Unbound (29 page)

If I go back to him, I’ll be making everything much harder on myself, I know. Because I have no idea what he’d do, how long he’d let me stay with him, or whether he’d take me back at all. Even his own sister couldn’t advise me with a clear conscience to go back to him. Everyone’s warned me off, including himself, several times.

I sigh deeply.

I really should keep my distance from Jonathan. I should cut him out of my life, the way he does with everyone who gets too close to him. But I just don’t know how to. The black cab stops at a traffic light.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I tell the driver, who looks at me in surprise. “I’d like to go somewhere else.”

“Where would like to go, love?” he asks in his broad English accent.

I take a deep breath. “Knightsbridge.”

Knightsbridge isn’t very far from Marylebone and we hadn’t gotten far from King Edward VII’s hospital yet either, so it only takes us a good quarter of an hour to reach the street where Jonathan’s white townhouse is. I recognize it from a ways off—and the photographers standing on the sidewalk in front of the wrought-iron fence. There aren’t as many as there were in front of the Huntington Building, only four or five, but they still scare me.

“Stop the car please!”

The driver does so and looks at me, questioningly.

“What now, Missy?”

My mind is racing because I suddenly realize that if I make this decision, it’s going to be irrevocable. A photo of me in front of the Huntington Building doesn’t really mean much. It doesn’t confirm that I’m having an affair with Jonathan, because I work there after all. But if they take my photo in front of his house there’s no turning back. It will confirm the rumors—no matter how Jonathan reacts. What will I do if he doesn’t let me in or just sends me away again?

I close my eyes despairingly. Why are you doing this to yourself, Grace, I ask myself. Why do I let him have so much power over me?

But that’s just the way it is. I can’t switch off my feelings for him and leave. I care about him too much for that; too much has already happened. I have to find out just exactly how close I can get to a man like Jonathan—and whether I can live with that. And I can only do that if I go out there now.

My heart is in my mouth as I ask the driver to drive up to Jonathan’s house. The cameras are already clicking as I pay him; the paparazzi have spotted me. The driver looks at me.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive on?” he asks. I shake my head. It’s too late for that, I think, getting out. This time, I’m not bombarded with questions. The fact that I’m on my way to Jonathan’s house seems to be enough for them. Or perhaps I look so grim that they don’t have the courage to talk to me.

I reach the gate after a few steps, and the photographers don’t follow me onto the property this time either. But I can hear the clicking of camera shutters as I walk up to the front door and ring the bell. Please be there, I plead silently, because the feeling of standing here as if on display is making me very uncomfortable. I hate to imagine what they’ll write in the papers tomorrow if I have to leave again with everything still unresolved. But there is someone home; I can hear footsteps approaching the door. I wait nervously and am shocked when the door opens a moment later and a middle-aged woman is standing in front of me. She’s wearing an apron and holding a cloth in her hand.

“Can I help you?” she asks and I can see her looking suspiciously in the direction of the photographers.

I’m so bewildered that at first I can’t say a word. So he does have help, I think.

“Can I speak to Jonathan …I mean Mr. Huntington?”

A look of realization passes over the woman’s face. Clearly, she now knows whom she’s dealing with. “Ah,” she says, stepping aside. “Come in.”

When the door closes and I can’t hear the clicking of the cameras anymore I breathe a sigh of relief and follow the housekeeper up to the second floor, to the kitchen, a place I remember well. There’s a bucket on the stone table and a mop leaning against the counter.

The woman leads me up another story, through both the spacious living rooms. She stops in front of a door and knocks.

“Yes?” I hear Jonathan say, and a shiver runs down my spine at the sound of his voice.

“There’s a visitor for you,” the woman announces, inspecting me from head to toe.

A second later, the door is flung open and Jonathan is standing in the doorway. He obviously wasn’t expecting to see me; his surprise is clearly visible in his face.

“Grace.”

I can only stare at him and hope my legs won’t collapse under me; he has such a powerful effect on me. And I’ve only been away from him for one lousy day. He’s wearing a black shirt, looser than usual, with the collar turned up, and the casual jeans he’s wearing with it emphasize his long, muscular legs. His hair is dishevelled, as if he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly, and his face has a dark shadow, which shows that he hasn’t shaved yet today. He looks tired.

