Текст книги "Return to Grace Street"

Автор книги: Ella Dominguez

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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“Nice look. Westtown Road is on the other side of town.”

The woman, referring to the seedy part of Richmond where prostitution was commonplace, didn’t even have the nerve to look Elsa in the eyes when she made the shitty statement. By the look on her pompous face, she probably didn’t know the first thing about good sex or how to pleasure a man.

Irritated with the bitch’s presumptuousness and the sudden urge to thrust her spiked heel down the woman’s throat, Elsa shot back. “You don’t know the first thing about me Little Miss Missionary Position, so take that condescending tone and shove it up your ass,” she whisper yelled as she climbed onto the elevator.

The woman’s face paled and she blinked rapidly, too stunned to move or respond. Just before the doors closed, Elsa flipped her the middle finger.

With her heart beating rapidly against her ribcage, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. She needed to get her shit together before facing Mr. Black.

Entering the room, she found it empty. Music was playing on a nearby Bluetooth stereo that looked out of place, and there was a new set of instructions lying on the bed next to a black satin scarf. He was close. Of course he was. But she hadn’t seen him in the bar. Not that she looked all that closely. She was too damned mortified.

Picking up the handwritten note she quickly read it.

Secure the scarf over your eyes. Lie back on the bed. Wait.

-V.

 

Consistent and right to the fucking point. This was getting absurd. All this waiting was making her impatient to get her punishment over with. No matter what it was. Without wasting another minute, she placed the soft fabric over her eyes, tying it tightly at the back of her head, and spread out on the oversized bed.

A song straight from her own music selection was playing, Beloved by Say Lou Lou. The heater kicked on nearby. With the words to the song filling her head and the plush bedding below her and warm air comforting her, she allowed herself a semblance of relaxation. Several minutes passed as she drifted in and out of deep thought, her mind always fixating on something she remembered Victor had said or the pained expression on his face when she had held him after his horrible confession.

Another song from her playlist came over the stereo, You Could be Happy by Snow Patrol and another, Embrace by Goldroom. It was too much to be a coincidence for that many of her favorite songs to be playing. Victor had access to every part of her life, including the seemingly menial things like what kind of music she was feeding her soul. While a part of her was creeped out about by that knowledge, a small part of her also found it strangely romantic that he was curious about her musical tastes.

The door opened and a keen sense of awareness washed over her.

Movement of the air around her and the dip of the bed next to her sent a chill of eagerness through her. The hot fire of desire built rapidly within her when demanding hands stroked her calves and pulled her heels off.

What next? She began to pant as she tried to anticipate Victor’s next move.

A palm skimmed up her thigh, and fingertips slipped under her skirt and across her mound. Nearly overcome with arousal, she groaned. The bed dipped again, but something felt off. Victor felt heavier than usual. The first trace of nervousness flitted over her, making her body tense, but when she felt the urgency of his touch on her breasts, she ignored the quick twist in her gut. A mouth pressed against hers and the faintest whiff of unknown cologne hit her with a nauseating wave.

Uncertainty made her voice shake, “Victor?”

“Try again.”

The unfamiliar voice stopped her cold and silence as thick as mud oozed between them. She knew the moment she felt his mouth on her that that it wasn’t Victor. She knew too well the shape and fullness of his lips. When she felt her nipples being tweaked, she reached up and ripped her blindfold off.

The man who had made the lewd remark at the bar was staring down at her with drowsy, whiskey-colored eyes and the amusement reflected back in them was hard to miss.

“You never did tell me how much.” His words rolled off his tongue in a smooth southern drawl.

She pushed against his chest to get him out of her face, but he crushed her into the bed with the weight of his body.

“Get off of me!” she yelled.

When she felt his erection pressing into her belly, she tried to knee him in the groin, but he was quick and dodged her attack.

“I’m only doing as I was told. Shouldn’t you be doing the same?” The tight note in his voice hinted at agitation.

Unable to evade, she went still like a cornered animal, and took a deep breath against the panic rioting within her. “Doing what who told you? Victor?”

“I don’t know anyone named Victor, but Mr. Black paid me a handsome fee to show you a good time,” he slid his hand up her skirt again.

