Asking for It

Page 44

“You—just get it over with, please get it over with. ”

“But say it. I want you to say it. ” Jonah grabs my free hand around the wrist, holding it over my head. He’s going to take whatever he wants. Making me ask for it is just one more way he proves he’s in total control. “You want to get back in your car and go home? Then tell me. Tell me to fuck you as hard as I can. ”

Merely hearing the words brings me back to the brink. I’m dizzy and flushed, entirely helpless. My voice is hardly more than a whisper as I say, “Fuck me as hard as you can. ”

Jonah rams his full length into me. His hands go to my waist and grip me tightly as he starts to pump into me, each stroke as brutal as the last. I cry out—one long cry I can’t control—as my blood rushes to my cunt. The sensation spirals, soars—and then my cry turns into a scream as I come. My head swirls in the rush of pure ecstasy, and I writhe beneath him as every muscle of my body surrenders to the intensity of my orgasm.

He knows what he’s done to me. But Jonah just says, “I’m just giving you what you asked for. ” Then he speeds up, and the only sounds are his heavy breaths, my whimpers, and the wet slap of our bodies. By now I’m limp and dizzy, a completely passive body for him to use.

So he uses me. Jonah lifts my pelvis up slightly so he can thrust even deeper—I didn’t think that was possible—and then grimaces. He slides in slower, once, then goes totally still. He shuts his eyes as his mouth falls open. Then his fingers sink into my flesh, and a shudder goes through him.

Already I know I love to watch him come.

After he sucks in a couple of deep breaths, Jonah pulls out. “Get dressed,” he says roughly. “And get in your car. I’ll see what I can do. ”

I pull up the front of my sundress but don’t bother with the zipper. As I feel around the floorboards, my fingers find my panties, still wet. The red heels are easy enough to step into, but my legs wobble beneath me as I get out of Jonah’s car and walk toward my own.

Had I ever thought that if we did it again, it wouldn’t be as good as the first time? In some ways tonight was even better. Jonah knows how my mind works. Without my ever having to tell him, he knows how to be the dark, dangerous man of my fantasies. How many different scenarios could he play out?

I want all of them.

I sink into my car and shut the door. Leaning forward, I brace my forehead against the steering wheel and try to catch my breath. I’m flushed and woozy. Next time I should bring a cold bottle of water with me, for after.

But next time could be anywhere . . .

The passenger-side door opens, and Jonah gets in. At first I think he’s going to role-play the end of it, telling me he’s fixed my car so I can go home. Instead he gently brushes a lock of hair from my sweaty face. “Are you all right?”

I nod. “That was—amazing. ”

“Yeah. It was. ”

“It’s like—like you read my mind that night we met. You did everything I dreamed you might do to me. ”

“And you gave in even more perfectly than I dared to imagine. ” Jonah’s hand slides down my bare shoulder, a lover’s caress. “God, you have no idea how good it feels. The way you trembled the first time I touched you—”

He gets off on my fear, or my simulation of it. Shouldn’t that be enough to make me frightened of him for real? But I crave him just the same. Jonah pushes me past my limits, and I want him to.

I tilt my head and smile at him. “Not going on any more trips to the South Pole?”

Jonah laughs—the first natural, easy laugh I’ve heard from him. “No. I haven’t got anything scheduled. ”

“So we don’t have to wait a month for the next time?”

“I don’t intend to wait nearly that long. ” His pale gaze drifts to the loose bodice of my sundress, like he might peel it off me again this second. “What do you want, next time? Where? When?”

There is no end to what I want from Jonah. We could fuck every night for a year and I still wouldn’t have run out of fantasies for him to fulfill.

Yet the fantasy itself is about losing control. And Jonah knows me so well—or his desires match mine so closely—that I don’t have to give him instructions. All I have to do is turn myself over to him, completely.

How can I best fulfill his fantasies? By giving him the most control. The most power.

“Next time,” I whisper, “—surprise me. ”

“You mean . . . just find you when you’re not expecting it. Take you wherever you are. ”