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Jonah registered the moment she thought of fleeing. He arched an eyebrow, commanding her not to even think of running… again. She sent him a look of censure in return. Tonight, was going to be interesting. Now that she was in sight, he was not leaving here without her. Not bothering to excuse himself from Vance, he took measured steps directly to her. He wasn’t even deterred when a group of women converged around her. The same ones that wouldn’t have given her the time of day back in high school.
Once he reached the group, manners abandoned him. “Brontë, I need a minute.” He was already reaching for her elbow before she could respond.
“Excuse you, we are talking to her,” one woman tried to interject as he propelled them away from the crowd. Brontë didn’t make a scene. She allowed herself to be guided out of the gymnasium, out into the hallway and right into the first empty room he came across.
“Well, that was rude. Why am I here Jonah?”
Words failed him as they stood behind closed doors, with her inches away from him. So, he dispensed with words, he pulled her to him and swallowed any objection she might offer. Her mouth was perfect, full, pouty, and tasted… uniquely of her. The way she sighed into his mouth tested his control. There were things they needed to discuss. Reluctantly, he relinquished their connection. For now.
“The better question is, where were you the other morning?”
Brontë expelled her breath in frustration. “Must we really have this discussion?” For all her bravado, her eyes didn’t meet his. She looked off to the side of the back of the room.
“Yes, we must. Look at me,” He snapped. Her refusal to meet his gaze awakened the feeling of loss at waking up with empty arms.
Fiery onyx orbs swung to him. “We are no longer playing out kinks. Don’t speak to me like that.” She snapped.
“The very last thing I’m doing is playing. You owe me an explanation. You skipped out on me. I want to know why.”
“We were done.” The haughtiness of her reply made his hand itch. He wanted to bend her over the nearest desk and show her how not done they were.
“You know better. Isn’t that why you ran?”
Brontë's eyes narrowed. Her nostrils flared, while her lips pinched. He knew she thought she was presenting a furious front, but he found it all endearing. Probably because she didn’t have a leg to stand on. She had run.
“I didn’t run. I removed myself from a situation that no longer served — Wait! What are you doing?” Jonah had moved closer and anchored one hand at her waist.
“Listening. Although, in the interest of time I’m stopping you. You aren’t going to convince yourself, let alone me, that you left because our situation no longer ‘served you’. If anything, I think it served you all too well.” The other hand found its way to her jaw. He couldn’t help but touch her. It was a compulsion he wouldn’t deny himself. Her lips parted slightly. Her lids fluttered with need.
“You and I work. Will work. We can explore and satisfy our kinks together. While having an amazing relationship.” His hand migrated and rested at the base of her neck.
Her pulse quickened beneath his touch. “Jonah—"
“You are going to argue with me? When I can feel how much you want me. How right we feel? I didn’t get to where I am by walking away from what I want.” His firm grip tightened.
Fire blazed in her gaze, “Neither have I.”
His mouth brushed her ear as he leaned forward. “Then don’t start now Angel.”
Jonah squeezed her neck, then released her. She shivered as he slid to his haunches. His hand glided under her dress, and he helped dispose of the slip of lace she wore.
“Don’t fight it. We work. Just embrace it.” Jonah announced as his head slipped under her dress. Her scent was ripe with excitement.
“We aren’t done talking about this—” Brontë cut off and gasped at the first swipe of her folds.
“Ah-huh.” Jonah was completely preoccupied with enjoying her taste. His tongue lapped at her pearl as she moaned his name. Absolute music to his ears. They were in perfect sync as she held his shoulders, steadying herself. Eager to drive her to her release, he slid his thick middle finger into her core. His pace was vigorous. The sound of her laboured pants filled the air as her excitement built. Her taste and enjoyment were the ultimate turn-ons. Oh, how he needed to drive her to the brink. As aroused as he was, it was imperative that her release slickened her core. A little pain with pleasure was acceptable, but his aim was always to make her feel good.
My she was close… soaking wet and her tangy scent flooded his nostrils. He would order her to cum, but his mouth was otherwise occupied. So Jonah doubled his efforts and allowed his ministrations to do the talking for him. It was a thing of beauty when Brontë’s body complied and she let out a chant of fucks, ranging in octaves. “Fuck, fuck.” What a sexy melody.
Jonah didn’t take time to savour her body’s reaction to being plunged into the abyss. He was desperate to follow her. He moved from beneath her skirt and bent her over the desk. In his haste, he narrowly avoided an incident with his zipper as he pulled it down in haste. His cock was pressed to her slit before he remembered he forgot something. “Shit, I need to grab—”
“It’s fine. Fuck me already.” Brontë ordered, her voice laden with desperation. Jonah was all too happy to comply. He was so damn glad that he did. Sliding into her wet, welcoming core without a barrier almost overloaded his senses. It triggered a savage response in him as he pounded into her. Their ragged breaths synced as they became lost in passion. Somewhere in the distance, he registered the door being opened and a sharp inhale.
“Close the fucking door,” both he and Brontë called out.
Much later, they would laugh at the instruction. Neither gave a second thought if their instructions were followed. They continued their animalistic joining until Jonah begged Brontë to, “Come with me, Angel.”
“Right there with you,” she panted just as the tingling shot up his leg directly to his cock. Without warning, Jonah spasmed as he flooded her core. Brontë followed him over the edge, her walls squeezing around him in a vice grip. It was all so much. Their sounds of pleasure were confined in their throat. Their bodies remained locked as their breaths returned to normal. He leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on her shoulder. His spent cock slipped from its confines.
