His Passion (By His Command #4) (6 page)

His thrusts didn’t gradually increase, they
started fast. He moved at an orgasmic pace, the kind I would expect
to feel just before he came. I lowered my back to the bed and
lifted my lower half, making fists with my hands behind my back to
hold myself up. I tried to move with Jonathan but it was no use. He
held my legs open with his hands and his thickness enjoyed my body.
That’s all that mattered.

I could see the look in his eyes, the way he
looked down at me, watching himself fuck me. He was there with me
physically but he wasn’t there emotionally. His mind was somewhere
else, lost and thinking, using my body to relieve himself.

Fair enough, I didn’t mind.

My body accepted his hard pumps over and
over. I moaned because I had to and when my body reached the point
of climax, I gasped for air and felt everything tighten. As I
started to pulse, feeling the fresh heat and wetness surging from
deep within, going down between my legs, I tried to call out for
Jonathan. I waited for him to slow himself as he battled my
throbbing walls.

But he didn’t.

He had no care.

No remorse.

No need for my orgasm.

He fucked me harder, faster, barreling with
his shaft in and out of my tender slit, forcing my walls open, over
and over, even as I came.

It gave me an orgasm that was so intense, I
started to growl. It was the only thing my body could do. I took
one breath, then lost two. I growled, found air, gasped for that
air, then lost it again.

Jonathan’s hands were on the move, sliding
up. His left hand went to my stomach. It was a strange place but it
was hot. His hand was large and sweaty.
Perfect.
His right
hand came to my slit and he rested it against my mound, letting his
thumb touch my clitoris. He started to rub hard and fast.

His face looked angry again, his lip
curling, teeth showing. His eyes were wide and wild. I could see
his body sweating, his muscles flexing with the speed. I didn’t
think he could go faster but he managed it.

“Yes,” I cried to him. “Mr. Black, yes!”

“That’s right,” he said. “Say it again. Tell
him
who I am…”

I knew then this erotic session was about
his father. My pleasure would be used as proof to his father.

I lifted my body more, reaping all the
benefits of Jonathan’s need and I called for him again and
again.

Screaming
Mr. Black
just felt naughty
and sexy at the same time.

Jonathan then moved positions again, his
hands suddenly shooting up my body, touching my breasts, and then
leaving my body for the bed. He came down to me, his hard muscle
against my soft skin, both our bodies hot and desperate.

His speed suddenly slowed, his thrusts
becoming deep and slow. Each time he thrust, he groaned, his eyes
locked to mine. He was having me, exploring me, memorizing me.
Going fast was his way of getting me to scream his name. Going slow
like this was his way of owning me. Planting himself. Our bodies
coming together as one.

I felt my bottom lip shaking from the
intense emotions inside me. It was too much to sort through so I
tried to be like Jonathan. I stared at him, trying to clear my
mind.

But I couldn’t.

My body throbbed for him, wanting more of
him.

The thrusts were something I’d never had
before. There was emotion and purpose behind each one. Jonathan
worked his body towards his climax and I could feel it coming
before it did. His cock thickened and tightened, his leg muscles
doing the same. His body shook and he grunted as though he were
trying to hold back. Then with one last pump, he was deep and he
started to come. This time, he held inside me, throbbing and
pouring all he had into me. His lip was curled and he groaned each
time he came but he never blinked once, never breaking our stare.
Even after he was finished, he remained inside me.

Our bodies calmed together, our breathing
entangling. I waited for him to speak although I would have stayed
in silence forever, just having his body against mine, him inside
me, our eyes focused on each other.

“I have to go now,” Jonathan whispered.
“Business.”

“Go? Where?”

“Like I said, business. I won’t be far but
you need to stay here. It’s why we’re here.”

“Jona…
Mr. Black
… I can’t be without
you.”

“You won’t be,” he said.

He pulled from me and stood up. The sudden
change of his body and his eyes not near me left me feeling cold
and dying. I hate these moments, when the pleasure ended.

