This is the second relevant chapter. Here’s the first if you need a refresher. There will be at least one more.
Jonathan is played by Jonathan Rhys-Meyers.
Maria is played by Maria Young. Yes, me. We’ve been over this already.
[Click the photos for Shadowbox versions. :)]
Maria rose up on the bed, naked and wet, covered completely in his sweat and her own. Drawing her knees up to her breasts, she looked down at him: on his back, spread eagle, chest heaving. Resting her chin on her knees, she closed her eyes and felt the regret of what she’d just done wash over her. Her stomach felt like lead and her heart literally ached, but her body – still fresh with the delectation of achieving half a dozen orgasms in the previous hours – struggled against her emotions. It felt too good to allow her to feel badly.
He stared at her, looking tiredly satiated and yet still brazenly avaricious. He reached over and ran a fingertip lightly up the small of her back. She shivered from the sensation and he laughed softly. Turning on his side to face her, he moved his hand from her back to her stomach and pushed slightly, signaling her to lie back down.
She did, and he moved closer to her, sliding one arm beneath her neck and wrapping the other around her waist. He leaned over her and gazed into her eyes as he loved to do. She immediately lost herself in them, watching her own reflection in his chartreuse irises, studying the flecks of gold and hazel that gamboled around recklessly.
He kissed her lips softly, first her top and then her bottom, then both. He kissed her chin, her jaw, her throat, her collar bone. He licked at the sweat beaded in her suprasternal notch and let his tongue travel farther down, pushing itself past the sheet and onto her breasts.
Breathing in sharply, her back arched and his hand left her waist and moved down to her pelvis. He traced small circles just inside the lift of the bone, the most sensitive spot on her body. She pulled her hips away, down into the mattress in an effort to get him to stop, even though she didn’t want him to, and a moan escaped her throat, against her will.
He took her nipple between his teeth, gently, and flicked his tongue over it, positioning himself on top of her. He was already hard again, and his dick pushed against her leg, urging her to lift it but she didn’t. Instead, she grabbed under his arms and pulled him upwards. He released her nipple, kissing his way back up her chest and neck until he reached her mouth but she turned away.
“I can’t do this,” she said, pushing against his chest halfheartedly, relishing the feel of his pectorals against her palms. “I can’t do this…” She thought of Joaquin – of what she had already done just minutes before. She couldn’t do it again.
“You don’t have to do anything.” he replied and in one smooth motion he slid all the way down her torso, slipping his arms under the backs of her knees and grabbing the tops of her thighs firmly. He looked up at her, smiling deviously as his tongue found her clit and started to work it in steady, flowing strokes.
She tried to close her legs but he was too strong. She pushed against his forehead and pulled his hair but it only made him more aggressive, sucking her in and moaning into her. She bucked her hips but to no avail – he held her body in place. She stopped struggling and lifted her head, watching him perform.
It was only a few minutes before she was bucking her hips again, but in orgasm this time. As her body shook with the final spasms of it ,her mind cleared and tears burned her eyes. Guilt hit her instantaneously and she covered her hands with her face, embarrassed.
Jonathan arose to his knees and released her thighs. He was still smiling as devilishly as before as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. He started to crawl back up her body but she wiggled her way from beneath him and left the bed, gathering up the clothes that she’d lost and hurrying to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. He sat on his heels, watching her, wondering what she was thinking, but not puzzled – he had a general idea.
Maria sat on the cold marble edge of the soaking tub. She fought back the tears, knowing that if they started, they wouldn’t stop. She breathed deeply, clearing her mind with pranayama, hoping to stifle the sobs fighting their way up her throat.
After a few minutes she got up and started to dress. She avoided her reflection in the wall to wall mirror above the granite counter and lacquer sinks, to ashamed to look herself in the face. She steeled her psyche and left the bathroom, looking to her left into the bedroom but Jonathan wasn’t on the bed where she’d left him. She walked to the barrier and looked down to the lower level of the penthouse but didn’t see him in the living or dining room.
