Resist (Songs of Submission #6)(14)

“Goddess,” he said, pulling me to him for safety, “you are a shitload of trouble.”

“You sorry you wanted a commitment?” Cars whipped around us at the green, horns screaming again.

“No. You’ve turned my existence into a life.”

An SUV swerved, but we held our gaze. “I’m about to turn it into your death.”

As if daring L.A. drivers to hit a couple in the middle of the street on a Saturday night, he leaned over and kissed me. I kissed him back. It’s not every day you get to flip off a whole city.

Chapter 13.

MONICA

I didn’t tell Jonathan my phone had started buzzing while we were in the street. As I dismounted in my driveway, I glanced at it.

Jessica.

As if sensing something was amiss, Jonathan took hold of my wrist. He saw the screen display his ex-wife’s phone number in brilliant backlit blue and white. His eyes flicked up to mine, the phone lighting his face from beneath, as the phone purred in my hand like a kitten. His lips tightened.

“What?” I asked.

“You know what.”

“I’m not convinced I’m a tool for your destruction. I might be a tool for your salvation. Have you thought of that?”

“What if she told you I f**ked her?”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“You’ll believe her. And even if you don’t, a part of you will always wonder. She’ll alienate us from each other,” he said.

“I’m insulted by the notion that I’m going to be used to hurt you. I’m not so weak-willed. Not with her or you. I’m going to see her. I’m going to let her think she’s using me, and I’m going to find out what she wants. I’m going to let her think I’m on her side.”

He gritted his teeth. “This is not a woman you take on a fishing expedition.”

“You may not love her any more, but you respect her. Which is more than I can say for how you feel about me.” I walked toward my house. I felt him reach for me, but I was too fast. I jangled my keys and approached my door.

Jonathan came up behind me, pressing his front to my back. “I’m sorry.” He nuzzled my ear.

“No, you’re not.” I turned the key.

“I am.”

“Good. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

He reached around and pushed the door open. “My apology doesn’t mean I’m letting you go.”

“I’m going.”

He pushed me in and slammed the door behind him. He reached for my clothes, attacking my mouth with his, lips churning, tongue probing, hands yanking. My hands explored him as well, taking the edges of his clothing and unbuttoning, unzipping, unfolding, exposing whatever piece of skin I could find. He pushed me back into the bedroom, kissing me as he went, stripping my shirt. He thrust me against the doorframe and lifted my bra, exposing my hard ni**les. His tongue found them, then his teeth. I held the back of his head as his hand found my other breast and twisted the nipple he wasn’t sucking. My fingers ran through his hair, and my legs wrapped around him. I felt his erection, hard and hot, pressing into me as he shifted and dropped me through the doorway. We fell onto my bed.

He pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his tight, lean frame. I reached for his chest, but he held my hands down and kissed my neck then my br**sts, biting where curve met plane.

“Oh! Yes.”

“Hurt?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice husky with lust. “Again.”

He did, biting and sucking the skin of my neck and br**sts. I thought I’d explode. The pain was alive, coursing through my body, a sensation like pleasure but hard, cruel, heated. He opened my legs while sucking the skin of my shoulder. My pu**y was ready for him. He put his head between my legs, kissing me from knee to the curve where thigh met pelvis.

“Ah, yes,” I cried.

He slapped inside my thigh, and the sting went right to my pu**y. When he leaned in and bit where he’d slapped, gently, then harder, I uttered affirmations. I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted to feel it. All of it. His tongue slid over my clit while he bent my legs to my chest, his teeth on my wet cleft. His fingers scratched my skin and landed in my hole, thrusting inside. It felt, raw, passionate, all-consuming.

He sucked my clit, and the pain made bookends for the pleasure, heightening it. Reaching with his other hand, he put three fingers in my mouth, and I felt bound and helpless, like a hooked fish. The pain was my only companion as the flood of pleasure came. I screamed into his fingers, arching my back and ass off the mattress.

He kept me immobile with his teeth, fingers, and tongue, licking and sucking until even the pleasure was pain, and tears streamed down my face. He picked up his face, kissing inside my thighs, my belly, licking the diamond navel ring that came to signify his ownership of me. I breathed heavily, eyes half-closed in post-orgasmic rapture.

“I’m going to be sore all over tomorrow.”

He kissed my cheek, pulling one knee back up to my chest, gently pushing my calf until it rested over his shoulder. “You have no idea how sore you’re going to be.”

I was so wet from his mouth and my own arousal that he slid all the way into me in one stroke.

“Do it.” I gasped. “Make me sore. Make it hurt again.”