Kenna
The silk blindfold blocks out all light, holding my mask tight against my face. Jonas’ hand holds my throat, warm and rough. The other plays over my thighs. His gruff words swirl through my head on repeat, warnings and promises lighting a fire under my skin.
“We’re going to play a game,” Jonas rumbles in my ear as his fingers skate higher. He spreads his legs, broad thighs pushing mine even wider, holding me open. The air hits my panties and I’m achingly aware of how wet I am. Wet and very exposed. If the curtains aren’t concealing us, a lot of people are about to witness me melting into a puddle of need in Jonas’ lap.
“What kind of game?” I ask, voice breathy. His fingers stroke over the panel of my panties, so gentle that it’s barely a whisper. I swear, I don’t know how he can be so controlled. I’m struggling to hold still; struggling not to lift my hips and seek the pleasure he’s so carefully denying me. Jonas tsks in my ear and his fingers squeeze my neck in a possessive display of power.
“Uh-uh, Kitten. I’m asking the questions.” He cups my pussy, the heel of his hand grinding hard over my clit.
“Yes, sir,” I moan, but do my best to hold still. I can feel the approval rolling off of him.
“How did you find this place?” Jonas asks, all four fingers petting my slit over my panties.
I hesitate, afraid I’ll say too much and give myself away, but clearly Jonas isn’t in the mood for hesitation. His fingers spank my pussy, right over my clit, and I cry out, more surprised than anything else. The little flash of pain spreads into a warm heat, tingling over my skin and radiating out through my body. To my horror, I feel a teeny gush of moisture soak my underwear. I don’t know if he was bluffing about me leaving a wet spot on his lap, but even if he was, it’s the truth now.
“I followed someone,” I admit. Jonas pets me, diffusing the last inkling of pain and twisting it into a confusing pleasure.
“Bad girl,” he whispers. “Who did you follow?”
My mind whirls and I blurt out my answer, dangerously close to revealing who I am. “My friend.”
His hand pets me again, giving me more pressure, but I could have sworn I felt him tense up for just a heartbeat, and I’m panicking silently. If I give myself up, if he realizes who I am, will he stop? Would he throw me out of here?
... God, would he tell my brother?
I’d die of mortification but, more than that, I’d be heartbroken. The way Jonas holds me, open, exposed, and completely under his control, answers my deepest fantasies. I never could have hoped to feel his hands on my body like this, and I’m terrified I’ll mess it all up.
“Why were you following your friend, Kitten?”
I swallow hard. Fuuuuuck. Why is he pushing this?
“I—I don’t know, sir.” Jonas slaps my pussy again, and I gasp, but the pain turns sweet even faster than before. I shouldn’t like that. It’s wrong. At least that’s what I’ve always told myself. I always seemed so… offensive, degrading. And maybe it is. But I do like it, so what does that say about me? He has me panting in his lap and I know, deep down, that I’d do anything to stay here all night.
“You’re lying to me,” Jonas growls in my ear.
He raises his hand, but the words spill out of me. “He was acting odd. Sneaking around. I had to know where he was going and I… I hated that he had a secret, but I knew he wouldn’t tell me.” I’m shaking in his lap, holding my breath. The confession feels like a cleansing. Jonas won’t ever know that I’m talking about him, but saying it out loud releases something deep inside me that I didn’t realize I was holding onto.
After our kiss eight years ago, Jonas shut me out, intentionally and thoroughly. I’m not one to hold a grudge, and I made a point of moving on with my life. I made it a point to forget. But deep down, that rejection at such a base level from someone I cared about so deeply hurt. I’ll probably never be able to say that to his face.
Jonas chuckles, but it’s not humorous. Is he mad because he thinks I’m here for someone else?
“I doubt your friend would have wanted you to follow him here. Did you see him inside?” he asks.
I open my mouth to say yes, but catch myself. Technically, I didn’t see him inside. He snuck up behind me. So I shake my head.
“No, sir.”
“There we go, Nancy Drew. That wasn’t so hard. And what were you expecting to find here, my little investigator?” His fingers start moving against me, and it feels so good, my mind gets hazy. I don’t want to think. I just want to give into his touch and forget everything else.
“I’m not sure,” I murmur.
There’s no warning this time. A sharp slap lands on my pussy, and Jonas squeezes my throat. “You’re lying to me again,” he growls. I know that was supposed to be a punishment, but oh fuck, did it feel good.
“Ballroom dancing,” I moan, squirming in his lap. “I thought Tango was a nightclub.”
He chuckles, and it rolls over me like thunder vibrating my soul. “Do you know why they named it Tango?”
I shake my head, and Jonas releases my neck, trailing his fingers down between the dip in my collarbone, stroking over my sternum slowly.