He reached for his clothing and casually
dressed himself. I was on the bed, my legs slightly open, feeling
the warm and perfection of our sex.

As Jonathan tightened his tie, he smiled at
me. He reached for my arm and helped me stand. He spun me around
and took a second to let his fingers touch me. From my shoulder
down to my backside and between my legs. One last touch.

He took the handcuffs off me and threw them
to the bed.

“Don’t lose them,” he said. “You’ll need
them again soon enough.”

I shivered and moaned. I nodded.

Jonathan commanded me to dress. I did, while
biting my tongue with the questions that would not leave me alone.
When he walked to the door and started to turn the knob, I sighed,
wanting to call for him.

He stopped and walked back to me. He touched
my face and then pulled me in for a kiss. It took my breath away
for a moment and I had the sudden urge to cry.

“Soon,” Jonathan said. “Soon.”

He turned and left the room.

The second he was gone I got that feeling
again… that invading feeling that someone was standing nearby,
watching me.

-8-

I emerged from the room and walked to the
only room I could find. It was a surprise to me to find Jonathan’s
father still sitting in his black chair, still holding a glass of
liquor. The only difference now was that he sipped instead of
gulped. When he looked back at me, his eyes were woozy.

“Ah, here she is. Isabella Grace. Come.
Sit.”

I hated the idea of sitting in the same room
as John Black but I didn’t want to be alone.

I took a seat on the couch and felt uneasy
with John looking at me the way he did. I could only imagine the
thoughts running through his mind. The last thing I wanted to
become was a pawn between father and son. Nobody could touch me
like Jonathan Black could. Nobody could pleasure me like him
either.

Nobody.

“You miss him, don’t you?”

I swallowed, ignoring the question.

“I find it funny how things work, don’t
you?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my voice
quiet.

“The temp worker ends up as a temp,” John
said. He chuckled and sipped his drink. He looked at me and his
eyes went wide. “You understand that, right?”

Again, I stayed silent on the question.

“Nothing for him is ever real. Ever lasts.
Why do you think he jumps from company to company, investment to
investment. I don’t think he’s ever stopped long enough to take a
breath.”

I smiled. My mind thought about Jonathan’s
body against mine, his deep thrusts, so calm, so effective,
orgasmic. The way we looked at each other.

“He has it all but it’s not enough,
ever.”

“And yourself?”

“I’m happy,” John said. “Mostly. That is,
until I look at you.”

“Me?”

“Sure. Here I am, spending time in the
mountains, taking in the weather and snow. And then here comes
Isabella Grace, a woman with enough beauty to turn it all upside
down.” John put his glass down and slid to the edge of his chair.
His hands were tight on the arms of the chair and he leaned
forward. He was intense looking, licking his lips. “My heart longs
for you, Isabella Grace. From the moment I heard of you, it’s
begun.”

I sat back on the couch. I couldn’t take my
eyes off John.

“You don’t deserve what you think you
enjoy,” he said. “A woman like you… should be cared for, properly.
Not brought into murder.”

John said the word
murder
with a
frightful growl and stare.

“How did you know?” I asked. “About
everything?”

“I always know,” John said. He retreated
comfortably back into his chair. “Why do you think we’re here? I
knew what was happening with my son and Oliver Rush. Oliver Rush
confided in me, the stupid man he was. The second I heard of the
three billion, I knew Jonathan would do something wild. Then I
found out about you…” – John pointed a wobbly finger at me – “… and
I just knew he would… kill him.”

“You didn’t stop it?” I cried out.

“How? How do you stop him? Can you?”

I shut up. I had nothing to offer.

“I did what I could,” John said. “I
intercepted the money. Oliver Rush didn’t know and that’s where
Jonathan is right now. Getting the money back.”

“You took it?”

“I intercepted it. As it came across the
wire, I changed some data at the last second. It was then filtered
through several bank accounts across the world. Different companies
– some real, some fake – until it finally ended up in large chunks
I could manage. If someone dared to track the money, they’ll spend
their entire lives hitting dead end after dead end.”

