Grace Street (A Chapter 8 Novel, #1) (19 page)

“Now that I have you right where I want you,
it’s time to play,” he stood and began to undress.

Elsa watched in awe as his nude body came
into full view under the bright stairwell lighting.
God, he was
magnificent
. When his briefs slid down his slim hips, his cock
sprang forth, pointing skyward and making her giggle idiotically.
She couldn’t help herself. It was just so damned beautiful. And all
hers.

“Open wide,” he ordered while he stroked his
shaft.

Doing as he said, she spread her legs
wide.

“No, not your legs; that pretty mouth of
yours,” he slicked his tongue across his upper lip.

Yes, she wanted this. She wanted his dick
deep in her throat. She closed her eyes, tipped her head back and
parted her lips. Mr. Black grabbed a handful of a hair and eased
the crown of his cock past her lips, allowing her to circle her
tongue around it and dip the tip of her tongue into his hole. He
grunted and pushed deeper. Opening her eyes and never letting her
gaze stray, she watched him as he began to thrust harder. His head
was thrown back and his eyes closed, and he was in his own sensual
world.

He pushed deeper yet, making her gag, but he
was unrelenting. When she became breathless, she began squirming to
free herself to get air, but his fingers were wrapped firmly in her
hair. She thrashed her head and just as she began to see spots in
her vision, Mr. Black pulled away, leaving her a gasping and a
drooling mess. She had no time to recuperate when he shoved himself
into her mouth again as he rested one hand on the rail behind
her.

Harder and faster, he fucked her mouth. The
squeak of the wood and his moaning were the only sounds echoing in
the entrance. She brought her knees up to get better seated as her
body began to slide down, but his thrusting was too powerful. He
momentarily let go of her hair, reached under her arms and pulled
her up before plunging back into her mouth. It was never ending.
Time and time again she nearly passed out from his brutal oral
assault, only to have him pause barely long enough to allow her to
breathe. Her jaw ached and her wrists were becoming raw. The front
of her chest and shirt were soaked in saliva, but she didn’t give a
damn. It was dirty and she loved it.

Just as his body stilled and she prepared for
his warm, salty release, he abruptly pulled out of her mouth. He
unbound her wrists from the railing only to promptly loop the belt
back around once she was freed from the baluster. Without a word,
he heaved her over his shoulder, strode to the bedroom and plopped
her down onto the bed, face down. He yanked her to the edge of the
bed, propped her up on her knees and plunged into her from behind.
The angle of his thrust made her squeal loudly. He clawed at her
shoulders, bringing tears to her eyes. The sensation was exquisite.
She had been fucked hard before, but nothing like this. She bit
into the linens below her in an attempt to muffle her screams but
it was no use. He was inexorable. She didn’t know how much more she
could take.

Her knees began to shake and her lower belly
throbbed with the buildup of an orgasm when, again, he pulled out
of her and hauled her off the bed. All she could do was gasp from
breathlessness. She was barely able to stand as he walked her over
to the wooden chair that was still facing the wall. He seated
himself on it and she nearly toppled over as he pulled her over to
sit atop him, guiding her bound wrists over his head and around his
neck.

His mouth was so close she could feel the
dampness of his breath on her lips and smell the faint scent the
cigarette and mint coming from him. It was intoxicating. With her
forehead pressed to his, he lifted her by her hips to the tip of
his shaft only to pull her back down harshly as he thrust upwards.
Her eyes filled with tears every single time he pushed up into her.
He was hitting that spot that made her want to come undone and she
knew she couldn’t hold out much longer.

Closing her eyes tightly, she felt Mr.
Black’s raspy tongue on her cheek as he lapped up the tears now
streaming down her face.

“God, yes…” he whispered.

Mr. Black’s hands moved from her hips to her
breasts and squeezed cruelly, making her throw her head back and
moan loudly. He plucked at her nipples and buried his face in her
tits as she leaned her body back to accept his mouth on them. She
was grinding down onto his dick when it happened without warning: a
literal gush of wetness between her legs soaked the both of
them.

