by Lauren Rowe
Oh man. We’re definitely not on the same page here. “I want you so bad right now, Jonas P. Faraday. I wanna touch your naked body and run my hands through your hair and roll around in a big pile of feathers with you,” I say brightly.
Jonas stops dead in his tracks and stares at me, his lips parted with surprise. “Sarah, are you on something?” he whispers.
I giggle and put my hand over my mouth.
“Jesus Christ, Sarah.” He looks around briefly. “You’re on something?”
I nod and bite my lip.
“Holy fuck,” he says. His eyes blaze like he’s ready to murder someone. “Don’t say a fucking word until we’re safely in our hotel room. Do you understand me? Not a single fucking word.”
“Word.”
“Sarah. Goddammit—”
“Okay, okay. But what if I say I want to take off all my clothes and rub myself against you from head to toe and sit on your face?”
He grabs my shoulders. “Sarah. This isn’t a joke. Don’t say a word. Not here. Not in the cab. Not in the lobby of the hotel. Not a fucking word until we’re safely in our hotel room—do you understand?”
I touch his face. “You’re so beautiful, Jonas P. Faraday. You’re like a Greek god—have I ever told you that? I’m so in love with you—now more than ever.”
He grabs my wrist roughly and pulls my hand off his face. He leans into my ear. “We’re gonna be fucked if we get stopped. This is fucking Thailand, Sarah. I’m not gonna tell you again. Shut the fuck up and don’t say another motherfucking word.” He’s absolutely seething with rage.
I nod. He’s so sexy when he’s angry.
He yanks on me roughly and pulls me to the front of the club, tossing tiny Thai people out of his way as he goes.
I know in my brain he’s mad at me, but I can’t help but feel sheer elation, regardless. Being on that stage was just pure euphoria—and now I’m going back to my hotel room with the man I love more than life itself to make love to him and feel him touching my skin. Oh man, that’s a good night, bitches. I’ve never felt like this before. So carefree. So unfiltered. So bad. It feels amay-zing.
Jonas keeps pulling on me, his taut muscles leading the way. Holy fuckballs. He’s hot. I just want to roll my naked body all over his bare flesh and lick his balls and suck his dick and sit on his face and then dance through a big pile of leaves while singing “Dancing Queen.” And then curl up in his lap and let him sing “Take Me to Church” to me—off-key, of course. Oh God, I’m the luckiest girl in the whole wide world. My husband loves me and I love him. I’m mustard, bitches. Enough said. Except that it’s not enough said. Not at all. “Mustard,” I say out loud, my body slack as Jonas pulls me along through the crowd. “Mustard, bitches.” I laugh. “Bee-yotches. Mu-u-u-u-s-tard.”
Jonas stops and puts his hand over my mouth. “Stop,” he says. “I’m warning you. Shut the fuck up.”
I shake my head. Or should I be nodding? What did he say, again?
I nod and flash him a thumbs-up with my free hand. I’ll be a good girl.
And my thumbs are telling the truth. I’ll be a very good girl. Starting now.
Yup, I’m a very good girl as Jonas pulls me through the doors of the club into the warm night; and a supremely well behaved chickadee as he stands next to me on the sidewalk, trying to hail us a cab in this crazy effing city; and an exemplary female specimen when he roughly shoves me into the back seat of a taxi (even though, quite frankly, I’m mightily disappointed he didn’t grope my ass when he pushed me into the cab). But once we’re safely ensconced inside the back of the taxi, my entire body relaxes and I melt into the car seat. “Oh, man, I feel like—”
“Ssh.” Jonas literally gags me with his fingers, instantly shutting me up. I giggle and start sucking on his finger. He looks like he’s going to explode with anger, but he doesn’t remove his finger—which makes me giggle and suck even more.
Jonas glares at me—but I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, if a grown woman sucking on your finger in the back of a taxi in Bangkok doesn’t make you smile, you really should take a chill-pill.
The car pulls up to the front of our hoity-toity hotel and Jonas pulls his finger out of my mouth. I’m about to speak, but he covers my lips with his palm and shakes his head, commanding me not to speak. I wink at him and he flashes me a look of pure rage.
