His hands go to the sides of my panties as he tears the fabric. I feel the remnants fall away as Jonah roughly pulls my thigh to one side, parting my legs.
“Hold your dress,” he commands, pushing the fabric into my hands. “Let me see you. Show your naked ass off like the whore you are.” So I stand there, silk clenched between my fingers, exposed before him like something he can decide whether to buy. I hear the sound of his belt being unbuckled, the purr of his zipper, the rustle of a condom packet opening. “I’m not done with you yet. And if I hear so much as a whimper, you’re going to take it twice as hard.”
Silently, I wonder whether I’d better keep quiet—or whether I want to find out just how hard Jonah can give it to me tonight.
Jonah must have one hand wrapped around the base of his cock, because he trails the head along the cleft of my ass, rubbing back and forth. Then I feel his fingers sliding in from behind me, knuckle-deep in my cunt. He pushes them in and out, obviously relishing the slick sound of it, before pulling his hand out again.
“So wet,” he whispers. His hand curves around the front of my throat, fingers still warm and sticky. “I knew you wanted it.”
And he thrusts inside, in one savage motion.
My entire body tenses. Jonah’s width and length stretches me, tests me, makes me burn. His grip around my throat tightens, not enough to cut off my air, but enough to suggest the threat. Jonah holds me in place as he starts to move in long, hard strokes. My body still reels in the aftershock of my orgasm, and the renewed pressure of Jonah’s cock inside me brings me back to the brink in mere seconds. As responsive as I am, I’ve never come twice this close together. But Jonah’s going to bring me there.
From where he holds me against the wall, the side of my face pressed to the plaster, I can see our shadows painted blurrily on the floor by the few lights far overhead. Our shapes are elongated, stretched thin. As Jonah pumps into me, faster and faster, I watch the undulation of his shadow. I watch him dominate me. Use me.
Just beyond the curtain, people laugh and talk, completely unaware that only a few feet away, I’m spread out against a wall, being fucked mercilessly.
His breathing has become ragged. He tightens his hand around my throat—unconsciously this time, I think. Jonah’s getting close. If I want to come with him, I need more, and I know how to get it.
My tongue traces my open lips before I whimper, “No.”
This time the choke hold around my neck is real. As I gasp for air, Jonah says, “I warned you.”
He spins me around, making me gasp, then forces me face-first onto the table. My feet remain on the floor; he has me bent at a ninety-degree angle, which means that when he yanks up my skirt again, I’m completely exposed to him. Then Jonah starts to pound into me, so hard it feels as if he wants to break me. He might. The table creaks and rocks beneath me; I grip the edges to hang on as his free hand once again finds my throat. I can breathe—barely—but his grip keeps me dizzy and light-headed. It sharpens the edge of my fear. Jonah fucks me, and he fucks me and then I’m coming again, pulsing hard around his cock as he remains totally still. My entire body shudders with the force of it. It’s like I can’t see, or move; if I were still pressed into the wall instead of on this table, I think I’d fall. Only after a moment do I get enough of my mind back to realize that Jonah’s breathing slower. His cock twitches once inside me, and I realize he came at the exact moment I did.
Jonah’s fingers release my neck as he leans back. Gently he strokes a soft cloth between my legs—a handkerchief, I guess—cleaning me before he pulls my skirt down. I sit up, my arms shaking. This time, when Jonah pulls me to him, his hands are gentle, his touch soft. I brace myself against his chest, letting my head loll back as I breathe slow and deep. By now a faint sheen of sweat covers my skin; he brushes loose tendrils of hair away from my forehead.
“All right?” he whispers. I’ll never get over how much his voice changes when we shift from fantasy to reality.
“Yeah.”
“Did you like your surprise?”
“Very much.” I look up at him then, so that our eyes meet. Jonah’s breathing as hard as I am, but his openmouthed grin is one of triumph. Why not? I would call this whole arrangement the definition of a win-win scenario.
We find a trash can for his condom and the remnants of my underwear. Then it’s smooth, tuck, zip, check. When he’s pulled together, he brushes the green silk of my gown with his fingertips. “Hope I didn’t wreck your dress.”