My pulse skyrockets under his touch and something utterly strange happens as he glides his thumb on my pulse point, threatening to choke me, but not exactly going that far.

My underwear.

It feels slick.

Holy. Shit.

He didn’t even inflict pain, right? And yet here I am, already delirious with a pleasure I can’t wrap my mind around.

“Every time you make me repeat myself, you’ll be punished. Every time you show attitude, you’ll also be punished. I have no tolerance for disobedience.” His free hand reaches to my bra and yanks it down, exposing my breasts. He pinches my already taut nipple. “But I already told you that, didn’t I?”

I gasp, nearly dropping my fork.

As if my reaction falls on deaf ears, he runs his finger over the assaulted nipple before twisting it again.

“Jonathan…” My moan echoes in the silence of the room like a mantra.

“You’re not eating.” His voice drops in range as his thumb squeezes on the pulse point in my throat. “If you don’t, I’ll stop.”

I lift my next forkful, not even sure if I got food on it or not, and shove it in my mouth.

My hands are flat out shaking as he continues his assault on my nipple. No idea how Jonathan does it. All I know is that I’ve never felt this before.

I’ve never craved something as much as I’m burning for the foreign sensations he’s injecting into my body.

I’ve never craved someone I hate so much.

Jonathan angles my body using my throat so my back meets the hard ridges of his chest. My breasts thrust in his face and he wraps his lips around a nipple. His slight stubble creates throbbing friction as he sucks and bites down on the tender flesh. His fingers continue torturing my other nipple while his other hand holds my throat hostage.

I shudder, the fork clinking on the plate as a thousand sparks hit me in the womb.

His movements come to a halt as he speaks in a raspy voice against my skin, “What did I say?”

I quickly pick up the fork, feeling like a kid learning how to eat as I roll the spaghetti on the tines.

The assault on my nipple turns me delirious. My core is slick and pulsing, close to the detonation point I reached last night, but not exactly.

“These are quite sensitive, aren’t they?” He slides his tongue back and forth on the rosy peak. “Does it hurt?”

I’m munching slowly so I don’t choke on the food, but I manage a nod.

“It does, doesn’t it?”

I nod again, not even sure why I’m doing it.

“But it’s not enough. You want more.”

I stare at him with a wildness that beats under my skin like an animal’s. Does he have telepathic powers?

Jonathan releases my nipple and slides his hand down my stomach over my dishevelled, barely buttoned blouse.

I suck in a fractured breath, but I make sure to take another bite of food. This is so fucked up, but I have no will to stop it.

I’m caught, hook, line and sinker. Instead of fighting and dying soon, I opt to enjoy one last swim.

Jonathan reaches into my skirt and underneath my underwear. His long, masculine fingers leave scorching hot trails on my bare skin as he circles my clit.

“Mmm. You’re wet.” His appreciative tone makes me close my eyes in pure bliss.

I’ve never, ever, tried to be wet for someone before. I recognised my numbness and rolled with it. If anything, I thrived in it. This is the first time I’m glad I am.

Am I a masochist or something?

Jonathan pinches my nipple and swollen clit at the same time.

There’s no warning this time. No danger alarm or even the contracting of my stomach. Heat drags me into its burning clutches. I scream and explode all over his hand as if it was always meant to be.

This fall is like bungee jumping without a rope, yet it feels like the jump of a lifetime. One I’ll never return from.

Oh, God.

I’m still catching my breath, trying and failing to regulate it when Jonathan releases my throat and motions at the plate. It’s empty. Just like my insides.

The bastard manipulated me into eating it all.

“Good girl.” He smirks, then pushes me off him so I’m sitting on the chair, stands, and leaves.

I remain there, my clothes rumpled, my core pulsing, and my nipples aching.

And yet, all I want is more.

I’m so screwed.

19

Aurora

Did I say I could survive six months in Jonathan’s company?

It’s only been two weeks and I’m already at my wits’ end.

Every day, I’ve gone back to the house, shaking in anticipation of what he’ll do next. What buttons he’ll push. What ludicrous demands he’ll make.

Every dinner and breakfast, Jonathan sits me on his lap and makes me eat my entire plate.

It’s not even about the food anymore.

The way he touches me so unapologetically, or spanks my arse when I defy him, has become a habit. Worse, it’s become something I look forward to.

I shouldn’t.

Jonathan isn’t the type of man I can get lost in or even allow close.

However, the moment he yanks me down on his lap, I don’t even protest anymore.

It’s become the most natural place to be.

After every session of fingering, torturing my nipples, and holding my throat hostage, Jonathan leaves me in the dining room alone with my scattered thoughts and my shaking limbs.

Sometimes, he’ll fetch me from my room when I’m late for breakfast, or lay me on the bed and spank me for giving him the attitude he hates so much.

Other times, he’ll send me emails — no texts, because in his words, those are juvenile. The last exchanges were between last night and this morning.

From: Jonathan King

To: Aurora Harper

Subject: I’ll be Late but Don’t You Dare Sleep

Lie on your bed, face down, and don’t put any clothes on.

From: Jonathan King

To: Aurora Harper

Subject: Second Reminder to Not Fall Asleep

You better be on your fucking stomach when I walk in, or that arse will pay the price.

I did fall asleep, more out of defiance than actually being tired, and my arse did pay the price before he wrenched a dizzying orgasm out of me that knocked me out for real.