by Sharon Page
For a while, we just embrace in silence, our chests moving up and down.
Then Jonathon groans. “Okay, I’ll give you my fucking worst. The night my mother died, everyone thought it was suicide. But it wasn’t. My father caught my mother fucking one of the chauffeurs. And he killed her over it. She didn’t jump to her death. He pushed her. I know he did.”
“Oh my God, did you see it happen?”
“No. But I knew he did it. She wouldn’t have taken her own life. Not when she wanted a Christmas with us. Not when she had a hot servant to fuck under my father’s nose. He did it but I can’t prove it.”
Now I understand why Jonathon wants so much to piss off his father.
“Jonathon, I didn’t betray you with Crane.”
“I can see that now.”
A shadow falls over us. Someone is blocking the moonlight. We look up at Devlin Crane. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I tried to steal her from you, Powell,” he says to Jonathon. “But she refused. If you had not gone off in a crazed shit-fit, I would have explained that.”
“You bastard.” Jonathon jumps out, slams one fist into Crane’s flat gut, then punches him in the jaw. Crane jerks backward, falls on his ass on the sand.
The billionaire rubs his jaw. “I deserved that. But did you talk to her? Open up to her?”
“He did,” I say.
“Good. She’s a keeper, dude.” Crane laughs, gets to his feet. “So keep her.”
Chapter Ten
Crane walks away and Jonathon pulls me on top of his chest on the sand. “Make love to me, Mia,” he says.
This is the first time I’ve been on top. But I realize the problem. “You don’t happen to have a condom in your swim trunks, do you?”
I hate to stop for practicality, but I have to. I’m on the pill. I have been for a long time, but I refuse to have unsafe sex.
Jonathon gives a deep, raspy laugh. “No, when I went racing out into the ocean like an idiot, I never thought of it.”
I assume the moment is gone, as I scramble off Jonathon, and he gets up. He puts his arm around my waist, and we trudge through the warm, white sand to the terrace. Crane has gone. He left a note.
Will miss you at the club, Powell, it reads. But you’re getting whipped a different way.
Jonathon just grins. “Crane’s jealous.” And he looks pleased about it.
Then he guides me into his huge bedroom. This is the one place we haven’t made love yet.
He leaves the lights off, but opens the terrace doors. The glow from the outdoor lights spills in, along with the silvery streams of moonlight.
“You saved my life, Mia,” he says softly. “You mean so much to me.”
His words stun me.
Cupping my face, Jonathon kisses me. We play a game of opening and shutting our eyes. When he’s looking at me, it feels so intense I have to close my lids.
Then I get the courage to open them. I think my problem is fear. I’m afraid to open my heart, afraid to trust anyone, afraid to share.
With Jonathon, I don’t have any reason to be.
Kissing me deeply, masterfully, he leads me back to his bed. Lowers me onto it and it sinks beneath our weight. Fragrant breezes flow over us.
It’s different tonight. Amazing.
And I whisper, “I want you to tie my hands. I want you in control tonight. I trust you.”
I expect the velvet ropes. Instead he brings the vinyl bondage tape. It looks ultra kinky, I have to admit, as he pulls off a strip. I raise my hands over my head, wrists locked together.
As he wraps the tape, tying my wrists tight, I squirm on the bed.
When Jonathon gets on top, his body fits perfectly against mine. All my skin is caressed by his, my breasts delightfully squashed by his broad chest, my legs spread wide by his hips. We’re blending bondage and vanilla and it’s…beautiful.
I am very wet for him, and he thrusts easily, slowly, deeply. He rests his head beside mine, so his breath tickles my ear, and his moans excite me. His rhythm is easy to connect to, and each time I thrust up to him, his shaft tickles my hard clitoris.
I’m so thrilled I stay almost completely silent, in amazement, joy, only letting soft groans escape. His hips shift and he’s stroking an amazing place inside me with the head of his cock, and banging my clit with the hilt. Then I can’t think at all, knowing only that if I keep thrusting up to him I will experience something incredible. The orgasm that takes me is powerful, my whole pussy moving, jerking. It floods my brain. There is no conscious thought at all. Just pure delight.
