by Katee Robert
Being naked with Jonas is one thing. Wearing an apron and nothing else while I move around his kitchen, trying to find all the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies, is something else altogether. I can feel him watching me every step of the way, and I can’t help but put on a little show for him. Bending at the waist to look for bowls in the corner cabinet. Stretching my arms overhead to twist my hair up, high enough that my nipples peek out from behind the front panel of the apron. Doing anything I can to cause him to make that growling sound like he’s doing everything in his power to keep from grabbing me and fucking me right this moment.
He has better restraint than I do. By the time I get to the flour, I’m so wet, I’m practically dripping. I’m the one who’s about to break this tense standoff we have going on. Unacceptable.
I decide to play dirty.
I measure the flour and, instead of turning the mixer off, I just dump it in while it’s still going. Just as expected, a cloud erupts, sending flour everywhere. “Oops.” I don’t turn around to look at Jonas, not when I can hear him moving in my direction. I just add more flour, with the same result. “Oops again.”
Jonas’s hands slam down on either side of me and then he’s pressed against my bare back, his cock a hard length filled with promises of pleasure. He leans down until his lips are at my ear. “What did I say about making a mess?”
“Sorry, Daddy.” I can’t help grinning. “I’m really sorry.”
“You’re not even a little bit sorry.” He shuts off the mixer and grips the front of my apron in a fist, using that hold to turn me to face him. “You’re in my kitchen, dressed like a little slut, and making a mess. You’ve proven your point, baby girl. You want me to punish you.”
18
Of course I want him to punish me. That was the whole point of this. I’m still going to protest.
“No!” I grip the counter and arch my back. Combined with the way he’s pulling at my apron, it has the ties around my neck loosening to expose my breasts.
Jonas doesn’t move away. He just grabs more fabric in his big fist, until I might as well be naked. He looks down at me and shakes his head. “If I palm you right now, I’m going to find you wet, aren’t I?”
I nibble my bottom lip. “Maybe?”
“You get off on inciting me.” He pushes me back, pinning me in place. “This isn’t going to end the way you want.”
“Isn’t it?” I grin.
He shakes his head slowly. “What am I going to do with you?” He lifts me onto the counter before I can respond. “Don’t answer that. You’re just going to piss me off.” He spears me with two fingers, but he’s not trying to get me off. No, he’s testing how wet I really am. How ready. “Just as I thought.” Jonas pulls out his fingers and shoves down his lounge pants.
I felt him. I’ve sucked him off. I’m had him inside me. The sight of him still steals my breath and sends a little thread of alarm through me. I’m all sorts of hot and bothered, but the look in his eye says this will be a punishment. “But—”
He fists his cock and presses it to my entrance. Not enough to enter me, but the threat remains all the same. “The only thing you respond to is fucking, so I’m going to fuck some obedience into you.” Still he waits.
I slowly lean back against the cabinet. Between that and his grip, I’m braced pretty solidly. I bring my legs up and hook my fingers around my thighs, holding myself open for him. “If I’ve been bad, then you should punish me, Daddy.”
He looks almost tormented for a moment before he gets himself under control. “At least you’re finally admitting that you’re not the good girl you pretend to be.” He pushes forward a little, easing the head of his massive cock inside me. “No good girl has a pussy so eager to be fucked. Look at the way you take me.”
I obey, looking down my body to watch him work himself into me. His cock spreads me vulgarly, each stroke disappearing a little deeper, only to reappear wet with my desire. “I like watching you fuck me,” I whisper.
“I like it, too.” The words are dark and low like a confession. “I’ll spend the rest of my life jacking to the memory of how sweet it feels to sink into your tight little cunt.”
The words force a moan out of me. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s decided I’ve been prepared enough. Jonas slams into me, sheathing himself to the hilt. I tighten my hold on my thighs in response, which only serves to spread me wider for him.
“I like you like this. Holding yourself open for me. Letting me do anything I want to you.” He fucks me in rough strokes, driving deeper and deeper yet. He shifts the fist holding the apron to the side down, pulling the ties around my neck free, so he that he press his thumb to my clit. “Now be a good little slut and come around my cock.”
I don’t have a chance in hell of denying him. I don’t want to deny him. With each slide of his thumb, with each rough stroke of his cock inside me, I barrel closer and closer to oblivion. My whole body goes tight and hot and then I’m doing exactly as he demands, orgasming hard enough that I start to slam back into the cabinets. Jonas anticipates me, so my head hits the palm of his free hand instead of the wood. And then his mouth is on mine, claiming me here just like he’s claiming my pussy. He keeps fucking me, keeps kissing me, until another orgasm starts to build in the aftermath of the first. I want to touch him, but I can’t quite make my hands obey. It’s like they’re fused to my thighs, my body unable to do anything but take what he gives me.
This time, when I come, I propel him under too. He curses against my tongue and then he’s driving into me, grinding his way through his own orgasm. Jonas gentles his kiss as he keeps pumping into me almost idly. Finally, he shifts to press his forehead to mine. “This is only going to encourage bad behavior.”
I smile against his lips. “Maybe.”