The loud ringing in her ears and bitter hatred that welled up inside her made her thrash violently against the man until his grip loosened. She rolled off the bed and reached for the nearest thing she could clamp her fingers onto. With a lamp in her hand and ready to bash the man’s head in, the door to the hotel room flew open. Victor rushed toward her, his movements quick but restrained and controlled when he grabbed her hands to rein her in.

“Your services are no longer needed,” he glanced over his shoulder at the man.

The stranger smiled and shook his head as he climbed off the bed. “Whatever. You two have issues.”

The irony in his statement was like a slap in the face. Damn straight they had issues – the biggest of which was Mr. Black.

As soon as the man exited the room, Elsa shoved Mr. Black. Ready to slap the hell out of him for having put her in danger when Victor had just promised her that he would never do that again, she lifted her hand.

“How could you?” she screeched as she lunged toward him, ready to strike.

“Don’t,” he gritted his teeth as he snatched her wrist. “You know how I feel about that!”

Yes, she did. The mental image of a sixteen year old Victor being slapped and attacked by his mother flashed in her mind. Lowering her hand, she glared at him. “He could’ve hurt me! He could’ve raped me or worse! What the fuck is wrong with you? Is the pain of having to share your past with me worth putting me through that?”

He winced and looked offended. “I never would’ve let things go that far.”

Of all the ridiculous things she had heard, this sat at the top of the list.

He stalked toward her and tugged her close, but she shoved hard against his chest.

“Don’t touch me!” she felt a sob at the back of her throat. “I’m still freaked out about what happened the other night and then this?” She sank into a nearby chair with her arms crossed over her chest. “What if you hadn’t gotten here in time? Did your idiotic plan ever make concessions for that little glitch?”

Irritation flashed across his face and he roughly grabbed her upper arm, yanked her out of the chair, and got in her face.

“I was right next door. I saw everything.” He pointed toward a tiny, barely visible camera sitting on the desk. “You were on my radar, Elsa. You’re always on my radar. You have been since the first Goddamn day I saw you at the pub.” He let out a loud sigh of exasperation and let her go. “My idiotic plan wasn’t meant to be punishment. It was intended to be an exercise in trust.”

Grabbing a hold of the lapels of his suit jacket, Elsa pulled him close. “This isn’t the kind of thing that’s going to earn my trust. Maybe you should clue Mr. Black in on that.”

“This had nothing to do with Mr. Black.” He swept her hands away. “I only used that name as a decoy.” He pushed her onto the bed. “Now I’m done talking about this.”

Elsa was furious for having been put in such a compromising position in the name of trust. “Well, I’m not done talking about it. Explain to me how the hell this was supposed to make me trust you?” she demanded.

Victor threw his arms up in the air and his face reddened with frustration. Clearly he was a man who had never had his intentions and motivations questioned, but she wasn’t going to let this die just because he said he was done talking about it. She wanted an explanation or she was walking out the door.

“Look,” he snarled as if sensing her rising agitation. “I’m sorry you couldn’t move past your own fears to see the whole point of this exercise. I’m sorry that you were afraid and I’m sorry…” he paused as if hearing his own cold words. “I’m just… sorry. For everything.”

19: Enraptured

Elsa stared wide-eyed at him as he stood above her, stunned by his apology.

“I told you the other day that I would never hurt you again,” his tone softened. “I just wanted to prove to you that I would never allow anyone else to hurt you. That man was only instructed to get you worked up. I know that sounds… sick and twisted, but I wanted to appease both sides of me with this exercise. The side that feels responsible for your safety and the other side of me that loves pushing your limits.”

When he ran his hand through his thick, dark hair and sighed regretfully, a knot of something unexpected wedged in her throat – forgiveness. She tried to swallow it, but it stuck there. She wanted to forgive him, but she wasn’t ready for that yet.

He blew out a breath and reached up to unhook the buttons of his coat as his composure resurfaced. The sorrowful man who had been present just seconds before was gone, and in front of her stood Victor, in all his sexy confidence. Her anger slowly dissipated and the urge to leave, left.

A glance around the room made him walk toward the nightstand where he retrieved the television remote. He punched a few buttons on it and on a small box he removed from his pants pocket. The gray static of a blank channel flickered and Elsa was faced with a blonde-haired woman who looked a lot like herself lying on the bed.

He reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers as he lay down next to her. “Look how beautiful you look on screen.”

She looked long and hard at the image she was seeing. It was surreal to see herself through his eyes. She released his hand and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at herself, studying and scrutinizing her own imagine, trying to figure out what it was he saw in her. His hands gripped her shoulders and jerked her close again as he sat behind her.

“You’re so Goddamn sexy,” he swept the long fake hair to the side. “Look at us,” he whispered as his hands moved across her shoulders and around to her breasts. “Can’t you see what I see?”

She shook her head. She didn’t see it. She wasn’t beautiful. At most, she was above average. She tugged the wig off and tossed it to the floor to see her true image. Victor was quick to remove the hairnet and untangle the mess of sweaty red hair on her head by combing his fingers through it.

“Do you see it now?”

The urgency in his voice was moving. She wanted to see what he saw. She wanted to be in his head and see things through his eyes. She turned her head side to side. Readjusted her body. Sat up straighter. Pushed her chest out. No. She didn’t see it.

“Maybe this will help.”

He jumped off the bed and came back within a minute with two damp washcloths. Kneeling between her legs, he began to gently wipe the make-up off her face. To see it on the television happening in real time, felt odd. Like watching someone else’s life playing out before her. Like watching a father care for a helpless child when they’d made a mess of themselves. Carefully, he dabbed each of her eyes until her lashes were free of mascara. He grabbed the second washcloth and continued on her face, lips, and cheeks.

When he was done, she was looking at her naked image on the screen. What she saw: Someone unsure of her strength. A woman who was unabashedly voyeuristic. A Chapter who was willful yet pliable. The real Elsa.

Reaching for his phone, he cued another song from her playlist, Eyes on Fire by Blue Foundation. He took a hold of her hand, stood her upright and began to undress her in front of the camera. She watched intently, concentrating not on her own image, but on Victor’s.

What she saw: A man who was intrusive and tenacious. A person who was shameless yet private about his sexual proclivities. A gentleman who could be thoughtful and tender. A lover who was gently insistent at times and demanding and rough at others. The real Victor.

Standing nude before him, he laid back on the bed, his dominant eyes staring straight through her. “Undress me. Slowly. We have all night.”

Suddenly she felt rooted to the spot where she was standing, not knowing what to do next. She had undressed men before, including Victor, but it had been done in the heat of the moment and rushed. There had been no attention paid to how their clothes had been ripped from their bodies. The way Victor was watching her expectantly, she wanted care to be taken when removing them.

Spellbound by his authority and the unreadable expression on his face, she climbed onto the bed next to him and slowly unbuckled his belt. She watched with curiosity as he craned his head to the side so that he could watch their images on the television. As she unbuttoned his slacks, she glanced over her shoulder to see what he found so absorbing.

She still didn’t get it.

***

Elsa slowly came out of her dazed state as she slid Victor’s pants down his hips, ghosting the palms of her hands up his thighs on her way up to remove his briefs. During her gradual process of removing every article of his clothing, he lay quietly with his eyes transfixed on the television like a movie critic watching an interesting cinematic piece of art.

Why couldn’t she see what he saw? It was right there in front of her. Her beautiful, nude body pleasuring him… Her ember-colored locks hanging over her shoulders and draped down her back… Her make-up free face… She was completely bare and real.

Her expression remained carefully neutral as she kept her gaze on him, waiting for some kind of reaction from him. As if on a mission to torture him with her casualness, she tugged his briefs down inch by slow inch until his semi-erect shaft poked out. She wrapped her skilled fingers around him and began the deliberate process of stroking him into complete hardness. He hissed through his teeth when all the blood flowing from his brain surged to his cock

He couldn’t take his eyes off of their image. They looked so damned good together. He watched on the screen as she stared at him, each of her movements enhanced by the HD clarity. He could see by her movements that she had never been the kind of woman to deny herself carnal pleasures. If she had been, she wouldn’t have taken him up on his initial inappropriate offer. She was a woman who made no effort at all to be sexy, yet sex appeal oozed from every pore of her body. Her scent, her aura, her pure femininity and vulnerability stirred his libido and thundered in his chest.