Startled with what had happened, she tried to
dismount Mr. Black, but he dug his fingers into her hips and held
her tight. She had heard of the mythical G-spot orgasm, but had
never experienced it. It was marvelous and her body shook violently
from it. She didn’t know why she was feeling embarrassed about it;
by the look on Mr. Black’s face, he was quite pleased with
himself.

Only a few minutes later, he stood. She
wrapped her legs around his waist and he thrust up into her one
last time as she felt his cock pulse out his seed into her. Still
buried deep inside of her, he stumbled to the bed and collapsed
onto it, smashing her under the weight of his body. They lay like
that for several minutes, their ragged breathing slowly subsiding.
Mr. Black rolled off of her and pushed the sweaty hair from her
eyes.

“To be continued…”

*

Mr. Black had used and abused Elsa and her
body ached with the kind of pain that came only from a good, brutal
fucking. She had missed this kind of soreness, but what came after,
she had missed even more. Lying on the bed next to Victor as the
night was drawing near its end, she curled into his embrace. She
clung to him and buried her face in his chest. He felt warm and
familiar. He felt safe. She purred when she felt his long fingers
in her hair and then on her back, working their way down to her
spine and over to her tattoo. She loved it when his long fingers
traced the details of it.

“You were perfect,” she heard him say.

Looking up, she stared at him longingly, but
with the ever-evolving rules of the game always running in the
background...

She touched his scar again. “What happened
here?”

His jaw tensed and he narrowed his eyes at
her. His body stiffened as he pulled away and she immediately
regretted the question. Mr. Black was back.

“I don’t answer…” he started in his usual
cold voice.

She promptly chimed in. “I remember. That’s
fine,” she responded just as chilly as she crawled out of bed and
began to dress herself. “It’s better that I know nothing about you.
It’ll make it that much easier when I say goodbye.”

Yes, she was learning to play his game,
alright. Maybe he would be her experiment in what not to get
involved with ever again.

She seated herself on the corner of the bed
and reached for her shoes when Mr. Black lunged toward her. He
fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back, forcing her
to look at him.

"Goodbye?" he scoffed. "Goodbye isn't an
option. Let's not forget who reigns here. I chose you. It was my
decision to have you and don't you ever doubt that I intend to do
nothing less than devour you entirely. You're my plaything, Elsa.
My sex toy. My hole. Mine to do with whatever I want and all that
pleases me. To torture, thrill, threaten and mind fuck however I
see fit. So you don't get to say goodbye. Not now, maybe not ever.
That's the beauty of this arrangement. I make all the decisions and
you're left to wander around in the dark, waiting, anticipating and
fearing my next move. Only when I'm done using you and I’ve gotten
what I need will I let you go. Only then and not one millisecond
sooner. I've allowed you the pretense of choice, but know that I
alone decide when, where and how much. I decide every, single
fucking thing that goes on in your life. My house, my rules.
Remember? Now kneel."

Elsa couldn’t believe the disgusting words
spilling out of him. What kind of man was he?

Before she could even process his statement,
he abruptly pushed her off the bed and down to her knees. Her
natural response was to fight him and she slapped his hands away as
she tried to stand, upset with Mr. Black’s sudden volatility.

“Do as I tell you, Elsa, and don’t make me
say it again,” he growled with his hands still firmly pressing down
onto her shoulders.

All of this over a simple question about a
scar? She was speechless and infuriated as she fell to her
knees.

“Who made you like this?” she stared up at
him.

“Shut the hell up. I mean it. I don’t answer
personal questions. I’ve said it three times now. To clarify things
from this point on, rule number six is no fucking personal
questions unless you want to suffer my wrath. Is that clear enough
or do I need to write this one down, too?” he barked as he stood
over her.

Then suffer his wrath she
would because despite what her brain was screaming for her to do,
she wasn't going to give in or run. Let him beat her if that’s what
he wanted. She welcomed his fists if that’s what it was going to
take to break down the stone walls he had put up around
himself.