I don’t know whether Jonathon comes. He stops. Whether he has his orgasm, or he realizes I am having one...I can’t concentrate on him, or feel him. Then his hips drive into me, rock, and he moans loud into my ear. He lifts up for a second, as though he’s waiting for something, then lies down on me. Breathing heavy.
I laugh then, at least at first, then I’m sort of crying. Exhilarated by my experience. I just had a…an emotional orgasm, one of the soul. That’s the only way I can describe it. This is deeper, more intense than anything I’ve ever had.
I realize Jonathon is looking at me, at my tears, with worry. I have to explain. “You made me…come.”
He smiles, surprised, as he tears the tape off my wrists, freeing my hands. He doesn't understand the significance to me, probably thinks: So what? Doesn't that always happen?
He probably expected something more volatile from me. More yelling, more moaning. I think my silence has disappointed him, and he doesn’t know that he gave me the most beautiful pleasure I’ve ever had. Because I didn’t scream and shout.
I try to explain. “That was amazing. I’ve never…I’ve never come like that before.”
“You were so quiet. Usually you scream.”
“I couldn’t scream because this was just…just intense.”
“Good?” he asks.
“Beyond perfect,” I say. It has to mean something that I could connect with him so deeply. Did it happen because I feel so connected to him, because I can be honest with him, open up to him so much? Does it mean I love him? More than I did Ryan?
Jonathon rolls to the side, draws off the condom, tosses it into the wastebasket beside the bed.
“I’m sleepy,” I whisper. “I should go.”
“Stay,” he says.
“But you don’t like to share your bed,” I protest.
He snuggles close to me, wraps his arm around me so I can’t leave. “I want to share it with you.”
“Okay,” I say, and I close my eyes. His body is warm against mine as he spoons into me and wraps his arm around me. I feel safe, cossetted, adored. There isn’t anything about me he hasn’t seen and he still wants to be with me. It’s amazing.
So is sleeping a whole night with Jonathon, then waking up beside him the next morning. It’s the most heavenly thing in the world.
***
It’s our last day at Azure, and we spend it at the villa, swimming in the ocean, lazing by the pool. I haven’t asked Jonathon anything more about his mother. It’s like my issues: there are times I can talk about them and times I can’t.
I have to wait for him to be ready.
At the end of the day, we are lying on two deckchairs on the beach. Before us, the sky is violet and pink with strips of burning orange and red at the horizon. I sip a heavenly drink through a straw. “I can’t believe this is the last sunset already. Tomorrow it’s back to the real world.” My throat aches as I say that. I don’t want to go back.
I’m going back home, then back to Yardley in about a week, and classes start the day after that.
“I have to ask you something, Mia.”
He sounds serious, which worries me. “What is it?”
He sits up, giving me that soul-searching, total-focus-on-me gaze. “When we get back to Yardley for the next term, would you consider moving in with me?”
Jonathon has a huge house in the mountains about twenty minutes from the Yardley campus.
> This is a big thing. I never dreamed he would want me to move in.
But I have to shake my head. “I’ve committed to residence for this year. It wouldn’t be fair to Lara if I suddenly move out. Besides, if I was living with you, I would be focusing on sex with you, not work for school. School is important. I have to do well, Jonathon.”
“Your discipline is amazing.” He grins. “Remember, the offer is open. You would have your own apartment of rooms. Plenty of privacy and quiet for studying.”
Is this like a novel where the powerful Dom wants the submissive in his home, but only in his life on a controlled basis? Or is this something more? Jonathon is definitely not the rich, spoiled college boy Dom I thought he was when I first met him.
I want to move in with him. But what happens if we break up?
The old me would have jumped at the chance to be with him. The new me knows I have to respect my dreams and aspirations. “I will remember that. But I don’t think I’ll change my mind, Jonathon. I want to be with you, but I really have to focus on college.”
