Elevating Eve (Fairford Affairs #4)

10. Eve

CHAPTER 10

Eve

“ T hat’s us,” Jonathan said, pointing as they walked down the wide Arrivals sidewalk. A balding man in a rumpled suit stood in front of older model Jeep Wrangler with a hideous, acid-green paint job and a black soft top. He looked supremely bored as he stared down at his phone, scrolling listlessly.

As they got closer to the older man, Eve noticed the car’s license plate read SLIMER. At least the paint color made sense now. She suspected the tire cover on the back had a Ghostbusters logo on it, though she didn’t get a chance to check before Jonathan helped her climb into the passenger seat.

Jonathan was one surprise after another today. She never could’ve imagined him in a vehicle even remotely like this, yet he looked perfectly at home as he tipped the driver and got behind the wheel.

They drove a little more than an hour before arriving at an enormous, log-cabin style home in a clearing buried deep in the woods. Sunlight glinted off the seemingly endless windows, making it impossible to see what waited inside. Multiple chimneys towered above the green metal roof.

Ignoring her questions about what this place was, Jonathan led her up onto the front porch, between the two stone columns flanking the stairs. He unlocked the door with a key from the same ring holding the Jeep’s key fob, beckoning for her to follow him inside.

Eve trailed her fingertips along the front door as she crossed the threshold, tracing the intricate relief carving of an oak tree with large acorns hanging from its branches. “Okay, we’re here,” she said, taking in as much as she could about the house as she looked for hints. “Are you finally going to tell me where we are?”

“Look around,” Jonathan said, nudging her forward with a hand on the small of her back. “See if you can figure it out.”

He closed the door as she turned a slow circle in the large, three-story entryway, examining the horseshoe-shaped halls above, behind cast iron railings. Wooden staircases with matching banisters and worn, forest-green carpet runners led to the upper floors. A huge chandelier that seemed to be fashioned of deer antlers hung out over the open space.

“Are we at Gaston’s secret American hunting lodge?” she joked, stepping out from under the chandelier. If that thing somehow fell, she didn’t want to be impaled, thank you very much.

Jonathan snorted. “Don’t worry. I don’t use antlers in all of my decorating.”

She grinned, more than a little surprised by his response. “He knows lyrics to Beauty and the Beast songs,” she said, holding her phone up to her mouth as if it were a tape recorder. “Will I ever fully understand this strange and mysterious creature, or will he shock me to the very end?”

“Oh, I hope it’s the second one,” he shot back, winking. “That sounds way more interesting.”

Laughing, she moved deeper into the enormous house nestled in the Rocky Mountains. At least this house fit somewhat into the image she had of him in her head, despite the antlers. Big and expensive, even if some of the rugs and furniture looked past their prime. And just as private as the Manor to boot. She had a feeling there wasn’t another human around for several miles at least.

Good thing he’s not a serial killer , she thought, chuckling to herself as she entered a kind of great room area. She fidgeted with her ring as she looked around, twisting it absentmindedly around her middle finger.

The largest sectional sofa she’d ever seen dominated one side of the room, facing a preposterously large TV mounted on the wall. On the other side were pool and foosball tables, a well-stocked bar with a Denver Broncos logo hanging over it, and several round high-top tables with matching stools. In the far corner, a low rectangular table sported a partially built puzzle. A shelf crammed with various other jigsaw puzzles and board games stood nearby.

Okay, maybe this house didn’t quite match the version of him in her head after all. This looked like a place for a large family to congregate, not a luxurious getaway for a ridiculously rich bachelor sex god and his latest conquest.

Her gaze lingered on a short bookcase in the corner behind the sectional. She wandered over there, Jonathan trailing a few feet behind. The battered wooden bookcase had clearly been much abused, with scratches and scuffs up the sides and across the top. A sizeable chunk was missing from the edge of the second shelf, but that didn’t stop it from being stuffed full of worn paperbacks with no discernable organizational system.

It wasn’t the books that caught her attention though, but the two large picture frames on top of the bookcase. One was a photo of four children in front of a Christmas tree—three boys ranging in age from about four to maybe ten, and an infant with a pink bow attached to her wispy brown hair.

She picked up the second frame, examining the other photo. It showed what looked like three generations of a family on a young, blond woman’s wedding day. The bride and groom beamed up at her from the center of the photo, the rest of the people arranged artfully around them.