“Thought so.” He eases out of me and helps me off the counter. My legs feel a little like all my bones have turned to mush, but I manage to keep my feet. Barely.
The kitchen is a mess. There’s flour everywhere. The counters, the cabinets, the floor. All over me and Jonas. I look at us and start laughing. “Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” But he’s smiling, too. He undoes the ties around my waist with gentle hands and tugs the apron free. “We’re going to need a shower.”
“Oh no, not another shower in your amazing bathroom.” I grin. “We should clean up first, though.”
It takes us far longer than it should, mostly because we can’t quite keep our hands off each other. I drag my mouth down Jonas’s spine as he cleans the cabinets. He presses kisses to my neck while I try to get the counter in order. I end up sucking his cock while I’m trying to wipe the flour off the floor, and then he bends me over the now-clean counters to fuck me from behind.
Really, who can blame us?
We only have the weekend, after all.
By the time we manage to make it into—and out of—the shower, it’s well past lunchtime and edging into sunset. The rain still hasn’t let up, which adds to the feeling of us being in our own little world. One completely untethered by reality, where fantasy reigns supreme.
Jonas builds up the fire again and then pulls me down with him onto the couch. “I have some questions about what you said earlier.”
There’s no point in pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about. Especially since anticipation is already zinging through me. “About chasing me.”
“Yes.” He takes my hand in his and idly runs his fingers over the inside of my wrist. “How far do you want to play into that?”
I start to give a blithe answer, but force myself to actually think about it. “I want to protest. A little more than the ‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ but not a full out ‘oh my god, I don’t want this’ kind of thing. I don’t know if that makes sense.”
He considers the fire, still tracing abstract patterns on my skin. “So I chase you. I catch you. I hold you down.” He glances at me. “I force your legs apart and taunt you with how much you want this
even though you know you shouldn’t.”
My throat goes dry and I have to swallow several times to speak. “Yes. Like that.” I hesitate. “I get off on the shame of wanting something that I shouldn’t.”
“I’ve gathered that.” He gives a slow smile, though there’s still an edge of restraint. “I don’t really have much experience with formal kink, but something like this needs a clear word to stop things if they get too intense for you.”
I haven’t done much formal kink, either, but what he’s saying makes sense. If part of the game is protesting, words like stop and no don’t exactly have the same meaning. “How about enough for that? If I say that, we stop.”
“That works.”
I won’t say it. I already know this safety measure is unnecessary. Jonas is too in tune with me to push us into uncomfortable territory. All the same, I think we both breathe a little easier as we settle on it. “Okay.” I look around. “Um, how does something like this get started?”
Jonas laughs. It’s deep and untethered and hits me right in the chest. He pulls me into a quick kiss that ends far too soon. “That depends on what you want.”
What I want? I want it all. Everything. I’m greedy for all the experiences he’s giving me, all the fantasies we’re playing out. “What if…” I shiver. “What if you’re working and I interrupt you? Just to ask a question or get a book, but then…”
“You’ve been flaunting that hot little body at me for years,” he says it almost as if musing. “I’m finally going to take you up on it, you little tease.”
I flush hot. “Yes. That.”
“Okay.” He sits back. “You want that now?”
“There you go, asking your trick questions again.” I climb to my feet and look at him. “Um, would it be totally untoward of me to ask you to put on a suit?”
Jonas gives another of those deep laughs. “Anything for you, baby girl.”
19
Reality threatens to intrude, to remind me that Jonas really won’t do anything for me because this has a deadline, one that’s approaching far too quickly. I push the thought away. I’ll deal with the fallout tomorrow. Until then, we have this.
Until then, I have Jonas.
While he changes into a suit, I grab my purse and duck into the master bathroom. I manage to tame my hair into something resembling order and, after some consideration, I put on some eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick. It’s a pretty pink that is a personal favorite. I kind of wish I had bright red for this moment, but the pink actually works a little better with the fantasy we’re weaving.
I debate putting my clothes back on, but my attention lands on the robe hanging on the back of the door. It’s soft and oversized on me, and smells faintly of Jonas. In short, it’s perfect. I glance at myself in the mirror. I adjust the robe a little, tying it a little loose so it gapes a bit between my breasts. Whoops. I grin. It’s time.
The bedroom is empty when I step out of the bathroom. I pad down the hallway and take the stairs to the main floor. There’s faint music coming from the direction of Jonas’s office. My heartbeat kicks up a notch, but I force myself to go slow. As if I really am just wandering in. The door is cracked, and I press my fingertips against it, sending it opening soundlessly.
Jonas is behind his desk, bent over some paperwork with a pen in his hand and a scowl on his face. As promised, he’s wearing a gray button-down shirt that makes his shoulders look particularly decadent. Not a thread is out of place, but he’s rolled up his sleeves, revealing his forearms. As if he’s really just finishing up some work for the day.
The rain and growing dark puts most of the study in shadows, but he’s turned on a lamp near the reading chair. It’s not enough light, but I can’t deny how atmospheric it makes the room. I’m still debating on how to make my presence known when he looks up. “Blake?”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d grab a book.” I step into the study. “If I’m interrupting you, I can come back later.”
