I freely give the reins over to
him. Jonathan devours me in the most passionate, deep kiss he’s ever given me.
I still can’t breathe by the time his lips leave my mouth. My nerve endings tingle on my skin with the need for more.
Jonathan doesn’t release my throat, holding it firmly but not painfully. His harsh voice is directed at Ethan as he speaks, “Aurora and I aren’t accepting guests. You know where the door is.”
I don’t get to focus on Ethan’s expression, or the fact that Jonathan has just claimed me in front of him. My whole being is focused on Jonathan’s skin on mine, the fact that he’s touching me, kissing me. It’s been only a week, but it’s felt like a decade.
Being so used to his touch, only for it to be abruptly taken away, is the worst type of torture he could’ve inflicted on me.
Jonathan releases my throat and clutches me by the waist. He practically drags me by his side to the lounge area and slams the French balcony’s doors closed.
As soon as we’re out of Ethan’s view, he backs me against the wall, his fingers finding my throat again.
I stare up at him, my vision invaded with his sheer savage presence and the storm brewing in his metal gaze.
“Do you want to be fucked in front of Ethan, Aurora? Is that it?”
“What? No.”
“Then what the fuck was that show all about? Your guest? Your fucking guest?” Gone is the Jonathan who ignored me with a calm expression. Right now, he seems on the verge of burning everything in his path and leaving ashes behind.
Why the hell am I excited for that?
Even though his hold has me hostage, I manage, “He’s my friend.”
“Fuck that. He’s not your friend. He’s not your anything.”
“Why?”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you doing this on purpose, wild one? Is it because you know that Ethan and I are attracted to the same types of women?”
I haven’t thought about that, but since he mentioned it, his reaction makes sense now.
“This is your final warning. Provoke me with Ethan or any other man again, and I’ll fuck you in front of them. After I kill them, of course, because no one gets to see you naked but me.”
I swallow because I have no doubt he’d do it. Jonathan doesn’t have limits like everyone else. His moral compass is screwed in more ways than one.
And I know this is my chance to finally get a rise out of him after such a long time of the silent treatment.
“Why would you care?” I lift my chin. “You pretended I didn’t even exist this past week.”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“W-what? What I want?”
“You want out, no? You’re only thinking about the deal and how soon you can leave, remember?”
I bite my lower lip. “I was only asking.”
“Only asking?”
“Forget it.”
“I can’t forget it.” His fingers trace my lower lip and it parts involuntarily. “Here’s the thing, Aurora. You won’t leave.”
“I won’t?”
“There’s no way in fuck I’m letting you go.”
My chest flutters. “But the agreement —”
“Fuck the agreement. What do you want?”
“I…if I want to go, will you let me?” I guess that’s what I really want to know. I need the confirmation that Jonathan respects my need to have my own choice, that he won’t force his opinions on me because of his control freak nature.
While I can’t get enough of him, I’m neither his property nor his toy. I want to be his equal.
His expression remains the same, hard as granite and unreadable. His tone is calm, composed. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
We stare at each other for a beat too long, our breaths mingling. His woodsy scent fills my nostrils and creeps under my skin. His whole presence winds imaginary fingers around my heart.
Only Jonathan has the ability to reach into my ribcage and barge through as if he were always meant to be there.
He lifts me up, and I squeal as he drops me on the edge of the sofa. The leather creaks underneath me as my breasts meet the surface and my knees land on the floor.
Jonathan kneels behind me, bunches my skirt up to my arse, and yanks my underwear down, letting them fall to my knees.
The sound of his belt buckle comes from behind me as he thrusts two fingers inside me in one go.
A loud moan leaves my lips and I muffle it against the cool leather. A wave rushes through me with supersonic speed. Maybe it’s because it’s been a long time without his maddening touch, but the moment he slaps my arse, I come.
Just the slightest stimuli and I’m on the edge.
“You don’t know? You should know, wild one. The answer should come easily to you.” His voice is hard, but there’s something else underneath that I can’t put my finger on.
His cock slips between my arse cheeks and I tense. Despite all the preparations and the toys, Jonathan is big — more like, huge. There’s always a delicious sting of pain whenever he fucks me. Imagining that size in my arse causes uncontrollable shivers to break out on my skin.
“Relax.” Still moving his fingers inside my pussy, he circles my clit with his thumb. Small bursts of pleasure grip me and I let myself fall slack against the leather.