Jonathan stood to the bride’s left, next to a man who was clearly his father. Same height, same broad shoulders, same cheekbones and nose. Though their eyes were different colors, they crinkled in exactly the same way when they smiled. Despite his dad being—presumably—at least twenty years his senior, they even had the same hairline.

“This is your family’s house,” she said softly, continuing to stare down at the picture. Jonathan looked so young...maybe mid-twenties? God, that felt like a lifetime ago to her. “Is this your sister?”

“One of them,” he said, peering over her shoulder at the picture. He pointed at the brunette teenager standing next to him in a rose-pink bridesmaid dress. “That’s my baby sister, Maisie. She was only fifteen when Alice and Dillon got married.”

“How old were you?” The urge hit her to brush her fingertip over his beautiful, smiling face in the picture, but she didn’t want to smudge the glass.

“Twenty-six.” Predicting her next question, he added, “Alice was twenty-four.”

Wow, Maisie really was his baby sister. That was one hell of an age difference.

“You grew up near San Diego,” she said, remembering a comment he made on the plane. “Not Colorado.”

“We spent most of our school vacations here,” he explained. “Now that we’re all older, we still come here every year for Thanksgiving...Christmas, too, when everyone can actually make it work. It’s hard sometimes, though. Everyone’s always so busy, and kids make everything even more challenging.” His voice had taken on a faraway, wistful tone as he studied the photo of the four children—presumably his niece and nephews.

Placing the frame carefully back on top of the bookcase, Eve turned, taking in this room again now that she had this new information. She imagined a young Jonathan and Alice chasing each other around the room, shrieking with delight while their parents tried to watch the Broncos game. Next came the teenaged Jonathan and Alice sprawled on the brown-upholstered sectional, watching TV and eating chips while a preschool-aged Maisie bugged them to play with her.

She pictured everyone in the photo gathered around the pool table, laughing and teasing each other as they made terrible shots. Last of all, Jonathan as he was now and his mother—a woman with wheat blond hair and kind brown eyes—sitting in the corner putting together a puzzle in comfortable silence.

The images flashed through her mind one after the other like a slideshow, bringing tears to her eyes. This place had obviously been filled with so much love. It made her chest ache with longing to see her own dad one more time. He would’ve loved it here.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” Facing him, she lifted her hands to his face, loving the feel of his light stubble against her skin. “It means a lot to me that you trust me with a place that’s so important to you.”

He placed his hands over hers, sliding them down to his neck. Then he took her face between his hands, kissing her slowly, taking his time, as if he wanted to memorize the feel of her tongue against his.

When at last he pulled away, it took her several seconds to remember how to open her eyes. He was like a drug, fogging her brain, making her feel almost disconnected from her body.

She wanted as much of him as she could possibly get.

“Do you want to see my favorite room?”

Not trusting her tongue to form words properly, she nodded, letting him lead her toward the stairs. Up they climbed, all the way to the third floor, which only had a single door. As soon as he pushed it open, sunlight streamed through from the row of tall windows on the far wall.

“Oh, wow,” she said, taking in the single room that made up this floor. “It reminds me of the study at the Manor.” Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined most walls, the wood stained a dark brown. A large antique desk and rolling chair sat in one corner. In the center of the room, a brown leather loveseat and four overstuffed armchairs had been arranged in a circle with reading lamps at the corners of the space.

The only difference was the books. At the Manor, the shelves were lined with expensive, leather-bound volumes, obviously chosen for looks more than subject matter. But this place looked to be as well stocked as any indie bookstore, with a colorful variety of paperbacks and hardcovers filling every shelf. Spines were bent and dustjackets torn. Mismatched bookmarks stuck out of several of the volumes—books someone intended to finish on a later visit but hadn’t yet gotten around to.

“I had Aiden model the study on this room,” Jonathan admitted. “A little piece of home, even though I was so far away.”

She walked over to the wall of windows. “You’re far more sentimental than I ever would’ve guessed,” she said, smiling as she looked outside. Sunlight streamed through the rare holes in the canopy, hitting the forest floor in occasional patches. It looked like a place out of a fairy tale.

With a self-conscious chuckle, he said, “Don’t be too impressed. Every single one of us has fucked our fair share of guests in that room.”

