“No, you’re not.” But he’s smiling, too. He undoes the ties around my waist with gentle hands and tugs the apron free. “We’re going to need a shower.”
“Oh no, not another shower in your amazing bathroom.” I grin. “We should clean up first, though.”
It takes us far longer than it should, mostly because we can’t quite keep our hands off each other. I drag my mouth down Jonas’s spine as he cleans the cabinets. He presses kisses to my neck while I try to get the counter in order. I end up sucking his cock while I’m trying to wipe the flour off the floor, and then he bends me over the now-clean counters to fuck me from behind.
Really, who can blame us?
We only have the weekend, after all.
By the time we manage to make it into—and out of—the shower, it’s well past lunchtime and edging into sunset. The rain still hasn’t let up, which adds to the feeling of us being in our own little world. One completely untethered by reality, where fantasy reigns supreme.
Jonas builds up the fire again and then pulls me down with him onto the couch. “I have some questions about what you said earlier.”
There’s no point in pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about. Especially since anticipation is already zinging through me. “About chasing me.”
“Yes.” He takes my hand in his and idly runs his fingers over the inside of my wrist. “How far do you want to play into that?”
I start to give a blithe answer, but force myself to actually think about it. “I want to protest. A little more than the ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ but not a full out ‘oh my god, I don’t want this’ kind of thing. I don’t know if that makes sense.”
He considers the fire, still tracing abstract patterns on my skin. “So I chase you. I catch you. I hold you down.” He glances at me. “I force your legs apart and taunt you with how much you want this even though you know you shouldn’t.”
My throat goes dry and I have to swallow several times to speak. “Yes. Like that.” I hesitate. “I get off on the shame of wanting something that I shouldn’t.”
“I’ve gathered that.” He gives a slow smile, though there’s still an edge of restraint. “I don’t really have much experience with formal kink, but something like this needs a clear word to stop things if they get too intense for you.”
I haven’t done much formal kink, either, but what he’s saying makes sense. If part of the game is protesting, words like stop and no don’t exactly have the same meaning. “How about enough for that? If I say that, we stop.”
“That works.”
I won’t say it. I already know this safety measure is unnecessary. Jonas is too in tune with me to push us into uncomfortable territory. All the same, I think we both breathe a little easier as we settle on it. “Okay.” I look around. “Um, how does something like this get started?”
Jonas laughs. It’s deep and untethered and hits me right in the chest. He pulls me into a quick kiss that ends far too soon. “That depends on what you want.”
What I want? I want it all. Everything. I’m greedy for all the experiences he’s giving me, all the fantasies we’re playing out. “What if…” I shiver. “What if you’re working and I interrupt you? Just to ask a question or get a book, but then…”
“You’ve been flaunting that hot little body at me for years,” he says it almost as if musing. “I’m finally going to take you up on it, you little tease.”
I flush hot. “Yes. That.”
“Okay.” He sits back. “You want that now?”
“There you go, asking your trick questions again.” I climb to my feet and look at him. “Um, would it be totally untoward of me to ask you to put on a suit?”
Jonas gives another of those deep laughs. “Anything for you, baby girl.”
19
Reality threatens to intrude, to remind me that Jonas really won’t do anything for me because this has a deadline, one that’s approaching far too quickly. I push the thought away. I’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow. Until then, we have this.
Until then, I have Jonas.
While he changes into a suit, I grab my purse and duck into the master bathroom. I manage to tame my hair into something resembling order and, after some consideration, I put on some eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick. It’s a pretty pink that is a personal favorite. I kind of wish I had bright red for this moment, but the pink actually works a little better with the fantasy we’re weaving.
I debate putting my clothes back on, but my attention lands on the robe hanging on the back of the door. It’s soft and oversized on me, and smells faintly of Jonas. In short, it’s perfect. I glance at myself in the mirror. I adjust the robe a little, tying it a little loose so it gapes a bit between my breasts. Whoops. I grin. It’s time.