The position feels so close, so…intimate.
Something he’s never offered.
“I can sleep on the mattress,” I offer. Jonathan may be bigger in size, but I’m not that thin. He has, like, sixty-five kilos on top of him.
“You sleep where I want you to sleep.”
“But —”
“My bed. My rules.”
I purse my lips.
“Or you can leave.”
“That won’t be happening. You’ll just have to pretend I’m an unwanted sleeping buddy. Surely you’ve had one before.”
He closes his eyes and I think he’s drifted off to sleep, but then he says, “You’re the first person who’s shared my bed.”
31
Aurora
The past week has been…different.
Ever since I came up with that plan that indirectly pushed Jonathan’s buttons, he’s been shedding some of his façade.
Not all of it. He still punishes so thoroughly for every night I spend in his bed, but it’s a start.
Besides, is it really punishment if I get off on it? The jury is still out on that one.
All I know is that with every night I sleep atop of him, I get closer to the man everyone is afraid to talk to, let alone come within his vicinity.
I haven’t stopped thinking about the words he told me the other day. The fact that I’m the first person to share his bed.
Surely Alicia used to? But then again, they did have separate rooms. Just like he and I did in those first couple of months.
Maybe Alicia never demanded to enter his room in the first place.
A man like Jonathan doesn’t give in without being coerced into something, or at least being given all the right reasons to go through with it.
That’s why I decided to go one step further today. In the morning, he laid me on his thighs and spanked my arse red for what I asked of him. My behind still burns and is marked with his handprint, but it was worth it.
I demanded we eat out. Not in the confinement of the house, where he sits me on his lap.
And I get to choose the place, so no fancy restaurants either. Those are his playground, not mine, and I need all the power I can get tonight.
“Going out for a kebab is your grand plan?” He glares down his nose at the place with that irritating conceit of his.
“Hey! This place is world-famous. Tourists come over here for Layla’s parents’ kebab. You’re lucky I put in a word for us.”
“Fascinating.”
It’s his snobbish ‘fascinating’. He can be the most infuriating snob sometimes.
With his black suit and sharp features, he appears like he belongs on a GQ magazine cover, not in a commoners’ restaurant.
I’m wearing a simple blue dress that stops a little above my knees. Layla bought it for me without a reason last month, saying it brings out my eye colour, and I haven’t had a chance to wear it until today.