Laughing, she turned to face him. “Yeah, that kind of kills the home-sweet-home vibe a little bit.” Good lord, he looked delicious. Even after a day of travelling, he looked ready to walk down a runway, his suit immaculate, every strand of hair in place. She cocked her head to one side. “You in the mood to desecrate this version of the room, too?”

Heat flashed in his eyes.

Eve and Jonathan started moving at the exact same time, colliding in the center of the room, mouths crushing together, hands grasping.

Gripping her ass in both hands, Jonathan lifted her, supporting her weight as she wrapped her legs around his hips. He didn’t break the kiss for even a moment as he strode over to the desk, lowering her onto the surface. A pile of books tumbled loudly onto the floor, but they both ignored it.

“I want to see you,” she said, her lips brushing against his as she spoke, their breath mingling. “All of you.”

She’d seen him naked once before, when she watched him with a guest out by the pool. But he hadn’t been hers then. She wanted to touch him, learn every single inch of him.

When she started tugging at his tie, his hands wrapped around her wrists, stopping her. “If you want me naked,” he said, a delicious edge to his voice, “you’re going to have to earn it.”

Digging her heels into his ass, she pushed him into her, grinding herself against the bulge of his cock. “Please, Sir?”

Jonathan drew in a sharp breath, but his eyes remained determined. Burying a hand in her hair, he pulled hard enough to make her gasp. “Naughty little girls get punished.” He bent to kiss and lick his way along her arched throat. “Is that what you want?” he murmured against her skin.

“No, Sir.” The words came out with an involuntary moan.

“Then be good.” Releasing her, he walked around the desk, sitting in the leather rolling chair with his legs spread wide. He watched her with hooded eyes, a smile playing at his lips. “Take off your clothes for me. If you want to see all of me, I’m going to see all of you first.”

The command in his tone made her empty pussy clench with need. Breath coming a little too fast, she started to strip, gripping the hem of her emerald-green shirt and lifting it slowly up over her head.

“Mmm,” Jonathan said, appreciation dripping from the sound. “I love your skin. So flawless. It makes me want to mark every inch of you.”

She shuddered, not able to hold back another small moan. Bending at the waist, she arched her back while she untied her boots, the image in her head of a ballet dancer, all perfect, graceful lines. In reality, she probably looked nothing like that, but lust still filled Jonathan’s gaze when she straightened.

Eve kicked her boots aside, glad she’d worn simple black socks today instead of her usual old, stained tube socks. She still couldn’t believe he’d peeled those things off her feet after a full day of work. It was a miracle he didn’t run from her screaming then and there.

Tossing the new socks toward the shoes, she took her time unbuttoning her jeans, letting her fingers slip below the waistband, teasing along the top of her panties.

Jonathan’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair. “Did I give you permission to touch yourself?” he demanded.

“No, Sir.” Her hand slid ever so slightly lower.

“Eve.” It was a warning. One she had no intention of heeding. Now that she knew what a punishment from Jonathan really meant, she didn’t fear him in the least.

Closing her eyes, she pushed her hand lower, brushing a single fingertip over her clit.

He made it back around the desk before she had a chance to do anything more. Wrenching her jeans down to mid-thigh, he pushed her forward until she bumped against the edge of the desk. He didn’t stop for even a second, forcing her to bend at the waist until her torso and cheek pressed against the smooth wood.

“What did I say about naughty girls?” he growled, gripping the back of her panties in one hand, yanking them down to just below the curve of her ass.

“They get punished, Sir.” She was so turned on, she had to gasp the words out.

Leaning over the desk, he opened the top middle drawer, pulling out a wooden ruler—the old kind made of thick, sturdy wood, metal along one edge. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the sight of it.

Without another word, he began her punishment, bringing the ruler down across the center of her ass again and again without reprieve.

Holy fucking shitballs, that hurt. She clenched her cheeks together, unable to help herself.

“Relax your ass,” he barked out, his rhythm not changing in the least. “Or it’ll only hurt more.”

Eyes screwed together and fingers digging into the unyielding surface of the desk, she tried to do as he said. “I can’t,” she half groaned, half wailed. It wasn’t just her ass. Every single muscle in her body was taut as a bowstring.

“Suit yourself,” he said, increasing the strength of each stroke.

Tears leaked from her closed eyes at the pain. Her breath came in harsh pants.

The fall of the ruler paused. A gentle hand rubbed her ass, soothing the worst of the sting. “Remember that you have your safeword.”

