His Passion (By His Command #4) (5 page)

There were a total of five pieces of
furniture in the room. John walked to a bar and poured himself a
drink. He held it out and nodded to Jonathan and myself, then took
the drink.

“Ah, perfect,” John said. He licked his lips
and then put the glass down.

He reached for two more and poured all of us
a drink.

Jonathan retrieved the drinks and handed one
to me. He pointed to a leather couch and together, we sat. John
walked from the bar to a black leather chair near the fire. It was
positioned so he sat sideways along the fire, making his silhouette
look as though it were on fire.

“Drink up,” John said.

We all took a drink, John finishing his
glass. I could tell where his terrible aging had come from.
Jonathan took a small drink and I took a sip. The alcohol was
raunchy and spicy. It burned my lips, tongue, and throat.

“Need a chaser?” John asked.

I looked at Jonathan and he stood up to get
me some water.

The fire broke up the silence that fell
between all of us by crackling and spitting a few sparks as knots
of wood tried to hold onto their life.

“This is home,” John said. “At least for
this weekend.” He smiled at me then turned attention to Jonathan,
who was walking back towards me with water. “You’re lucky you
caught me here when you did. I’m set to fly out tomorrow afternoon.
Heading more north.”

“I guess I’m just a lucky man,” Jonathan
said.

He sat next to me and I gazed around the
room. That’s when I realized there had to be damn near every animal
possible in the room. Mounts of deer, elk, a moose, bear, fish, and
some rodent looking things too. There were scenes made up – another
bear, swatting at the hind quarters of a deer.

“You like my hobby?” John asked.

It caught my attention and I froze.

“I guess my son and I both enjoy the thrill
of a kill… although mine are meant to be with animals.”

I could sense Jonathan wanting to explode.
“Oliver Rush was an animal.”

John laughed. He pushed himself up from his
chair and walked for another drink.

“Fair enough, son, fair enough. We obviously
can’t undo what’s done here. I can’t bail you out of this one.
Can’t take back death.”

“I’m sure you’d fix this if you could,
right?” Jonathan asked. “Like you’ve always done.”

“Is that sarcasm?” John asked.

His next drink was twice as big as the
first. He walked back to his chair and sat down, bringing his right
leg up over his left leg. He gripped his ankle and smiled.

“Come on, Jonathan,” he said, “don’t be an
asshole to me.”

I gasped. Hearing someone call Jonathan
Black seemed dangerous.

“I did what I had to do with you, didn’t I?
You were healthy, fed, educated. What more can a father give his
son?”

“A couple dollars when you throw him out,”
Jonathan said.

“Eh, that doesn’t teach character, does
it?”

“I guess not.”

The conversation grew silent again as John
drank.

He didn’t just drink, he gulped. He polished
the extra large glass of liquor and then shook his head and blinked
a few times. The alcohol was settling in, and fast. I wasn’t sure
if that was a good thing or not.

“You know why you’re here?” John asked.

“I’m assuming we’re going to talk about
money,” Jonathan said.

“We always do. But now my son is a murderer.
Interesting, isn’t it?”

“I don’t think so,” Jonathan said. “I saw a
problem and I solved it.”

His voice was still calm and in control. He
spoke of murder like a common thing that happens in life. It wanted
to scare me but Jonathan was just so sexy talking about it.

I was hopeless.

“Well, I can see we aren’t going to talk,
are we?” John asked.

“You can talk,” Jonathan said. “I’m just
here to collect my…”

“Why bother wasting more time?” John asked.
“It’s dark now, we’re safe.” John’s eyes shifted to me, meeting my
eyes. I quickly felt uncomfortable and tried to slide closer to
Jonathan.

Something was happening around me, something
I didn’t know. I felt left out of a conversation that wasn’t
happening. The sense of being watched came over me again and I
wanted nothing more than to jump and scream.

“Take Isabella Grace to one of the
bedrooms,” John said. “We have business to tend to.”

Jonathan stood and reached for my hand. I
took it and stood, wanting out of the room and out of the presence
of John. Jonathan led the way and as we walked by his father, he
reached out and the tips of his fingers touched my wrist.

