Grace Street (A Chapter 8 Novel, #1) (18 page)

“Mr. Black,” she moaned.

He whispered into her half-open mouth, “Call
me by my real name.”

The new light of day had barely touched her
eyes and she was already grinning. “Victor.”

If only it could be this good every moment
with him.

In the post morning bliss, Victor fell back
to sleep, giving Elsa the opportunity to study him more closely.
Propping herself up on one elbow, she burned into her memory all of
his facial features: the dark stubble covering his face, the small
mole on his right cheek, his thick eyebrows and long lashes, and
all the other little nuances that were unique only to him. She
leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, unable to resist his
firm, red lips that were only centimeters away. He stirred and his
mouth twitched in response.

She touched a long, deep scar that stretched
from the underside of his chin to his jawbone and was camouflaged
by his unshaven face. She ran the tip of her index finger along the
angular shape of it. When she did, his eyes fluttered open and came
into focus, the sun glinting off his green irises.

Paying no mind to him, she continued on her
quest to learn him, her eyes roaming endlessly over his handsome
face.

“You’re wasting your time,” Victor said
softly.

She knitted her brows together, unsure what
he was referring to.

“Trying to figure me out,” he explained. “I
can’t be easily labeled like all the rest of your lovers.”

None of Elsa’s lovers were easily classified
and she shook her head to his egotistical response. “You’re an
egomaniac.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a discreet smile.
“And your opinion is subjective,” she continued, causing his smile
to show itself fully. “I like this man,” she dared to confess.

“And which man would that be?” Victor pulled
his head back to scan her face.

“Victor Laurenzo.”

He quirked a brow at her, “As opposed to Mr.
Black?”

“Yes. Mr. Black is erratic and
capricious.”

He rolled onto his back and grabbed his
stomach as he belted out a loud laugh. “I’ll let him know you feel
that way,” he said in between laughs.

She widened her eyes exaggeratedly and shook
her head. “I’d rather you didn’t. He might not take kindly to my
criticism.”

Rolling onto his side, he pushed her hair
away from her eyes. “No, he might not, so it’ll be our little
secret.”

She couldn’t help but feel like their kidding
wasn’t entirely lighthearted. Mr. Black wasn’t a man to be fucked
with and yet, he was the same person as Victor Laurenzo. Or was he?
Was his personality split real or imagined? She didn’t know him
well enough to have that much figured out and she was too terrified
of what might happen if she asked.

Victor rose from the bed and grabbed her
hand, dragging her into the shower with him. They washed each other
and it was as if Mr. Black no longer existed. But she knew better.
She could see him hiding behind Victor’s captivating eyes and
hypnotic smile. Yes, he was there, waiting until the moment she
fucked up so he could dole out his punishment.

As Victor began to finger her, she closed her
eyes, trying to ignore the caution signs that were popping up in
her subconscious.

Lowering himself onto his knees, she propped
a foot onto his shoulder as he buried his face in her pussy. She
grazed her nails against his scalp and he groaned, making her knees
go weak. He looked up at her as his tongue made lazy circles around
her clit. She wiped her eyes to get a better view and when their
eyes met, they shared an intense physical awareness of each other.
God, she hoped this moment of passion was real and not part of his
game.

She threw her head back as her climax began
to wash over her.

She reminded herself that Mr. Black was ever
present and asked, “May I come?”

Victor’s brows drew together as if confused
and Elsa inwardly smiled. She truly loved the look of surprise on
his face when she did something he wasn’t expecting.

*

Sunday afternoon blew by like a summer
breeze, warm and friendly. Victor remained attentive and kind,
always watching her and in some way, touching her. They cooked
lunch side by side with what little bit of food was in the house,
and worked together in unison as if they had been doing it for
years.

Seated at the bistro table, they ate in
silence as Victor read something. She assumed it was work related,
but never asked. The key around his neck was teasing her and his
briefcase that sat nearby was taunting her. She could see the edge
of his journal peeking out, setting her nerves on edge. She wanted
to read what else he had written about her. If he would just excuse
himself to the restroom… or leave to have a cigarette… or…

“What’s going on that head of yours,
Elsa?”

