Jonathan owns an island.
No shit. He owns a fucking island.
I’m dazed during the entire drive from where the plane landed to wherever the hell he’s taking me.
The early morning sun shines through the branches and leaves, almost like a welcoming ceremony.
The roads are narrow and tropical trees decorate the sideways as far as the vision goes. Moses drives with ease, knowing exactly where we’re going.
That makes one of us.
“How did you get this island?” I inch closer to Jonathan. For some reason, his nearness always makes me feel safe in unknown places. Actually, that happens in all places.
He’s leaning back against the car’s leather seat, legs wide apart and his entire demeanour relaxed. My hand is nestled in his on his hard thigh. He hasn’t let me go — not during the flight and not after we got into the car. “I won it ten years ago from a Saudi prince in a poker game.”
“Poker?” I nearly shriek.
“Yes.”
“He must be devastated for losing it.”
“Not really. He has a few more islands scattered around the world.”
“What did you bet?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“If he bet an island, you must’ve put up something of so much value.”
He raises a brow. “And you want to know what I consider most valuable?”
“Sort of. What was it?”
“My son.”
“W-what? You bet Aiden?”
His expression remains the same. “That’s what I said.”
“How…how can you even bet a person?”
“It’s more common than you think.”
“I…I can’t believe you bet your own son — your only offspring. I don’t think I want to talk to you right now, or ever. And I’m totally telling Aiden so he knows what you’ve done. What if you’d lost, huh?” I poke his shoulder. “Huh?”
A smile breaks free across Jonathan’s beautiful lips. “I didn’t think you’d be this easily deceived.”
“You…you were joking?” That’s as rare as witnessing a mythical being.
“You think I would ever bet Aiden? He’s my only son.”
Phew. Deep down, I didn’t think he’d do that, but he also doesn’t joke. That’s the part that threw me off. “So what did you bet?”
“One of my subsidiaries.”
“I didn’t know you play poker.”
“I don’t.”
“You just said you won it in a poker game.”
“I only play when I know I can win. I don’t like unsure gambles.”
Considering Jonathan’s control-freak personality, that makes complete sense.
My attention returns to the road and the way the trees part as we pass through. “What’s the name of the island?”
“It’s under King Enterprises.”
“It should have a name of its own.”
“The prince called it a complicated Arabic name. It’s on the papers. If you’re so insistent on knowing it, I can call Harris.”
“You should name it something special to you. After all, not just anyone can own an island.”
“Huh.”
I’m not sure what he means by that, but it seems as if he’s never thought of that possibility. Jonathan is the type who doesn’t get attached to things like normal humans, and I guess that makes this whole suggestion pointless to him.
Oh well, at least I tried. I haven’t gotten to see most of the island yet, and it already looks like a small space cut from paradise.
Thoughts of why we’re here try to barge in. I think of Dad’s interview and his accusations, about the prosecution, media, and victims’ families.
The beauty surrounding me starts to vanish, its colours slowly turning to grey. This isn’t a holiday.
I’m running away — it’s as simple as that.
Jonathan releases my hand, letting it drop to his lap, and grips my thigh. It’s like he knows exactly where my mind went and is bringing me back to the present.
A strange type of warmth engulfs me as I fall into his presence. There’s something about his soft touch that, even if his features remain unreadable, I sense what he’s trying to relay.
Right now, it seems that he wants me comfortable above anything else.
We stop by a house in the hills that’s slightly hidden from below by tall trees.
It’s smaller than the King mansion, and it has a modern feel to it with its two-storey round architecture. The interior stairs are visible from the outside through the shiny glass walls.
“It’s different,” I tell Jonathan as we step out of the car.
“It’s the prince’s creation, not mine.”
The lack of Jonathan’s grandiose touch makes sense then. If it were up to my tyrant, he’d make it appear as intimidating as he is.
In every sense of the word.
Power isn’t only a tactic for Jonathan, it’s his philosophy in life.
From what I understand about his past, the way he lost his father made him merciless. Seeing his dad die of weakness made him take a figurative vow to never be in that position himself.
In a way, he tamed power and made it his best friend. They’re so intertwined now, as if they’re one being.