“See you soon, Isabella Grace.”

I shivered and ignored him.

-7-

It wasn’t a bedroom.

It was a loft.

A large loft.

But in the eyes of a billionaire, perhaps
the extra large bed, couch and chair, fireplace, desk, bookshelf,
bar, private bathroom and kitchen were all just parts of a
bedroom.

“I can’t believe this,” I said. “It’s
beautiful.”

“It’s a waste,” Jonathan said. “Just a way
to flaunt…” He growled for a second and then added, “This is what
an inheritance gets you.”

“Inheritance?” I asked.

“My grandfather left a lot to my father.
Granted, the man was able to make sound investments and create
wealth but he never did anything. Did nothing. Ever. And he gave me
nothing.”

That’s where the history lesson and memories
were cut off. Jonathan grabbed for my wrist and pulled me towards
him. I crashed against Jonathan and his hands were around me,
holding me tight. He stared down at me and I could tell his eyes
were filled with anger and hate.

“Trust me,” Jonathan said.

“Always.”

His right hand moved from my back to my leg,
slowly around front, making my knees bend as I moaned.

“The house is sound proof,” Jonathan said.
“Bullet proof. Bomb proof.”

“He must be a paranoid man,” I said.

“Or he’s pissed off a lot of people in his
lifetime.”

“I don’t care which one it is.”

“I know you don’t,” Jonathan said. “You’re
mine, that’s all you’re allowed to care about.”

His hand moved between my legs and he
groaned.

“Mr. Black, are we in trouble?” I asked. I
showed emotion I should not have but I needed to know.

“We?” Jonathan smiled. “You are. Get the
handcuffs out. I owe you for not calling me Mr. Black. Before I
leave.”

I heard the words
before I leave
but
before I could speak again Jonathan put a hand to my lower back and
pushed. I stumbled, caught myself, and reached for my bag. I always
kept everything we had used together, with the exception of fleeing
California. When we arrived to our new destination (to murder
Oliver Rush) Jonathan had new items waiting for me. Everything he
had was for me and fit me. It made me wonder how long he’d been
watching me in secrecy. I had watched him in the open, pretending
to read magazines while he came to work. But just what had he done
to watch me?

It drove me wild thinking about it.

I opened my bag and found a pair of
handcuffs along with the black cloth he used to blindfold me – and
tie me up when needed – along with the new pieces of blood red and
black cloth from the stairway back at the hotel. Part of me wanted
to leave them there but my knowledge of crime television spoke
otherwise, not wanting to leave clues behind. Then again, for all I
knew, we could have been on camera again and again throughout the
hotel, maybe even in the stairwell. Maybe some lucky employee got
to watch Jonathan tie me up and have me.

I took the cuffs from my bag and when I took
a step back, I felt Jonathan right behind me. He groaned, then
growled, the mood in the room changing.

He was angry. Annoyed.

I knew he didn’t want to be there, with his
father, but something made this meeting occur. I just didn’t know
all the details yet.

Jonathan reached around and ran his fingers
along my hand, interlocking with my fingers. Then he reached for
the handcuffs. He smelled my hair, then rubbed his cheek against
mine, exhaling. He turned his head, his nose pushing at my cheek. I
turned my head too. His eyes were different and vicious. I prepared
for whatever he had to offer me.

Our lips touched but we didn’t kiss. Our
eyes were open. I was breathing heavier than he, as always. When he
finally closed his mouth on my lips, it was just a single kiss.
Something so tender, even romantic, perhaps a contradictive warning
of what he was going to do to me.

“Hands behind your back,” he whispered as he
pulled away.

He took the handcuffs from me as I put my
hands behind my back.

He applied the handcuffs, the steel
tightening around my wrists one at a time. It was something I
wasn’t used to. When he let go of the cuffs, I pulled, making sure
they were in place.

They were.

Jonathan put his hands to my hips and guided
me to the bed. He turned me around, surprising me. I tried to
imagine being on my back with my hands behind my back. I wasn’t
sure it would all work but I knew I was going to find out.