“Is this also because you still have feelings for Ryan?” he asks.
I never dreamed I would start to have feelings for Jonathon so quickly, but I guess it’s because our friendship grew in the fall term. “No,” I say. “It’s really just about school.”
“There’s something else I want to talk about.”
I sit up straight in my chair. “Something else you want to ask me?”
“Something I want to tell you. Something I’ve never said to anyone before.”
He gets up and paces on the sand. With his back to me, he says, “I knew this would be hard. I should have kept my mouth shut. Now you won’t let me get away without telling you what it is.”
I want to tease him, and say, “Damn right.” Then I hear him let out a fast breath. Jonathon is nervous.
“If it’s about what you told me about your mother—your parents—I promise I will never reveal that to anyone. Ever.”
“No. I know that. I trust you.” He turns. The gold of the sky glows on his tanned shoulders, his thick, black hair. “I’ve never known what it’s like to trust someone. To have someone who knows everything about me,” he says. “Normally, I never reveal anything about my past or my family. If I let anything slip, I feel like I have to do damage control. I can’t relax until I’ve averted the potential danger. I don’t feel like that with you.”
“I hope not,” I say.
“I love you, Mia.”
He says it so fast, that I’m not certain I heard it right. I stare at him. How do you ask someone to repeat that?
A smile shows his dimples. “You look more shocked than when I suggested a threesome. Hell, you probably are more shocked.”
“You did say…what I think you said?”
“I love you, Mia. I’ve never been in love before. It’s intense.”
I don’t know what to say. This was supposed to be an emotion-free vacation, and it’s been anything but.
“I think…I’m falling in love with you. Starting to,” I say. God, that sounds terrible. But it’s still new for me, too. And it’s scary. I’ve never had love end in anything but a broken heart. I’m only nineteen and in college and I can’t expect love to be permanent now.
Which means this has to end in a broken heart, doesn’t it?
Jonathon comes over to me, crouches down beside my chair, putting his fingers to my lips. “I know you aren’t ready. Right now, the fact I love you is enough for me. It’s a new experience for me—loving a woman.”
“Jonathon, I’m pretty certain I do love you. I just need time.”
“You have as long as you want, Mia.”
He kisses me. A long, slow kiss. In the sand, my toes curl in joy and pleasure.
He told me he doesn’t kiss when he has sex. But he’s kissed me many, many times. He’s been willing to change for me. When he draws back and smiles at me, I read so much emotion in his eyes, I forget to breathe.
This is real. He does love me. I don’t think he would have told me so much if he didn’t.
I know the truth in that moment. “I don’t need very long, Jonathon. I love you.”
“Move in with me then, Mia. Please.”
It’s killing me to say no. But I must stick with my convictions.
“I’m going to spend the next term trying to convince you to change your mind,” he warns. “I want to spend my life with you right now.”
“We’ll see, Jonathon.” I’ve never been like this in a relationship. Strong. Making decisions. It’s a new and exciting experience.
I realize Jonathon has helped me grow, helped me become stronger.
I’ve changed him too.
It’s time to go back to college, but everything is different now. I have more confidence than I’ve ever had before. And I’m in love with Jonathon. I don’t know where this journey will end, but I do know it will be one hot, intense ride.
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Here's an excerpt from One Hot Fall Term, Book 1 of the Yardley College Chronicles by Sharon Page:
Chapter One
It's only the first weekend in September, but it's cold out here on the dock. I undo my jeans and wriggle to push them down, exposing my butt in thong underwear to the frigid night air. I can see my breath, even though last week it was still summer. Goosebumps race over my bared butt cheeks. They already sprinkle my arms and chest, since I've stripped down to my bra and my t-shirt is lying on the planks of the dock, on top of my shoes.