“Then let there be blood,”
she whispered as she gritted her teeth. “
Any man can force
his domination on a woman. It doesn’t even take much of a man to
show her the errors of her ways. But to guide a woman, to lead her
and to love and support her? That takes a special kind of man. A
strong man. An exceptional man. I thought you had it in you to be
that kind of man, but seeing Mr. Black come out like this over an
innocuous question? You’ve failed me, Victor.”

The statement slipped past her lips before
she could stop herself and it was as if she was watching herself
from above. Mr. Black’s jaw gaped and she braced herself for the
worst. She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes, ready for
bloodshed.

“Get your things. You’re free to leave,” she
heard in an unfamiliar voice.

Elsa’s eyes popped open. Stunned speechless,
she stared up at Mr. Black who suddenly looked calm. That was it?
She was free to go after she said the very thing he had accused
Chapter Seven of doing?

Of course not. All his dismissal meant was
that he was going to stew on her rebellion and statement and dish
out his punishment at a later time. Why did she have to let her
curiosity get the best of her? Why the hell did she have to ask
that question about his scar? Why couldn’t she keep her stupid
mouth shut?

Elsa drove home with her tailed tucked
between her legs, though she didn’t know why she was the one
feeling ashamed of her behavior. It was Mr. Black who should be
feeling guilty for the way he overreacted to her harmless question
and his shitty remark about saying goodbye.

His sextoy… his
hole
? The more she
thought about his statement, the more livid she became. Talk about
the great manipulator. He had been kind all day and even during
dinner the previous evening, and the entire time that’s what he
thought she was? Just another Chapter to mind fuck and torture? So
in addition to all the other B.S. he was putting her through, she
now had to contend with the anxiety of worrying if he would watch
the video from earlier that day.

She arrived home and angrily tossed her bag
into the couch. Pacing the living room she felt the sudden urge to
look out her window. If Mr. Black was out there, she swore she
would tear ass down there and rip him a new
hole
for all the
head games he was playing with her. She flung the curtains to the
side expecting to his see his Nissan, but the street was empty.
Lucky for him. Or probably more likely, lucky for her.

“Fuck you, Mr. Black!” she cursed the air,
hoping he could hear her from across town.

*

Monday morning came too soon and Elsa felt
emotionally drained. Frantic to hide the evidence of her nosiness,
she had driven to the Grace Street brownstone in the early morning
hours and let herself in to try and gain access to the surveillance
room without success.

With only three hours of good sleep under her
belt, her morning at work was unproductive. Every time she would
hear something near her door, she would jump, fearing Mr. Black
would come slinking in, ready to reprimand her and add more rules
to her growing list. The more she thought about it, the more she
began to wonder if the waiting, anticipating and dreading of his
actions was her punishment.

Afternoon came and she checked her text
messages. Nothing. Not one single word was sent to her and her
heart began to sink. Maybe she had pushed him too far with her
cruel accusation of being a failure or, God forbid, he had watched
the video.

But what about his nasty words? Was he
torturing himself over what he had said to her? She doubted it very
much. It was par for the course for him in his cruel game of
testing women’s limits and experimenting on them. And what in the
hell was he trying to figure out by testing them? Oh, that’s right.
He was ‘helping’ to make them stronger. She belted out a sarcastic
laugh at the thought. Mr. Black was the one who clearly needed the
help. Maybe it would be a blessing if never called her again.

Well into the evening and back at home, her
emotions skidded back and forth and her mood dipped up and down
from hating Mr. Black to feeling torn about Victor’s heartfelt
words about love and wanting to really be seen.

She was obsessing and teetering on the verge
of losing all sanity. She was fixated on Victor and he was
consuming her every thought.

Tuesday and Wednesday came and went. Mr.
Black was nowhere to be seen or heard from and Elsa found herself,
once again, alone. The days droned on and the silence was
gut-wrenching. It was as if he was only a figment of her
imagination. Perhaps he had been.
That damned scar…