“Jonathan…” My moan echoes in the silence of the room like a mantra.
“You’re not eating.” His voice drops in range as his thumb squeezes on the pulse point in my throat. “If you don’t, I’ll stop.”
I lift my next forkful, not even sure if I got food on it or not, and shove it in my mouth.
My hands are flat out shaking as he continues his assault on my nipple. No idea how Jonathan does it. All I know is that I’ve never felt this before.
I’ve never craved something as much as I’m burning for the foreign sensations he’s injecting into my body.
I’ve never craved someone I hate so much.
Jonathan angles my body using my throat so my back meets the hard ridges of his chest. My breasts thrust in his face and he wraps his lips around a nipple. His slight stubble creates throbbing friction as he sucks and bites down on the tender flesh. His fingers continue torturing my other nipple while his other hand holds my throat hostage.
I shudder, the fork clinking on the plate as a thousand sparks hit me in the womb.
His movements come to a halt as he speaks in a raspy voice against my skin, “What did I say?”
I quickly pick up the fork, feeling like a kid learning how to eat as I roll the spaghetti on the tines.
The assault on my nipple turns me delirious. My core is slick and pulsing, close to the detonation point I reached last night, but not exactly.
“These are quite sensitive, aren’t they?” He slides his tongue back and forth on the rosy peak. “Does it hurt?”
I’m munching slowly so I don’t choke on the food, but I manage a nod.
“It does, doesn’t it?”
I nod again, not even sure why I’m doing it.
“But it’s not enough. You want more.”
I stare at him with a wildness that beats under my skin like an animal’s. Does he have telepathic powers?
Jonathan releases my nipple and slides his hand down my stomach over my dishevelled, barely buttoned blouse.
I suck in a fractured breath, but I make sure to take another bite of food. This is so fucked up, but I have no will to stop it.
I’m caught, hook, line and sinker. Instead of fighting and dying soon, I opt to enjoy one last swim.
Jonathan reaches into my skirt and underneath my underwear. His long, masculine fingers leave scorching hot trails on my bare skin as he circles my clit.
“Mmm. You’re wet.” His appreciative tone makes me close my eyes in pure bliss.
I’ve never, ever, tried to be wet for someone before. I recognised my numbness and rolled with it. If anything, I thrived in it. This is the first time I’m glad I am.
Am I a masochist or something?
Jonathan pinches my nipple and swollen clit at the same time.
There’s no warning this time. No danger alarm or even the contracting of my stomach. Heat drags me into its burning clutches. I scream and explode all over his hand as if it was always meant to be.
This fall is like bungee jumping without a rope, yet it feels like the jump of a lifetime. One I’ll never return from.
Oh, God.
I’m still catching my breath, trying and failing to regulate it when Jonathan releases my throat and motions at the plate. It’s empty. Just like my insides.
The bastard manipulated me into eating it all.