Chapter 3 Kitty #2
Beg for it. Let me hear it in your tone.
The lyrics couldn’t be more perfect for what I wanted from him.
Jonas’ hand gripped the armrest, and I turned around, circling my hips while glancing over my shoulder before going back to him, putting one leg over one thigh only to do it to the other, taking back the seat I’d just left.
The way you look at me. My whole body responds.
You don’t touch me, but I can feel you already… .
His jaw clenched to the point it almost seemed painful as I held his face and started to dance on his lap.
“Kitty.” His tone was a warning I chose to ignore.
“Shh,” I hushed. I wasn’t sure what had come over me and what exactly I was going to do, but I let my body talk for me.
“Baby, you don’t have to—“ His voice sounded gruff to my ears, almost tortured.
“What if I want to?” I asked sweetly. There was no denying how vulnerable and free I felt all at the same time.
Time slowed.
I stared at him, still unable to believe he was real.
I wasn’t sure what star I’d made a wish on that had made him come to life, but fuck me, I was thankful for it.
No matter what happened from here on out, I’d take the good, the bad, and the heartbreak my poor little cynical heart wouldn’t ever be able to wipe away.
Jonas sat back on the couch we’d spent so much time together on.
Thick, long fingertips tapped impatiently on the cushions below him like he was trying to keep some kind of grip on what was happening between us.
His hair was a little ruffled up from my hands, his suit more disheveled than I’d ever seen, and his gaze promised he’d eat me up whole if I let him.
His nose flared, and I knew he wasn’t going to deny me. I fought not to outright smile at him.
“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. “You’re sure?” That massive chest of his rose and fell. I nodded, looking up at him from beneath my lashes, and happily watched the way his Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Dance,” he clipped. My sex clenched for relief I couldn’t get yet. Soon, a little voice whispered, and I wasn’t sure if it was the jaded side or the hopeless romantic that’d said it. Maybe it had been both? “Dance for me, beautiful girl,” he ordered again, and I did just that.
Moving to the song, loving the way the lyrics somehow fit exactly to how I felt.
I wanted everything she said in the song.
For him to beg, or for him to make me beg for more.
I didn’t care. I was a writhing, squirming wet mess of his lap.
Letting my lips hover over his own, gliding against his cheek and into the crook of his own neck.
His expensive cologne smelled sinfully delicious.
But it was the scent beneath the cologne and body wash that made my mouth water for the heady taste of him.
The natural smell of Jonas’ skin mixed with sweat and something uniquely him made me dizzy.
My mind was fuzzy, drunk off the sexy song and how good his strong and more than capable body felt beneath my own.
Working up both of us to the point I was embarrassingly close to shattering right here on his lap.
I’d never enjoyed my job more.
We were both breathing heavily by the time the song ended and something new started to play. His forehead pressed against mine, lightly slick with sweat, forcing the two of us to sharing the same air.
“You’re playing a dangerous game, kitten.” It might have been a warning, but I only saw it as a challenge. I felt my lips move upward without meaning to grin at him.
“Would you rather go back to us reading?” I taunted, poking a sleeping beast.
“Kitty.” My name sounded strained on his tongue, and I wanted to hear it again.
“You like me here.” I pressed my lips to his chin before pulling back. “Don’t you?” I asked, moving to kiss the other side. I was playing with fire and couldn’t wait to feel the burn.
“Katarina.” My heart skipped a beat at him calling me by my real name. No one called me that. Not since my parents had passed away my junior year of high school. His jaw clenched, and I pouted playfully, reaching for his hands.
“Please,” I pleaded sweetly, staring up at him with wide eyes. Bringing his hands up next to us, his fingertips touched mine. “Don’t you know what you’ve been doing to me all these months, big guy?”
“Tell me,” he groaned like he was in pain. Pain I knew I could make better.
“I’ve wanted to crawl onto your lap nightly,” I admitted.
“You have?” He swallowed. I nodded, tangling our fingers together as my hips worked against his length.
His eyes dropped to my breasts, and I got the privilege of watching him lick his lips.
Sweat glistened on his upper lip before I lost his gaze and his eyes shut fiercely.
