Silver. Say silver. End it here and now. Jonah might be pissed off, but he’d walk away. Wouldn’t he? If he didn’t, at least people would be around. I could yell and scream, and somebody would call hotel security. I could pay him back for the room. It’s not too late to stop this. It’s not too late.
We reach the sixteenth floor. I fish my key card out of my glittery evening clutch as I go to the door. Jonah walks right behind me, saying nothing.
I slide the key card in and out. The light turns green. As I open the door, Jonah leans against the wall just beside me. “Looks like you really are on your own.”
It’s not too late—
But it is. It’s been too late for me for a long time. This is who I am. This is what I want. It’s time to finally face it.
“Excuse me.” I walk inside. As I’d expected, Jonah follows me. He shuts the door hard behind us, and we’re alone. I ought to protest. I should keep playing my role. Instead all I can do is stare at him, standing between me and escape.
Jonah stands there for a long moment, breathing hard. He’s completely turned on—completely ready to claim me—and yet he says nothing. I realize he’s giving me one more chance to speak up. One last out.
I don’t take it.
“What are you doing?” I manage to whisper.
He grins, slow and hot. “Taking what’s mine.”
Eight
Jonah backs me against the wall.
“You like being a cocktease, don’t you?” He slams his hands on either side of me, so that I’m imprisoned by his arms. His muscular body is only inches from mine. “Dress like a whore, get guys to buy you drinks, and then leave them hanging. That’s your game. You’re not doing that to me.”
“Please—” I can’t think of anything else to say. I’ve almost never been this scared, and I know I’ve never been this turned on.
“Shut up,” Jonah says. His voice is quiet, contemptuous. “You don’t talk. There are better things you can do with that mouth.”
This is what he wanted—my total silence, his total control. I surrender without a word.
He grips my wrist. I can feel the pressure all the way through my flesh to my bones. A whimper escapes my lips; Jonah ignores it. He presses my palm against the erection that’s straining the fabric of his jeans, then rubs it up and down the length of his cock. His flesh is hot even through the denim. “Feel that? You did that. You got me hard, so now you have to get me off.”
Oh, my God, he’s huge. Can I even take that inside me?
He’s going to rip me apart. I ought to be scared. Instead I’m so wet it’s slicking my thighs.
“Take it out,” Jonah says. “Take my cock out of my pants. Do it.”
My hands shake as I fumble with the zipper, open the front of his boxers. His cock slips free, jutting into my palm. He’s thick, too.
“Lick your lips. I want your lips wet when they’re on my cock.”
My lips are still sweet from the cosmopolitans. As my tongue traces around my mouth, Jonah breathes out, hard, like I’d just punched him in the gut.
One of his hands fists in my hair. I wince, but Jonah just smiles. He pulls me down by the hair until I fall to my knees. His enormous dick is in my face.
He growls, “Open your goddamned mouth.”
I have no choice. I have to obey.
Jonah pushes forward. His girth forces me to open my jaw all the way; it’s all I can do even to get him inside my mouth. The velvety head is almost into my throat, and I feel like he could choke me like this. I can hardly breathe.
“Suck it.”
I try. He’s so huge that I can hardly use my tongue, but I bob my head back and forth, doing the best I can.
“Look at me.” Jonah’s voice is low. “You look at my face when you suck my cock, do you hear me?”
My eyes go up to his. He’s breathing hard and unbuttoning his shirt with his free hand. The white fabric falls aside, exposing the muscles of his powerful chest. His jaw is set, his lips curled in a mocking smile. The hand in my hair tightens further, until his grip borders on pain.
“Harder. And use your fucking hands. Do me like you mean it.”
I suck harder. Salty pre-come slicks the inside of my mouth, moistens my lips. With one hand I brace myself against his leg—his thigh muscles rock-hard. With the other I start working him, twisting my fist around him with every stroke, pumping his cock. I can feel every vein, every throb.
“I’m teaching you a lesson,” he says. “You don’t dress like a whore and go to bars unless you want to get fucked.”
Pre-come floods my mouth, and I think he’s going to finish any moment. Instead he pulls out, leaving me coughing and gasping for air. Jonah’s so hard it’s got to hurt—his cock swollen and dark—but he holds me there a few long seconds.
He doesn’t want to come yet. That would be letting me off easy.
“Pull your dress down,” he says. “I want to see those tits.”
I tug down the front of my dress, just enough to expose my nipples. With his free hand he slaps at my breast. The impact stings, and I flinch.