His Passion (By His Command #4) (2 page)

“There, there,” he said, coming back up the
steps. “Now you’re in place.”

“I’d wait for you,” I said. “Forever, if I
had to.”

Jonathan growled again. His hand once again
went into a pocket. I refused to believe he’d pull a gun on me but
my mind flashed the image for a second time. There was no gun but
there another piece of cloth.

Black.

“Since you’re mouth won’t stop right now,”
Jonathan said, and he walked towards me.

He put the other silk piece of cloth around
my mouth and tied it behind my head. I could breathe through my
nose and when I did, I could smell him. I could smell Jonathan. His
musky cologne and his own unique scent. Something that was lodged
into my senses and memory for life, a smell that not only connected
my senses and memory but also my body. As the smell flooded up into
my nose, I became turned on.

By the time Jonathan stopped tying the silk
cloth around my mouth, I was wet. My body throbbing and aching for
him.

“This will keep you here, and quiet,” he
said.

His hands touched my shoulders.

“You have to understand,” he said. “My
Isabella Grace. You just have to understand.”

I nodded. I made no noise.

“Nobody can stop me. Nobody ever will. They
can try… oh, they can…” His hand climbed through my hair to my neck
and one of his fingers started to draw lines, tickling me but also
sending sensations through my entire body. “I’ll kill anyone in my
way. In the way of my command, in the way of my heart. And
certainly in the way of my money.”

His right hand gripped my shoulder too tight
and I tried to wiggle him away.

He let out a small laugh and then both of
his hands came together, running down my back.

“Let’s see how quiet you really are,” he
said.

His hands were at my sides. The movements
sultry and fast. He went down, one hand cupping my backside and the
other reaching around to my front. He lifted my shirt, touching my
warm skin. My knees bent and I sighed. His hand on my ass slid down
and around, touching between my legs. He pressed with the tips of
his fingers hard enough to press my pants into my panties and my
panties into myself. My knees bent some more and I thrust back at
him, trying to cry out but there wasn’t much of a sound.

Just the muffled sound of my voice, quickly
dying before an echo could be heard.

“Well then,” Jonathan said. “Looks like
you’re all set.”

His hands were at my sides again as he
pressed his body hard to me. I looked over my shoulder and saw the
look in his eyes. Something changed. Something was very different.
From the moment I met Jonathan Black, he had been calculated and
powerful. Now… he appeared a little unstable. Maybe it was the
nerves of just murdering a man, maybe it was having me in such a
wild position, in public. There were no locks on the door right
behind Jonathan. Anyone could open the door and find me tied to the
railing with a piece of silk cloth around my mouth.

I couldn’t understand why we weren’t on the
move, putting distance between ourselves and the dead body down the
hall. Thinking that way made me shiver. I had to look away from
Jonathan because the excitement and ecstasy of his touch quickly
started to turn into fear.

He lifted my shirt up, exposing my lower
back. His fingertips ran along my smooth skin and he let out a long
sigh.

“Any other person in the world,” he said,
“and it would be easy. But it’s never easy, is it, Isabella
Grace?”

I shook my head, praying it was the answer
Jonathan was looking for.

“It could be a double, couldn’t? Man and
woman… caught cheating and they wind up dead. Or perhaps a
murder-suicide. Instead, my heart seals itself back together. For
you.”

He leaned down and kissed my lower back. His
lips were wet and perfect, sending heat through my body. His second
kiss included a little of his tongue. I tried to cry out again and
was left with nothing.

No sound.

He stopped kissing me and pulled my shirt
down.

“It could have been easy,” he whispered.
“But Isabella Grace makes everything hard.” He thrust at me,
ramming his point home.

I understood then what he meant. The easiest
decision would have been to kill Oliver Rush
and
me. He
could set it up anyway he wanted it then. He could be on the run,
alone. But he didn’t. Knowing perhaps that’s how Jonathan Black’s
mind worked scared me but knowing he kept me alive and kept me in
his command had some kind of romantic subtext to it.

