Chapter 38
38
JONATHAN
T he tension doesn’t leave with Adam and Meredith. I sit at the table, in my usual place.
“Uh, how’s Davy?” I ask, just to break the silence.
“He’s good.”
Ray doesn’t volunteer anything more. I press my lips together, stare at my hands. Meredith’s right. I should take a pay cut. I’m being paid at Dad’s pay grade, not mine. Yes, he needs the money, but so does the foundation. I’ll talk to Adam. Maybe Zane can help Dad out for a bit, until I find something else. I hate to ask, especially with Sebastian not working, but I’m not sure what else to do. The silence stretches on. I’m not used to this kitchen being a cool space. It’s usually the heart of our household.
Our household.
The twist in my gut is painful enough it drives me to speak. “I’m sure you could make amazing food with the basics.”
“Oh honey, please don’t worry yourself with all this.”
They set a cheese sandwich down in front of me and clasp my shoulder. Then they disappear into the pantry, leaving me to eat in silence.
I don’t see Adam for the rest of the day. After the children are tucked in bed, I seek him out and find him in the parlor. He’s sitting hunched at the bar, nursing something amber in a tumbler.
“Hey,” I say softly, so I don’t startle him.
He glances back at me. “Hey. How was cocoa?”
“It was fine.” I move further into the room. Like most classic French interiors, it has that magazine quality—everything too white or glossy to ever be practical. The couches and chairs have ornate engravings on their delicate curved feet and armrests, the upholstery is creamy with beautiful bright white detailing. A gold-rimmed mirror reflects the forest view from the window. It’s a space for entertaining guests, not for being alone in. “Are you all right?”
“Hmm?” He glances back at me. “Yeah.”
“You weren’t at dinner.” I join him at the bar.
A small smile ghosts across his lips. “I’m fine.”
“Worried about the foundation?” Or is this about earlier? An emotional hangover after opening up the way he did? Maybe both.
Adam sighs and hangs his head. “I made some bad decisions and now… I don’t know what’s going to happen. Everything’s such a mess.”
“Hey.” I cup his face, turning it to look at me. “I think you’ve done really well given the circumstances. You didn’t count on there being a pandemic.”
He scoffs and tries to look away, but I keep my hand on his cheek.
“You wanted to take four children and give them an amazing six months. You wanted them to thrive. They are. You’ve done great.”
His hand comes up to join mine. Then he takes a lock of my hair and brushes it behind my ear. “You’re so damned beautiful. You’re like sunlight. Soft and warm, with this glow about you… like an angel or something.”
I laugh and duck my chin. “How many of those have you had?”
“A few,” he admits with another small smile.
He’s probably been here for hours, drinking alone. I wish there was something I could do to fix what he’s going through. “You should cut my salary. Really.”
“C’mere.” He takes hold of my waist and pulls me closer, so I’m standing between his legs. “I don’t want to talk about this now.” He lifts his chin and kisses me.
His kiss is soft and sweet but it tastes sharp, like whisky. I deepen the kiss, chasing the taste and the feel of him. His hands come up and tangle in my hair. I bracket his face, unable to get enough of his lips on mine. My need rises up afresh, as if I didn’t get off with him a few short hours ago. His hands slide down to my arse and I moan encouragement at the feeling of his large hands there. Then he’s lifting me up onto the bar. Glasses and bottles scatter and crash. Some are definitely broken, but he doesn’t stop kissing me to check. He’s now standing between my legs, his fist tight in my hair, his mouth hot and demanding against mine.
“I believe you owe me a meal,” he says with a devious smile as he starts unbuttoning my trousers, setting my straining erection free.
I want this. I want this more than anything. My pulse is racing, my head foggy with desire. But… “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”
His hands still and I see the concern mix with disappointment on his face.
“I mean, given how much you’ve had to drink… I don’t know if we should…”
“Are you saying that because you aren’t into it or because you’re worried I’ll regret it when I’m sober? Because I can assure you that ain’t going to happen.”
The hunger in his voice sends heat radiating through me. I brace my hands on his large, muscular shoulders. “The last one. But?—”
He kisses me again and draws away just enough to say against my lips. “I love how much you care. It’s sexy as heck. But I’m not too drunk to consent.” Another kiss. “Promise.” Another. “Do you want me to stop?”
I shake my head. “God no.”
