Текст книги "Return to Grace Street"

Автор книги: Ella Dominguez

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

5: Intermezzo

Victor had waited two days before contacting Elsa.

During that time, he had worked fervently on the case that was proving more difficult to solve than he or any of his fellow detectives had initially expected. Not that solving any murder case was easy, but the killer’s methods were sloppy; inexperienced… yet, somehow, he was eluding them time and time again. Like he was getting help.

The thought lingered in his mind. The perpetrator was emulating his nemesis and he knew Anthony well enough to know that if that man could have a hand in wreaking more havoc, he would.

Thus, the reason for their upcoming reunion.

He had faked some of his notes about Chapter Nine, seeing as he had nothing really to offer as collateral for the information he was going to try to get from him.

This face-to-face meeting would be different than the others and he knew it. It felt different. With his bitter resentment for his fucked up life pointed squarely at the sociopath in maximum security, they hadn’t spoken after he moved to California. Anthony had tried only twice to get in contact with him, but after being rebuffed, he seemed to lose interest. Anyway, Anthony was well aware that he would always be back. Eventually. Though not for the same reasons that Victor knew he would be back.

Within forty-five minutes of his text to Elsa, he heard her key in the front door and a spark of excitement ignited within him. She was proving this time around that she could follow his rules. Speaking of which, he would present her with the official list after their little intermezzo. He would make this little encounter a pleasurable one in order to dull her defenses; mixed in with his brand of lesson teaching, of course.

The lesson: never turn her back on him again.

As she stepped into the entryway and her scent tickled his nose, he wondered what she had kept herself busy with the past forty-eight hours. No doubt, fucking her fiancé and putting that perfect mouth all over him. He bristled at the thought.

Two days previous, he had contemplated whether or not to keep surveillance on her, but opted not to. Seeing her with that piece of shit would completely ruin the game for him. He would simply have to try his best to put it out of his mind. Though, he knew that would be impossible to do. Mr. Black was too adept at pointing out his failures to allow that to happen, and there would be no escaping his constant reminders that she was spending her free time with the very man he was responsible for having sent her way.

Without anything said, he slipped the strap of her bag off her shoulder, set it aside and led her by the hand up the stairs, making a pit stop in the office to turn the cameras on. As he punched a few buttons on the console, Elsa stood in the doorway watching him, obviously surprised that he wasn’t hiding his voyeuristic tendencies anymore. What was the point?

If he was honest with himself, it was liberating to be able to indulge in his devious proclivities without having the nuisance or pretense of normality.

“You’re still recording everything?” he heard over his shoulder as he focused the lens of the bedroom camera on the spot of their upcoming scene.

“Of course,” he touched a knob and twisted slowly, “my methods haven’t change all that much. I still intend on learning from you.”

Next he heard an irritated sigh and paused to glance in her direction and see a look of agitation being thrown his way. Being more open was definitely paying off, he smiled. “If you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll let you watch our interactions with me later.”

“No thanks. Seeing myself get fucked isn’t on any of my to-do lists,” she wrinkled her nose.

With the lens now properly focused, he moved towards her, gripping her by the elbow and leading her toward the master suite. “How presumptuous of you to think I’m going to fuck you. Is that really what you think I have you here for? Just sex?”

“That and to torture me.”

“I wouldn’t consider what I plan on doing to you, torture. Your pain and discomfort will just be a pleasant side effect of my actions.”

“Pleasant?” she huffed, then whispered under her breath, “I doubt that.”

Her tone irritated him – bold, brave, bitchy. “No more speaking unless you’re asked a question, Eight,” he growled.

His statement made her wince. Or maybe it wasn’t the statement so much as it was the fact that he called her Eight. She hated that, but she brought it on herself. If she would simply do as she was told, he wouldn’t have to resort to name calling.

Swiftly, he undressed her, still irritated with her smart-ass attitude. When she was naked before him, he stepped back to take all of her in, reaching a hand out to glide his fingers over the lines of her curves.

The tattoo. It was different somehow. She had more work done to it, but he couldn’t quite place it. When he skimmed the details, she cringed and her pale complexion flushed.