“I’m going to make a phone call now,” he
said. “Business. Back to normal life.” He laughed. A forced laugh,
a laugh that didn’t sound natural for Jonathan. “You’re obviously
going to stay here. Stay put.”

He tapped my ass with his hand and then
opened the door. The metal sound of the door was like thunder. It
swung shut in silence until the metal clasp caught, hooked, and
echoed.

It was the last sound I heard for a long
time…
but I felt like I wasn’t alone
.

-3-

The door opened and I turned my head. I felt
my neck twist and an instant pain, knowing I had moved too fast. It
didn’t matter to me about the pain, it mattered as to who came
through the door. I couldn’t tell whether Jonathan had been gone
for a minute or an hour, all I knew was that the moment the door
latched shut, my heart pounded. The feeling of being watched, the
feeling of not being alone, it blanketed me.

I knew it was just because of the risky
position I found myself in. Tied to a railing with a blood red silk
cloth, reminding me of what had occurred with Oliver Rush. When
Jonathan Black talked about murder, committed murder, and moved on
from it, he did it so cool. As long as I was by his side, I felt
okay. Being alone allowed my conscience to enter and my mind
conjured up the scenes of television shows and news reports on
murderers being caught, tried, and sent to prison for the rest of
their lives.

But a billionaire wouldn’t go to jail,
right?

Then again,
I
wasn’t a billionaire,
only Jonathan was.

The door was open and it started to shut and
I saw nothing. Not a person in sight. The door shut again and
remained shut, the click of the lock floating both up and down the
open stairs. My eyes were wide, open, my neck throbbing. I couldn’t
look away now.

When the door opened again, I was on the
verge of crying. I couldn’t help but remind myself that Oliver Rush
was a billionaire too. Probably with his own team of associates who
knew what they would plan for the people who killed their leader.
Isn’t that how it worked in movies and television?

This time, someone came through the
door.

Jonathan Black.

He looked angry as he jammed his cell phone
into the breast pocket of his jacket.

“You look terrified,” he said.

I blinked and nodded, not wanting to tear up
in front of him.

“Oh, Isabella Grace… did you think, even for
a second, I wouldn’t come back?”

I blinked again, refusing to move anything
else until he took the silk cloth off my mouth.

Jonathan came to me and pulled the cloth
down. I took a deep breath with my mouth and then looked at him, my
lips shivering.

“Look at you,” he said. His hand reached out
and touched my face. His thumb moved along my lips – top then
bottom – and finally down to my chin. “I would never leave you or
harm you. You’re a piece of me now, Isabella Grace. Understand
that. We share lust and secrets. We’re…
together
…”

The words were smooth, calm, and romantic.
His eyes now looked normal, his dark erotic stare working its
effects on my body. I found myself opening my legs and bending my
knees, desperate for release. I could care less about being tied to
the railing, my mind focused on the deep burn between my legs.

“I can’t say I’m coming with good news,” he
said, “but I can say that a beautiful woman is tied to a railing
with a look in her eyes that’s speaking volumes to me. We’re both
so tense right now. With what happened and all…”

His hand moved down my face to my neck then
my shoulder. He slowly shifted around until he was behind me again.
That’s when his right hand came back into the picture, cupping my
backside, only for a moment before coming around to my pants. With
the flick of his fingers, my pants were undone.

“I’m going to have you,” Jonathan said. “I’m
not going to untie your hands. I expect you to scream too. I want
to hear your voice echoing up and down these steps.”

I groaned and thrust back at Jonathan. I had
questions, but I knew better not to ask. I trusted that Jonathan
had a plan. The wall I spent my life putting up, block by emotional
block, he had torn down in a matter of days. Using his hands, his
eyes, his words,
his body
.

Both of his hands came to the top of my
pants. I had to close my legs to allow him to slide my pants down.
I wiggled my hips for good measure, wanting to tease him a little,
but he didn’t like that. His fingers gripped tight, all but his
thumbs felt like daggers in skin and muscle. I screamed, my voice
giving Jonathan the echo he wanted.

“Don’t do that,” he growled. “Stand still so
I can take your fucking pants off.”

