I brace myself for the onslaught of his hand, but it doesn’t come. I glimpse at him over my shoulder to find one of his eyes narrowed and pointed at me.
“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you, wild one?”
“No.”
“How come I don’t believe that?” He places his fingers at my core and I swallow as they meet my folds over the cloth. “You’re soaked and begging for more.”
He slides the ruined underwear down my legs and I don’t hesitate to step out of them. I watch with bated breath as he bunches the knickers and shoves them in his pocket.
“Why did you do that?” My voice is needy and all sorts of messed up.
“I’ll answer that if you tell me why you won’t refuse Ethan’s invitation.”
Because of his damn son, but I don’t voice that. I meant it when I said that Jonathan doesn’t get to tell me what to do.
“That’s what I thought.” He pushes me so that I’m bent over the table meant for supplies.
My chest touches the hard surface as he holds me down by my wrists. My throbbing nipples turn painful with the mere friction. I hear a belt snapping behind me, but before I can focus on it, the sound of a slap fills the air.
I bite my lower lip, eyes closing to engrave the sensation.
“One final chance.” His words echo around me like a dark promise, and I hate that my first response to it is wanting more.
He’s turned me into a mess who can’t get enough. He was right the other day. I’ve become a glutton for his punishment and rough handling. I’ve become attuned to him on a scary level.
“You want to be fucked here and now?” His voice lowers with lust and something else I can’t put my finger on. “You don’t even care that we’re in a religious setting, or that anyone can walk in. You’re quite the exhibitionist, aren’t you?”
His words should be a turn off, but heat engulfs my body and burns the last of my inhibitions.
Jonathan thrusts into me from behind, his huge cock filling me whole with a slight tinge of pain. The position gives him access to parts of me I didn’t know existed.
“You’re quite the adventurous one.” His raspy voice adds more punch to his callous presence at my back. “Wild. Unstoppable.”
He pounds into me with an urgency that slams my thighs against the edge of the table. With my hands bound behind my back, I can’t do anything.
Not that I want to.
The sense of helplessness adds to the pleasure gripping me by the throat. There’s something so utterly addictive about the way he takes from me, leaving me barren and with no way out but back to him.
The sheer power of Jonathan King turns me helpless, speechless, almost like I’m levitating and living an out-of-body experience.
He slaps my arse, and while the sting may start there, it ends up straight between my legs.
“Oh… Aaaah… J-Jonathan…” My voice shifts into a loud moan as the orgasm brews in the distance. My stomach tenses and my fingers curl, nails sinking into his or my skin — I can’t really tell anymore — in preparation for the impact.
It’s coming. The sensation builds on the horizon, mounting and magnifying, about to hook into me and snatch me into its barbarous clutches.
His hard chest covers my back, fully, entirely, as if he’s about to suffocate me.
He doesn’t.
His lips find my earlobe. They’re hot and firm like a blade. He whispers in a voice filled with raw possessiveness, “My name is the only name you’re allowed to moan. The only name you’re allowed to think about or even dream of.”
I’m too delirious to make sense of his words, let alone form a response.
He thrusts harder, hitting my hip bone against the table with the force of it. There’s nothing normal or ordinary about the way Jonathan powers into me.
He doesn’t just fuck, he owns. He stakes his claim with each long thrust. His fingers wrap around my throat and he squeezes until he’s all what remains in my conscious.