Jonathan grabs me by the waist as he leads me inside. Moses remains still as a stone in front of the car, arms crossed in front of him, one hand over the other. I smile back at him with a nod.
“Eyes ahead, Aurora.” Jonathan’s voice holds a clear warning.
“I was just acknowledging him. I don’t like ignoring people.”
His lips thin. “You were smiling at him.”
“So now I’m not allowed to smile at others?”
“Not if you can help it.”
“And if I can’t help it?”
We stop at the entrance, and he lifts my chin with two long fingers. I stare up at him with parted lips and he runs his thumb over the bottom one, back and forth, creating a sensual rhythm.
“Your smile, like everything else about you, is mine and mine alone. I don’t share.”
I’m trapped in the intensity of his grey eyes. In the storm lurking inside that he won’t hesitate to unleash on the world at any second. The fact that he’s willing to destroy the world for me shouldn’t affect me this much, but a strange type of giddiness overtakes me.
Clearing my throat, I pull away from Jonathan to take a look at the house. Its interior is as modern as its exterior. There’s nothing of the precise control and majesty that’s clear in every inch of the King mansion.
Here, it’s minimalistic but a bit cosier. I fall onto the plush sofa, throwing my head back. “This is so comfy.”
“We can get a similar one for home.”
Home.
No idea if he’s calling it that on purpose, but somewhere deep down, in that wrong part of my soul, I believe it.
Whether I like to admit it or not, the King mansion has become my home. Jonathan’s home is my home.
That’s a scary thought.
I vaguely remember that I only have a few months left of the agreement we had, but I stopped thinking about that a long time ago.
I bite my lower lip as I open my eyes. Jonathan stands in front of me, his jacket slung over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He lost the tie somewhere during the flight. Some strands of his black hair are tousled and falling over his forehead, making him appear the most ruggedly handsome I’ve ever seen him.
He’s studying me intently. He’s always doing that, watching me, pulling me to the centre of his attention as if I’ve always belonged there. “You should go rest.”
“I’m fine.” Rest is the last thing on my mind right now. I clench my thighs together, trapping the tingles in. I can’t believe I’m turned on by just his appearance.
If Lay hears about this, she won’t let me live it down.
“You must have jet lag, Aurora.”
“I don’t.”
“You might not feel it now, but exhaustion will soon take over you. It’ll be better once you sleep.”
“I slept enough on the plane.”
He sighs. “Must you have an objection to everything? Stop fighting me about your health and go rest.”
I’m apparently doing a shit job at showing my interest, so I try again, this time lowering my voice. “Are you going to join me?”
I swear something shines in his eyes, but the blank façade returns all too soon. “I have to make a few calls.”
“Fine.” I huff, getting to my feet. “Whatever.”
I bypass him and stomp to the stairs like an angry kid with issues. Damn him.
Upstairs, there are only two rooms, so I go into the first one. Sure enough, there’s a large bed with white sheets, and the curtains are drawn, hiding the sun.
I kick my shoes off, then jerkily strip off my clothes. Disappointment sticks at the back of my throat like a foul aftertaste, but I refuse to acknowledge it.
Screw Jonathan.
I step into the glass shower and let the cool water submerge me. A full-body mirror is positioned in front of me, making me watch myself shower. It must be another one of the prince’s creations — a weird as hell one. Who even does that?
I close my eyes and try to let the flow of the water rinse away my thoughts. But no matter how long I stand there, my mind keeps jumping back to the shitshow I left behind in England. This island is merely a temporary solution.
There’s no way in hell I can escape forever. Besides, now that Layla and her family are involved, it’s one more reason to not escape. It’s not like I can take them all and smuggle them to Scotland or out of the UK with me.
A warm body envelops me from behind, his hard chest moulding to my wet back. He pulls my hair to the side, baring my throat before he wraps a hand around it.
Jonathan’s lips graze the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “Is this what you meant by joining you?”
My thighs tighten as the earlier wave of arousal slams back into me with a vengeance. There’s nothing I love more than the feel of Jonathan’s body glued to my skin and his hot breaths mingled with mine.
His free hand comes down on my arse, and I yelp, my eyes shooting open. God. It hurts so good with the water like this.