Sitting up, he maneuvered her body on top of his, facing her toward the television. He hugged her against his chest as she lifted her bottom to allow his penetration. Above him, her slender body curved and she began to rock with her eyes closed.

“Open your eyes, Peach.”

He would show her what it was about her that kept him enraptured. Hesitantly, she pried her eyelids open and fixed on their image. He cupped a hand beneath her ass, titled her hips and began a rhythm of lifting her to the tip of his cock and gently lowering her back down.

“Look how amazing you look being fucked,” his breath rushed out of him as she took him deeply inch by sweet inch.

Fully aroused, desire pulsated through his swollen and rigid shaft as he watched her uncomfortable expression turn to arousal. He dragged his tongue over her upper spine to her neck as the dampness between her legs began to flow freely.

“Do you see it?”

Her eyes widened only the slightest as she leaned back against his chest. Reaching an arm up and around his neck, she pulled his mouth close to her ear while her other hand slipped down her belly to her pussy. Two fingers spread her labia open as she ground down onto him, exposing the image of his cock disappearing into her pussy.

“Tell me you see it,” he groaned out when she worked her entrance over the tip of his shaft.

A soft moan of pleasure slipped past her lips as her long nails scratched over his scalp.

Their bodies moved in tempo to a song from his own playlist, Wherever You Go by Sleeperstar, as he maintained his slow rhythmic in and out motion of his cock. He grazed his teeth across her earlobe and slid his hands around her body. Palming a breast, he squeezed roughly, making her mewl softly. When he rested his other hand on top of hers to guide her movements as she circled a finger around her clit, her eyes grew wild and the first sign of understanding flitted over her face.

He held her tight against him as his heart began to pound erratically in his chest. He was awakening the hidden pleasures of watching herself being taken, and the feeling was powerful. Her eyes widened further and her body tensed.

She saw what he saw. Her beauty. How amazing they looked together. Their physical and intellectual compatibility. How extraordinary things were between them when there were no pretenses muddying the waters.

She tilted her head, her gaze smoldering as she held him steady. “I see it, but do you see what I see?”

His eyes flicked to the screen and focused not on Elsa’s image, but his own.

No. He didn’t see what she saw in him. He never would. All he could see was Mr. Black’s shadow behind him.

***

Leaning against the cool stone wall, Elsa tipped her head back and rested her hands under her bottom. The memory of watching her and Victor passionately fuck was still fresh in her mind.

After their brief moment of ecstasy, he had her change into something more appropriate so they could grab a bite to eat. With her belly full and her heart overflowing, she gazed up at the wintery night sky. The icy breeze chilled her skin and puckered her nipples, making her wish she had brought along a heavier coat. She became fixated with Victor’s movements; the way he lit his cigarette and brought it to his lips. Hypnotized with his slow, methodical intake of nicotine, she watched intently the way his lips lazily formed a small O and the puff of smoke that fluttered past his firm lips.

Over and over. Inhale. Exhale. Blow.

The laid-back manner in which his mouth caressed the cigarette was nothing less than captivating. One hand rested in his jeans pocket while the thumb of his other hand delicately ashed the Marlboro Menthol gripped loosely between his fingers. Her eyes lingered a little too long on the sleek lines of his body as his hard gaze scanned their surroundings. As if there wasn’t a care in the world, he mouth fucked that damned cigarette, all the while pushing her closer to the edge of complete arousal.

Long, dark lashes cast shadows over his cheekbones as his head craned left and then right at the sound of a man’s voice. He was still on edge. It was a sexy look for him. The tip of his tongue moistened his lips and made her unintentionally moan out, catching his attention. A double take and quick rake of his eyes over her body brought his focus onto her, one side of his mouth lifting in a flirty smirk.

Shifting his stance, he closed the distance between them and leaned an arm against the wall above her head, his inquisitive gaze taking in every part of her all at once. “What are you thinking about?”

It was difficult to put into words her strange fascination of his nasty habit, and did she really want to reveal what she was feeling? Hell no. She had already given away too much in the past week. The less he knew about what was going on in her head, the better. Not wanting to reveal anything, she shrugged, only to have the hand that was resting above her head come down and his fingers grip her chin.

“Are you thinking about how good you looked when I fucked you? Tell me,” his eyes dilated and darkened.