“May …may I talk to you?” I ask him hesitantly.

He remains silent for a long moment, during which I hardly dare breathe, but then he nods.

“You can go now, Mrs. Matthews,” he tells the woman. “I won’t be needing you anymore today.”

“As you wish, Mr. Huntington,” the woman replies, shooting a curious look at me as she leaves. Shortly afterwards, she disappears downstairs and we’re alone.

“Who was that?” I ask, to break the silence between us.

His nearness is suddenly making me terribly nervous.

“My housekeeper,” he explains.

“I didn’t know you had one.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You don’t know a lot of things about me.”

His expression is still serious, with not a trace of a smile, but his eyes are shining.

Because I’m so nervous, I look past him at the room behind. It’s a spacious study with bookshelves on the walls and yet more modern paintings and a huge, solid desk that is piled with papers. Jonathan clearly works a lot from home.

“Why are you here, Grace?” His voice sounds demanding and makes a shiver run down my spine.

“I …needed to see you.”

“Do you think this was a good idea? With all the photographers out there? If you didn’t want them to think we’re together, you’ve just achieved the exact opposite. Those photos will definitely appear somewhere tomorrow, providing even more confirmation of our ‘affair’.”

I nod and sustain his penetrating gaze, breathless.

“I know. But it doesn’t matter, because …I’ve changed my mind.” I take a deep breath. “I want to have an affair with you, Jonathan. I want to be with you.”

He looks at me without responding. But there’s a fire in his eyes now, and it’s warming me right through.

“Well I don’t know if I want that, Grace. I’ve never been involved with an employee,” he says, and I can tell that it really does make him uneasy. It’s not going to come easily to him. Good. “And I’d never had sex before I met you.” I take a step toward him and place my hands on his chest. “There’s always a first time.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” he repeats, like a final warning, a last attempt to stop what we both seem unable to prevent.

“Then give me a chance to find out,” I reply, stroking his firm pectoral muscles.

A moment later, Jonathan’s lips are on mine. His kiss is hard and almost violent, as if he wants to punish me, but my heart is elated and I surrender myself to him when his tongue demands entry into my mouth and conquers it, hardly giving me a chance to breath. I feel his hands on me, kneading my breasts, and he’s not being careful about it, he’s angry. Then he runs a hand upward, pushes his fingers into my hair and pulls my head back. Panting, I look into his beautiful blue eyes and see the dark speckles inside.

“It’s just sex, Grace, remember that,” he says hoarsely, kissing my neck. “And you know the rules.”

“No, I don’t,” I contradict him. “But I want to learn them. You’ll have to show me.”

His nearness is intoxicating and I’m flooded by a completely new feeling of happiness. Because at least I’ve won this small victory. He’s not sending me away. I can stay.

Suddenly, it’s not enough for me to just stand there letting him kiss and touch me. I want to be active myself, want to feel his skin, feel his sexy body against mine. I pull his shirt out of his pants and unbutton it, tearing the rest of the buttons apart and pulling it over his shoulders, so that I can explore his skin with my lips, so that I can taste him.

But Jonathan presses me up against the doorframe and kisses me on the mouth again, pushing my dress up.

“Above all, you need to learn that I don’t belong to you, Grace. I can teach you how good sex is. But the main rule is: no feelings, just desire.”

“Do you desire me then?” I ask, because right now that’s the only thing that matters. I don’t want to think about anything else.

“Oh yes,” he says and hooks his fingers into my panties, tears the thin fabric apart at the seams, and frees me from them, tossing them aside carelessly. Then he kneels in front of me and puts his hands around my hips. “Lift your leg up and put it over my shoulder.”

Trembling, I push my skirt up and hold it there, so that I have enough freedom of movement. Then I do what he asks, feeling incredibly kinky. I’m still wearing my boots and it feels scandalous that we’re both still dressed, but I feel just as exposed to his gaze as if I were naked. His mouth approaches my mound of Venus and when I feel his breath on my lower lips, I lean my head back against the doorframe because my legs are threatening to give way.

“What if the housekeeper’s still here?” I ask nervously, realizing how exposed we are here in the doorway to his office. If she came upstairs now, she’d see us right away. And she can definitely hear us, if she’s not too far yet.

