Chapter 29
JONAH
Winnie and I drive home from the Neon Horseshoe in silence.
I’m not sure why she’s quiet, but I know why I am: I hated watching her dance with someone else, and I don’t trust myself enough to talk to her about it.
I’m not mad at her—never at her—because she hasn’t done anything wrong.
A dance is just a dance, and it looked like a pretty tame one at that.
I’m pissed off at myself—for starting to fall for her and then caring so much about something so simple.
I’m worried that if I bring it up, it’ll end with me admitting how I’ve been feeling about her lately, and I’m not sure she can handle it. Hell, I’m not sure I can handle it. This relationship was supposed to be a simple exchange, a marriage for money and nothing more.
I cut the ignition and get out of the car. I grab my guitar from the back and walk up to the house. Winnie follows me inside, and I’m immediately reminded of the fact that my house is tiny. There’s barely anywhere to hide from her.
“Jonah,” Winnie says, just as I sit down on the couch. “Can we talk?”
I groan internally, but scoot over and make room for her next to me. “Sure, Winnie. What about?”
“You just—you seemed upset in the car. You didn’t say a word towards me. In my experience silence means…” She trails off, and fiddles with her hands in her lap, twisting her wedding band around and around. “Silence means I did something wrong.”
It hits me like a ton of bricks. Winnie’s parents must have iced her out at times, and used silence as one of their tactics of control.
“You haven’t done anything wrong, sweetheart. I promise.”
“So everything’s alright?” Her voice is so hopeful it nearly breaks my heart. “You’re just tired after the gig?”
I sigh and rub my face. I don’t have it in me to lie to this kind, sensitive woman. I don’t have it in me to treat her the way others have. She deserves more than that.
“I’m upset,” I admit. “But not at you.”
“What is it? I thought the gig went really well. You guys sounded great, and they’d be an excellent band to record with.”
“I think it went well too. I already asked them if they’d be interested in recording and most of them are. The drummer has a busy schedule, so they’re not sure, but the other guitarist and bassist are in.”
“Aw, Jonah, that’s amazing!” Winnie throws her arms around me and gives me a brief hug. She doesn’t say anything else, and I can tell that she’s waiting for me to explain my mood to her.
“I hated watching you dance with that man,” I say after another moment of silence.
“I’m sorry.” Winnie’s deep blue eyes are large and worried.
I tug her hand into my lap and rub over the back of it with my thumb. “Don’t be sorry, Win. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m mad at myself and at the situation, not at you. It should have been me out there with you, no one else.”
“Jonah Smith, are you actually jealous?” Winnie’ voice holds a note of genuine surprise.
“Of course I’m jealous!” I can’t keep the exasperation out of my voice.
“I should be the only person dancing with you, the only man who has you in his arms. I know I wasn’t supposed to feel like that about you, but seeing that asshole spin you around earlier made me want to jump off of the stage and punch him in the jaw. ”
“Greg was nice, actually,” she says mildly. “Not an asshole at all.”
“Your wedding ring is right here,” I grumble, picking her hand up and tapping the ring with my finger. “Only an asshole would ignore this.”
“I’m not really your wife, though.”
Her words are like a gauntlet thrown down between us. She’s going to take them back before the end of the night.
“Really?” I ask. I lightly grip her jaw in one hand and tilt her chin upwards.
“Was it your name on the marriage license next to mine, Winsome Grant?” I lean in, hovering a hair’s breath away from her neck and inhaling her scent.
Her perfume is subtle and floral, and it’s mixed with her hair products and sweat.
I want to run my tongue along her skin and taste.
So I do. Winnie inhales sharply as my tongue darts out and licks a line from her throat up to her chin, ending in a kiss.
“Don’t call me Winsome. I hate that name. I’m tired of being Winsome. I’m Winnie now.” Her fierceness makes me smile.
“Fine, Winnie Grant, was it your name on that license next to mine?”
“Yes.” Her eyes flash to mine and I see her need written across her face—my wife wants me just as much as I want her.
I cradle the back of her head in one hand, my fingers threading through her soft hair, and brace myself over her on the couch with my other.
“Is it my ring, the one that I made you, on your finger?”
“Yes,” she breathes. “It is.”
“And who kissed you in the courthouse, wife?”
“You.”
“That’s right, me.” I claim her mouth with mine, and she opens for me in an instant, parting her lips and letting me have her. The taste and feel of her fills my senses, and desire surges through me. My hands shake with need for her and I grip the couch harder to keep steady.
Winnie fists my shirt and drags me closer. Our lips meld together, and as my tongue strokes into her mouth she lets out a ragged moan. I kiss a line down her throat and to her collarbone, pausing at the buttons on her blouse.
“Winnie,” I rasp out. “Can I…?”
“God, yes, Jonah.”
She undoes the top button for me, and I take care of the rest, baring her lace clad breasts. It makes sense that this woman, who has more clothes than I knew it was possible to own, would also have fancy lingerie.
“Do your panties match?” I ask, sweeping a thumb under one cup, back and forth. I brush over her nipple and she lets out a sigh of contentment.