“Good girl.”
I moan at the sound of those words out of his mouth. After last week’s fuck-up, I thought I would never hear them again.
“You’ll be able to take me, won’t you?”
“Mmm.”
“What if my dick is too big for this tight arse?”
“I can take it.”
“You can, huh?”
“Mmm.”
“You want me to confiscate your last virginity for myself?”
My thighs clench at the thought, and I’m so turned on that I can’t see straight. “Y-yes.”
“What was that?”
“Fuck me, Jonathan.”
“Fuck you where?”
“In the arse. Fuck me in the arse.”
A low grunt fills the air as Jonathan uses my juices as natural lube. He takes his time prepping me that I wiggle my arse against him so he gets on with it.
He then thrusts his cock an inch inside me, and although he’s been preparing me since the island, the stretching sensation is real.
“Oh…G-God…” My voice is broken by both pleasure and pain. They always come hand in hand with Jonathan, and I’ve become so accustomed to it that the mere thought of having one without the other depresses me.
“I’m going to own every fucking inch of you.”
It could be his words or the way he’s stimulating my body, but I relax even further, my nails digging into the sofa until he’s fully inside.
With his fingers deep into my pussy, I feel so utterly full, like I’ve never experienced before. His cock doesn’t compare to the plugs. It’s so much more real, and the sparks of pleasure feel like they’re shooting from all places at once.
The mere brush of my hard nipples against my clothes and the leather sends an additional bolt of arousal to my core and arse. Everything in me is attuned to the feel of him inside me, at my back, and all around me.
But it’s not only about the physical connection. Being with Jonathan is like free-falling without a landing. It’s finding oneself after years of being lost. It’s peace after a war. And it’s all because of him.
He called me his queen once, but what he doesn’t know is that there’s no king to my kingdom but him.
It might be a small kingdom compared to his empire, but mine is more intimate, and he’s the only person I would ever allow inside my bubble.
He’s the only person who’s made me feel safe, even though the world is scared of him.
My calculative tyrant and skilled lover.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Jonathan moves slowly, both in my pussy and in my arse, letting me get accustomed to him.
A whimper rips in the air and I realise it’s mine as
he picks up his pace. Sparks of pleasure like I’ve never known crowd in my nerve endings with a crippling force.
“J-Jonathan…I-I…”
He wraps strong, masculine fingers around my nape, giving me the anchor I need. “That’s it. Fall into me, wild one.”
I turn my head towards him and he holds my eyes hostage as the orgasm rips through me with a strength I’ve never experienced. It’s a shattering. A fall with no chance of hitting the bottom.
Jonathan continues his onslaught, powering into me, and as he promised, he owns every fucking inch of me. His cock meets his fingers through the thin barrier and my lids droop to soak in the sensation. I can’t stop watching him filling me, even with the uncomfortable angle.
His shoulders tense under his jacket as he stops. Then a grunt spills from his sensual lips as his cum warms my insides and drips down my thighs.
I whimper at the loss of him when he pulls out of me, his cock and fingers leaving wet trails on my inner thigh and arse.
But before I can ponder on the loss, Jonathan turns me around, backs me against the sofa, and takes my lips in a slow, hungry kiss that steals my breath more than the one from earlier.
It’s like he’s cementing the connection we just had and sealing it with a kiss. I soften against him, my fingers digging into his hard chest for balance.
“In case you haven’t figured out the answer, listen carefully, Aurora,” he whispers in dark words against my mouth. “I will not let you go.”
27
Jonathan
I carry a sleeping Aurora in my arms from the bathroom to the bedroom.
I keep telling her that falling asleep in the bathtub is dangerous, but she mumbles that I’m there.
It’s true. I am there. I don’t take the fact that she trusts me enough to fall asleep in my arms for granted.
Since I took her a few days ago, I’ve been trying to spend as much time with her as physically possible.
Not having her sleep next to me on an everyday basis has been torture. Needless to say, I’ve been having blue balls for all the times I didn’t fuck her or spank her until she begged me to come.
But here’s the strangest part. It’s not only about the physical connection — even if it started that way. While I love how she comes undone under my touch, I enjoy how she curls into my embrace more. How she wraps her arms and legs around me while she sleeps. How she holds on to me when she has nightmares. How my name is the first thing she whispers when she wakes up. How she grabs my arm and invites me to the baths I run for her.