Once we’re inside our suite in the hotel, Jonas shuts the door behind us with a loud bang and whips around to face me, his eyes blazing. Uh oh. He’s only looked at me this way once before: the time I went off plan with Max and Oksana in Las Vegas.
“Jeez, Jonas,” I say. “You look like you wanna—”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Jonas yells. “I’m so fucking furious at you right now, I don’t even trust myself to come near you.” He crosses his arms over his muscled chest, shaking with his rage.
“Oh,” I purr, my arousal spiking. “You’re so hot right now, baby. Just look at how your biceps are bulging. Wow.” My clit is suddenly thumping inside my panties.
“What are you on?”
I bite my lip. “Um.”
“What the fuck are you on, Sarah?”
“Well. Gosh. Let’s see. Hmm. Well, first off. I drank a shitload of champagne, thanks to my sweet, hunky-monkey husband.” I wink at him, but he’s not the least bit amused. I clear my throat. “Then I had some more champagne and a couple shots in the club. And then I was OAP Cruz—which you undoubtedly saw—and I frickin’ killed it, by the way. Ka-bam, bitches! ‘Crash into me with that thang, yo, yo; back it up and do it again.’” I shake my ass like I’m a back-up dancer for Beyoncé, but Jonas remains stone-faced. I laugh. He’s so silly. “Wasn’t that awesome tonight, baby?”
Jonas gesticulates wildly. “What the fuck are you on?”
“Hey, you’re gesticulating, baby,” I say. “Gest-i-cu-late. Almost as good as spelunking. Gest-ick-yoo-laaaaaate,” I say, letting the word roll off my tongue like I’m saying something very dirty. “Oh, I know. Kuuuumquaaaat.”
“Sarah, oh my God. You’re insane right now. Focus.”
I focus on his beautiful face. “Okay. I’m focusing.”
“Did you smoke pot?”
“Oh, why, yes. Thank you for asking. I smoked some weed with my homeys in the dressing room, ’cause that’s how we rappers dooz it after a show. And then, right after that, I popped a teeny-tiny magic pill—something I’ve never done before in my entire life, you know, because I’m usually a very, very good girl.” I smile. “And now, I must say, my dirty girl just wants to touch you and suck your dick.” I stick out my tongue, inviting him to slide his cock right onto it like a hot dog on a bun.
Jonas looks utterly flabbergasted. “Holy shit. Did you take Ecstasy?”
I nod and move to him. “Yes, sir, baby-sir. The culmination of human possibility.” I run my hands through his hair. “That’s how the Greeks defined it. Ecstasyyyyyyyy.”
He grabs my hands out of his hair and pins them to my sides. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Sarah? What. The. Fuck!”
I laugh. “I dunno.”
“This is so far from funny. Who the fuck gave it to you? Was it Will?”
I nod and giggle. “Will is my new bestie.”
“This isn’t funny at all, Sarah. Not at all. Oh my God.”
I pull the second white pill out of my pocket. “Well, you might think it’s a whole lot funnier if you take this.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Jonas grabs the pill out of my hand and marches into the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush. He storms back into the room. “Are you fucking insane?”
I shrug. “Quite possibly.”
“Who the fuck are you right now? And what have you done with my wife?”
I laugh. “I’m Sarah Faraday, baby. Your loyal and loving wife. Always.” I grin.
“Do you have anything else?”
I shake my head.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing but love for you.”
“He didn’t give you anything else?”
I shake my head. Or should I be nodding? No, I’m pretty sure shaking my head is what makes sense right now.
“In your pockets?”
I shake my head again, trying to keep myself from smiling.
“Anything in your purse?”
“Nothing else, Jonas. Jeez.” I walk toward him. “I just want to touch you.” I put my hands into his hair again. “So soft,” I say. “Delicious. I want you to brush your soft hair over my nipples, okay, baby? Rub your head against my nipples and—”
He grabs my hands abruptly. “I can’t believe you did this. We’re in fucking Thailand, Sarah. Jesus. Of all the places in the whole fucking world to go completely off the rails and act like a complete fucking idiot—you pick Thailand?”
I shrug. “Sure looks that way.”
“Holy fuck, listen to me.” He shakes his head. “I cannot believe this is happening.”
