With the franticness of our movements, I hadn’t noticed that I was almost fully naked in his kitchen with a large window overlooking the city. We are high enough that people can’t recognize us, but they will still get a show.
Normally, this would deter me quickly, but not this time. It’s as if he brings this completely wild side out of me. Smiling, I get an idea. Pulling from his tight grip on my hips, I jump down to my feet and pull his pants down. I want him to take me, but not here.
Nodding my head toward the window, his eyes light up in surprise, and once his pants are completely off, he grabs me, lifting me as he carries me to the window. I gasp as the cool glass touches my back and bottom.
I’ve never felt this free before. I want people to see how much we enjoy each other.
My head falls back against the glass as he pulls my thong aside and enters me with his entire length. Using the window as leverage, he thrusts up and down quickly, as if he hadn’t seen me in months. The rush must be taking over his senses as he dips down and sucks on my neck.
“God, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he grunts, shoving himself harder inside of me, and I whimper, gripping my nails into the skin on his back.
While this time is a little more rushed and frantic, it feels just as good as our first night together.
“Jon,” I moan, and he groans at the sound of his name dripping off my lips. There’s still passion, he is still tender, but the moment we connect like this, he becomes a whole different man. A man who craves my every touch, my every whimper of pleasure.
I just wish he knew how much I crave him too.
His breathing is now rapid as his eyes close. “No,” I say, pulling his attention back to me. “Look at me when you finish.” He grins mischievously as I use his own words against him. With one hand, he still holds onto me, but the other hand slams against the window, and pleasure washes over his face.
“Fuck,” he groans and I can feel him pulsating inside me, filling me up as he finishes. Once he catches his breath, he lowers me to my feet and kisses me. “God, where have you been all my life?”
Giggling, I walk over and grab his white button-down and slip into it. I leave the buttons undone, exposing my nude body as Islowly walk to the living room. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here now,” I respond, but don’t turn around.
I’ve been curious how such a well-put-together man like Jon lives outside of work. Running my fingers along the edge of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf, I notice a few figurines that don’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before.
“Those are from Marrakesh, a beautiful town in Africa. It’s an elephant. My father traveled the continent when I was just a baby. He brought these back for me and I’ve had them ever since,” Jon reveals as he wraps his arms around me from behind. I can feel his warmth through the shirt.
I carefully pick one up. It’s hand carved entirely of wood and has markings down the legs and trunk. “It’s beautiful,” I comment as I set it back down on the shelf. Taking a few steps forward, I stop at a gold-framed photograph with a man, a tall woman, and a young boy.
“Who is that?” My voice is low as I inspect it further. They are all standing outdoors at what appears to be a horse ranch. They look happy.
He stalls for a moment, then sighs. “Those are my parents, and that little guy is me.” There’s an uncomfortableness to his tone as he speaks.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” I don’t know much about him, let alone his family. Hitting a nerve was not my intention.
“No, it’s okay. My mother ran off when I was young, not long after this was taken at my uncle’s horse farm. My father raised me by himself, but he died a few years ago.” He looks at the picture but then turns his attention back to me. “It’s all in the past. It’s late, why don’t we get some rest?”
Nodding, I smile half-heartedly and follow him into the bedroom. It’s evident that there’s this deeper, sensitive side to Jon that he likes to keep hidden, but I will never push him to open up, especially when it hurts him to speak about it.
As we lay in bed, I face the window, watching the beautiful snow falling above the city. Jon wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me closer to him before nuzzling his face in my neck.
“I wish this never had to end,” he whispers against my skin.
The words should melt me. They should make me curl into him and close my eyes. Instead, something sharp twists in my chest. My stomach tightens, my breath stalls.
Because what if he doesn’t mean it? What if this is just pillow talk, a line he’s used before? What if I’m only here until I’ve served my purpose?
Heat creeps up my throat, not the good kind. My mind spins. He promoted me, gave me this new role, and suddenly I’m in his bed. Is that how it looks from the outside? Is this a pattern for him—women drawn into his orbit, used up, quietly replaced when the shine wears off?
Images flash—Sherry’s glare at the office, the whispered gossip from the assistants, my father dismissing me at the dinner table because my brother was the only child worth bragging about. Being overlooked, discarded, replaced. Always replaceable.
No. I bite down on the thought. He’s not like that. I’ve seen it in his eyes, the way he touches me, listens to me. Haven’t I?
But the fear doesn’t let go. It lodges in my ribs, a cold, tight ache even as his lips brush my neck again.
“Well,” I force out, voice softer than I intend, “it doesn’t have to.”
He hums, satisfied, resting back on his pillow like the conversation is settled. His arm is heavy around me, anchoring me to him.