“Why don’t you find out?” Her voice is coy, and I can tell that she wants me to take her up on the offer. But I’m not going to make things that easy for her.
“Were you hoping someone might see you in this tonight?” I ask, and then lean down and kiss her breast through the delicate material.
“No! I mean, no one but you.”
“That’s right. No one but me. I’m the only person who gets to see you like this.” I lift one of her breasts out of the cups, feeling the weight and the softness of her skin, and my cock surges in my pants. She’s exquisite. “Why is that, Winnie?”
I want to hear her say it—that she’s my wife. That she’s mine. And I’m not giving her what she wants until she does.
“Um,” she says, and then moans again as my hand cups her through her jeans. I massage her there once, twice, and then stop.
“Should I take these off and see if you’re wearing pretty lace panties that match your pretty lace bra?”
Winnie just nods, and her fingers tangle with mine as together we slide her pants down her hips. I tug them off the rest of the way and then toss them to the side. I kneel in front of her.
“Just as I thought,” I murmur, running a finger along the edge of the matching pink lace.
I part Winnie’s thighs with my hands, spreading her wide and open.
Her chest is heaving, and she’s completely disheveled: hair wild around her face, makeup smudged, her shirt unbuttoned, breasts spilling out.
No woman has ever looked more beautiful.
It turns out that I like making a mess of Winnie Grant. A lot.
I drag one finger down her center, and then lightly massage her through the lace.
Just once. A thrill goes through me as she whimpers—as I see how much she wants this.
I kiss the inside of her thigh and then up and on top of her pussy, and then make my way to the other side.
Her thighs shake under my hands, and she lets out a small moan.
“You want my hands and my tongue on you, don’t you?”
“Jonah,” she hisses. “Please.”
“You want me to peel these off of you.” I hook one finger under the edge of her panties.
“Y-yes.”
“Say you’re my wife,” I tell her. I reach up and palm her breasts. I tug on each nipple, eliciting a sharp cry from her. “Say it, Winnie, or you’ll get nothing more from me.”
“Jonah,” she moans my name again, and my cock grows impossibly hard in my pants.
“Don’t fight it, Win.” I massage her thighs, relishing her soft skin, and feel her quiver underneath my hands.
“We might be married,” she pants, “but I’m not really your wife. It’s just temporary.”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m a loyal man, Winnie.
Only my wife gets my hands, and my mouth, and my cock.
Say you’re my wife and I’ll give you anything you want.
I’ll make your sweet pussy mine.” I drag her panties down and off, and then lean in and place my mouth right above her aching core.
I can tell she’s dripping for me already, but I just wait.
“Fine! I’m your wife!” she huffs out.
Power surges through me. “Say it again.”
“I’m your wife!”
“Good.”
And then I give her exactly what we both want. I lick her, long and slow, and then flick my tongue over her clit. Winnie lets out a hoarse moan of approval, and I lick at her more, sucking her clit into my mouth lightly and then flicking my tongue over it.
I push a finger inside of her, and love the hot, tight feel of her. I add another finger, filling her even more, and fuck her with my hand slowly as I savor the taste of her. Winnie gasps and jerks herself forward, taking my hand deeper inside.
“That’s it, wife, ride my hand like a good girl.” I lean back and watch as my fingers disappear in and out of Winnie’s sweet, glorious cunt. “You like this, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she lets out, a blush blooming on her cheeks. She whimpers as I push my fingers into her harder, and then faster.
I massage her clit with my other hand, thumbing it lightly but steadily, working her into a frenzy.
I can tell she’s right on the edge, but I want to draw out her pleasure.
I tongue her clit again, slowly and in circles, and she grips the back of my head and grinds into my face in response.
I love seeing her completely undone with need like this.
“Jonah, fuck, I’m so close,” she whines.
I increase the pressure, and her hips buck wildly underneath me, and then she starts to shudder and moan, the orgasm rocketing through her. I make it last as long as possible, until she’s spent and shivering on the couch before me.
I rise, and then sit beside her, gathering her in my arms and stroking a hand down her hair. It feels instinctual to hold her like this, like she belongs right here, in my arms.
“Was that good?” I ask, though I’m pretty sure I know the answer.
“Definitely.” Winnie surges upwards and moves her hand towards my crotch. “I can reciprocate!”
“Sweetheart, there’s no need. That was all about you, just like I wanted it to be.”
“But I don’t want you to feel used.”
That makes me chuckle. “Win, seeing you come undone under my hands and mouth, and hearing you moan my name, was fucking perfect. I don’t need anything else. Not tonight.”
“Okay,” she says, still frowning. “But maybe another night?”
Images of my wife on her knees for me, her tongue lapping at my cock, spear through my mind. “Yeah, definitely another night. For now, let’s just sleep.”
We stand up and Winnie takes a blanket with her, wrapping it around her shoulders.
I take one last look at her and then walk over to my bedroom, reluctantly opening the door.
I want to suggest that we sleep together in the main bedroom, but I worry it’s a step too far.
She might not be ready for what that might mean.
“Goodnight Winnie,” I say from the doorway.
“Night Jonah.”