I laugh and reach for his face. “I just wanna touch you, Jonas—”
“Stop. No.” He grabs my wrists again, his nostrils flaring. “Don’t you understand what could have happened? Cops in Thailand are notoriously corrupt, always looking for a bribe, especially from Westerners.”
God, his lips are so beautiful when he speaks.
“They can stop you for any reason or no reason at all and make you do a pee-test.”
How is it possible he’s even more gorgeous than when I first met him?
He releases my wrists and I immediately touch his face again. “Stop it, Sarah.” He grasps my wrists again. “Listen to me. If a pee-test comes back positive, you’re fucked—totally at the cops’ mercy. They can demand any amount of money from you, throw you in jail for however long, do whatever the fuck they want to you.” He releases my wrists. “And you never know who’s snitching to cops—taxi drivers, hotel clerks—you never fucking know.”
Oh my God, he truly is a work of art. I touch his face. God, this man makes me so freaking happy. I love him so, so much. I touch his luscious lips as he tells me something about taxi drivers and hotel clerks—exactly what, I’m not sure.
He pulls my hands off him. “You wanna spend five years in a Thai prison, Sarah?”
I’ve been watching his beautiful mouth move all this time, not listening to the words he’s saying, and now, all of a sudden, there’s silence. His lips have stopped moving. Is he waiting for some sort of reply from me?
“Well?” he finally asks.
Oh, hmm. Sure seems like he expects a response from me. I nod.
His face flashes acute anger.
Oops. Wrong answer. I shake my head.
Jonas looks up at the ceiling. “Never in a million years did I think you of all people would ever do something this fucking stupid.” He shakes his head again. “Who the fuck am I married to, Miley fucking Cyrus? Fuck.”
“Will told me the pill would give me the most amazing orgasm, and I—”
“What the fuck?” he booms. He makes a sound that reminds me of a volcano erupting. “That motherfucker talked to you about having an orgasm?”
Wowzer-cats. Jonas’ face just ignited into a five-alarm fire.
I nod and then shake my head, not remembering which is the right answer. What were we talking about again?
“Will promised you an amazing orgasm, did he?” He’s trembling with his rage.
Holy crappola. If Jonas were any other man looking at me this way, I’d cover my head with my arms in anticipation of getting smacked across the face.
He takes a huge breath, obviously trying to calm the rage coursing through his body. The “external jugular vein” in his neck (which I can confidently identify thanks to my run-in with a certain Ukrainian hitman in a bathroom) is bulging like crazy.
“You’re so freaking beautiful, Jonas, especially when you’re angry,” I say. “I love you so much.” I begin unbuttoning his jeans. “I’m gonna give you the blowjob of your life to apologize for how bad I’ve been tonight.”
He grabs my hands roughly. “Stop. Sarah. Just stop. Listen to me.”
I nod.
“I don’t even know where to begin with you. Will you just listen for a second?”
I nod again, but I move my hands to his pants again.
He grips my wrists. “Stop.”
I nod.
“You’re gonna behave and let me talk to you.”
I nod.
He releases my hands and I immediately reach for his face. “You’re so beautiful, Jonas.”
He pulls my hands off him again. He’s never touched me so roughly before. It’s turning me on. “Stop it, Sarah. This isn’t funny.”
But I won’t stop. All I want to do is touch, touch, touch him. I reach for his face again.
“Jesus Fucking Christ.” He rips my hands off his face and marches into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a waist-tie from one of the white fluffy bathrobes hanging by the bathroom door. He grabs me by the waist and throws me onto the bed with a loud grunt, making me squeal, and before I can say or do a damned thing, he pulls my hands over my head and ties my wrists to the headboard. “You’re gonna listen to me, goddammit.”
My body is exploding with desire at the sensation of Jonas straddling me and tying me up. Oh, wow, I’m warping and fluttering from deep, deep inside. “Oh, Jonas,” I say, straining against the ties on my wrists. I moan and buck underneath Jonas’ hulking body on top of me and, out of nowhere, an orgasm slams into me. I close my eyes and moan loudly ’til the outrageous pleasure in my panties subsides, and when I open my eyes, his smoldering blue eyes are fixed on my face in shock.
“I just had a little orgasm,” I say, grinning. “Delicious.”