Gazing into her eyes, he expected to see fear, but instead saw concern. But for what? Childlike, she wrapped her arms around her body, suddenly abashed and stared at the floor. It was heartbreaking and a voice that had been suppressed long ago screamed inside his head that something was wrong and to show her some compassion.

Backing up two steps, he gave her room to breathe. He had seen her nude before, had taken her in ways that most people only read or fantasized about. She stated she had expected to be fucked, so what was her hesitation?

“I thought you wanted this?” he whispered, confused by her physical withdrawal.

“I’m only here because of your promise,” her voice cracked.

“Is this because of your fiancé?” his words came out contemptuously.

She glared up at him and dropped her arms to her sides. “No,” she gritted her teeth, “It’s because of this,” she turned away from him, exposing her bare back that bore the scars of a masochist.

But she was no masochist.

Victor felt the blood drain from his face while he stumbled backwards to the bed and sank onto it. As his eyes roamed over her once flawless form, a wave of regret crashed against him when he saw three raised welts across her shoulder blades, bright pink in comparison to her milky flesh. By brutally wielding his belt against her, he had marred her perfect physique.

It was no wonder she loathed him. He hated himself for being the failure that his mother always said he was; abhorred himself for not being able to restrain Mr. Black; detested himself torturing her the way his father had done to his victims before killing them. Most of all, he despised himself for having become a monster like his parents.

Sitting silently for nearly a minute, Elsa hugged her body once more before turning to face him, revealing her glassy eyes.

“Elsa,” he croaked out, his dismal apology on the tip of his tongue, “I’m…”

“Don’t,” she snapped, straightening up and pushing her chin out. “Let’s get this over with.”

The unfamiliarity of remorse made him vacillate. He wanted her, but… he met her eyes once again and saw a fierce sparkling in her eyes that made him unable to resist. She was here. Playing his game. There would be no regret today; he would save that for later – when she couldn’t bear witness to his grief.

Standing and slowing his breathing, he allowed the aura of strength to overtake him as he prepared to make Elsa submit. Willingly.

Guiding her to the area near the window, he motioned for her and gathered his equipment. He moved quickly with not a moment or movement wasted as he prepared her.

With her arms fastened over her head and her legs now immovable from the spreader bar, he circled around her. The memory of the first time he had her hanging from this hook filled his thoughts. She was afraid then, but not now. Now the look on her face was one of waywardness and curiosity. Her dark eyes illuminated the room with her light. For a brief time, he worried he had stolen her inner light, but seeing her now, the way she was trying to stand her ground and be strong – he knew it couldn’t be taken from her. Nor did he want it to be. It was her spirit, after all, that drew him back to her.

Sweeping her hair off her shoulders, he knotted it into a bun at the back of her head.

What should he do to her? A little pain? A little pleasure? A lot of both…

“Goddamn, you’re stunning,” his admission came unsolicited. “Submission suits you well, Elsa,” and then Mr. Black reared his antagonistic head. “It’s too bad for your fiancé that he hasn’t figured that out. Or has he?” his left brow rose only the slightest as he stood in front of her.

She didn’t respond to his question, but it made no difference. He already knew the answer. That man didn’t have a dominant bone in his body. It was part of the reason he pointed him in Elsa’s direction.

Pushing his index and middle fingers past her lips, she sucked at them as her eyes grew languid. Slowly he eased them in and out while imaging it was his cock in her mouth and not his digits. Her perfect mouth and taut fuckable body… his eyes scanned her naked form as it swayed hypnotically before him. She was meant to be used like this. Any man in his right mind could see that. To hell with that douchebag. Elsa belonged to him.

When his fingers were thoroughly soaked, he moved behind her and bent down, bringing her ass front and center. Clamping onto her cheeks, he spread them, exposing the puckered, pink hole that looked just like he remembered; tight and ready to be taken.

“I missed this part of you.”

Her breath hitched and he smiled at the discomfort he was causing her. Gliding his tongue up her crack, he dipped his tongue into her, causing her body to jerk from the sudden intrusion.

“Mmm,” he breathed against her just before he pressed his tongue into her again. Her body tensed but as he began tongue fucking that glorious hole, she relaxed and sounds of pleasure slipped past her lips. Grabbing onto her fleshy hips, he pulled her onto his tongue time and time again until he couldn’t take anymore. He needed to be inside of her. With his fingers now dry, he stood and reached for the tube of lubricant lying on the tallboy.