She headed down the stairs and grabbed her Christian Louboutin peep toe stilettos out of the foyer. Jonathan was standing in the kitchen in just taupe colored linen pants resting ar below his hips, drinking a Westvleteren 12. Sitting on the small chaise outside of the elevator lobby Maria slid her pumps on, and as she fastened the ankle straps he came out of the kitchen and stood in front of her.
“You’re a qweer bit o’ skirt in those. ” He said, watching her, forgetting that she had no experience with the Dublin colloquialisms he used.
“What?” she asked, looking up and giving him her most evident ‘what the fuck?‘ face.
“You look really good in those.” He corrected himself. “You should’ve kept them on all day.” He smiled at his own irreverent humor and took another swig of his beer.
“I have to go.” She replied, standing up. He was so close that their noses almost touched; she was almost the same height as he was in her 5″ heels. She moved back and around him, making her way towards the elevator.
“You’re really in that big a rush, eh?”
She didn’t answer, and pressed the down button on the wall. The doors slid open smoothly. Her bag lay on the floor of the cabin where she had dropped it, in the midst of their foreplay session on the ride up. She stepped in and pressed the ‘G’, hoping that when the doors closed on Jonathan there, they’d close on everything that had just happened and she wouldn’t have to think about it again, but he wasn’t planning on that – he slipped in just before the doors began to come together.
She backed away from him, but he followed her. He slipped an arm behind her and pulled her close to him. She dropped her head, turning slightly and her cheekbone pressed against his mouth. He kissed her, and kept his lips pressed against her face, wrapping his other arm around her too.
She closed her eyes and sighed. He felt good against her, his skin so soft, body so hard. He smelled wonderful: of sweat and of sex and of La Mer. He leaned back slightly and lifted her chin with his hand. Looking into his eyes, she felt the tears stinging her own but instead of attempting to fight them, she left them flow.
Jonathan frowned slightly, selfishly empathetic, and cradled her face in his hands, kissing her gently, tasting her tears. He kept kissing her, although she didn’t kiss him back. She pulled away after a few moments and wiped at her face, sniffling and regaining her composure. He kept his hands on her hips, refusing to move away from her.
She crossed her arms in front of her and watched the floor numbers change. Still descending through the 40’s, she realized the ride would be longer than she anticipated – much longer than it had seemed on the way up. Sighing, she hitched her bag up onto her shoulder.
They didn’t speak. He knew he couldn’t make her feel any better, not with what he wanted to say.
He wanted to tell her that she didn’t need to feel as if she’d ruined her current marriage, but as if she’d just lain the groundwork for her next. That he wanted to her to stay with him; to get drunk and watch movies with him, to eat out on the terrace overlooking Central Park South with him, to sleep wrapped in his arms in the sheets they spent the entire day tangled in. He wanted to say that he saw so much in her, so much potential for them. He wanted to say those things and so much more, but he knew it wouldn’t help. He was appreciative of her pain, so he stood there silently, hands planted on her wide hips.
At the end of the ride, when the doors opened, she made to leave, but faltered. She looked into his eyes again, still admiring how gorgeous they were, framed in those thick dark lashes, and gave him a slight smile, attempting to prove to him that she was fine so that he’d let her go a bit easier. He smiled back even more slightly, unimpressed, and took her hands in his, squeezing them. He looked down and rubbed his thumb over the surface of the diamond in her engagement ring. Giving her one last unrequited kiss, he let go of her hands and stepped away.
Maria stepped into the lobby and turned around to face him.
“Bye,” she whispered.
Jonathan smiled broadly, and as he pressed the ‘up’ button, just before the elevator shut he said “As I live an’ breathe girl, ye got some wopper box. Me flute’s fock near chubbed up now, just thinkin’ ’bout it – won’t be long ‘for I flatten ya ‘gin.”
On the other side of the elevator doors, Maria laughed in spite of herself.