I froze and felt my pants move down to my
ankles. I stepped up and out the best I could, giving me enough
room to spread my legs wide. My panties were clung to my wetness
but Jonathan tore them down to my knees. His left hand was at my
knee, holding my panties and his right hand came up, touching me.
Dry fingers to wet skin. Two of his fingers curling at me,
spreading me, touching my aching hole. He ran by my slit, all the
way back and up. He touched sensitive areas and then moved along my
backside to my lower back.

My sex was open, throbbing, begging to be
filled. Jonathan’s left hand came up, his fingers torturing me as
then moved slowly up the back of my legs. He cut in and touched me
again, his fingers touching me in their own erotic way. His middle
finger moved all the way to the front of my body, rubbing my
sensitive clitoris. By now Jonathan knew how to please me and that
was just one of many spots to go after.

With gentle movements, his middle finger
rubbed left to right. Enough that I had to moan. Enough that I had
to thrust at him, wanting more. Enough that I could feel pleasure
boiling and moving through my body. But not enough that I could
come. The master of sexual desire, giving and taking, and
commanding had arrived, and he was behind me, enjoying me.

His fingers came back along my moisture, his
fingers spread so he could touch and tease everything. He moved the
same as his other hand, touching another tender spot, making me
jump and cry out, my small voice creating a small echo. Both hands
were on my ass and he thrust at me with his clothed body.

“Isabella Grace,” he whispered. “She’s all
mine. Nobody will ever touch her. Together, we are…”

His voice lingered and a second later, both
hands were off my body. I listened to the sound of his belt and
turned my head to watch Jonathan strip himself from the waist down.
He left his suit jacket on, adding to the unpredictable scene
before my eyes. When he dropped his pants and pushed his boxers
down, letting his hard, throbbing erection pop free, I moaned. I
pulled at the blood red silk cloth holding me in place. I was
frustrated, desperate to touch him.

He took himself in his hand and moved
towards me.

In his dominate fashion, Jonathan didn’t
just fuck me like I needed him to. He instead played with me,
rubbing the engorged tip of his cock at my juicy lips first, then
with wide circles, he teased my hole, opening me little by little
but never fully penetrating me.

I tried to thrust back at him, offering my
body, bending my knees, pumping myself, but he resisted me with
every move. I half expected him to get angry at me for such daring
moves but he enjoyed it. It was a sexual game of cat and mouse with
the added allure of being in the stairway of a hotel.

When he finally decided to have my tender
slit, he did so by gripping my hips, holding me up, and thrusting
with a force that sent a shockwave of both pleasure and pain
throughout my entire body. The thrust took me off my feet and I
cried out a whimpering sound that carried more upstairs than down.
He held there and groaned, his beautiful erection throbbing inside
me as I throbbed on him.

As he pulled back out at a deadly slow pace,
my body gave up and gave in. The orgasm hit me like a brick wall,
starting at the pit of my stomach like an explosion of heat. It
went up to my breasts and down between my legs with a wetness and
pulse that became so tight on Jonathan that he had a hard time
getting back inside me. He used one of his hands to open me. With
two fingers, he spread me again and thrust back in.

I started to cry out but the cry died a
couple seconds later as my breath filtered away. I was left with
deep gasps of air and a few grunts that were animal like.

Jonathan enjoyed my body, moving with
amazing speed, caring only about himself and keeping my sex in the
perfect position. His thrusts were continually hard, bucking me off
the ground again and again. When we heard the sound of voices
approaching, Jonathan froze deep inside me. He tensed and throbbed,
pressing hard against me. I started to cry out and his hand quickly
went to my mouth. On his hand I could smell not just Jonathan, but
also the subtle sweet hint of myself.

It drove me wild.

His grip was hard as the voices grew louder.
Our breathing today was intense; we both had no ability to control
it. I looked over my shoulder and saw Jonathan looking over his. He
caught me looking and started to fuck me again, this time with
short but purposeful thrusts. Each one saw the tip of his erection
digging at my insides. The orgasmic pleasure started to collide
with the wrong of it all… committing murder… being tied up… fucking
in the stairway… people right on the other side of the door.