Placing a liberal amount onto his fingers, he gently poked his drenched fingers into her ass until he felt her muscles clamp down. Pausing, he nibbled her shoulder blade.

“Such a dirty girl,” he whispered into her ear, making her body shudder and her ass muscles relax. “Try to image yourself opening up to me, Peach; wide enough for my cock to slide easily into you. Think: open. Say it,” he whispered into her ear, hoping her compliance would continue uninhibited.

To his absolute joy and shock, her barely audible voice filled his ears.

Her brows pinched together as she internally struggled to accept what he was doing to her. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if she would follow his order, but to his surprise, her lips parted and the word flowed past her lips.

“Open,” she sighed and twitched.

Several slow pumps of his fingers later, her ass opened up for him and a sense of urgency filled him. Removing his fingers, he pressed the head of his shaft into her entrance. She moaned, but pushed her ass against him.

“Did you miss this?”

Her positive response came in the form of whimpers and groans. A little too overzealous, he pushed deeply into her, making her cry out. He withdrew slowly until only the head of his dick remained in her. As tight as she was and the way her body was responding, he wondered if he really had been the last person to take her this way. From the tales Mr. Self-Important-Nathan-Duncan used to share with him, he was strictly a no-kink kind of guy. Victor doubted the man even liked anal sex.

“You love this, don’t you?” he pushed into her a little more.

Elsa swayed her body again, accepting all of him, but he wanted a real answer this time. “I want to hear you say it.”

Hesitantly and barely a whisper, she answered. “Yes.”

Enjoying the sound of her anxiety, he continued. “Does your future husband know you like anal sex?” he asked as he thrust into her gently still.

She shook her head slowly.

“Words, Elsa,” he purred.

“No,” she whined.

Pumping in and out of her casually, he persisted, “Why doesn’t the man you’re going to spend the rest of your life with, know your perversions, Elsa? Don’t you think that’s important for him to know in order to keep you satisfied?”

Her body trembled to his soft spoken words, and again, she only panted and whimpered. Becoming annoyed with her, he fought the urge to fuck her violently. Taking a hold of her waist with one hand and reaching over her shoulder to grab her chin with the other, he turned her head toward him, forcing her to face him, but she closed her eyes tightly.

His tongue slicked the shell of her ear, coaxing her to respond. “Open your eyes and answer my question,” he cooed as he plunged balls deep into her, making her mewl and squirm. The sound of her pained excitement sent chaotic images of how he would make her submit racing through his head and when her iridescent eyes opened and stared at his mouth, it was all he could do to not come.

“Yes,” her answer finally came.

“Yes what?” he intentionally kept his tone mellow and calm.

“Yes, he should know… he does know… I mean…” she stumbled over her words. “I asked for this but he didn’t want to…”

“Maybe you should have stressed just how much you like it,” a soft, wet sucking sound as he pulled his cock out, “Perhaps you should’ve told him just how much you love being dominated and fucked in the ass.”

“You’re right, damn it. Is that what you want to hear?” she angrily tried to thrash her head away from him, but his grip was too firm.

Goddamn straight he was right. Satisfied he had made his point, he let go of her face and readied himself to give her the fucking her body was built to take and yearning for. Widening his stance and holding onto her hips, he rocked her body forward and back onto his shaft, each time, his penetration delving further into her wet depths. Tipping his head forward, he let a long ribbon of drool flow from his lips down the crack of her ass, lubricating her fully. When he did and when Elsa felt it, they both moaned out in perfect sync. This thing between them was undeniable. Intimate. Real. His perversions were hers and she clearly needed his touch as much as he craved hers. That jerk-off hadn’t taken her this way and it was his fucking loss. What that man had neglected, Victor would nurture and cherish. This part of Elsa belonged to him. Only to him.

6: Terms & Conditions

Elsa woke curled up lying next to Victor, dressed in a nightshirt and loose fitting yoga pants that weren’t her own. The sun outside let her know that it was early evening and left her to guess that she had slept for more than three hours. Her movement caused him to put down a stack of papers he was reading.

