FLORA'S POV:
Jonathan walked back to the bedside, his tone sharp and filled with restrained anger.
“We need to leave now. Get off the bed,” he barked, his words slicing through the air. I flinched at his sudden outburst, stunned by his abrupt demeanor.
What was wrong with him? What had happened?
Reluctantly, I stood from the bed, and to my surprise, I felt... nothing. No pain. No lingering soreness. I glanced at my arms and legs, searching for any trace of injury, but my skin was smooth and unmarked, as though I just came out of a bath.It was surreal.
I wanted to ask questions—about the cab driver, his thoughts had crossed my mind. about the incident that had unfolded—but Jonathan’s stern expression silenced me. His eyes were a storm, unreadable and fierce, and I thought it better to stay quiet. I followed him as he led us out of the sterile room and into the cool evening breeze.
The surroundings outside were unfamiliar, cloaked in an eerie stillness that made my skin prickle. I quickened my pace to walk beside him, my hand instinctively reaching for his arm. His warmth steadied me, but his demeanor remained cold and distant.
A car waited outside. Without a word, we got in, and we took off. The ride was silent, the atmosphere tense, and the weight of unspoken words pressed against my chest. When we arrived back at the house—his house—the night had fully embraced the world, and the dim path leading to the front door blurred in the darkness.
As we stepped inside, the memories of the past day came rushing back—the messages I’d seen on his phone. My chest tightened with a familiar ache, and I felt hopelessness threatening to pull me under again.
Jonathan said nothing. He walked upstairs without a backward glance, leaving me alone in the dimly lit living room. I sank into the couch, exhaustion overtaking me. I closed my eyes, hoping for a moment’s peace, but his voice called down from the stairs, shattering my attempt at solace.
“Come here,” he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
I hesitated, my heart pounding. The uncertainty of his intentions frightened me, but defying him didn’t feel like an option. I have done enough now. I rose quietly and made my way upstairs, each step weighed down by apprehension.
When I entered the room, I found him pacing. His energy is volatile. His eyes—dark, intense, and almost predatory—locked onto mine, and I froze. There was something unnervingly dangerous about him tonight.
“Jonathan?” I whispered, unsure of what to say.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he stopped pacing and faced me, his expression unreadable. Summoning every ounce of courage, I approached him. Slowly, I reached out, my hands brushing against his face. His skin was warm beneath my palms, and the tension in his face calmed a bit.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly, my voice trembling.
His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of vulnerability beneath the storm. But it was fleeting. He pulled me close, his grip firm but not unkind. The space between us vanished, and he claimed my lips with a kiss that was both demanding and consuming.
He trapped me by the waist and engaged me in a deep, rough kiss. His tongue savored every taste it could get from my mouth, rendering me breathless. I was reluctant at first, but soon allowed myself to succumb to the growing pleasure within me.
In a swift turn he ripped off my clothes and threw me onto the bed, jumping on top of me. He was rough and forceful. It didn't feel entirely right, but my body seemed to disregard that.
He deepened another kiss, this time letting his mouth trail down my breasts, nibbling on both nipples until they were fully erect. He descended to my pussy, now completely soaked with my own juices.
As he aggressively devoured me, his hands still instinctively found the perfect places to touch, as if he had studied my body intimately. My body betrayed my mind, syncing simultaneously with his touches.
A loud moan escaped my lips, and I held his head, urging him deeper.
'Jonathan,' I moaned in pleasure loudly.
He continued his assault, then stopped abruptly, leaving me craving more, desperate to satisfy my desire.
He looked at me sternly, 'Dahlia, hold it there. This is for being a bad girl,' he growled.
I could barely bear the torture. I stood up and held him tightly, 'Please don't do this to me,' I begged, almost in tears.
A wide grin spread across his face as he fended off my hand and walked downstairs to the living room. My body still vibrated from the hanging pleasure, refusing to relent amidst the chaos, craving more.
I tried to stay calm, to distract myself, but it was futile. I followed him downstairs, completely naked, approaching him in the most seductive manner I could muster.
The moment he looked at me, he dropped the glass of water he was holding, struggling to swallow the water in his mouth. He stood up, his eyes glued to my body.
I didn't stop until I reached him, kneeling before him. I pulled down his zipper and then his trousers, grabbing his dick that now dangled before me. I took it all into my mouth instantly, and he released a low growl.
I consistently sucked on his dick, and he moaned my name. He grabbed me by the hand, pulling me up, and engaged me in another hot kiss. Swiftly, he turned me around and entered me from behind.
'Fuck!' I screamed as I felt his entire length inside me, his thrusts intensifying the pleasure.
Driven by my moans and his own reactions, his thrusting became perfect.
'Dahlia, say my name,' he demanded in a hoarse voice.
'Jonathan, please don't stop,' I cried in pleasure.
He gripped me by the neck from behind, whispering in my ear, 'Say you'll always be a good girl, Dahlia.' His warm breath brushed against my ear, sending shivers down my spine.
'Always,' I moaned.
I could tell he was about to climax as his pace increased, his groans filling the room. I held onto him tightly, digging my nails into the couch. My body was overwhelmed with sensations, I felt my release coming.
'Oh, Jonathan, you're going to make me cum!' I screamed, and I
felt a rush of liquid escape my pussy just as I felt his release inside me.