I stop and rub my arms, trying to warm up. Am I covered in bumps because I'm cold or because I'm nervous? When I'm finally naked, I'm supposed to jump into the lake. And that rippling, black water looks freezing. Waves slap against the side of the dock. The smell of smoke from the cabin's fireplace fills the crisp air. Music sounds faintly from the cabin and laughter spills off the deck. The sounds of an end of summer party and I have to bite my lip because tears are burning in the corners of my eyes. I'm nostalgic sometimes, and this weekend-my last before I leave for college-is killing me. In so many ways.
I have my back to Ryan, but I peek over my shoulder. In the pitch dark-clouds cover the sliver of moon-I can barely see him. I hear the boards creak under his feet and his fly unzip, and I hear his breathing. Ryan runs ten miles every morning and evening, and he never seems to be out of breath when he's finished. But tonight, his breathing sounds fast and furious.
Just like mine.
"Whoa Jesus, that's cold."
I take another peek and hear his footsteps as he walks to the end of the dock, out of my field of vision. I suppose I can't ogle him until I get everything off and let him get a look at me.
I've never seen Ryan naked. That's funny and strange, coming from me, but I promised I was going to be different-everything was going to be different when mom and I came here to Milltown to live. It was like starting over again. And by some miracle I found something I thought I'd never find, something I was too screwed up to ever have.
An amazing, sweet, decent-not to mention uber gorgeous-guy. When Ryan went west to do his tour of his future military college in the summer, he sent me a rose. A single, perfect red rose in a crystal vase, delivered to my front door by courier. Why? Because he was going to be away from me for two days and he missed me.
Even remembering it, standing freezing on the dock, I start blinking. Damn, the tears are starting. I promised I would get through this one night without crying. I've got lots of time to cry on the trip to
Yardley College-two days to do nothing but think about Ryan.
Tonight I get to see him. I'm not going to screw that up by being sad a couple of days early. Tonight I know exactly what I'm going to do. This is probably it for Ryan and I-he's going to be in the state of Washington at a military school, I'm going to be at Yardley College in New Hampshire. For tonight, I've decided to ditch the good girl thing.
I'm going to make love to Ryan for the first and basically only time.
I've got one night to throw away all my promises to be sweet and good-the exact opposite of what I really am. I've thought about sex with Ryan for months now, and I've restrained myself. But I don't want to go the rest of my life wishing I'd taken the chance to make love to a guy I love.
So I commit. I shove down my jeans and kick them aside. Undies next or bra? I guess the bra, and it's a fight to unhook it. Bras are my addiction. This one is candy pink with white lace and even though it's dark, the bra practically glows. My breasts bounce as it comes off and tighten as a wave of goosebumps wash over them. My nipples go hard at once and I cup my boobs with my hands in a desperate attempt to warm them.
Why-so the shock of the water hurts more?
I have to release my breasts anyway to ditch the thong. At least I can see my bra, shining like a beacon in the night-like a lighthouse for crazy females about to skinny dip in frigid water. I know where to toss my undies.
Clouds part above me and shafts of silver-blue moonlight fall on us and the water.
"Mia-" Ryan's voice, deep and sexy and low, stops abruptly. Nineteen-like me-Ryan possesses the hottest vocals of any guy at Hubert J. Rory High. Baritone tones and a deep, throaty laugh. The first time I heard him read a section of Shakespeare in English class, I swear I almost had a climax on the spot. And that was for MacBeth.
I turn quickly. A spike of fear-this is going to be it. We're going to be a thousand miles apart. He's going to break up with-
I forgot I'm naked. My breasts swing, nipples perky, the curves limned with silver. But I'm staring at Ryan. Seriously, I've seen David Beckham's underwear ads, and Becks didn't begin to look as good as Ryan. Bulging muscle defines his straight shoulders, and his chest is broad and bronzed from the sun. A tattoo of a dragon perches on his left pectoral muscle. Just looking at his arm muscles makes me feel a tug deep inside. A hard, visceral tug telling me how much I want to wrap myself around him and take him deep inside me.