“Work?” she asked, not knowing what to say or how to react after their intimate and revealing scene. As he readjusted himself in bed, she studied his profile – her eyes settling on the scar that she had dreamt about more than once. The moment felt surreal. Her comfortable life with Nate now felt like a distant memory and guilt started to gnaw at her. When Nate’s face flashed in her mind, her body stiffened and she rolled onto her back to stare at the ceiling.

“Uh-huh,” Victor nodded.

Grabbing the covers at the foot of the bed, she pulled them over herself, still feeling awkward and ashamed at being with Victor. “Anything I’ve heard about?”

“Probably,” he answered vaguely as he watched her. He scooted down onto his back, tugging the covers back off of her and ghosted his fingertips over her upper arm as he analyzed her reaction.

Goosebumps covered her flesh and she looked past him, trying to find away to come to peace with the situation.

“What’s on your mind?” Victor’s question couldn’t be answered without giving away too much and she wasn’t about to give him any kind of upper hand. Instead¸ she asked the question that had been lingering on her mind since reading about Chapter Four.

“Have you been with any other men besides Jordan?”

His brows went up and his body tensed under her intense gaze, but he answered. “No.” When she lay quietly nonresponsive, he gave her a small smile. “You seem disappointed.”

She was, though she didn’t know why. “Maybe a little,” she stated truthfully.

He pulled back to scan her facial expression, his brows pinched together. “Why?”

Shrugging her shoulders, she avoided his eyes. “I just like the mental image of you with a man. It’s a sexy fantasy. I like…” she paused, suddenly feeling like she was revealing too much so early in the game.

“Go on,” he prompted.

Shaking her head, she clammed up. After having been denied all information about him except for what she had read in his case study, she was unable to find the words for her sick interest in wanting to know the details of his sexual escapades. When she finally found the courage to glance up at him, he had a curious look on his face as if he was studying her. Undoubtedly, he was.

“Did you enjoy it?” she whispered, praying he would divulge.

He shifted uncomfortably and a look of embarrassment entered his glittering eyes. “I enjoy all things sexual in nature,” he fidgeted with the collar of his shirt.

For the first time in months, a genuine smile creased her lips at his unease. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Rolling onto his side and facing her, he tucked his arm under his head and gave her a self-satisfied look. “Yes, I enjoyed it, but it had nothing to do with his gender and everything to do with the fact that he played my game unknowingly and let me dominate and fuck him.”

She cringed at his crudeness and rolled her eyes at his denial. “It’s ironic and hypocritical how you can’t admit your bisexuality and attraction for him considering what you put him through for denying the same.”

His eyes narrowed and his voice lowered. “You think you have me figured out, don’t you? You don’t have a fucking clue how my thought process works. I never denied that I found him attractive, but that doesn’t make me bisexual; that makes me experimental. It’s not like I make a habit of being with men, Little Ms. Know-It-All,” his good humor disappeared in a flash.

She huffed, unable to resist the sarcasm that coated her statement, “If you say so.”

“What about you?” he stared down at her accusingly.

“What about me?” she pressed against his chest to put distance between them, seeing his temper flaring in his dilated irises.

“Have you ever been with a woman?”

Now it was her turn to feel the heat of embarrassment on her cheeks. “I thought you knew everything about me,” she tried to tear away from him, but his large hands stopped her and hugged her close.

“Not everything,” his mouth set in a frown.

Pinned by his strong arms, she responded, “Once when I was drunk…” she stopped midsentence, not wanting to confess her little lesbian transgression, but in a moment of weakness and irritation, gave in. “…a woman hit on me and I made out with her.”

“And?” his left brow lifted knowingly.

God, she hated that condescending look on his face and that he could read her so easily. Again she tried to move away, but his damned grasp was too tight.

“A-N-D?” he drew the word out slowly, pressing her to answer.

“And I let her eat me out,” she finally admitted just as she escaped his iron grip.

“Did you reciprocate?” he continued to badger her, clearly amused with her admission and anxiety.

“No.”

“That was selfish of you,” he poked her in the ribs as she sat on the edge of the bed, avoiding eye contact with him. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I was drunk,” she shot back, feeling guilty at his accusation of being selfish.

“You didn’t answer the question,” he mocked.

Glaring at him over her shoulder, she scowled at him and whispered, “Yes.”

“Does that make you bisexual?”

