Page 95
Jonah’s the only man who ever made my entire mind splinter like this. Because I can’t speak. I can’t think. I don’t know what to feel. All I know is that he’s pumping me hard now, so deep inside me that it seems like—like there’s nothing left of me except my body, and my body is completely his—even the arousal arcing inside me, more and more powerful, that belongs to him too—
My cunt contracts, and my orgasm crashes over me, through me, a tidal wave of pure ecstasy. My ass clenches around Jonah’s cock, and I hear his low, cruel laugh of triumph. He did this to me, fucked me up the ass and made me come long and hard and good while he did it.
That’s it. He’s won. He could never own me more than he does right now. And I glory in my own defeat.
Jonah plunges into me again, his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of me. “Not done yet, baby. Not nearly done yet. ”
And the vibration isn’t done with me either. Already I feel arousal building inside me again. Surely I can’t come again this fast. I can’t. Yet the vibrator’s inexorable stimulation continues rippling through me, demanding my response.
He keeps pumping into me. Stretching me out. Violating me in the most degrading way a man can force a woman—and making me love it.
Every single flutter of the vibrator between my legs brings me closer to the brink.
“Oh, God,” I whisper against the mattress, in mingled surrender and shame. “Oh, oh—”
It crashes into me like white noise and white light and oblivion. I come so hard it makes me convulse beneath him, and Jonah laughs out loud in his triumph.
No one else could ever master me like this. Only Jonah.
He whispers, “Slut. ” And then he grunts and shoves inside me to the hilt, shuddering as his own orgasm takes him.
For a moment I lie there, vibration now almost painful against my overstimulated clit. But Jonah leans back—slides out—and slips the vibrator out too.
“You’ll beg me for that again later. You’re going to beg me for all kinds of things. ” He unleashes my ankles and turns the vibrator off, setting it aside. I’m too limp and weak to resist or even to move. “Now you’re going to shower for me. I want to watch you. Then you’ll come back here and get tied with your legs open again. So anytime I want to use you, I can. ”
Jonah slips my wrists free, drags me to my feet—
—and my cell phone rings.
The sound of that ringtone—the one I assigned to Chloe after our last awkward phone conversation—jolts me almost entirely out of the fantasy. He must have brought in my duffel bag when he walked away for a few seconds, because the ring is close, maybe by the door. Jonah’s growl of frustration is completely real. How could I have forgotten to turn the ringer off?
“Are your friends wondering where you are?” Jonah runs his hand over one of my breasts, pulls at my nipple. “They’re never, ever going to know. I’m going to shut off your phone so we don’t get disturbed again. ”
The ringing stops. Thank God. Chloe will leave her voice mail, and Jonah and I can slip back into the fantasy. He walks me through the living room into the bathroom, which is basic tile, stark and white. Trembling, I step into the shower where I’ll have to perform for him—
—which is when the damned phone rings again. And it’s still Chloe.
Chloe would always rather leave a voice mail. Always. She wouldn’t keep calling back if this were any ordinary call.
This is important.
Something’s wrong.
“Silver. ” I turn to Jonah and repeat the safe word. “Silver. ”
Instantly he releases my arms. His expression shifts in an instant, no longer the angry, brutal master. Now he’s Jonah again, and I’m me. “What’s going on?”
“My sister. She never calls twice like that. ”
I head toward the sound of the ring. My legs are still shaky; my breathing is still too quick. I slump to my knees on the floor before I unzip my duffel. Although the ringing stops in the instant before I grab the phone, I immediately hit the key to return her call. She picks up instantly. I say, “Chloe? It’s me. What is it?”
“Thank God I got you. ” Chloe doesn’t sound sarcastic. She’s totally sincere. This is bad.
“What happened?” I whisper. “Tell me. ”
“Dad had a cardiac arrest. Tomorrow they have to do open-heart surgery. They don’t know if he’s going to live. ”
Twenty-eight
I was shattered before Chloe called. Now I’m—I don’t know what I am.