“What else?” The scratchiness in his voice made me wetter.
“I thought about your hands on my body,” I admitted.
There was something about being on his lap, so close to him.
I might have been on top, but there was no denying who was really in charge.
I wanted to tell him every secret I had if he asked.
My eyes drifted to his hands before carefully guiding one closer to my face.
“Exploring me. Mapping out every line and curve.” He trembled under me. “Your hands are beautiful.”
“Kitty.”
“They are.” I brought his knuckles to my lips, carefully kissing each one without letting my eyes move from his. His body bucked up, and I gasped when his hardness pressed closer against my swollen and needy clit.
“Big.” I opened his hand, and he swallowed, his intense gaze dark and hungry.
“Capable.” I kissed the inside of his palm, swiping it with my tongue. “Manly.”
“Katarina.” He said my name perfectly. Rolling the ‘r’ like he’d practiced it a million times.
“I’d go home so wet, Jonas,” I admitted softly. “After pressing my body against yours, both of us reading.”
“You’re killing me, kitten.” His restraint was commendable.
“No one has ever distracted me from my reading time. Only you,” I kept sharing, exposing way too much and not giving a shit.
An animal-like sound rumbled through him, and it only fed the need to keep talking, sharing more of myself than I’d ever shared with a man.
“I’d go home and touch myself and—“ His hand left mine and cupped the back of my head and pulled me closer to him.
In the next beat, his mouth crashed against mine, and if the last kiss had been passionate, this was so much more. So much I doubted a word existed to describe it. Like a feral animal unleashed, Jonas’ crazy control had seemed to snap. One arm banded around my middle, pulling me close to his chest.
With a mind of their own, my hands started to paw at his suit jacket. He helped me get it off him before picking me up and flipping us. Before I knew which way was up, my back hit the couch, and he was kneeling on the ground.
“Look at you.” The clear appreciation in his voice made my hands move up to cup my breasts. A deeper sound emanated from him. My fingers pinched my nipples through the lacy sheer bra. The friction sent a shot of warmth between my legs, reminding me of just how empty and needy I felt.
“Jonas,” I moaned, staring at him through hooded eyes. He reminded me of a wild animal about to pounce on its prey.
“Open these legs for me, kitten,” he rasped. “Let me see what belongs to me.” His brusque tone made my skin break out into gooseflesh.
“Belongs?” I repeated. The word bounced in my head. If it were any other man, my palm would have slapped his face. I wasn’t property to be owned. But coming from Jonas, They made my heart and brain melt, and my legs opened like he’d asked me to.
“Belong,” he confirmed with a terse nod.
“You, everything about you, from the top of your head”—he kissed my forehead and pulled back—“to the bottom of your pretty little feet is mine.” His hands grazed my ankle.
“And everything in between.” His eyes dipped lower, and I knew there was no way he could miss the effect he had on me.
I was wet.
Dripping and needy for so much more.
“Fuck,” he cursed. “Look at you.” A wolfish little grin covered his face. “That pretty, wet spot for me, kitten?”
“Yes.” I loved his dirty talk and wasn’t ashamed to give back as good as I got.
I wanted him.
All over me. Inside of me. Losing myself at the hands of a man had always been something I’d pushed against.
Until Jonas.
His huge hands pushed my inner thighs open wider with such incredible gentleness a knot formed in my throat. I knew what was coming. I wasn’t stupid. But nothing could have prepared me for how good Jonas’ lips felt on my panty-clad pussy.
“Yes!” I hissed. The back of my head pressed deeper into the couch.
“Sweet,” he groaned. “Mmm, mine. All mine,” he growled, the vibrations making me wetter and hornier than I knew was even possible. He hooked his fingers over the gusset of the panties, and his tongue swiped between my sensitive bare folds.
“Jonas!” I cried out. It only seemed to egg him on.
Licking me.
Nipping at my skin.
The man went down on me like I was a quickly melting cup of ice cream on a hot summer day.
His finger teased my entrance, over and over, until I was begging him to finger me.
But he didn’t. His mouth kept at me, the tip of his tongue replacing his finger.
The thick pad of his thumb started to press circles around my clit.
