Текст книги "Grace Street"

Автор книги: Ella Dominguez

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter 3

Weekend 4

My precious, over-privileged little doll – your naughtiness brings out the monster in me that wants to you fuck you in painfully pleasurable ways. You would like it too, wouldn’t you? But you were errant in your behavior tonight and so you must suffer.

Rule no. 12 strictly states that you are not to seek the attention of other men, yet you continually flirt shamelessly when you think you won’t be caught. Am I not enough man for you, C3? I will prove tomorrow that I am when I take your anal virginity. You’ve been hesitant to allow me that part of your body and I’ve been patient. Too patient, even for my standards. But no more. You want to be objectified? Then you shall be. You’ve now got my full attention and it’s focused on your ass.

Elsa tossed the journal onto the table. She couldn’t stand to read another word. My God, twelve rules? He had sex with her the same way the previous night, only she had given it willingly. Hopefully Chapter Three’s memory of losing her anal virginity was just as enjoyable as Elsa’s had been with Patrick, though she doubted it. God damn Mr. Black. Victor.

She heard the lock click on the front door and she jumped. She slammed the diary closed and stuffed it back into his satchel and ran to the staircase, seating herself midway up when it occurred to her that the video was rolling while she had read his journal. How could she have forgotten something so important? How could she have been so blinded by curiosity to act so carelessly? She closed her eyes and concentrated on controlling her erratic pulse and breathing. She would just have to wait until he fell asleep to erase the recording. But if he read deception on her face…

“What are you waiting for up there?” she heard Victor’s playful voice.

She opened her eyes and smiled. “You,” she flirted.

She was still only wearing one of his t-shirts and she spread her legs, revealing her pussy to him. He dropped the small bag he had in his hand and climbed the stairs slowly, stalking closer to her. Her legs opened further, inviting him.

Test subject. As Victor kneeled between her legs and ravaged her, the words vexed her. She wouldn’t be anyone’s test anything and she would prove to Mr. Black that she was no one’s experiment. Her new mission was clear. She was no longer in this game for distraction or to simply satiate her loneliness. She was in it to peel back his layers and reveal the real Victor.

As if he could read her thoughts, Victor paused and stood between her legs, his crotch eye-level to her. He unbuttoned his jacket and flung the fabric behind him as he placed his hands on his hips and widened his step.

“Are you baiting me to my station?” she reached out and touched the outline of his shaft.

The corner of his mouth lifted in a debauched smile. “Yes, I am. Are you biting?”

“Only if you want it that way,” she clamped her teeth shut noisily.

He threw is his back and laughed, the genuine joy of his emotion washing over her. Mr. Black wasn’t so bad, not all the time.

His pupils dilated as he leaned down and slid a hand up the inside of her thigh to her hip and squeezed. “You’re up to no good. I can sense it. You’re playing my game, aren’t you?”

Her mouth parted in surprise. She had been up to no good, but she couldn’t show her hand.

“I’m learning to play your game,” she admitted. It was the truth and because it was, it was easier for her to keep her cool.

His voice dropped an octave. “I like that. It makes me want to do very bad things to you, Elsa.”

She could barely control herself and she closed her eyes, imagining all the depraved things she wanted him to do.

“Do them, Mr. Black. Do bad, bad things to me…” she moaned out as she reached down and pulled the t-shirt higher, exposing hers breasts to him.

“I thought you liked Victor better?”

Her eyes fluttered opened to see Victor smiling naughtily back at her. She hadn’t even realized what she said. “I can’t think straight. Your smell, your touch… everything about you flusters me. I just know that right now, I want Mr. Black to do all of the things that are in that wicked head of his. Once he’s had his way with me, then I want you, Victor, to hold me and to take away the pain that I know he’s going to inflict on me.”

The sound she heard next both scared the hell out of her and shredded every ounce of willpower she had – a deep, primal growl from somewhere dark and deep within him. Yes… Mr. Black was now present and ready to fuck her in ways she had only dreamed of.