“I’m already interrupted.” He pushes his chair back from the desk. “Close the door.”
The snap in his voice has me obeying before I can consider the fact that this closes me in this room…with him. I lean against the door for a moment, gathering my courage. “I’ll be quick.”
“Mmhmm.”
I can feel his eyes on me as I skirt the edge of the desk and pick a spot on the bookshelves at random. Close enough that I’m nearly within reach. Far enough away that I don’t look like I’m trying too hard. I lean closer to the shelf and eye the titles. They might as well be in Greek for all I can read them. “Um, this one will work.” I grab one at random and start backing up.
“Blake.”
I stop short, my heart in my throat. “Yes?” I’m not entirely faking the tremor in my voice. Rationally, I know this is fantasy, that we literally talked about this less than an hour ago on the couch. But it’s all too easy to sink into an alternate reality where I’m staying here for some other reason and have wandered into his office while he’s working. That he’s really watching me like a lion who has a juicy gazelle within its grasp.
He gives me a long look. “Did you really just come down here to grab a nonfiction book about the oil industry?”
I glance down at the book in my hands, embarrassment heating my face. “Yes?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
I clear my throat. “It interests me.”
“Liar.” He says the word slowly, as if testing it out.
My hands are shaking so hard, I drop the book. I hit my knees before I can think of a reason not to, but leaning over causes the robe to gape even wider, exposing my breasts. I jump to my feet and yank it closed, but it’s too late. Jonas is on his feet. I back up. “I’ll just be going.”
“Did you really come into my office wearing nothing but my robe, faking some excuse about needing a book to read?” Jonas plants his hands on the desk. Even with that giant piece of furniture between us, I get the feeling he could launch himself over it easily and be on me in seconds. He leans forward. “Do you want to know what I think?”
I take another step back. “No.”
“I think you’ve been teasing me ever since that Christmas party six years ago.” The shadows make caverns of his eyes, and his voice is rougher than I’ve heard it yet. “I think that you like to flash that hot little body around me every chance you get and now you’re just begging me to take you up on it.”
“No,” I whisper. My back hits the door, but I don’t reach for the handle. As much as I like the idea of him chasing me through the house, the truth is that I want him to catch me here, to fuck me here, in the study.
“Liar.” This time, he’s not testing the word. He’s lobbing it at me with the force of a missile. “I’ll just have to prove it.” He moves, faster than he has right to, rushing around the desk and directly at me.
I bolt to the side, barely evading him. The book goes flying and then I’m around the desk, determined to keep it between us. “I’m not teasing you!”
“Yes, you are.” He surges forward again, and this time, I’m not fast enough. Jonas grabs the robe’s belt, stopping my retreat short. I don’t think. I just react. I shove at him but he’s too strong; I might as well try to shove a mountain. He jerks me to him, spinning me so my back is to his front. He yanks the robe down a little and tightens the belt, trapping my arms at my side.
I writhe, but he’s got me too thoroughly held. And then his free hand is around my throat, pulling me back until my head rests against his shoulder. I can’t move at all in this position. Can’t do anything but sob out a breath. “Jonas, stop. If my father finds out—”
“You’re right.” His voice is pure sin in my ear. “It would break his fucking heart to know what a little slut his precious daughter is.” He cups one of my breasts in a rough hand, making me squirm harder. “You wanted me to take this.”
“No!”
“Shall we find out?”
“Wait—”
He abandons my breast to cup my pussy in a harsh grasp. It doesn’t hurt, but it almost doesn’t feel like him. Or at least not how he’s touched me to date. He drags one finger through my pussy folds. “What’s this?” Another slow drag and then he lifts his hand before our faces. There’s no denying the way his finger gleams with my desire. “You’re awfully wet for someone who says they don’t want this.”
“I don’t want this,” I lie through my teeth.
He tsks. “Shameful.” Jonas circles one nipple with his wet finger, drawing it to a point, before repeating the process with the other. “Utterly shameful.”
I can’t get enough oxygen. Not because of how tightly he’s holding me—his grip isn’t squeezing at all, simply holding me in place—but because of how hot this is. “I’m sorry. Just let me go.”
“Not until you answer my question.”
I blink up at the shadows on the ceiling. “What question?”
I can hear the cruel smile in his voice. “Exactly how shameful is your father’s little princess?”
20
Jonas tightens his hold on my throat the tiniest bit when I try to burst forward. “I suppose we’ll see.” Despite his rough touch, he sounds almost like he’s musing to himself.
No matter how hard I fight, he’s too strong. He manages to maneuver us to face the desk without hurting me once despite my struggles. After the briefest hesitation he lifts me onto the desk. Shock stills me for a moment, and it’s all Jonas needs. He yanks the robe off and presses me face-down against the desk with my ass in the air and my wrists pinned at the small of my back.
How the hell did he manage that so smoothly?
I’m still trying to figure it out as he uses his free hand to urge my legs wider yet. I try to close them, but it’s impossible. “Please stop!”
Jonas curses. “Your pretty lying mouth is saying stop, but your pussy is practically dripping.” He skates his free hand up my thigh to the bottom crease of my ass and squeezes. Parting me. “You like this.”