Jonathan doesn’t respond, he just sticks his tongue into my hot slit and when he finds my sensitive place I can’t think of anything else anymore.

“Ooohhh.” I place my hands on his head, unable to control the desire that is shooting down into my lower body, making me totally wet. He’s so skillful with his tongue and his fingers, and it’s turning me on so much standing here, that it doesn’t take long till I’m about to climax.

But this time I want to feel him inside me when I come, so I lower my leg and pull him up toward me, kissing him on his mouth, which is still glistening with my moisture. It’s arousing to taste myself in his mouth and, without separating from him, I undo his belt and then the waistband of his pants, push his pants down over his butt, and free his penis, which presses hotly against my stomach when Jonathan pulls me toward him. “I want you,” I moan, against his lips. “Take me. Here.” I feel completely shameless—and liberated. Brave.

He looks at me with sultry eyes. “We can’t here, I’m afraid. The condoms are upstairs.”

He sighs and is about to button his pants again, in order to go upstairs with me, but I pull him back and push him against the doorframe, running my hands over his chest and kissing his warm skin, while I slowly sink to my knees.

“Grace,” he says, astonished, as I take his penis in my hand and breathe a kiss onto its bulging tip.

“I still owe you one.” I look up at him and see the desire in his eyes, which seems to transfer itself to me. This time, I want to be the one to give him pleasure and drive him mad.

I open my lips and let them slide slowly over his member, sucking him into me, tasting a drop of salty liquid on my tongue. I carefully circle his tip with my tongue, getting used to how it feels. Then I take hold of the end of his shaft and begin to move my mouth over him in a slow, steady rhythm.

“Dammit,” Jonathan groans and I feel his hands on the back of my head, holding on to me. “That’s good, Grace.”

I get bolder and bolder, taking even more of him into me, upping the tempo. When I look up, I see his blue eyes resting on me. Their expression is an arousing combination of elements. Fascination. Rapture. Greed. Then he suddenly pulls away.

“Take off your dress,” he says. “I want to see all of you.”

I quickly pull off my dress and kneel down in front of him in my lacy bra and boots.

He’s incredibly turned on, I can see that, and I’m enjoying the power I have over him. I take him into my mouth again and continue, increasing my speed.

Jonathan starts making small thrusting movements inside my mouth.

“Grace, I’m going to come.” It’s a warning, but I place a hand on his butt and encourage him to continue, taking him even deeper into my mouth. I’m enjoying seeing him so aroused, about to lose control, and I want to make the most of it, I want to know what it’s like to satisfy him with my mouth.

His breath becomes more and more labored. He thrusts hard into my mouth, but this time I can take it. And then he groans loudly and his penis twitches, flooding me with his salty semen. I swallow as much as I can, I don’t have any other choice because he’s holding my head in place and won’t let me escape. I’m surprised by the amount, it seems unending, but it’s not as unpleasant as I thought it would be and it’s incredibly arousing to see the sense of release on his face. His amazed expression makes up for everything. The spurts begin to subside and, after one last shudder, he releases me from his iron grip and I let him slip out of my mouth.

His chest is covered in sweat and he’s breathing heavily, but he pulls me up toward him immediately and leans me against the doorframe, lifting my leg and thrusting his fingers into my hot slit.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says in a raw voice.

“I wanted to,” I pant, feeling his thumb against my pearl. I’m so aroused that my internal muscles cramp up around him, announcing that a new, powerful orgasm is coming.

“You’re so bloody hot, Grace,” he says into my ear, increasing the speed of his finger thrusts, “and it’s so bloody hard to resist you.”

“You don’t need to resist me,” I pant breathlessly, kissing him, letting him taste himself on me. “I want you. I want everything you can give me.”

I can see in his eyes that he’s still doubtful, but the forcefulness with which he responds to my kiss and rubs me mercilessly with his fingers to take me to my next climax tell me that I’ve won. He wants me too much to give me up. At least, not yet—and that’s enough for now, enough to make me happy. Because I’m addicted to him. And even though he doesn’t belong to me, even though he’ll probably never belong to me, I do belong to him, body and soul.