I found my place in the article once more and started reading about points two and three: Homemade sex tapes and weekend sex retreats.
My phone started ringing and I answered without looking at the screen. I was too wrapped up in reading about the benefits of using flavored condoms.
“Hello?”
“If you want to ride my dick that badly, you don’t have to wait. Where are you?”
Jonathan?! “You’re supposed to text back! Not call me! Why can’t you just text back like a normal—”
“Where. Are. You?”
My body tingled from the sound of his voice. “I’m at Whole Foods...”
“Which one?”
“The one on Fourth Street...”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Go to your car and get in the back seat.” He hung up.
Ugh. Fuck Cosmo... They clearly didn’t interview any “Jonathan Statham” types...
“Ma’am? Ma’am?” The cashier looked at me. “You can start unloading your cart now...”
“Um, actually...I need to get something else...”
I pushed my cart out of line and parked it in the soft drinks aisle. I headed to the restroom and looked myself over: Pink collared shirt, light blue jeans, slightly tousled hair.
My cheeks were bright red and my body was aching—longing to be touched; I had to silently scold myself to calm down.
Am I really this insatiable? Am I as bad as he is?
I took a deep breath and walked out, taking my time to get through the store and into the parking lot. I found my car and fumbled around in my purse for the keys, dropping them to the ground.
I bent down to pick them up, but Jonathan grabbed them before I could.
“Good afternoon, Claire,” he whispered against my neck, setting my nerves on fire.
“Hi...”
He kept the keys in his hand and unlocked the back door. “You first.”
I stepped inside and scooted over to the window. He stepped in after me and shut the door.
I looked away, but he reached over and tilted my face towards him. I was literally trembling in anticipation, wondering when he would start ripping my clothes off.
Instead, he simply looked into my eyes, tracing his fingertips along my jawline—along my lips. Without breaking gaze with me, he slid closer and gently dragged my headband away from my hair. He tossed it towards the front seat and cupped my face in his hands, still staring into my eyes, making me wet while barely touching me.
“What made you text me that today?” he asked, dropping his hands to unbutton my jeans.
“I was trying to do the sexting thing...”
“The sexting thing?” He pushed my pants down.
“Yes. You were supposed to text me back. Then, we were supposed to send sexy messages back and forth all day so—”
“I don’t do sexting.” He unbuckled his belt and slid out of his pants.
“Why not?”
“I prefer to bypass the bullshit.” He laid me across the seat and tugged my pants to my ankles. “What were the exact words of your text again?”
“Pull out your phone and look it up.”
“Excuse me?”
“I didn’t stutter...”
“Neither did I.” He raised his eyebrow. “I’m only going to ask you one more time.”
“Good, because I’m going to give you the exact same answer.”
He smiled as he slid my shirt over my head. “You make things so f**king difficult sometimes. We need to work on changing that.” He flipped me over on my stomach before I could say something back.
“Ahhhh...” I felt him giving my ass a soft slap and snapping my bra off.
My breath caught in my throat once I felt him tying my hands behind my back with his belt, once I heard him unwrapping a condom.
“Do you get some type of pleasure out of being difficult?” He slipped two fingers inside of me.
“No...”
“Are you sure?” He tightened the belt around my wrists. “You sure you don’t enjoy it?”
“Yes... I’m sure...”
“I’m not.” He slowly slid his dick into me—not all the way, just enough to make me murmur, enough to make me regret not answering his question.
He planted kisses on my bound hands, running his tongue across my wrists, gently biting each of my fingertips. He ran his hands along my sides and sighed, placing light kisses in the groove of my back.
I tried to stifle my moans but I couldn’t; he knew my body too well.
“Admit that you like being difficult.” He slid into me a little further.
“I don’t...”
“Then tell me what your text said.”
“It said that I—” I screamed as he buried himself deep inside of me, as he kept my body pinned down to the seat with his arms. “Ohhh...Jonathannnn...”
“Tell. Me. What. Your Text. Said.” He pounded into me over and over, never giving me the chance to catch a breath. He repeated his question, more sternly this time, and forcefully tugged my hair back with each stroke.
“I...” I felt him slapping my ass and my clit throbbed with insane pleasure.
“Do you need a hint?”
“No...”
“Then say it.” He slowed his pace, but he kept thrusting in and out of me and pulling my hair.
“It said that...that...”
“Yes?”
“That I...”