Grabbing her by the back of her neck, Mr. Black hauled her up and into his kiss, forcing his tongue into her mouth and kissing her with such ferocity, it took her breath away. She wrapped her limbs around him, wanting to feel the weight of his solid form squeezing the life and breath from her as she crushed his body down onto hers. Mr. Black pressed a hand between them to remove his belt, the sound of the metal and leather being pulled from his jeans was like music to her ears. With his lips still pressed against hers, she felt her body being shifted and moved so her head was against the rail.

Next, her hands were brought up over her head. She paid no mind as his tongue swirled in her mouth, caressing every surface seductively. She grunted when in the blink of an eye, her wrists were bound with his belt to the baluster. Her eyes flew open and she jerked her head up to see the black leather efficiently wrapped around her wrists with the buckle tucked away neatly and out of view. He had clearly done this before.

“Now that I have you right where I want you, it’s time to play,” he stood and began to undress.

Elsa watched in awe as his nude body came into full view under the bright stairwell lighting. God, he was magnificent. When his briefs slid down his slim hips, his cock sprang forth, pointing skyward and making her giggle idiotically. She couldn’t help herself. It was just so damned beautiful. And all hers.

“Open wide,” he ordered while he stroked his shaft.

Doing as he said, she spread her legs wide.

“No, not your legs; that pretty mouth of yours,” he slicked his tongue across his upper lip.

Yes, she wanted this. She wanted his dick deep in her throat. She closed her eyes, tipped her head back and parted her lips. Mr. Black grabbed a handful of a hair and eased the crown of his cock past her lips, allowing her to circle her tongue around it and dip the tip of her tongue into his hole. He grunted and pushed deeper. Opening her eyes and never letting her gaze stray, she watched him as he began to thrust harder. His head was thrown back and his eyes closed, and he was in his own sensual world.

He pushed deeper yet, making her gag, but he was unrelenting. When she became breathless, she began squirming to free herself to get air, but his fingers were wrapped firmly in her hair. She thrashed her head and just as she began to see spots in her vision, Mr. Black pulled away, leaving her a gasping and a drooling mess. She had no time to recuperate when he shoved himself into her mouth again as he rested one hand on the rail behind her.

Harder and faster, he fucked her mouth. The squeak of the wood and his moaning were the only sounds echoing in the entrance. She brought her knees up to get better seated as her body began to slide down, but his thrusting was too powerful. He momentarily let go of her hair, reached under her arms and pulled her up before plunging back into her mouth. It was never ending. Time and time again she nearly passed out from his brutal oral assault, only to have him pause barely long enough to allow her to breathe. Her jaw ached and her wrists were becoming raw. The front of her chest and shirt were soaked in saliva, but she didn’t give a damn. It was dirty and she loved it.

Just as his body stilled and she prepared for his warm, salty release, he abruptly pulled out of her mouth. He unbound her wrists from the railing only to promptly loop the belt back around once she was freed from the baluster. Without a word, he heaved her over his shoulder, strode to the bedroom and plopped her down onto the bed, face down. He yanked her to the edge of the bed, propped her up on her knees and plunged into her from behind. The angle of his thrust made her squeal loudly. He clawed at her shoulders, bringing tears to her eyes. The sensation was exquisite. She had been fucked hard before, but nothing like this. She bit into the linens below her in an attempt to muffle her screams but it was no use. He was inexorable. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

Her knees began to shake and her lower belly throbbed with the buildup of an orgasm when, again, he pulled out of her and hauled her off the bed. All she could do was gasp from breathlessness. She was barely able to stand as he walked her over to the wooden chair that was still facing the wall. He seated himself on it and she nearly toppled over as he pulled her over to sit atop him, guiding her bound wrists over his head and around his neck.

