18. Claire
18
CLAIRE
The security guard drops me at the hotel, and I make my way to the suite on my own. I open the door, flip on the light, then go straight for the bathroom to take off my makeup. I go through my nighttime routine, then walk back into the suite to grab a water from the mini fridge.
I stop in my tracks.
There is a small teal gift bag on the table. The excitement that surges through me is embarrassing, and even though I’m alone, I blush. Would Jonah have gotten me a gift?
No. That’s ridiculous. He wouldn’t do something like that. This probably isn’t even for me.
But then my thoughts turn to the little chess piece. The wooden queen that he painted for me after our visit to the Stockholm Youth Center. I have it safely tucked away in my carry-on luggage. Jonah can be sweet. He’s surprised me a lot lately. So maybe...
I reach inside the bag and pull out a small white box with a card. The card has my name on it, so I open it carefully. Then I frown.
I miss you.
- C
Conrad. A plethora of conflicting emotions floods my mind. I’m barely able to begin sifting through them when the door to the suite swings open, and I whip around to find Jonah. I quickly hide the card behind my back, then shove it into the band of my pajama shorts.
I must look guilty as hell because Jonah’s eyes narrow with suspicion, and then they drop to the bag on the table. His responding smile is sinister as he stalks toward me.
“Did the rich prick send you expensive jewelry?”
I don’t answer, and he laughs.
“Can you be bought, Trouble?” He reaches past me and grabs the white box. “Do you think he bought something similar for Dierdre?”
He pulls the lid off the box and drops it to the floor. Then he breaks our eye contact to survey what’s in the box. I haven’t even looked yet, but when he smiles once more, I know I won’t like it.
“Yellow gold? If he’s going to drop this kind of money to buy your loyalty, he could at least get you something you’d like.”
I grit my teeth. “You don’t know what I like.”
“Your earrings are rose gold. That delicate little necklace you wear is rose gold. The little diamond pave ring you wear on your middle finger is rose gold.” He drops the box onto the floor next to the lid, then pulls the neck of my pajama top down. He traces my collarbone, and I suck in a harsh breath. Then, he hooks his finger into my necklace. “Rose gold, Davis. This fuck doesn’t know you at all.”
My brow furrows, and I tear my eyes away from his to glance at the floor. A chunky, gold, chain-link bracelet encrusted with diamonds lies on the carpet. It must have cost Conrad over ten thousand dollars, but Jonah is right. I hate it.
“See? You’d never wear something so ostentatious.” Jonah’s voice is gloating, but his tone is intimate. “No. Claire Davis, you prefer classy and elegant. Understated.” He hooks his thumb under my chin and tilts my face back to his. He smiles. “How does it feel to know your boyfriend will spend twenty grand to dress you like a cheap slut?”
I slap him. And then I gasp, my hand coming up to cover my mouth. I have to swallow back the impulse to apologize. I watch, eyes widening, as his cheek blooms red from where my hand connected.
And then he fucking laughs. He takes a step toward me, backing me against the table until I can feel his panted breaths ghosting over my lips. He pins me with his blue eyes, and like prey cornered by a predator, I freeze .
“You can take it out on me if you need to, Trouble. You give me all your anger. I can handle it.” He slides his hands into my hair and cradles the back of my head. “You want to slap me? You want to call me names? Do it. I fucking want you to. He doesn’t pay attention to you, and that pisses you off. Good. It should. It pisses me off for you. But you know what?”
When I don’t answer, he tightens his grip on my hair. The sting shoots straight to my clit, surprising me, and I press my thighs together. He pulls just a little more, and I have to swallow back a whimper. My nipples harden. If he looked down, he’d see it.
He repeats himself slowly.
“Do you know what, Claire?”
I swallow roughly. “What?”
“I. Pay. Attention.”
Jonah leans closer, invading my space completely, and puts his lips against my ear. My eyes flutter shut. I breathe him in when I know I shouldn’t. I revel in the way his cheek feels against mine. The way his heat sears my skin.
“I pay attention to every single thing you do, and it’s driving me fucking crazy.”
I shake my head, but I can’t speak. He moves his hand from my hair and wraps it around my neck. I want him to squeeze. Just a little. The thought shocks me, but now that I’ve thought it, I can’t get rid of it. I want it. I want it so badly that I have to bite my tongue against the need to tell him. To beg.
When he presses his forehead to mine, his lips ghost over my lips, and I want to kiss him. I don’t care what he’s saying. I don’t care about the consequences. I want his lips on me so badly that I feel dizzy.
