Chapter 18
Claire
“You looked sexy at this morning’s meeting. I love when you wear black.” Jonathan texted me.
“Thank you :-).”
“Can I see you tonight?”
I hesitated to respond. “Depends on if I finish all my reading or not.”
“Bring it with you. I have work to do as well.”
“You seducing me isn’t real work.”
His text came back within seconds: “You’re right. That doesn’t take much effort at all. It’ll be strictly professional tonight. I was serious about that promise.”
“I don’t believe you...”
“You should. Greg will pick you up at eight.”
I set my phone down and smiled. I was getting ready to finally mention Jonathan to Ashley and Caroline. I’d been holding it off for long enough, and since our “exclusive dating” arrangement was starting to resemble some sort of relationship, I wanted them to be okay with it.
I set snacks and drinks on the dining room table like I always did on family meeting nights, and waited for them to get home from cheerleading practice.
“Mom! Mom!” They both came running into the kitchen, talking at once. “Did I tell you about this?” “Did you know the training was this Saturday?” “Can I borrow twenty dollars?” “Can I have twenty dollars?” “If you give her twenty can I have forty?” “What about—” I usually waited until they realized that I couldn’t understand them when they did this, but my blank stare didn’t seem to be working today.
They were blabbering at full speed, flipping their silky red hair over their shoulders at the exact same moments—never stopping to catch a breath.
“Okay, okay! One at a time, please. Who was talking first?”
“Me!” Ashley clapped. “I think the first order of business tonight needs to be discussing me and Caroline getting separate cars.”
“Okay.” I sat down. I have to hear this...
Caroline shrugged and sat down across from me.
“So...” Ashley said, smiling. “As you know, we’re sixteen years old and we’re both straight A students. We hardly get in trouble unlike most kids our age and we’re both members of the Junior Aviation Scholars Program—which is only open to ten kids per year for the entire country! And we both have spots!”
“Go on...”
“So, we need separate cars.”
“What? That’s it? That’s your entire argument, Ashley?”
“Um, yeah. That sums it up pretty well I think. What do you think, Caroline?” Her co-conspirator nodded.
“Okay well, I’m aware that you’re both sixteen and that you’re great students. It’s your job to be.
I’m also well aware that you don’t get into much trouble, but it’s because I don’t tolerate any. And I’m very glad that you’re part of the—” I took a deep breath and paused. “Junior Aviation Scholars Program and I recall buying you both new pilot outfits once you received those spots. However, seeing as though you don’t pay your own insurance for the car you drive now, are involved in the same exact activities, and aren’t trying to buy your own car with your own money, you can either enjoy the shared car or give it back to me. Your choice.” Ashley rolled her eyes and sat down.
“What about letting one of us borrow your car on the weekends then?” Caroline scrolled through her phone. “Would that work? What if we came up with a car sharing schedule or something? I think there’s an app for—”
“No. Car conversation is over... Now, I need to speak with you both about something very important. I want you to know that I’m currently seeing someone—someone I think I really like. I’m not sure if I’ll ever let him meet you or not, but—”
“Is he hot?” “Where’d you meet him?” “Is that why you’ve been smiling so much lately?” “And going out so much?” “You don’t want him to meet us?” “Is it because he’s not hot?” “You’re dating someone ugly?” “Why would you do that?” “You’re so pretty!” I sighed. “Please let me finish...I met him at work, and just so you’re aware, he’s a bit younger than me...”
They stopped stuffing their mouths with junk and exchanged puzzled looks. Then they both stared at me—like I was some type of art exhibit.
They did this routine quite often—so often that I didn’t think they realized how intense their joint stare-fest looked. Most of the time it meant that they were thinking about something, and since I was convinced that they shared a brain, it usually took them a while to formulate a verbal thought.
Caroline tilted her head to the side. “When you say younger, do you mean younger like, regular younger?”
