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We say almost nothing on the drive. It helps preserve the angry mood.
At one point, though, Jonah mutters, “You know you can say the safe word at any moment. ”
Silver. “Of course I know. ”
He’s going to give it to me rough. Right now I want him so badly I can taste it.
Up until now, I’ve had no idea where Jonah lives. He drives us into the heart of downtown, to the edge of Lake Austin. A few high-rises here host luxury apartments, the kind of accommodations most students can’t afford—or most professors, either. I’ve never even walked inside one. Jonah grabs a bronze-colored card from his sun visor and buzzes us into the parking garage almost without slowing down.
All the vehicles here are sports cars, status symbols; Jonah’s sedan looks modest compared to the Mercedeses and Jaguars parked in each spot. Yet one garage is very like another. Once we’re parked, we walk through the same dark, echoing concrete you’d see anywhere else.
He grabs my arm again, pulling me along faster. “It’s quiet. This late, nobody would see. Should I fuck you here?”
It’s Halloween. People will be out and about—which means they’ll be coming in at all hours. “No. We shouldn’t—”
Jonah pushes me against the nearest pylon, hard enough that I have to steady myself to stay on my feet. “I’ll fuck you here if I want to. It’s not up to you, is it?”
The game has intensified. We’re working out something through our fantasy, even though real anger should probably never play a role in what we do. But that edge of anger only makes me want him more. “No,” I whisper. “It’s up to you. ”
Apparently satisfied, Jonah drags me with him into the building.
He turns a key so we can ride the elevator to the penthouse floor. When the doors slide open, they reveal the large, shadowed space of his apartment; Jonah is the only one on the top level.
So I can scream or struggle all I want. No one will hear.
“Take your goddamned clothes off,” Jonah says. He starts stripping off his scrubs, right there in front of the elevator door.
I obey. The space is too dark for me to see much, besides the city lights of Austin shining through the windows. I can tell his apartment is enormous, though, open-concept—so I’m standing in the middle of a vast, murky room I don’t know. Trembling, I ditch my shoes and socks, push my skirt down to the floor, then lift my peasant blouse over my head. Now I’m only in a strapless bra and panties.
Before I can remove those too, Jonah steps close to me and grips both my arms, holding me fast. He’s stark naked, his erection jutting between us. The dim light from the city outside shows me little more than how big he is, how muscular—how futile it would be for me to fight him. That, and the anger in his eyes.
Tonight, for the first time, Jonah’s fury is absolutely real.
Surely this is when he’ll start calling me names. Slut. Whore. Bitch. In my mind I can hear his voice growling those words.
But tonight I learn that when Jonah is truly angry, he falls completely silent.
His silence is scarier than anything he could ever say.
The hardwood floor slams against my knees when he shoves me down. He grabs my hair, hard, to hold me in place as he pushes his cock inside my mouth. If he would slow down, I’d try to suck him off, but nothing I do is enough for Jonah. He keeps thrusting, relentless, going deep enough that I cough and sputter for breath around his cock.
Jonah could hurt me. He wants to hurt me. Say silver, or snap your fingers. Make him stop.
I don’t.
The sheer force Jonah uses on me stuns me. All I can do is kneel there, mouth open, letting myself be used. I whimper in both fear and desire. That’s when he pulls out and yanks me to my feet again.
“Jonah—” But I can’t think of what to say, and he doesn’t give me a chance to say it. Instead he pushes me forward until I make contact with something low and leather. A bench or ottoman, maybe.
He tugs me against his chest and whispers the first words he’s said since the garage. “On your knees. ”
By now I’m shaking. But I do what Jonah demands. I climb onto the bench and kneel there, waiting. Everything around me is darkness.
I feel something slide around my arms—a belt, I realize, as the leather tightens. Jonah has bound my wrists behind me. Never before has he bound me; the thrill of fear I feel only sharpens my desire. By now my fear and arousal are so overpowering that it’s as if I’m drunk. He yanks back on the belt, nearly knocking me off balance, and I cry out. His hand slides down the center of my back, a touch that I know means possession.