“Fuck, baby! Oh my, my—“ My voice cracked. I had no idea how he did it, but my first orgasm shot through me.
Like a tsunami of pleasure, it wiped me out.
Pulling me under. Crashing over me time and time again.
Never letting me quite catch my breath. Time and space and matter no longer existed, and my big guy never stopped.
My body convulsed as my pussy ached to be filled.
With my inhibitions gone, I wasn’t even afraid of anyone hearing the broken cries of pleasure Jonas pulled from me.
Incoherent mutterings and filthy words slipped past my lips.
But again, he didn’t stop.
His deep voice urged me for another. His fingers joined in, the thick digit stretching me, making my toes curl, and my hips started to get in on it, not just to the rhythm of the way he touched me but the soft sexy song playing through the speakers.
First one, then a second. Both thick and stretching me.
The bite of pain filled me, making me spread my legs a little wider.
Each stroke pushed me closer and closer to the edge.
The deep masculine sounds that came from him only made me hotter and needier.
If my first orgasm was a giant wave, the second was like a riptide.
Not as big but none the less dangerous because it wouldn’t let me get back to shore.
My thighs trembled, and sweat dripped down my back, and when he was done wringing out every ounce of pleasure from me, I was ready for him to pull his thick cock out and mount me to get his.
But he didn’t.
Jonas Porter was nothing like the men I’d ever met in my life before. And fuck me, if that didn’t scare me just as much as it excited me like nothing ever had.
I’d known he was different, just not how much.
Instead of screwing me into next Sunday, the man of dreams I had been too afraid to have stood and swept me up into his arms like I was made of the most delicate, precious crystal.
My hands immediately wrapped around his neck, and his eyes connected with mine.
Jonas’ gaze was soft and warm, like a man who was satisfied by what he’d just done to his woman while he took a seat.
That look on his face confused me.
I could feel just how hard he was with the throbbing length beneath me, but you wouldn’t know it by looking at him.
Those hazel eyes were more green than brown as he smiled almost shyly back at me.
I found that his ridiculously handsome face shiny with my juices made him even sexier. “That okay?” he asked.
“That was… better than okay,” I answered honestly, not bothering to play it cool or put my usual attitude-laced mask on.
“Yeah? More than okay?” His lips twitched, but I could see his chest puff up like a proud peacock.
“Oh yeah.” I smiled brightly. The walls I usually kept around me had fallen somewhere on the floor of the private room, and I was too happy, too relaxed, and too cozy in his arms to try to start building them back up. I shifted, and the stiff reminder made it fall slightly. “What about—“
“Don’t worry about that.” He shook his head and leaned closer, kissing me softly. I could taste myself on his mouth, and I didn’t mind it. I enjoyed it.
“Why not?” My eyes started to feel heavy, but I guess that was to be expected after two phenomenally world-shattering orgasms.
“Because when I have you, Kitty, it’s not going to be on the couch in a strip club.” When, not if.
“Jonas—“
“You’re going home with me tonight., he stated, like his word was law.
“But—“The word slipped out. Old habits died hard and all that.
“No buts,” he cut me off, nipping my argument in the bud. “You’re coming home with me,” he repeated, something I was almost positive he hardly ever had to do with anyone else.
“Okay,” I found myself agreeing. I felt his body relax beneath mine, like he had been ready to argue with me about it.
And that’s when it struck me.
He wanted me.
Jonas Porter wanted me.
He knew what I did. Who I was. Not only had that not scared him off, he paid attention to the things I liked.
How many times had I stepped foot into our little reading sessions, and he had my favorite snacks or my favorite coffee from my favorite shop waiting for me?
I might have decided earlier to give this thing a go, but in that moment, resting my head on his shoulder as my body slowly came down from the most beautiful high anyone had ever given me, I knew that Jonas Porter was mine, too.
For how long? I wasn’t sure. But I was going to have fun. Throw caution to the wind and roll the dice with the man who made me feel seen and safe.
I’d had front row tickets to Jade gambling on Lucas.
Maybe it’s my turn?
Maybe I wasn’t as ordinary as I’d let myself believe?
Maybe he saw something special in me, too?