“Or do you mean you could go to prison if we called the cops on you younger? “ Ashley raised her eyebrow. “Because if you want us to keep quiet we will, but you’re definitely going to have to reconsider getting us—”
“What! Why would you even—” I stopped. I didn’t need to stress myself out over their warped line of thinking. “He’s eleven years younger than me...” They looked at each other and laughed hysterically. Then they started talking to one other as if I wasn’t sitting in the room: “So... He’s basically thirty!” “What’s so wrong with that?” “I don’t know...Isn’t thirty like middle aged? Or is that fifty?” “I think people should stop counting their birthdays after they turn twenty five. After that you’re pretty irrelevant and you just start looking bad and letting yourself go...” “Do you think the guy she’s dating is hot?” “Probably not. She didn’t say he was hot. If he was hot she would’ve said that first...” “Did she tell us his name?” “It’s probably Taylor. That’s a nice thirty year old name.” “Taylor? I like it. I wonder if—”
“Thank you both for listening... ” I cut off their ridiculous conversation. “You two are okay with me dating someone?”
“Um yeah! It’s about time! You deserve someone amazing.” Ashley stood up and hugged me.
“Whoever he is, I hope he can talk you into buying us separate cars for our senior year!” Caroline walked over and hugged me too. “I agree. It’s good seeing you smile again—even if the guy isn’t hot...”
“So, the top four ideas for the s Tablet slogan are—you know what? These are all terrible, aren’t they?” Mr. Barnes laughed.
“Yes. They really are.” I couldn’t help but laugh too. “Let’s just call it a night.”
“At nine o’ clock? Sure you don’t want to stay until midnight like yesterday? I’m starting to feel like corporate is my second home.”
“Positive.” I closed my folder and stood up. “I actually have plans for a change. I’ll see you on Monday.”
I walked out of his office and headed into mine, moving Jonathan’s latest flower arrangements to one side of the room.
I’d given up on asking him to stop sending them. He sent at least two hundred blooms a day. He’d even hired a horticulture expert; she came in every day at noon to prune the old ones and water the new ones.
I took off my heels and changed into a pair of slippers, wishing that I could somehow fast forward to the end of the s Tablet campaign. I was working double the hours, and while the new “necessary overtime for managers” policy had been quite beneficial for my savings account, it drained most of my body’s energy.
I put my head down on the desk and my phone rang. Ashley.
“Yes, Ashley?” I answered.
“Is it okay if me and Caroline spend the night at Jasmine’s house tonight? I know you wanted to watch a movie with us later, but it is a Friday. And I know you’re already going to say something about us driving late, so Jasmine’s mom said she could pick us up and drop us off tomorrow.”
“I thought you two had a junior pilot seminar tomorrow. Didn’t you beg me to pay the two hundred dollar registration fee?”
“It was pushed back because a few people failed the simulation test.” I sighed. “Is this sleepover coed?”
“I didn’t say it was a sleepover, mom. It’s—”
“Ashley...”
“There might be a few guys there...”
Of course. “Have Jasmine’s mother call me. Then I’ll—”
“Hold on! She’s right here!”
I rolled my eyes and introduced myself to a soft-spoken Mrs. Hines. She was a few years younger than me, but from what I remembered about her at the mother-daughter cheerleading retreats, she seemed to have a good set of morals.
I made sure that no boys would be sleeping in the same room with the girls, and after she assured me that she and her husband would be taking turns to check on the party, I gave in and agreed to let them go.
“Hello, beautiful. What are you doing?” Jonathan texted me as soon as I hung up.
“About to head home and take a long shower...”
“You’re still at corporate?”
“Unfortunately. What are you doing?”
“Coming downstairs to see you.”
I shut down my computer and stood up. I stacked all the s Tablet notes into a pile and crossed another date off my calendar.
My eyes veered towards the box that held the last Friday of the month, where the words
“Jonathan’s birthday” were written in small print.
I had no idea what to get for him; he seemed to have everything already. As a matter of fact, anytime I asked him what he wanted for his birthday, he would simply change the subject.
“Hey.” He walked into my office. “Are you still too busy for me?”
“Actually, I was supposed to be watching a movie with my girls later, but they just ditched me for a coed sleepover. Can you believe that?”
“I can’t believe you’re surprised.” He laughed. “What movie were you going to watch?”
“Some teen movie about vampires, evil curses, and—I don’t know. They picked it out.”
“Hmmm. You should spend the night with me then. You haven’t seen my house yet.” How many houses does he have?
“No thanks.” I shook my head.
“No thanks? Why?”
“Because I don’t feel like having sex with you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Even if that was true, we don’t always have to have sex, Claire. You know that.”
I did know that. And I was scared of that.