His voice interrupted her thoughts. She
shrugged, embarrassed at herself for obsessing over his damned
diary.

“Does my little Peach want a fuck?” he
winked.

Her eyes darted up to his. What a ridiculous
question. Of course she wanted a fuck. Always. There was no need to
ask. She eagerly nodded her head.

“I’ll see if I can accommodate you. First, I
need to run down the street and get some cigarettes. Be ready for
me when I get back.”

He rose and moved toward the door and her
pulse skittered. Not because of the upcoming fuck, but because she
could sneak a peek into his private thoughts. Just as he reached
the door, she reached for his briefcase but Victor spun on his heel
and strode back.

“Forgot my wallet.”

Elsa’s throat tightened at almost getting
caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She needed to pull herself
together and relax. She plastered on her best fake smile and he was
none the wiser. When she heard the front door latch, she bolted to
the bay window to see him walking leisurely in the direction of a
small tobacco shop.

When he was just out of view, she tore into
his briefcase and opened his journal to a random page.

Chapter 7

Weekend 5:

Another pointless two days have come and
gone. Will you ever learn? Your childish antics have driven me to
the point of no return and no amount of penalties seem to motivate
you to follow my rules. Five fucking weeks have been wasted on you
– five weeks that could’ve been better spent on a more worthy test
subject - five weeks that should’ve been spent working on the
Cambridge case. I’m disgusted just thinking about the hours spent
and the energy put into you for absolutely fucking nothing in
return other than your grating on my nerves.

I’m dwelling. It’s time to be done with
this. One last round of castigation will be delivered for the hours
you have cost me and then I will move on to the next Chapter. What
shall your final farewell reprisal be? I must think on it.
Something wicked. Something that will leave you reeling and
withered under my hand. There’s nothing like leather to get the job
done and I do love the smell of it and the sight of welted flesh.
Then again, maybe a good old fashioned bit of collar and restraint
therapy to bring you to heel – a bit of fun mingled in with your
punishment. We shall see. I’m too worn out by your lack of keeping
me amused to think right now.

Not even the sex we have is worthy of my
time. You’ve failed me miserably, C,7 and I’ve let myself down by
not seeing the writing on the wall when I chose you. Your needy,
over-dramatic, immature, attention-seeking behaviors are
unchangeable and I can’t help you. After this coming weekend, we’re
finished.

Elsa sat stunned by the cold words she read
and her stomach churned. Whoever Emily was, she had feelings – she
was a person who needed love and attention and he blew her off
because she hadn’t ‘amused’ him. That had to be Mr. Black writing
that journal entry. Elsa laughed out loud, the kind of nervous,
weird laugh that came only out of realization that Victor was Mr.
Black.
Test subject.
She reread the words over and over
trying to make sense of them. Was she also a ‘test subject’? No,
she was more than that. She had to be.

Unable to stop herself, she turned to another
random page.

Chapter 3

Weekend 4

My precious, over-privileged little doll -
your naughtiness brings out the monster in me that wants to you
fuck you in painfully pleasurable ways. You would like it too,
wouldn’t you? But you were errant in your behavior tonight and so
you must suffer.

Rule no. 12 strictly states that you are not
to seek the attention of other men, yet you continually flirt
shamelessly when you think you won’t be caught. Am I not enough man
for you, C3? I will prove tomorrow that I am when I take your anal
virginity. You’ve been hesitant to allow me that part of your body
and I’ve been patient. Too patient, even for my standards. But no
more. You want to be objectified? Then you shall be. You’ve now got
my full attention and it’s focused on your ass.

Elsa tossed the journal onto the table. She
couldn’t stand to read another word. My God, twelve rules? He had
sex with her the same way the previous night, only she had given it
willingly. Hopefully Chapter Three’s memory of losing her anal
virginity was just as enjoyable as Elsa’s had been with Patrick,
though she doubted it. God damn Mr. Black. Victor.

