“I know,” I murmur back. “Does Jonathan always come over to play with Aiden?”

“We’ve been living here for fifteen months, and this is the first time Jonathan has stepped foot into our house. I thought he’d never come over, so thank you for bringing him. I know it means a lot to Aiden.”

“I didn’t bring him.”

“Yes, you did.” She grins and it appears child-like, considering her drunken state. “Told you. You’re the colours in his life.”

Am I, though?

After all, he’s been disappointed in me since last night. Even the alcohol isn’t able to make me forget about that part.

We watch them some more as we talk about university and the differences between my experience of it and hers.

When my eyes droop, Elsa leads me upstairs and into the guest room I changed my clothes in earlier.

There’s a bed, a half-empty antique wardrobe, and a tall side lamp. It’s simple, beautiful, and cosy.

“Sorry it’s not much.” Elsa brings out blankets from the wardrobe. “I haven’t had the chance to properly decorate it. Aiden said we’d never have guests, because he’d kick them out.”

“Sounds like Aiden.”

“Tell me about it.” She rolls her eyes and motions at the fresh towels and the silky nightgown on the bed. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m the one who should thank you for coming into our lives.” She hugs me, her coconut scent mixing with the wine. “Thank you so much for giving Aiden a chance to not only move on from Alicia, but to also find some middle ground with his father.”

“I did nothing.”

She pulls back, a smile on her flushed face. “Yeah, you did. Aiden had a weird relationship with Jonathan and, deep down, it’s because of Alicia’s death. The fact that you’re trying to mend it means a lot to him. He doesn’t know how to be grateful, so I’ll do that on his behalf.”

The devotion and affection she has for her husband warms my heart. Age really doesn’t matter. They might be barely twenty, but they share the connection of an old couple in complete harmony. “Aiden is so lucky to have you in his life, Elsa.”

“And Jonathan is lucky to have you in his.”

I wouldn’t be so sure about that.

After Elsa leaves, I strip off the dress and underwear to put on the nightgown. It takes me several minutes due to my drunken state. I trip and catch myself, only to trip again.

“Stupid clothes,” I mumble.

You know what? Who needs a nightgown? My skin is on fire anyway.

I kick all the clothes away, slip under the covers, and close my eyes.

Much better.

It doesn’t take me long to fall asleep. I dream of strong hands twisting my nipples and fingers slipping into my pussy. My back arches off the bed as a moan falls from my lips.

The fingers angle inside me, hitting my sweet spot. I writhe in their merciless hold, needing more.

Oh. There. Just there.

He curls his fingers deeper inside me. “Here?”

My eyes snap open at the familiar voice.

It’s not a dream. It’s Jonathan.

 

 

15

 

 

Aurora

 

 

My mouth opens in an ‘O’ as I fall into Jonathan’s presence.

He’s spooning me from behind, his firm naked chest covering my back. The pads of his fingers trace my areola with expert slowness. My nipples are so hard, they ache with the need to be stimulated.

His other hand hovers over my pussy, teasing my wet folds, but not touching. My skin is hot and tingly, and it’s not because of the alcohol — at least, not all of it.

“Jonathan?” I breathe out. “What are you doing here?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” His voice is husky with lust as he pounds two fingers inside me in one go and tugs on a nipple.

I arch against him, my breathing crackling as a moan rips through the air. My moan. It doesn’t matter what state I’m in. My body is so attuned to his, so used to his domineering touch that I come alive in an instant. This is our normal — no matter how fucked up that is. That’s why the platonic treatment from this morning messed with my head.

“No…I…I meant h-here…in this room?”

“Apparently, Aiden has one guest room and he thinks that’s too much.” He pauses, and I nearly curse my idiotic question. “Why? You have an objection?”

“N-no…” my voice ends in a whimper as he curls his fingers inside me, triggering a low thrumming at the bottom of my stomach.

“I thought so.” He releases my taut nipple to pull my hair to the side. His hot lips latch onto the hollow of my throat, sucking the sensitive skin into his wet mouth. A zap of pleasure shoots straight between my legs as if he’s feasting on my pussy.

“Oh… Holy…shit…J-Jonathan…”

I don’t know if it’s the alcohol or his touch or the damn friction, but my entire body is so turned on and about ready to burst with all the sexual pleasure pulsing inside me.

“You did something wrong, Aurora,” he speaks against my skin, his light stubble adding to the unbearable stimulation.

“I-I did?”

“You ran away from me.”

“I-I d-didn’t.”

He bites on the skin on my throat and I push back against him in need for more. “You’re in Oxford, which means you did.”

“H-how did you find me, anyway?” I doubt Aiden would’ve called him.

“I have my ways.”

The realisation seeps into my dazed brain. “You…you have people following me like you do Levi and Aiden?”

No clue why I haven’t thought about that after he magically found me in Leeds. Only, there’s nothing magical about the situation. It was all calculated. Jonathan and his control freak, methodical brain know no limits.

“Did you really think I’d leave you alone after you were attacked?”

“No?”

“No. I chased you before, and I’ll chase you again if I have to.”

“You chased me.” I don’t know why I repeat the words. It’s almost as if I’m trying to commemorate them to memory.

“I did.”

“W-why?” I clench around his fingers when he pulls them out, but he only does that so he can thrust them back in.

“Because you’re mine.” His hoarse whisper against the shell of my ear drives me over the edge.

Just like that. No warning. No preparation.

This orgasm isn’t slow-building or submerging. No. It explodes all over my skin and detonates inside me.

I tilt my head back and capture Jonathan’s lips as the wave invades me. It could be the alcohol or the bursts of excitement he’s initiated in me, but I don’t stop to think about my actions as I kiss him.

Or rather, he’s the one who takes full control of it. The man’s kiss is as commanding as he is. His tongue swirls against mine, dominating my every breath and confiscating my thoughts in the process.

He’ll probably punish me for initiating the kiss later, but I don’t care. Not now. He’s looking at me with lust instead of disappointment and I want to drown in that. I want to snatch it away and hide it somewhere.