The days when we didn’t have sex were more intimate than the days when we did. Jonathan had the most thoughtful ways of showing his affection, and no matter what I did to try and resist, I only ended up giving in and falling further into him.
Like this past Monday, when I told him I skipped breakfast because I was running late and he had the chef team of True Blue Café deliver me a plate of gourmet crepes and fruit. Or Wednesday, when I wasted coffee on my favorite suit and he sent Greg out to buy me two new ones. Or maybe it was yesterday, when he noticed I’d been standing in heels all day and massaged my feet until I fell asleep.
“So, is that a yes to coming home with me?” He smiled.
“No, it’s still a no...I’m exhausted and I need to shower and—”
“Hush.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and walked me out of the room.
We took the elevator to the garage and he led me over to his newest car—a black Aston Martin.
He opened the passenger door and I hesitated.
I’d spent the night with him before, but that was in his corporate bedroom—on his sofa sleeper, not at his house where he would undoubtedly and successfully seduce me. That was before we officially began dating, before our unexplainable connection to each other was deepened with his thoughtfulness and late night phone conversations—before I had to admit to myself that my feelings for him were growing deeper and deeper every day.
“Is there a reason you’re not getting into the car? Is something wrong?” He raised his eyebrow.
“No...I was just thinking...”
“About?”
“About how... I need to catch up on some reading tonight.” I needed to figure out a way to get out of this. He was getting too close— way too close, and we still hadn’t discussed our thoughts on whatever this relationship was. “Maybe you and I can meet up for breakfast tomorrow and—” He scooped me into his arms and placed me into the car, buckling my seatbelt like I was a toddler. He flicked the child safety lock on the door before shutting it, and walked over to his side.
“You are unbelievable. Do you know that?” He revved up the car and sped away. “Do you get a cheap thrill out of testing my nerves?”
“It’s more of an adrenaline rush. I wasn’t joking about the reading...I actually am a full day behind.”
“Would you like me to make Monday a company-wide off day so you can catch up?”
“What?”
“I didn’t stutter. If you need me to do that I will, because I can guarantee you won’t be getting any reading done tonight.”
My cheeks turned bright red. “Did you not hear me say that I don’t feel like having sex with you tonight? Did you catch that sentence at all?”
“I’m allergic to your lies, Claire.” He looked over at me and smiled. “Your poker face doesn’t work on me anymore.”
I sat back in the seat and looked out the window, laughing on the inside.
I watched as the bright skyline of downtown disappeared in my side mirror, as the street lights that hovered over the lanes became less frequent.
I could see that we were driving past property estates—mansion like houses with sprawling lawns and mile long gates, houses that were standing further and further apart.
Jonathan began to slow his car down, pulling up to a colossal black gate. He rolled his window down and punched in a code, causing the gate to slowly slide open.
He drove down a long gravel road that was lined with bright yellow gingko trees. There was a small courtyard in the distance and a gray stoned fountain stood stoic amidst a large bed of well-trimmed grass.
I kept my eyes forward, thinking that whatever his house looked like, it couldn’t be grander than any of the yachts he’d shown me. But once the house came into view, I had to hold back a gasp.
It was unbelievably beautiful. Stunning. An architect’s dream.
It was a colonial style mansion with white stones that gleamed against the sunset. It had to have been built in the 1930s—the marbled pillars that led into the entrance were reminiscent of the ones I’d seen in my history design books.
The arched windows—there were far too many to count, were at least eight feet tall and the glass within them was tinted black.
“Claire?” Jonathan was standing at my door with his arm outstretched. “Would you like to come inside?”
I stepped out of the car and followed him up the smooth slate steps and past the vintage front door.
The inside of the house was a stark contrast to the outside. While a few remnants of the colonial style had been saved, most of the house had been completely modernized: There were walls constructed completely from glass and free-standing spiral staircases. There were also high vaulted ceilings and recessed lighting.
Why does he need all this space?
He stopped walking once we arrived in what appeared to be an old parlor room. He pulled out a chair for me and walked behind the enormous bar.
I looked all around me, admiring the original artwork that hung in sparkling silver frames. “Will you give me a tour of everything before we leave?”
“Of course.” He opened a cabinet. “I can show you around the whole place tomorrow.”
“Do you really need more than one house in the same city? Why can’t you just stay in this one? It’s more than big enough...”