“I pay attention. The way you blush. The way you think. The way you fucking smell. You’re all I can think about, and I want you. I want you, Claire, and it’s going to get me in so much fucking trouble. But you want to know a secret?”
“Yes,” I whisper, and I feel him smile.
“Trouble is my weakness.”
I don’t know who moves first, but our lips collide. My hands fist into his shirt as his hand not wrapped around my neck grips my waist. He groans when my mouth opens for him, his tongue tangling with mine .
“Fuck, you taste better than I thought you would.”
His hand leaves my neck and moves to my ass, then he lifts me. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he starts walking to the bedroom. I know where this is going. I know what a terrible idea it is. I can’t bring myself to care.
I pay attention, and I want you.
I want you, Claire.
He sets me gently on my feet in front of his bed, but his mouth doesn’t leave me. My lips, my jaw, my neck. He unbuttons my pajama top and pushes it down my shoulders, then shoves my shorts down my legs. The card falls with the shorts, but thankfully, my shorts cover it.
Once I’m in just my panties, my thoughts wander to my body—what he sees, what he thinks. I’m grateful the lights are dim. I fist my hands against the urge to cover myself, but when he hitches at the waist and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, my attention zeroes in on that feeling, and only that feeling.
I gasp and tug on his shirt. I want it off him. I want to see and feel and taste his skin. In one swift motion, he pulls his shirt over his head, then his hand wraps around my neck once more.
“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this pretty little neck, Trouble. I knew it would feel good against my palm. I knew you’d fit perfectly between my fingers. I want to wrap my hands around this perfect little neck and fuck you nice and slow.”
His grip tightens just a little, and I whimper. I sink my fingers into the band of his jeans to pull him closer. He chuckles, but it almost sounds pained.
“Of course you’d like it. Of course, you fucking would. You just had to do it, didn’t you?”
“Do what?”
My voice is hoarse, and I can feel my throat vibrating against his palm. From the way his eyes flash, he likes it. He leans in close, bites my lower lip, and slips his other hand down the front of my panties.
“Be fucking irresistible.”
Jonah shoves two fingers into me, making me groan and thrust my hips forward. His palm presses on my clit as he pumps into me, and I’m overwhelmed by the different sensations. He’s fucking me with his fingers as his mouth ravages mine, and he hasn’t taken his hand off my throat.
I moan into his mouth and shove my hands into his long hair. I don’t even know what I’m grasping for. I’ve never been a hair puller. I just know I need to hold on to something. My hips start to move of their own accord, chasing the erotic pleasure his fingers bring, and he groans again.
“Jesus Christ,” he pants out, pulling back and running his eyes over my face. He drops his attention between us, watching as he fingers me. “Goddamn it, Trouble. God-fucking-damn it.”
I don’t have a chance to consider his words before he’s dropping to his knees, pulling my underwear down my thighs, and putting his mouth over my pussy.
“Oh, fuck,” I gasp out. “Oh, God.”
Jonah digs his fingers into my ass cheeks and pulls me closer to his face. He sucks hard on my clit, swipes his tongue over me three times, then stands up.
“Lie down.”
I don’t move. His talented, tattooed hands undo his pants, then work to push them down his slim hips.
“Trouble, lie down on that bed right fucking now.”
Slowly, I do as he says, but I don’t take my eyes off him. I stare shamelessly as his jeans hit the floor and his erection springs free.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, my eyes going wide.
He wraps one of his hands around his hard cock and laughs.
“You sure you want to feed my ego like that? You think I’m an arrogant asshole now? The way you’re staring at my cock is about to make me insufferable.”
I tear my eyes from his large erection—like intimidatingly large—and look back at his smirking face. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip and runs his eyes over my naked body. I’m flushed and panting. My breasts are heavy and aching. My thighs are sticky with my arousal. I’m sure I look ready to be fucked, and God help me, I totally am.
“Tell me you’re going to let me have you, Claire.”
It almost sounds like a plea. He climbs onto the bed and prowls toward me slowly until I’m lying flat and he’s hovering above me. His body is positioned perfectly between my thighs, and I can feel the head of his cock brushing against my wet, throbbing pussy.
“You’ve seen my medical records. You know I’m clear.” He leans down and growls against my lips. “Tell me you’re going to give me exactly what I’ve been wanting since I first saw you in that hotel room.”
Reality hits me.
The hotel room.
The one I was in because I was assigned to be his PR manager.
Fuck .
I squeeze my eyes shut, and he freezes.
“Trouble...”
I feel the space between us grow as he pushes himself back up on extended arms. I shake my head again, and then he groans and throws himself onto the bed beside me. When I finally open my eyes and turn my head to look at him, he has an arm thrown over his face and his dick is standing straight up, rock-hard as ever.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I just?—”
“You don’t have to apologize, Davis. I get it. Honestly, I’m surprised you let me get as far as we did.”