She wanted to come back with some clever jibe to prove her point, but the only point being made was by Victor.

“Does that asshole you’re going to marry know about this?” his question and acidic tone grated on her nerves.

“No, I never told him. I never…” she stammered. “I never told anyone.”

His eyes brightened, but his look of agitation remained. “You sure do keep a lot of secrets from your fiancé.” She stood, quickly becoming frustrated with where the conversation was going. Reaching out for her, he snatched her wrist, halting her. “Why is that?”

“Because he doesn’t need to know everything about me,” she blurted and tugged on her arm to get away from him.

“What other secrets are you keeping from the man you plan on spending the rest of your life with?” his voice boomed thunderously as he stood next to her, his eyes stabbing into her and his hulking body shadowing hers.

Seeing Mr. Black’s quick anger bubble up, she swooped in for the kill to try and shut him up. “I never told him about you,” she spat out, knowing he hated that their relationship was on the down low. The irony in that didn’t slip past her either since he was the one who kept her and all his other chapters hidden away in his homes like dirty little secrets.

“Maybe you should,” he tore right back into her. “Or maybe I should tell him for you.”

Pulling her wrist out of his hand, she backed away. “I’m not afraid of you, so don’t threaten me, Mr. Black,” she stressed his name as she turned to walk away before he saw the panic in her eyes.

In the blink of an eye, his hand was on her upper arm, yanking her back to him while his other hand clamped onto the nape of her neck, forcing her to meet his incensed stare.

“Well you should be…” he muttered, a muscle quivering in his jaw. “Or maybe I should give you a reason to be afraid of me,” he snarled.

Pounding her fists on his chest, she shouted in his face, “You’ve already given me plenty of reasons or have you forgotten? You want to tell Nate about us, then stop talking about it and fucking do it already!”

He roughly spun her around and forced her to the mattress and onto her back while pinning her down. “Fuck talking, I’ll just send you back to him with my come inside of you,” he worked his way between her legs and pulled his cock out of his pants. Mortified with what was transpiring, Elsa thrashed and kneed him in the groin, making him grunt loudly and roll onto his side. Shaken with Mr. Black’s sudden aggression, she darted toward the door, only to trip over her bag lying on the floor. She had lied when she said she wasn’t afraid of him; she was; and now she feared that he would take her without her permission. As she tried to rise to her feet, she was betrayed by her body yet again when she began shaking uncontrollably and her knees gave out. Hiding her face in her hands, the tears that she had been fighting for so long came in a floodtide.

“I hate what you’ve done to me…” she cried into her hands. “…what you’ve made me into… weak and pathetic.”

She waited for Mr. Black’s assault, but it never came. A soft thud behind her made her look over her shoulder where she saw Victor on his knees behind her, watching her with glassy eyes.

“You’re not weak,” he croaked out. “You’re not weak,” he repeated, his voice barely a husky whisper. Reaching out to her, he gingerly pulled her into his arms, a tired look of regret washing over his features. She tried to fight him, but only half-heartedly. Mr. Black was gone and she allowed Victor to hold her against his warm body. Staring down at her, his chest heaved and his heart beat could be felt through his ribcage.

“I’ll give myself to you, Victor, willingly, anytime you want,” she stared up at him, pleading for kindness with her eyes. “…but please don’t let Mr. Black take me without my permission. I don’t want that kind of memory of you…” more tears cascaded down her cheeks.

Leaning down, he placed a delicate kiss on her forehead. “It won’t happen again.” A finger traced the line of her tears that were still streaming down her cheeks. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you cry… how many times I’ve dreamt of these tears…” he gulped noisily. “I only wish they hadn’t come the way they did.”

When she felt the rigidness of his dick press into her side, she reminded herself that he enjoyed seeing her like this. Fake pity. That’s all this was. Freeing herself from his arms, she sat on her knees and faced him as she dabbed her eyes. “I want information. I did what you wanted and now it’s your turn.”

The gentle look on his face turned fierce in the blink of an eye, but then suspiciously mellowed and cooled. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

Elsa seized the opportunity before he could back out. “How did you get that scar?”

Standing, he helped her to her feet. As she impatiently awaited his answer, he strolled to the bed and seated himself.

“It was a work incident,” he started casually with no inflection in his voice. “It was back in my second year as an agent and...”