Gratitude erupted inside her chest, making her heart feel too big for her rib cage. “I remember, Sir. I don’t want to use it.”

“Good girl,” he said, squeezing her punished ass, making her hiss in pain.

God, it felt way too good. She couldn’t hold back a moan as he started back up with the ruler. If he didn’t fuck her soon, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from begging. The words were right there on the tip of her tongue.

When he aimed lower, hitting her right in her tender sit spots, she accidentally screamed. God, how embarrassing. Someone with his level of experience would want a sub with more self-control.

But the growl that rose up out of him wasn’t a sound of anger. With a rush of excitement, she realized he was also losing control. Seconds later, the ruler clattered onto the desk.

Pushing her jeans and panties down to her ankles, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her free of the ensnaring clothing. As soon as her bare feet touched the floor again, he ordered, “Kneel.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. She sank to her knees on the plush area rug, mouth already salivating as he unbuckled his belt. Leaving the ends of the supple leather belt dangling, he opened his pants and freed his cock. It jutted toward her lips, so long and thick that she almost couldn’t believe the whole thing had fit inside her last night. And now he wanted to put it in her mouth.

Fuck yes.

“I’m going to come in your mouth, Eve,” he told her, staring down with a feral desire radiating from his wild eyes. “I want you to taste how much you please me.”

In answer, she parted her lips, spreading them wide.

“Good girl,” he said, pushing into her. His thrusts were shallow at first, giving her a chance to get used to his size. She did her best to wet his thick shaft, swirling her tongue around the head each time he retreated.

Pulling his belt free with a swish that made her shiver, he looped it around her neck, sliding the end through the buckle. “If you want to use your safeword, tap my leg twice.”

She kept her hands folded on her lap as she sucked and twisted her tongue. His answering sound of satisfaction made her heart thud with pleasure.

“You like touching yourself?” he asked, pulling just hard enough for her to really feel it press against her windpipe. “Do it now. Make yourself come with my cock down your throat.”

Jesus fuck. If she got any hotter, she’d burn up, leaving nothing but ash behind.

She slid her hand from her thigh to her center, moaning around his cock as she pushed two fingers inside her pussy.

“That’s it,” he urged, pulling the belt a little tighter as she coated her fingers. “Now touch your clit.”

At the same moment she slid her slick fingertips over the tiny bud, he surged forward, pushing the head of his cock down her throat. For a handful of seconds, she gagged at the invasion, her eyes watering. But then she managed to relax her throat around him.

“Good girl,” he said again, more urgently this time. “Remember what to do if you want to stop.” He pulled out slowly before pushing in a little deeper than before.

Eve blinked tears out of her eyes, concentrating on keeping her throat open for him as she made tiny circles over her clit with one finger. She kept her touch featherlight, not wanting to come too soon.

Burying one hand in her hair and holding the belt tight with the other, Jonathan settled into a steady rhythm. She tried to match his rhythm with her hand, but she couldn’t focus. Too many things bombarded her senses, flooding her mind, overwhelming her.

The belt tightened infinitesimally as he finally sunk balls deep into her mouth. “ Fuck, ” he ground out through clenched teeth. “You feel so good. Now concentrate. If you don’t come before I do, you’ll get another round with the ruler.”

That snapped her out of the haze of sensation. Closing her eyes, she forced her hand to start moving, finally settling into a rhythm of her own. As Jonathan thrust in and out of her with increasing speed, she went faster as well, pressing down hard against the bundle of nerves, sending pleasure shooting through her body.

Fuck, he was so close. His movements became less measured, more erratic.

She began jerking her hand up and down, fast and hard enough to be painful. It was that sweet bite of pain that finally pushed her over the edge, mere seconds before Jonathan cried out, pushing all the way in as he came.

As pleasure rose inside of her, he yanked the belt tight enough to choke. Her whole body spasmed as her orgasm crested higher and higher, refusing to break.

Her eyes flew open as the pressure against her windpipe continued without reprieve. There was no fucking air. She was literally going to pass out.

And she’d never come this hard in her fucking life.

Just as the edges of her vision started to blur, the leather band disappeared from around her throat. Seconds later, Jonathn pulled free of her mouth. Only the hand still gripped tightly in her hair kept her from collapsing like a ragdoll on the floor.

“Eve.” Her name fell from his lips like a prayer. Dropping to his knees, he gathered her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. “My beautiful girl. You’re fucking perfect.”