I stifle a smile at the misery in his voice, then push myself into the sitting position. My pussy is still throbbing, so I understand his disappointment. In fact, I have to mentally beat back the urge to say fuck it and climb on top of him. Instead, I grab a pillow and hide behind it.
“It’s not that I don’t want to.”
He slides his hand down his abdomen. The movement catches my attention, and I look just in time to see him wrap his hand around his dick and stroke. My mouth waters. I can’t stop staring. He strokes again, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from moaning.
“You staring makes me think you want a show.”
I jump at his voice, then turn to look at him. His grin is equal parts taunting and tempting. He’s still just as turned on as I am. I nod.
“I do want a show.”
“Fuck you.” He squeezes his eyes shut and groans. “Fuck you, Claire Davis.”
I open my mouth to ask what he means, but then he starts pumping his cock, and my voice vanishes. I can’t take my eyes off him. He squeezes and jerks himself, and I can feel myself dripping. I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
He reaches up with his free hand and grabs the pillow, tossing it on the floor.
“Spread your legs for me.” His voice is strained, his eyes flicking between my breasts and my pelvis. “Spread them. Show me that swollen little cunt. Torment me with what I can’t have.”
I don’t hesitate.
I lean back, propping myself on my extended arms, and bare myself to him. His expression is ravenous. Ravenous and almost angry. His lip curls into something resembling a sneer, and it gives me pause. Briefly, I wonder if he hates me, if what he sees disgusts him, but that thought is erased when he slides his fingers inside me once more.
“Jonah,” I moan, clenching around him as he curls his fingers. “Oh my God.”
He pumps his cock faster, and he doesn’t take his eyes off my pussy as he finger-fucks me. I gasp when his thumb presses on my clit, and as much as I want to watch as he plays with my pussy, I can’t take my eyes off his cock. The way he works himself. I want to touch him like that. I want to taste him. I want him inside me.
The thought almost sends me over the edge. My pussy clenches, and Jonah chokes out another groan.
“You’re going to come when I come, aren’t you, Trouble.” He starts to thrust harder, his thumb circling my clit faster, and I moan in response. “You’re going to come with me. You’re going to soak my hand with your cum, and you’re going to fucking ruin me. Every time I come, I’m going to think of this tight, perfect fucking cunt, and this tiny, swollen little clit, and your sexy, strangled moans. Is that your plan? Is that what you want?”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if he’s talking sense. I shake my head and open my mouth, but all that comes out is a breathless plea.
“Please, Jonah. Please.”
My orgasm comes with all the subtlety of a freight train. My breath leaves me in a whoosh and my body bows, but I force my eyes to stay open. I don’t look away from Jonah’s swollen cock.
“That’s right. Squeeze my fingers like you’d squeeze my cock. ”
I choke out a moan just as Jonah’s body starts to tense up. His muscles contract, his fingers curl inside me and stop pumping, and then he’s shooting his release all over his abdomen, painting his tattoos in streaks of white, glossy cum.
He pumps his cock until there’s nothing left, and then I bring my eyes to his face. He’s already looking at me. He’s not smiling, though. He’s studying me again. I give him a tight smile.
“Are you going to, um, remove your hand?”
He shrugs and makes no move to take his fingers out of me.
“I’m committing your pussy to memory.”
He states the words plainly, no humor at all, but I force a laugh anyway. It shouldn’t feel like a compliment, but it does. I look away and my attention falls back to his stomach and chest. At the glistening cum dripping down his sides.
And then I notice something else. I squint, then lean closer.
“Is that a scar?”
At the question, he releases me and gets off the bed. I grab a pillow and shield myself with it once more.
“Yeah.” He bends down and grabs his shirt, then uses it to wipe off his stomach.
“What’s it from?” I ask, and I don’t miss how Mr. Intense Eye Contact is refusing to look at me.
“Kidney transplant.”
“What?” I breathe out. “You had a kidney transplant?”
His answering laugh is dark. “I was the donor.”
He doesn’t say another word as he walks to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. Minutes later, I hear the shower kick on.
I wait for him until it’s clear that I’m being avoided, then I stand and pick up my clothes from the floor. I tear up and dispose of the card from Conrad, then put on a new pair of pajamas and crawl into my own bed. I curl my body into a ball. I picture myself growing smaller and smaller, disappearing under the duvet.
For the briefest of moments, I felt beautiful. I felt desired. That moment is over now.
I fall asleep before he returns to the bedroom.