“I see my properties as investments.” He uncorked a bottle of wine. “This house isn’t really a home right now. It’s considered to be a landmark.”
“Why?”
“It once belonged to Charles Ellis, the other designer of the Golden Gate Bridge. He built this house to show off how innovative he could be, how far he could push structural design in the 1930s.
Apparently he was spending too much time on it, so they put him off the bridge project before it was completed.”
“He never got credit for helping?”
“Not until 2007,” he said as he handed me a glass. “He’d been dead for decades by then though.”
“How sad...What made you buy it?”
“I was looking for an estate to invest in years ago, and it caught my attention as soon as I drove by. It reminded of a house in a book I read once. It’s a classic, but I can’t remember the name of it for the life of me right now...”
“What’s the book about?”
“Are you going to try and guess the title?” He smiled. “Are you that good with books?”
“Maybe...”
“1920s. Jazz Age. Wealthy guy who loves to throw lavish parties. Townspeople have no idea how he acquired his wealth and he’s in love with—”
“The Great Gatsby?”
He nodded and took a sip of his wine. “I’m impressed.”
“This house doesn’t really feel like single person space. It seems like it’d be more fitting for a family.”
“I can see that. Maybe someday I’ll have one here...”
I stilled.
It was moments like this that the insecurities I’d managed to bury crawled out of the ground and laughed in my face. I knew damn well that this fling wouldn’t last forever, that we weren’t meant to be together, but there were small instances that made those facts more apparent, more glaring.
And anytime those instances came up, the confidence I’d built up quickly crumbled into a million little pieces.
“Can I be frank with you for a few seconds, Jonathan?”
“You’re asking for permission to speak?”
I sighed. “You just reminded me of a reason why I shouldn’t be with you.”
“Come again?”
“You and I should end this before it gets—”
“Before it gets what?” He set his glass down and narrowed his eyes at me.
“You just said you wanted to have a family of your own here one day and I can’t give you that...
Ever. My tubes are tied and even if I were to get that reversed, it’s pretty risky for someone at my age to... Anyway, we’re not that serious about each other so I don’t know why I even—” I sighed. “I think we should go back to the strictly sex thing that we had before. I don’t want to hold you back from enjoying your twenties. I definitely enjoyed mine and I want you to do the same. After we get done having sex tonight, take me home and we can try to put whatever this is back to where it once was...” He stared at me, blinking slowly as if he was trying to process everything I’d said. I braced myself for his rebuttal, but he simply rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his wine.
He strolled over to me and pulled me out of my chair. He placed his arms around my waist and pressed his forehead against mine. “One, I’ve never had any desire to have kids of my own. Never.
Two, when I said I wanted a family here, I was referring to one that would rent out this house because I’m putting it on the leasing market at the end of the year. Three, you should’ve told me that your tubes were tied a long time ago. I would’ve stopped buying so many f*cking condoms. And four, you’ve never struck me as the insecure type so I’m not sure why you’ve been backpedaling so much lately, but let me make this clear: I am serious about you. I am enjoying my twenties. We’re not going back to a strictly physical relationship, and I’m not taking you home until tomorrow. Are we clear?”
“Yes...” I whispered and felt my heart skip a beat.
“Good. Let’s take a shower.”
“Together?”
“Of course not.” He released me from his arms. “I’ll take mine upstairs and you’ll take yours downstairs. As soon as we’re done, I’ll tuck you into bed and kiss you goodnight.” Before I could fire back, he clasped my hand and led me out of the parlor and up the grand staircase. He twisted the doorknob to a black door and pulled me inside a massive bathroom.
Wow...
It was the size of my living room five times over; the crystallized glass shower alone was the size of my office. From its windows, I could see that there was a wet bench that wrapped around its insides, a sleek entertainment system that was embedded into the wall, and rotating panels with water jets that hung from the ceiling.
Across the room, was a marble spa tub that looked like it was meant to be a wave pool. And on the back wall, an open sauna puffed steam across the room’s sparkling white floors.
I stepped forward and ran my fingers against the marble countertop. Curious, I reached out to touch the quartz-like material that surrounded the wall length mirror, but I felt Jonathan wrapping his arms around me from behind.
“You frustrate the shit out of me, Claire.” He looked at me in the mirror, sighing. “That said, I can’t get enough of you for some reason...Every time I think that you’ve almost accepted us, you come up with some new ridiculous reason to pull away...”
