Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I grab her by the waist and pull her close. She gasps as she falls at the edge of my chair. She attempts to wiggle away, because in her politically correct mind, she doesn’t like the kids to see us close. She feels like she’s taking a role that’s not hers.
If they have an issue with her, that’s their problem, not mine. Aurora is here to stay. I don’t fucking care what anyone says or thinks.
My fingers dig into the flesh of her waist, and she must realise that there’s no escaping me, because she releases a long sigh and remains still.
Soon, she’ll stop fighting or trying to run away from me.
Soon, she’ll be safe from both the world and herself.
But to make that happen, I might have to take a measure that she won’t like.
17
Aurora
Something is wrong.
This feeling has been a constant over the last couple of days. It could be because Jonathan didn’t spank me hard enough and has disappeared from my side when I wake up in the morning. He’s usually there the entire night, sometimes holding me through the aftermath of my nightmares, and other times staring at me as if he’s making sure of something. What, I don’t know.
Needless to say, after that night at Aiden’s house, I’ve been sleeping in Jonathan’s bed. My room was cleaned up and appears as good as new. However, each time I end up there, even to grab my things, Jonathan grabs me by my hand and leads me back to his room.
Not that I’ve wanted to spend any nights alone after those voices I dreamt about.
He still spanks me as ‘punishment’, but we both know it’s so much more than that.
It’s our connection.
It’s something that fills his eyes with possessiveness and mine with raw lust.
Sometimes, I wake up with his face buried between my legs. Other times, he fucks me into the mattress with his hand around my throat. He then sleeps with his cock deep inside me just so he can pick up where he left off in the middle of the night.
He exhausts me, but at the same time, he completes me in the strangest way possible.
There’s no getting enough of Jonathan. The harder he takes it out on me, the more I meet him head-on. If he’s a hurricane, I’m the wind that gets off on the damage he causes.
But it’s not always damage, and that’s what throws me for a loop. After he marks my arse with his handprint and wrenches one orgasm after the other out of me, Jonathan doesn’t stand up and leave like when I first came into his life.
He doesn’t look at me as if I’m an annoyance or something he’s bent on breaking. There’s acceptance in his steel eyes now, the sort that both frightens and intrigues me. Being on the receiving end of Jonathan’s attention is like living in a high-alert mode twenty-four-seven.
Then he does things that make me pause.
Every day, he either makes us shower together, or he runs me a bath and takes special care with washing my hair. It’s become so much of a habit that I get infuriated when I have to do it myself.
He also gets frustratingly protective whenever I hurt myself in any way.
Over time, he’s eventually stopped being a blank board in front of his children. Jonathan will always be Jonathan; however, he sometimes follows my lead and doesn’t purposefully act like a bastard.
I might be addicted to his harshness, but his tenderness strikes a completely different chord inside me. A part of me is slowly leaving my body and creeping to his side, and although I’m aware of it, there’s no way I can stop it.
He’s a steep cliff, and I keep rolling down, enjoying every bump and hit.
However, today, there’s something wrong.
When he gave me an undecipherable look this morning, I brushed it off. Jonathan does a lot of watching and observing, and not all of his expressions can be explained.
After all, he didn’t give me that look again, the ‘You’re crazy’ one. We’re past that phase, right? There’s no way he’ll bring that back up.
And yet, that doesn’t alleviate the tension sinking to the bottom of my stomach. I caught myself touching my watch more than often today, and I barely pushed through the meetings.
I leave work early, opting to go home. Not that Jonathan will be there at this time.
My feet come to a halt in front of my car. Did I just call Jonathan’s house home? Since when did I start considering it as such?
I shake my head, not wanting to think about it. Just when I’m about to open the door, a dark shadow passes in my peripheral vision.
My hand freezes as I search my surroundings.
H&H’s car park isn’t that big, but it’s still underground and silent. The only sound is the buzzing from one of the defective neon lights.