Yes, she was still thinking about that. But there were other things on her mind, as well. His growled command and husky voice sent sparks of heat licking up her spine and her response came unbidden. “I wish you weren’t so beautiful.”

His features softened but the anguish and doubt in his eyes seared through her. “I’m not.”

“You’re wrong,” she reached between them to drag her fingertip across his bottom lip. “And it’s a fact that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

A casual look of arrogance flitted across his rugged, unshaven face. “It’s also a fact that love is blind.”

God damn, this man. So sure of himself. So sure of her. What the hell did he know? Her ill-fated love began the moment she saw him at the pub and ended the day she was forced to read about Chapter One. Never again would she allow herself to love him. Not ever, fucking, again. Sure he was playing by her rules, but what difference did that make? This was still nothing but a game to him and she was still just another chapter for him to conquer and destroy. If he hadn’t made that damned promise, she wouldn’t even be there.

Although he towered over her small frame, she narrowed her eyes at him and spoke defiantly as she poked a finger into his chest. “I already told you, I’m not in love.”

An overhead street lamp shone down on his amused face and his massive shoulders shook as he laughed. “You keep telling yourself that, Peach. Maybe someday you’ll convince yourself.”

His self-confidence, her inability to suppress her attraction for him, and the smell of smoke that permeated the air suddenly made her feel lightheaded. Before she could retreat, he dipped his head down and brushed his lips against hers. The bittersweet, minty taste of cigarette enticed her back to her semi-lucid and aroused state, and she gave into the unavoidable. Opening her mouth, she accepted his tongue. He swirled it around inside her mouth as she greedily sucked at it.

Backing away, he took a long, slow drag off of the cigarette. Her eyes opened and zoomed in on his mouth once again as the wisps of smoke framed his face like a ghostly mask. With her lips parted, she breathed in what he exhaled, making Victor’s eyes sparkle in a way she had never seen. He wrapped his lips around the half-smoked butt and sharply inhaled, holding the smoke in his mouth for only a brief moment before leaning his head back and blowing it out little by little, all around her face. The warm smoke, the smell of his cologne and her perfume mingling with nicotine, drugged her senses.

Without warning, his mouth pressed against her lips and forced a mouthful of smoke into hers. Their smoky tongues touched for only a second. She held the smoke in her mouth until he withdrew, inhaled, and blew it out unhurriedly. When she did, his expression turned from curiosity to desire. The skin around the corners of his eyes tightened as he brought the cigarette up and inhaled, the crackling cherry lighting up the perfect shape of his mouth.

God, his mouth. The taste of it. The ecstasy of it and this moment. The intimacy of sharing this thing with him.

With eyes closed, she took in a deep breath, savoring the oddly erotic moment and released one of her hands from beneath her to slide it up the inside of her thigh to the crest of her sex. Prying her eyes open, she saw Victor’s eyes grow wild as he watched her hand hidden beneath her skirt working her pussy. Again, he took a drag and blew it out leisurely into her half-open mouth. Playfully, she snapped her mouth shut, the clicking sound of her teeth bringing one of his rare, genuine smiles to the corners of his mouth. And what a smile it was. Radiant. Alluring. Captivating. Yes… that smile. The sensuous one that hung on his lips was such an extraordinary and precious thing, the sight of it nearly sent her into orgasmic overload. She circled her middle finger around her wet clit, honored that he had graced her with it.

His hand dropped to his side, the unfinished cigarette falling to the ground, and his mouth crashed down onto hers. He wrenched the top of her dress down underneath a breast and palmed it possessively. His tongue invaded her mouth and caressed the roof of her mouth as she dug her fingernails into the nape of his neck, making him groan out. He guided her hand, dipping his fingers into her wet folds alongside hers.

“Come for me,” he breathed into her mouth before trailing kisses down the slender column of her neck and sucking at the tender flesh.

“Not here,” she thrashed her head, her eyes darting around frantically, seeking out onlookers.

One of his legs worked its way in between hers, widening her step and his hips pinning her against the wall. “Yes, here,” he commanded and nipped at her collar bone.

His kiss and demanding touch destroyed her will to resist and for a change, she did as she was told without second guessing his intentions.