“Well, you’re not exactly the—”
“Shhh...” He spun me around and kissed my lips. “You’re not allowed to talk tonight.” He slowly lifted my shirt over my head. “But you can scream as loud as you want to.” He kissed me again and my heart started beating faster.
Looking into my eyes, he slowly pulled the silver clip I was wearing out of my hair. He tossed it onto the floor with my shirt and began unsnapping my bra.
He unclasped my pants and let them fall into a pool on the floor. Then he stepped back and looked at me, really looked at me, as if he were regarding something valuable, something he genuinely cared about.
He bent down and lifted my feet up one at a time, carefully slipping my heels off. He moved the shoes to the side and delicately kissed his way up my legs, stopping once he reached my waist. He held me steady as he ran his tongue above the outline of my lace panties, pressing soft, warm kisses against my skin.
As he slid my panties down to the floor, my body became a quivering mess.
He hadn’t touched or kissed me since that day he told me about the “promise” and I was suddenly feeling nervous.
“Why are you shaking?” He stood up and brushed his fingers against my lips. “I’m going to make it perfect for you.”
“Make what perfect?” I barely managed.
“You’re not supposed to talk, Claire.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “If you say anything else, I’ll have to punish you. Are we clear?”
I nodded.
“Good.” He caressed my breasts and stepped back, gesturing at his clothes. “Your turn.” I stood still for several seconds, not sure where to start—what to do. He and I had had sex hundreds of times, and we’d definitely become comfortable with each other’s bodies, but this felt more sensual—more intimate.
“Claire?” He grabbed my hand and placed it on his chest. “Start with my tie.” I rose up on my tiptoes and looped my fingers through the knot, trying my best to avoid his heated gaze. As the tie fell to the floor, I began unfastening his shirt’s buttons—smiling as I felt his skin warm up, as I felt his reaction to me.
I reached up and slid the shirt off his shoulders, taking my time with his sleeves. I stared at the perfectly chiseled chest that stood in front of me, running my hands across it and biting my lip.
“Finish.” He caught my wrist and darted his eyes from mine to his pants.
I unbuckled his belt, sliding it free from the pant loops. I undid the button on his slacks, and they fell down to the floor without any help.
Since he’d already slid out of his shoes, he smirked and playfully tugged at his dark blue briefs, where his huge erection was straining against the fabric.
I bent down to pull them off, but instead of using my hands, I used my teeth. I sat up on my knees and rubbed my hands up and down his length—making him gasp, and then I took all of him into my mouth.
I eased him in and out, slowly flicking my tongue against his shaft. I cupped his balls in my hands, softy massaging them as I sucked on him faster and faster.
“Claire...” He groaned. “Claire, stop.”
I slowly pulled back like I was going to consider his pleas, but then I twirled my tongue around his thick tip, watching him shut his eyes in tortured pleasure.
His guttural response to me was driving me insane; I felt so in control. I forced all of him into my mouth again, feeling his muscles twitch and spasm with the hard pressure of my tongue.
I started massaging him with my hands again, sucking on him even harder, but he yanked me up by my shoulders and spun me around.
He bent me over the marble counter and slid a finger inside of me, forcing wetness to slip down my thighs.
I waited to feel exactly what I wanted—what I needed. I waited for him to impale me and make me scream, but nothing came. Before I could turn around and ask what was wrong, I felt him lifting me into his arms and carrying me across the room—towards the shower.
The glass doors slid open as we approached, and as soon as he set me down on the floor, the lights that hung above started to glow in a soft yellow. The water jets that protruded from the walls and the ceiling began to spray warm water over us.
He walked over to a hanging shelf and picked up a couple of pink bottles. “Tonight isn’t about me, Claire. It’s about you.” He spun me around so my back was against his torso. Then he began palming my breasts with one hand. “You are very tempting though...” He pressed his erection against my ass—frustrating me, making me want to turn around and—
“Are you about to say something, Claire?” The way he said my name made me yearn for him even more. “Are you frustrated?” he whispered in my ear. “Tempted to try me because you don’t believe what I said about not talking?”
I sucked in a breath and shook my head.
“I hope not.”
The next thing I felt were cool droplets being squeezed onto my head. Then I felt his hands gently spreading the cream all over my hair.