His mouth was so close she could feel the dampness of his breath on her lips and smell the faint scent the cigarette and mint coming from him. It was intoxicating. With her forehead pressed to his, he lifted her by her hips to the tip of his shaft only to pull her back down harshly as he thrust upwards. Her eyes filled with tears every single time he pushed up into her. He was hitting that spot that made her want to come undone and she knew she couldn’t hold out much longer.

Closing her eyes tightly, she felt Mr. Black’s raspy tongue on her cheek as he lapped up the tears now streaming down her face.

“God, yes…” he whispered.

Mr. Black’s hands moved from her hips to her breasts and squeezed cruelly, making her throw her head back and moan loudly. He plucked at her nipples and buried his face in her tits as she leaned her body back to accept his mouth on them. She was grinding down onto his dick when it happened without warning: a literal gush of wetness between her legs soaked the both of them.

Startled with what had happened, she tried to dismount Mr. Black, but he dug his fingers into her hips and held her tight. She had heard of the mythical G-spot orgasm, but had never experienced it. It was marvelous and her body shook violently from it. She didn’t know why she was feeling embarrassed about it; by the look on Mr. Black’s face, he was quite pleased with himself.

Only a few minutes later, he stood. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he thrust up into her one last time as she felt his cock pulse out his seed into her. Still buried deep inside of her, he stumbled to the bed and collapsed onto it, smashing her under the weight of his body. They lay like that for several minutes, their ragged breathing slowly subsiding. Mr. Black rolled off of her and pushed the sweaty hair from her eyes.

“To be continued…”

*

Mr. Black had used and abused Elsa and her body ached with the kind of pain that came only from a good, brutal fucking. She had missed this kind of soreness, but what came after, she had missed even more. Lying on the bed next to Victor as the night was drawing near its end, she curled into his embrace. She clung to him and buried her face in his chest. He felt warm and familiar. He felt safe. She purred when she felt his long fingers in her hair and then on her back, working their way down to her spine and over to her tattoo. She loved it when his long fingers traced the details of it.

“You were perfect,” she heard him say.

Looking up, she stared at him longingly, but with the ever-evolving rules of the game always running in the background...

She touched his scar again. “What happened here?”

His jaw tensed and he narrowed his eyes at her. His body stiffened as he pulled away and she immediately regretted the question. Mr. Black was back.

“I don’t answer…” he started in his usual cold voice.

She promptly chimed in. “I remember. That’s fine,” she responded just as chilly as she crawled out of bed and began to dress herself. “It’s better that I know nothing about you. It’ll make it that much easier when I say goodbye.”

Yes, she was learning to play his game, alright. Maybe he would be her experiment in what not to get involved with ever again.

She seated herself on the corner of the bed and reached for her shoes when Mr. Black lunged toward her. He fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to look at him.

"Goodbye?" he scoffed. "Goodbye isn't an option. Let's not forget who reigns here. I chose you. It was my decision to have you and don't you ever doubt that I intend to do nothing less than devour you entirely. You're my plaything, Elsa. My sex toy. My hole. Mine to do with whatever I want and all that pleases me. To torture, thrill, threaten and mind fuck however I see fit. So you don't get to say goodbye. Not now, maybe not ever. That's the beauty of this arrangement. I make all the decisions and you're left to wander around in the dark, waiting, anticipating and fearing my next move. Only when I'm done using you and I’ve gotten what I need will I let you go. Only then and not one millisecond sooner. I've allowed you the pretense of choice, but know that I alone decide when, where and how much. I decide every, single fucking thing that goes on in your life. My house, my rules. Remember? Now kneel."

Elsa couldn’t believe the disgusting words spilling out of him. What kind of man was he?

Before she could even process his statement, he abruptly pushed her off the bed and down to her knees. Her natural response was to fight him and she slapped his hands away as she tried to stand, upset with Mr. Black’s sudden volatility.

“Do as I tell you, Elsa, and don’t make me say it again,” he growled with his hands still firmly pressing down onto her shoulders.