John reached for his glass and finished his
drink. He pointed the empty glass at me and sighed.

“And that, Isabella Grace, is what I
do.”

“Criminal work?” I asked.

“Much less than murder, don’t you
think?”

I frowned.

Jonathan was a murderer and his father stole
money.

What had I gotten into here?

These were the moments I needed Jonathan. I
needed him next to me, to take over the conversation and protect
me.

“But while he’s out, I’m here,” John said.
“Because I have something for you.”

John reached into his pocket and took out a
piece of paper. He unfolded it and placed it on the table.

“Take it,” he said.

I stared at a set of numbers that made no
sense to me.

“You need to leave,” John said. His voice
sounded serious. “Your beauty will kill my son. As much as he can
control you, he can’t control himself. He never has and never will.
I’d blame him, or maybe myself, but seeing you, Isabella Grace, I
can understand why. Any man would kill for you. I know I
would.”

John paused, leaving his words lingering. I
refused to believe he was putting me into the same kind of
proposition that got Oliver Rush killed. Then it occurred to me…
would Jonathan Black kill his own father?

The thought made me look away from John.

“You’re thinking it,” John said. “I don’t
blame you. I’d run. Like I told you on the phone.”

I
was
thinking about running. Away
from John to find Jonathan. My heart belonged to him, my body to
his command, and nothing would change that.

“That paper is your way out,” John said.
“Those are tracking numbers, routing numbers, and my phone
number.”

I looked down at the paper again. I opened
my mouth but John answered the question.

“Isabella Grace, that’s for the three
billion dollars. It’s yours. To keep. I’ll help you get it settled
and squared. Nobody will ever know a thing. You’ll be safe and set
for your life. I can also promise Jonathan will never find you. And
as for me…”

John stood from his chair. He stepped
towards me, leaning down to drop his glass to the table. It hit
with a clunk and tipped over, the semi-melted ice spilling its
water on the table. His eyes were lusty and his breathing
increasing. He reached for my hand and I let him take it. I wanted
no trouble between father and son but I wished at that moment
Jonathan would come through the door and end this.

Even if it meant killing his father.

“… my heart will beat for you, and I will
wait. If you choose to love, if you choose to need, I’ll wait. But
I won’t force myself and I won’t command. It’s about heart,
Isabella Grace, and I believe you know that.”

He stopped talking and my eyes switched
between John and the piece of paper in my hand. The piece of paper
was worth three billion dollars. The money Jonathan was supposed to
be tracking down even though I assumed it was a ploy from his
father to get him away from me long enough to do this. To corner
me. To try to pay me off. Send me on my way.

“And plus, do you believe he won’t be caught
for his actions? Oliver Rush was a billionaire in his own right. He
had his own life, a large life. I’m sure by now people are
swarming, trying to figure out what happened to him. It’s only a
matter of time…”

I nodded and folded the paper in my hand. I
slipped it into my pocket and patted my pants.

John took that as a silent signal that I had
accepted the pay off.

Good for him, that’s what I wanted.

He let my hand go and stepped back.

“Now, for the real business at hand,” he
said. His words were slurring now and his head looked like it was
going to roll off his shoulders. “He was so stupid doing it like
that. So
so
stupid, Isabella Grace.”

“Do you know something?” I asked. “Besides
Oliver Rush calling you?”

John fell into his chair and grumbled to
himself for a second. Then his eyes popped open and he looked at me
with the eyes of an unstable man. He whispered, just once, “It
wasn’t the only phone call I got…”

His head fell back and he let out a long
sigh.

“Where’s Jonathan?” I asked. “Tell me. Right
now.”

“Around front. The cottage through the front
door looks like a cottage. This part is secret. A safe haven. But I
don’t feel safe… do you, Isabella Grace?”

No, I didn’t feel safe, but I didn’t
acknowledge John. I’d had enough of him. Plus, he just confessed
that Jonathan was still here. Right here. Upstairs. Or around the
house. Whatever.