I shut my eyes and leaned against him as he lathered my hair, as he moved his fingers around my scalp in a circular motion, leaving no part untouched.
Please don’t stop...
He poured more droplets into my hair and massaged me again and again, making me weaker with each rotation of his fingertips.
“Does it feel good?” he whispered, pulling all of my hair to the top of my head.
I murmured, “Yes...” and I could sense him smiling behind me.
He pushed my head forward so that it was directly underneath one of the water jets, and he took his time rinsing my hair clean.
When there were no more suds sliding towards the drain, I tried to lean against him again.
“Stand still.” He held my shoulders, preventing me from doing that. “I’m not done.” I sighed. Then I felt him caressing my back with a soft loofah, brushing it around in soft circles, leaving a sweet vanilla scent on my skin. After he thoroughly scrubbed my legs, he kissed my right shoulder, trailing kisses across my back until he reached my left one.
He slid the loofah underneath my arms and rubbed it against my stomach, moving it up and around my breasts. He used his other hand to touch between my legs, to reposition a water jet so it was streaming up against my most sensitive part.
“I’m going to f*ck you with my mouth tonight,” he whispered.
I gasped. “What?” And then I shook my head because I didn’t want him to think I was trying to be punished.
“You heard me.” He walked around so that we were facing each other, locking his eyes on mine.
“I’m going to be your first, and I’m going to make you cum over and over and over again.” He lowered his head and kissed my lips. “It’s going to be so f*cking good that you’re going to want me to be your last.”
My heart stopped—literally stopped, because my knees went weak and I leaned against the wall, sliding down onto the shower bench.
Letting out a low laugh, he leaned down and kissed me one more time. He walked over to the hanging shelf and grabbed a blue loofah, using it to spread a clear gell over his skin.
He turned around and looked into my eyes, running the soapy loofah across his perfectly carved chest, across his muscled abs. He let the suds sit on his body for a few seconds, and then he let the water trickle down his body and clear them away.
“Can’t stand up?” He raised his eyebrow and I bit my lip as he ran the loofah against his rock hard dick, as he used his hands to teasingly rub it up and down.
I tried to get up, but my legs were still numb. The strong pressure of the water jets against my body weren’t much help either.
All I could do was sit and watch as Jonathan teased me with that damn loofah, letting it caress all the places I wanted to touch.
After many more minutes of playful torture, he tossed it onto the floor and winked. “Still can’t stand up?”
I blushed and he walked over to me, pulling me up by my hands.
As soon as we stepped out of the shower, the water jets stopped and the lights turned white again.
He pulled me over to a bench that sat in front of the sauna and smiled. He slipped into a black robe and grabbed a small towel from a drawer, wrapping it around my hair. He took another towel—
a larger one, and began pressing it against my skin, slowly rubbing it all over my body.
“You are so beautiful, Claire...” He brushed the towel between my thighs, making my body tense.
“Especially when you look at me like that...” He placed a kiss against my thigh.
It took him a while to dry me, and I thought he would ask me to return the favor, but he didn’t.
Instead, he unwrapped a brand new blow dryer and took his time drying every strand of my hair, massaging my scalp as tenderly as he’d done in the shower.
When he was finished, he stared at my naked body for several minutes, smiling as his eyes wandered up and down.
“Hold your arms up.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a black slip.
As I held my arms high, he slid the soft fabric over my head and tugged it down, smoothing it out in certain places.
I started to wonder if he bought the same standard slip for all of the other “serious” women he’d been with. But, as I looked at my reflection, I noticed that there was white cursive threading sewn onto the lace that covered my left breast. It read, “For Claire.”
“I’ve never bought lingerie for anyone else,” he whispered. “Only you.” He clasped my hand and led me out of the bathroom and down the hall.
We walked past four doors and a small staircase before stopping in front of a set of white French doors. He took a key out of his pocket and unlocked one of the doors, pushing me inside.
My eyes widened as I took in the room: The silky taupe drapes that fell down to floor, the perfectly polished wood floors, the large mahogany poster bed that stood on the far side of the room, and the large scale paintings that featured the greatest American authors.
I walked over the bookshelf that covered the entire back wall, pulling out the only book that wasn’t perfectly aligned with the others.