She heard the lock click on the front door
and she jumped. She slammed the diary closed and stuffed it back
into his satchel and ran to the staircase, seating herself midway
up when it occurred to her that the video was rolling while she had
read his journal. How could she have forgotten something so
important? How could she have been so blinded by curiosity to act
so carelessly? She closed her eyes and concentrated on controlling
her erratic pulse and breathing. She would just have to wait until
he fell asleep to erase the recording. But if he read deception on
her face…

“What are you waiting for up there?” she
heard Victor’s playful voice.

She opened her eyes and smiled. “You,” she
flirted.

She was still only wearing one of his
t-shirts and she spread her legs, revealing her pussy to him. He
dropped the small bag he had in his hand and climbed the stairs
slowly, stalking closer to her. Her legs opened further, inviting
him.

Test subject.
As Victor kneeled
between her legs and ravaged her, the words vexed her. She wouldn’t
be anyone’s test anything and she would prove to Mr. Black that she
was no one’s experiment. Her new mission was clear. She was no
longer in this game for distraction or to simply satiate her
loneliness. She was in it to peel back his layers and reveal the
real Victor.

As if he could read her thoughts, Victor
paused and stood between her legs, his crotch eye-level to her. He
unbuttoned his jacket and flung the fabric behind him as he placed
his hands on his hips and widened his step.

“Are you baiting me to my station?” she
reached out and touched the outline of his shaft.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a debauched
smile. “Yes, I am. Are you biting?”

“Only if you want it that way,” she clamped
her teeth shut noisily.

He threw is his back and laughed, the genuine
joy of his emotion washing over her. Mr. Black wasn’t so bad, not
all the time.

His pupils dilated as he leaned down and slid
a hand up the inside of her thigh to her hip and squeezed. “You’re
up to no good. I can sense it. You’re playing my game, aren’t
you?”

Her mouth parted in surprise. She had been up
to no good, but she couldn’t show her hand.

“I’m learning to play your game,” she
admitted. It was the truth and because it was, it was easier for
her to keep her cool.

His voice dropped an octave. “I like that. It
makes me want to do very bad things to you, Elsa.”

She could barely control herself and she
closed her eyes, imagining all the depraved things she wanted him
to do.

“Do them, Mr. Black. Do bad, bad things to
me…” she moaned out as she reached down and pulled the t-shirt
higher, exposing hers breasts to him.

“I thought you liked Victor better?”

Her eyes fluttered opened to see Victor
smiling naughtily back at her. She hadn’t even realized what she
said. “I can’t think straight. Your smell, your touch… everything
about you flusters me. I just know that right now, I want Mr. Black
to do all of the things that are in that wicked head of his. Once
he’s had his way with me, then I want you, Victor, to hold me and
to take away the pain that I know he’s going to inflict on me.”

The sound she heard next both scared the hell
out of her and shredded every ounce of willpower she had – a deep,
primal growl from somewhere dark and deep within him. Yes… Mr.
Black was now present and ready to fuck her in ways she had only
dreamed of.

Grabbing her by the back of her neck, Mr.
Black hauled her up and into his kiss, forcing his tongue into her
mouth and kissing her with such ferocity, it took her breath away.
She wrapped her limbs around him, wanting to feel the weight of his
solid form squeezing the life and breath from her as she crushed
his body down onto hers. Mr. Black pressed a hand between them to
remove his belt, the sound of the metal and leather being pulled
from his jeans was like music to her ears. With his lips still
pressed against hers, she felt her body being shifted and moved so
her head was against the rail.

Next, her hands were brought up over her
head. She paid no mind as his tongue swirled in her mouth,
caressing every surface seductively. She grunted when in the blink
of an eye, her wrists were bound with his belt to the baluster. Her
eyes flew open and she jerked her head up to see the black leather
efficiently wrapped around her wrists with the buckle tucked away
neatly and out of view. He had clearly done this before.