My eyes meet his through the mirror. It’s slightly foggy now with the steam, but I can make out the spark in those dark greys.
“What was that for?” My voice is so lustful, it would’ve been embarrassing if I wasn’t so turned on.
“To get your attention. It needs to always be on me.” He grabs me hard by the arse. “Not anyone else. Me.”
“Why?” I ask in the same voice, just to challenge him. Jonathan loves that — challenges, I mean.
His grip tightens on my arse. “This is mine. Everything you have belongs to me, and no one gets to touch or hurt you under my watch.”
He spanks me again and I slap a hand against the mirror, the water forming a rivulet that runs down the condensation as his words leave the confinements of my ear and creep under my skin.
“No one?” My voice is soft, small, and filled with all the insecurities I’ve carried for endless years.
“No fucking one, Aurora.” His voice drops. “Not even yourself.”
“Jonathan…” I stare at him through the small visible space in the mirror.
He slaps my arse once more, making me shiver in both pleasure and pain. “What is it?”
“Ohh…I…”
“Those aren’t words. Use actual ones.” There’s slight amusement beneath the order.
I place my other hand on the mirror to anchor myself. For some reason, it feels as if I’ll fall if I don’t.
My gaze meets his through the mirror. “Take me.”
His eyes blaze, and I’m sure the needy tone in my voice doesn’t escape him.
“Take you?”
“Jonathan, please.”
“Fuck.” Still gripping me by the throat, he slowly inches inside me, filling me to the brim.
My mouth parts as the water drips down my skin to where we’re joined. I watch where his body meets mine, fascinated by the view. But that’s not the only place we’re joined. It’s everywhere from my back to my arse to the hand gripping me by the hip.
Jonathan tightens his fingers around my throat, jerking my neck up. “Look at me. Watch me own you.”
My light eyes clash with his darker ones in the mirror. I’m caught in a trance by the way he’s thrusting in and out of me with measured strokes. But that’s not the only thing that fills me with awe.
It’s the look of utter abandon on my face coupled with the complete possessiveness in his features.
Oh, God.
Do I always look like that?
His lips find the shell of my ear and he bites before speaking in a husky tone, “Everything you see and don’t see in there is fucking mine, Aurora.”
He releases my hip and parts my arse cheeks with his strong hand. His thumb finds my back hole and I yelp, getting on my tiptoes.
“W-what are you doing?”
“I said everything you see and don’t see.” The tip of his finger pushes inside and I clench against his cock. “Mmm, feels virgin.”
Oh, God.
Shit.
I’m not supposed to like having his thumb there, right? I’ve always thought that backdoor business wasn’t allowed, or at least, that’s how it was in my mind.
If normal sex didn’t cut it, I didn’t feel the need to put myself through the pain of anal. But that was before this man gave me my actual rebirth.
There’s a pre-Jonathan era and post-Jonathan era, and I don’t want to admit how fulfilling the second one is.
His teeth nibble on the sensitive skin at my throat, most definitely leaving a hickey. “Is it virgin?”
“Yes…” My moaned word is almost inaudible in the midst of the pouring water, but Jonathan seems to have heard it since a growl spills from this throat.
“I’m going to fuck it and own every inch of you, wild one.”
“N-now?”
A dark chuckle invades the air. “No, you need preparation. I don’t want to hurt you with my cock. But soon, though.”
Before I can think about the stupid disappointment that hits me for the second time today, Jonathan pushes his finger a bit farther into my arse and picks up his pace in my pussy.
The feeling of being filled is so real, and there’s even that slight burn of pain that’s caused by his sheer size. It doesn’t matter how wet or ready I am. He’s so big and it always hurts so good to be pounded in by him.
My eyes droop at the intensity of his thrusts, and I’m transfixed by the image in the mirror. By the way I seem so small in his hold, but also by how closely we’re joined, as if we can never be separated.
That view throws me over the edge.
Jonathan studies me with that usual focus of his as I come undone around him. My breathing hitches as pleasure rolls off me, making my legs unsteady.
The way I look at him is more than pleasure and lust.
It’s more than orgasms and dirty fucks.
It’s something I thought I would never feel again after that black day eleven years ago.