“I’m only thirty pages in.” Jonathan stepped in front of me. “It’s actually not that bad. Don’t follow her lead and get any ideas about leaving me though.” He smiled as he took Eat, Pray, Love from my hands, placing it back on the shelf.
“Come here.” He took my hand in his and led me over to the bed. “Wine?” I nodded and he laughed.
“You can answer questions, Claire.” He uncorked a bottle and poured two glasses. “You just can’t initiate anything.” He handed me my drink.
I took several slow sips and smiled. It was the same wine I’d ordered on our first date—my favorite wine; he’d remembered.
Why is he so perfect?
“Did you have a good day at work today?” He eyed me as he set his glass down.
“Yes...”
“Anything interesting happen?”
My body was trembling uncontrollably again. No matter how hard I tried to control it, it wouldn’t stop.
“Claire?” He took my glass away and cupped my face in his hands. “Are you there?”
“It was okay...” I wished he would stop looking at me like that, like he wanted to devour me on the spot. “We let the associates go home early since their work has improved over the past few weeks. We’re still trying to figure out what approach we’re going to—”
“I honestly don’t give two f*cks about my company right now.” He crushed his lips onto mine and pushed me back onto the bed.
I shut my eyes as he caressed me, as he placed small kisses up and down my neck.
As he pulled my slip over my head, he whispered, “Open your eyes.” I hesitated a second before blinking them open, and when I did I was staring directly into his beautiful eyes.
He tossed the slip onto the floor and arched his brow. “You’re very tense today...” He shifted his body so he was lying next to me. “And you haven’t stopped shaking since we took a shower together.” He held one of my quaking palms up to make a point. “Are you that nervous?” I didn’t want to admit it, but I was.
“Hmmm.” He kissed my hand and stood up.
I watched him walk over to the closet and take out a small brown bottle.
“Lay on your stomach,” he said as he walked back over to me.
I rolled over, still trembling, and felt warm oill being poured onto my back. I exhaled as his palms spread it up and down my spine, as he spread it all over me.
Pressing his fingertips into my sides, he caressed me with a “back and forth” motion—over and over. Every now and then, he would leave a wet kiss against my skin, and he would follow up with another deep press of his hands.
“Does this relax you?” He kneaded the back of my thighs.
“Umm hmmm....”
“Are you still nervous?” He moved down to my calves, then to my ankles.
I didn’t answer the question. I was getting lost in the incredible sensations he was giving me.
He flipped me over and began applying pressure to my feet—using his thumbs to rub my heels.
“What does this cursive July 16th stand for?” he asked.
“The date of—” I gasped as he kissed my instep. “The date of my divorce.” He laughed. “And the white and red flags tattooed on your ankle? Just your fascination with flags?”
“Yes...”
“Okay.” He let go of my foot and began massaging his way back up my body—using the same sensual motions against the front of my thighs and my stomach, spending extra time to caress my breasts.
He smiled at me and left the bed again, putting the bottle away in the closet. Then he disappeared.
Minutes later, he came back into the room with a glass of ice and set it on the night stand.
I was tempted to ask what the ice was for, but he gave me a look that said, “I dare you.” I bit down on my bottom lip and watched as he grabbed a pillow from the other side of the bed, as he propped it underneath me.
Straddling me, he reached over and plucked an ice cube from the glass. “Let’s make sure you’re as relaxed as possible.” He rolled it between his fingertips, letting the cold droplets drip onto my chest.
Then he placed the cube onto my neck, slowly trailing it between my breasts—circling it around both of my hardening nipples.
“Ahhh...” I groaned as he took one of them into his mouth, sucking on it as he continued to tease the other one with ice. “Jonathan...”
“Shhh.” He switched positions and I shut my eyes, trying to stay as still as possible.
The next thing I felt was another ice cube, a larger one, drifting down past my breasts, and into my navel.
My stomach started to quiver again—not as intensely as it was before, but noticeable enough for Jonathan to hold me still and laugh.
“Relax, Claire.” He leaned over me and grabbed another cube. “I’m going to make you feel really good...” He placed the cube into his mouth and kissed the inside of my thighs, alternating between using his warm tongue and the cold ice.
The kisses started moving closer and closer, and then he slipped a finger inside of me, groaning at how wet I was.
He looked up at me one more time, and then he put his head down, gently brushing his tongue against my *.