His breathing hitches. And just like that, I feel his hard-on awaken on top of me.
I raise my pelvis into the hard bulge behind his jeans. “Be mad at me tomorrow, baby. Don’t waste what I’m feeling right now. It’s too good. Fuck me now, before this stuff wears off. Come on.” I grind my pelvis into him, my wrists straining against their bindings again.
He’s got that Jonas is a Great White Shark look in his eyes and there’s no doubt in my mind he wants to fuck my brains out. Clearly, he’s pissed at me. Very, very pissed. But he’s also totally turned on.
“Do it, Jonas. Whatever you’re thinking right now. Do it.” I strain against the ties around my wrists again and gyrate on the bed.
He exhales and closes his eyes. “Fuck.” He leaps off the bed and grabs his laptop. After a few seconds, “Psycho” by Muse begins blaring in the room.
“That’s it,” I coax. “Let your crazy out, baby.” I writhe on the bed.
He rips his shirt off and throws it onto the floor. “He called you OAP, Sarah. In front of the whole fucking world.” His voice is as intense as I’ve ever heard it—and that’s saying a lot. “What the fuck did you tell him?”
I bite my lip. Holy Jealous Husband, Batman. That look on Jonas’ face right now is so effing hot, so freaking primal, all I want to do is unbutton his pants and take his hard-on into my mouth. I shake my head, trying to order my thoughts. “I told him I’m a spin-rapper. And that my name should be OAP Cruz.”
“That’s it?”
I nod.
“I saw the way he was looking at you from across the balcony, Sarah.”
He unbuttons his jeans and his hard-on springs out, its tip already glistening with wetness.
“Jonas, I’m fluttering at the sight of you. I’m so sensitive right now. Baby, please.”
He removes his jeans and briefs. Oh good lord, he’s naked and glorious. His muscles are rippling. His dick is as hard as a rock.
But he doesn’t straddle me again. He just stands over me, naked, letting me whimper for him.
“I knew he was gonna walk across the room and sit down next to you. I knew it. You were like a fucking flame to that motherfucking moth. I kept thinking, ‘What would a normal guy do right now?’ Well, hmm, he’d probably stand here, drinking his beer, acting like
it was no big deal that some douchebag hip-hop-star just walked across the room to hit on his wife.” He unbuttons my jeans and yanks them down roughly over my hips.
I lift my pelvis to help him get them off. “Jonas,” I breathe. “I’m so turned on.”
He yanks my G-string off. “But guess what? It turns out I’m not actually a normal guy.” He looks like a lunatic right now. He slips a finger inside me and then brings it to his mouth.
I shudder.
His voice is low. “I wanted to fucking kill him when he sat down next to you.” He crawls on top of me and rips open my shirt, popping several buttons. “I wanted to fucking kill him when he ordered you a drink.”
“Oh God, baby, I’m so turned on.”
He grits his teeth as he reaches behind my back and unclasps my bra. “And I especially wanted to kill him when he looked at you like he wanted to fuck you.”
“Jonas.”
He lifts my bra off my breasts, but he can’t take it completely off due to my bound arms. “But I told myself, ‘It’s okay. Sarah isn’t encouraging him. Not My Magnificent Sarah. No fucking way. She’s just being her gorgeous, funny, flirty self. But she’s not actually encouraging him.’”
I’m moaning with my desire. I can’t help myself. Everything about this moment is turning me on.
He clenches his jaw again. “And then that motherfucker called you OAP.”
My stomach drops into my toes even as my clit flutters in my panties.
The rage on his face is morphing into pain right before my eyes. “You told him something sacred, something that’s just for you and me.”
I exhale, panic suddenly flooding me. “We were picking my rapper name—because I’m a world-class spin-rapper.” I pause. That sounds even lamer than when I first said it to Will. “So I told him, hey, I have a tattoo that says ‘OAP’ and all I need is another one that says ‘Cruz,’ and then I’ll be, you know, totes gangsta.”
“You told him about your tattoo?”
Oh shit.
He looks even angrier than he did before I started talking.
He exhales a shaky breath. “That’s everything you told him? That you have an ‘OAP’ tattoo and ‘OAP Cruz’ should be your rapper name?”