He grins and returns to the work of opening my trousers and sliding them, and my underwear, down to my ankles. With my cock in his hand, he kisses me again. I feel wild, exposed. “What if someone comes in?”
“We’ll hear them coming before they arrive. But you can try to keep an eye on the door.”
With that, he sinks down between my legs and takes me into his mouth. I dig my fingers into his shoulders as pleasure shoots through me. For all the blow jobs I’ve given, I’m not accustomed to receiving and I’ve certainly never received one this hot—sitting on a bar, surrounded by destruction, fully clothed from the waist up with my pants dangling from one foot. What if Meredith comes looking to apologize? What if Ray wants to talk to him about the chocolate? Oh god. The feel of his tongue against my glans, his huge hands holding my thighs open. I throw my head back, stifling a moan as his lips close around my cock and he slides me in. His mouth is hot and slippery and my eyes roll back in my head as he licks and flicks and sucks. The pleasure is radiating through my body. It’s exquisite. But then, in one smooth motion, he lifts off my cock, tucks his arms under my knees and hauls my legs up over his shoulders. I scrabble for purchase on the smooth bar, throwing my hands behind me as he lifts my hips. He meets my gaze as he pulls my cheeks apart and gives me another salacious grin. I realize what’s about to happen an instant before it does. My thighs go tight, my stomach leaps, and then he ducks his head and licks across my hole.
I’ve never experienced anything like it. The soft, sweet heat; the intensity of the touch against a part of me that’s never ever been touched by another person. It feels taboo, it feels delicious. Shimmering, aching, pleasure trickles through me as flicks his tongue against my hole. Then he licks up my crack and nips at my thigh, before looking at me. “Okay?”
I nod, unable to find my voice. He smiles and returns his attention to my hole, swirling his tongue around the entrance before pushing in. I cry out and bite down on my tongue. Someone might hear. But it’s too good, it feels too good, I can’t contain myself as he drives his strong tongue into me over and over again. “Adam, god, yes, oh my god, fuck, yes.”
He looks up when I swear, clearly amused. While I’m watching, he sucks his little finger into his mouth. Then he, ever so slowly, presses it against my hole and into me. I groan, eyes pressed closed in absolute bliss as he works it deeper. It’s just his little finger, but it feels like it fills me, especially when he curls it and I squirm, desperate for more—for everything he’s offering.
He stands, but he doesn’t remove the finger. He’s panting, chest rising and falling rapidly, and he looks like he wants to devour me. He pulls me closer, so my arse is right on the edge of the bar. Without breaking eye contact, he withdraws the finger and, before I can mourn its loss, replaces it with his index finger. I press towards him, eager for the fullness and he moans and tucks his head against my neck. He kisses my burning skin while he works the finger in and out past the tight ring of muscle. I grip his shoulders again, whispering encouragement. Yes. More. He slips out and then it’s his middle finger pressing in. There’s more resistance and it stings a little. After all, the only lube is his saliva. I grit my teeth and relax into the burn. I trust him completely. And the burn eases, replaced with that feeling of fullness, of intimacy, of closeness. He curls the finger, reaching deep inside me, and he brushes a spot somewhere within me. Ecstasy arcs through me and I cry out again, unable to contain myself. He rests his forehead against mine, brushing and pressing on that spot. I buck against him, lost in greater pleasure than I have ever known, than I have ever imagined. My very veins are on fire with it, my whole body caught in a rolling wave of heat and urgency. His other fist closes around my weeping cock and then I’m flying apart. My orgasm is so hard and powerful that it feels like my whole being is shattered, the euphoria too large to fit inside me. Like I’m one of those supernovas, exploding outward before contracting back into myself. I pant against Adam, head resting against his shoulder, body limp.
“I think I need a drink,” I manage eventually.
Adam slides his finger out of me, laughs and offers me his half-full glass, which somehow, miraculously, survived. I take a deep drink, the whisky leaving a pleasant burn as it slides down my throat. Not unlike the burn in my ass from where Adam’s finger so recently was.
“Did you…?” He’s standing too close for me to see whether he also managed to get off.
He kisses my ear, the edge of my jaw. “Do you have any idea how hot you are? Those sounds you make. My god.”
A shiver races through me. “Are you avoiding my question?”
“I want to fuck you,” he says. “I want to take you right here, on this bar.” He pulls back a little, so I can see his face. His features go soft and he touches my cheek. “Not going to though. Not tonight. That I’m going to do one hundred percent sober.”