Jonathan went for my pants and in a matter
of seconds, I was stepping out of them. I stood in my panties, my
shirt coming down covering most of them. He then reached for my
shirt, lifting it up slowly. I wanted to lift my arms, letting him
take it off, but that wasn’t possible in my current state. He
wrestled and brought my shirt up over my bra. He put it to my mouth
and looked at me.

“Bite it,” he said.

His voice was angry. Very angry.

I swallowed hard and opened my mouth. I bit
down on my own shirt, holding it in place.

His hands touched my covered breasts,
cupping my bra, moaning as he did so. His hands were large and
flat, moving along my chest, towards my neck. His fingertips ran up
my throat and then back down. When he came to my bra this time, his
fingers curled and he pulled, taking my bra down, exposing my
tender breasts. My nipples were pink and erect, in desperate need
of his touch,
his tongue
. My bra was then under my breasts,
lifting them, holding them firm and ready for Jonathan.

His middle fingers took the lead, coming up
and flicking my nipples. He then circled my nipples, making me sigh
and whimper. The feeling was tingling and pleasure filled. My hands
curled behind my back. I was already in need to have my hands free.
To touch Jonathan. To touch his amazing body, let my fingers wrap
around his hair, to pull at him.

His left hand came flat against my right
breast and he gently squeezed. His right hand moved down until he
was in my panties, touching my bare skin, flirting with the top of
my sex, just resting his fingers there. Just the presence near my
pussy had my body flooding. My knees were bending and an orgasmic
warmth had already begun.

Jonathan came down to my exposed breast and
placed his lips to my hard nipple. He kissed me – once, twice –
then opened his mouth, his lips moving over just my nipple. He
suckled, first softly then with more force, drawing a cry out of
me. His fingers in my panties curled around and he began to move
left to right on my sensitive clitoris.

And here I was, handcuffed.

When his teeth came down and up at my
nipple, he nibbled with force and pulled as much as he could. I
looked down and watched my nipple stretching, pulling my breast
too. He took it as far as he could. I let out a desperate scream of
pain and pleasure.

Then he was gone, on the move again.

Jonathan Black moved to his knees before me,
his tongue randomly flicking along my warm body all the way down to
my panties. There both hands pulled, forcing them off my body,
battling with my wetness as my panties stuck. His hands slipped
around to my ass, for a second, and then up to my handcuffed hands.
He interlocked his fingers with mine and I thrust at him,
moaning.

It was erotic and romantic all at the same
time.

My emotions were out of control.

He kissed my mound, the tip of his tongue
then coming forward and slipping down. At my tender folds, he
licked with a deep lick, reaching from my hole up to my
clitoris.

Just once.

But it was very effective.

He pulled on my hands, forcing me back,
hitting the bed, and falling.

My lower back rested on my hands and I
watched as Jonathan stood up. He quickly went to work at himself,
tearing his suit jacket off and tossing it on the bed. Next came
his shirt, followed by his pants. Watching the billionaire strip
before my eyes not only gave me a sexy show as I watched his
muscles appear before my eyes, it also tortured by body. I was wet
and ready but I had to wait. Being handcuffed I couldn’t even touch
myself, even though I probably wouldn’t have been allowed to do
so.

He took his clothes off in order, placing
them all on the bed. Something about it just felt right and sexy.
It was the aura of calm that Jonathan Black spread everywhere. He
could be so calm, commanding, and erotic, all in the same
sequence.

Finally, his hands moved into his boxers and
down they went. He was thick, throbbing, and he gripped himself at
the root of his erection. He came towards me and I instantly moaned
for him, wanting him inside me.

Jonathan hovered over me, his free hand on
the bed. He kissed me, his tongue entering my mouth, depositing my
own sweetness into my mouth. That was the purpose of that lick
between my legs, to make me taste it.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered. “Isn’t it,
Isabella Grace?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“You look perfect. You taste perfect. And…”
He placed his thick tip to my hole and thrust forward, entering me.
“… you feel perfect.”

Those were the only words we needed.

I moaned and arched my back with the intense
pleasure spreading throughout my body. He was deep and he was fast,
his hands going behind my legs, forcing my legs open to a point
where they hurt from stretching. With his feet on the floor he had
all the leverage and power he needed to have me.