I gasped and sat up, bringing my knees up to my chest. “Wait.”
“For?”
“I can’t...I’m not...Can we just have traditional sex?”
“No.” He rose up and glared at me, but I could tell he was slightly amused.
“I know this seems crazy because I’m not a virgin but...I told you this has never been done to me before...I didn’t honestly expect you to—”
“Claire...”
“I’m sure you would make it amazing. Actually, I know that you would, but—”
“Claire...”
“Yes?”
“Lay back down...”
I blinked. I couldn’t move.
“You’re going to make me ask you again?” He raised his eyebrow.
I blinked twice.
He shook his head and smiled. “Okay, Claire.” He walked over to where I was curled up on the bed and picked me up, tossing me over his shoulder.
He grabbed that cup of ice, and then he placed me at the edge of the bed. He lay me down against the mattress and untied the sash from his robe. Before I could figure out what he was doing, he spread my legs and tied my right one to the bed’s post. Then he reached inside his robe’s pocket and pulled out his tie, using it to hold down my left one.
I tugged at my legs, seeing if my movement would topple the posts, but it didn’t; they didn’t even rock.
“I should’ve known you would be difficult about this.” He kneeled between my legs with his cup of ice. “Do I need to tie your hands too?’
I shook my head.
“If you try to make me stop, I will tie them. Understand?”
“Yes...”
“Good.” He placed an ice cube in his mouth and leaned forward, pressing it against my lower stomach, moving it down lower and lower.
I moaned as two of his fingers plunged deep, and then I felt his tongue pressing the cube inside of me.
I gasped at the coldness, trying to squeeze my legs shut, but they wouldn’t move.
“Jonathan...” My voice was airy, strained. “Jonathan, stop...” He kept pushing the ice in and out of me, flicking his tongue against my lips as he did it, rendering me completely helpless.
“Oh—Oh my god...” I could feel it melting, could feel his tongue lapping up the drops. “Stop...” He ignored me. He began kissing my lips like he was kissing my mouth—driving his tongue deeper and deeper, softly biting down on my *—sucking on it as I writhed and pleaded for him to stop.
The pleasure was too intense, too raw, and my body was convulsing with every stroke of his tongue.
I reached down and threaded my fingers through his hair, too weak to push him away.
As he placed his hands underneath my thighs, slightly lifting me up for a better angle, his lashes became more forceful, more vigorous.
“Stop fighting it...” He drew my * into his mouth—rolling his tongue all around it, and I lost all sense of time.
I could hear myself screaming like I’d never screamed before—not sure how he could stand it, how he could keep torturing me like this.
“Come for me, Claire,” he whispered, refusing to relent his pleasurable kisses.
“Ahhh...I...I...” I felt him sucking me even harder—faster, and I couldn’t hold back anymore.
Every nerve in me exploded and my body began shuddering violently.
I clung to the sheets as my toes curled, as he made me cum harder than I’d ever cum in my life.
My breathing was out of control; my body was still quivering, struggling to come down from an extreme high.
“Claire?” I heard him say my name as he untied my legs, but I didn’t respond. I was too dazed, shocked. I could barely feel the kisses he was now placing against my stomach, against my chest.
As he moved on top of me, tremors were still making their way through my body. I tried to calm down, but I felt him sliding into me—filling me, and I gasped.
“Look at me,” he whispered, waiting for me to oblige.
I held my head up, looking into his eyes, and he pressed his lips against my cheek. “You’re mine...You’ll always be mine...”
He slowly pulled out of me, pushing his way back in, and for the first time there was nothing between us; we were skin to skin and I could feel a dramatic difference. I felt closer to him, more complete.
He took his time making love to me, holding my hands above my head as he pushed me into another mind-blowing climax.
Once my body stopped convulsing, he slipped his arms around me and kissed my lips. “Are you okay?” he asked.
I nodded because that’s all I could do.
When I finally regained some strength, I pressed myself closer to him and stared into his eyes.
I wasn’t sure how long we lay entwined together, or how long he held me tight and kissed me over and over again—telling me how beautiful I was.
Every second seemed to blur together, but at some point I felt him getting out of the bed.
My heart started to race. “Where are you going?” I cleared my throat, wincing when I felt how dry it was from screaming.
“To get some more ice.” He smiled. “We’re going to do that again...And then I’m going to punish you for talking.”