She stood with her mouth parted in astonishment as she listened to the load of shit he was spewing in her direction. If it was something as simple as work related he never would have reacted with such volatility the first time she brought it up. He never would’ve said the horrible things he did. Mr. Black wouldn’t have made a damned appearance if the only thing that happened was some suspect got out of hand.

Furious with herself for crying in front of him and giving herself up so easily to him, she fisted her hands. How could she have been so stupid to believe that he would ever play the game her way, despite having signed his name? A sudden burst of courage coursed through her veins as she stomped towards him and pointed a finger in his face.

“You forced me to make the most difficult decision of my life and you never had any intention on playing the game any other way than your own. Did you?” she blared. “You think I’m stupid? That I was born fucking yesterday and can’t tell when you’re lying? I told you I would do anything you wanted and I meant it. I would’ve crawled through glass for you and this is what I get in return? Some made up story after you just told me you’ve dreamt of my tears?” Victor’s eyes widened and his jaw gaped, his silence and idiotic look only riling her more. “Is that how you plan on answering all of my questions? With lies? You signed that piece of paper knowing damned well you were never going to follow through. Well guess what? It goes both ways. If you’re signature doesn’t mean anything, then neither does mine.” Her breathing came out ragged as she backed away, “I should’ve known better than to believe you,” she whispered, “I thought this time maybe…” she felt the tears welling up again. “I thought…” she swallowed hard and put everything on the line. “If you can’t follow the one simple rule I gave you while expecting me to follow your multitude of them, then I’m out. I quit. You can find someone else to put up with your crap because it won’t be me.” A sudden look of panic made Victor bolt upright. “No amount of threats will ever get me to play willingly either,” she yelled when he stood and moved toward her.

With the speed of an Olympic athlete, she bolted from the room, leaving her bag behind. When she arrived at her car and realized she was shoeless and keyless, she screamed an obscenity into the freezing night air. She would rather suffer hypothermia than go back into that house. Hugging her body, she began jogging up the street toward the bus stop, hoping the driver would show her mercy and give her a lift home where she had a spare key hidden.

The wintry air bit through the thin layer of clothing she was wearing, making her nipples tighten and her body shiver. She made it two blocks before she ran out of stamina and began walking with the frigid wind to her back. Eying the street, traffic was slow and there was no bus to be seen. In the distance, she could see the light of the café she loved so much and broke into one last winner-take-all sprint to their door. Bursting inside, a horrified waitress came to her rescue, bringing her a hot cup of coffee and her own coat to warm her, as well as some linen from the back to warm her feet.

Not even then did she break down as her body shook uncontrollably. It was over. Done. And she was glad for it. There would be no more damned tears for that fucked up, delusional, sadistic man. He had screwed her over for the very last time.

She had done her best all day to pretend like what was happening wasn’t really happening. She had allowed Victor to have that piece of herself that Nate wasn’t interested in, all the while telling herself that everything was okay, when it was anything but. She had followed his orders and let him pleasure her while convincing herself that he was really going to follow through when deep down, she knew it would end up like this. Damn her for letting him back into her life. Damn him for making her do what she did Nate and break his heart.

As she stared at the table top, pouting, and sipping on her java, she knew without looking up when Victor slid into the seat across from her by his tell-tale smell.

“You’re so damned impulsive and unreasonable,” he muttered. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Go away. I mean it. I won’t have you. Ever again,” she refused to look up.

“Okay. I get it. I fucked up. Again.” the sound of his lips being moistened and a loud swallow made her eyes flicker upward. “I’ll play by your rules,” his rough, pained voice swept over her.

She drew in a deep breath and held it, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“But it’s not a simple rule like you think,” his lips thinned in displeasure. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, but on my terms. On my terms,” he repeated with emphasis as he sat unmoving. “I’ll give you one chance, and one chance only, to come up with a list of questions you want to ask me. You have until tomorrow to present them to me. There’s no adding to the list…” his eyes drifted to his hands as he rubbed his palms together. “There’s no changing the list.”

Elsa’s body sagged with relief because she knew, this time, he was telling the truth by the way his body spoke to her; slumped shoulders, a look of defeat. It was a fleeting moment as he straightened himself up and his eyes darkened to near black.