All of this over a simple question about a scar? She was speechless and infuriated as she fell to her knees.

“Who made you like this?” she stared up at him.

“Shut the hell up. I mean it. I don’t answer personal questions. I’ve said it three times now. To clarify things from this point on, rule number six is no fucking personal questions unless you want to suffer my wrath. Is that clear enough or do I need to write this one down, too?” he barked as he stood over her.

Then suffer his wrath she would because despite what her brain was screaming for her to do, she wasn't going to give in or run. Let him beat her if that’s what he wanted. She welcomed his fists if that’s what it was going to take to break down the stone walls he had put up around himself.

“Then let there be blood,” she whispered as she gritted her teeth. “Any man can force his domination on a woman. It doesn’t even take much of a man to show her the errors of her ways. But to guide a woman, to lead her and to love and support her? That takes a special kind of man. A strong man. An exceptional man. I thought you had it in you to be that kind of man, but seeing Mr. Black come out like this over an innocuous question? You’ve failed me, Victor.”

The statement slipped past her lips before she could stop herself and it was as if she was watching herself from above. Mr. Black’s jaw gaped and she braced herself for the worst. She inhaled sharply and closed her eyes, ready for bloodshed.

“Get your things. You’re free to leave,” she heard in an unfamiliar voice.

Elsa’s eyes popped open. Stunned speechless, she stared up at Mr. Black who suddenly looked calm. That was it? She was free to go after she said the very thing he had accused Chapter Seven of doing?

Of course not. All his dismissal meant was that he was going to stew on her rebellion and statement and dish out his punishment at a later time. Why did she have to let her curiosity get the best of her? Why the hell did she have to ask that question about his scar? Why couldn’t she keep her stupid mouth shut?

13: Absence

Elsa drove home with her tailed tucked between her legs, though she didn’t know why she was the one feeling ashamed of her behavior. It was Mr. Black who should be feeling guilty for the way he overreacted to her harmless question and his shitty remark about saying goodbye.

His sextoy… his hole? The more she thought about his statement, the more livid she became. Talk about the great manipulator. He had been kind all day and even during dinner the previous evening, and the entire time that’s what he thought she was? Just another Chapter to mind fuck and torture? So in addition to all the other B.S. he was putting her through, she now had to contend with the anxiety of worrying if he would watch the video from earlier that day.

She arrived home and angrily tossed her bag into the couch. Pacing the living room she felt the sudden urge to look out her window. If Mr. Black was out there, she swore she would tear ass down there and rip him a new hole for all the head games he was playing with her. She flung the curtains to the side expecting to his see his Nissan, but the street was empty. Lucky for him. Or probably more likely, lucky for her.

“Fuck you, Mr. Black!” she cursed the air, hoping he could hear her from across town.

*

Monday morning came too soon and Elsa felt emotionally drained. Frantic to hide the evidence of her nosiness, she had driven to the Grace Street brownstone in the early morning hours and let herself in to try and gain access to the surveillance room without success.

With only three hours of good sleep under her belt, her morning at work was unproductive. Every time she would hear something near her door, she would jump, fearing Mr. Black would come slinking in, ready to reprimand her and add more rules to her growing list. The more she thought about it, the more she began to wonder if the waiting, anticipating and dreading of his actions was her punishment.

Afternoon came and she checked her text messages. Nothing. Not one single word was sent to her and her heart began to sink. Maybe she had pushed him too far with her cruel accusation of being a failure or, God forbid, he had watched the video.

But what about his nasty words? Was he torturing himself over what he had said to her? She doubted it very much. It was par for the course for him in his cruel game of testing women’s limits and experimenting on them. And what in the hell was he trying to figure out by testing them? Oh, that’s right. He was ‘helping’ to make them stronger. She belted out a sarcastic laugh at the thought. Mr. Black was the one who clearly needed the help. Maybe it would be a blessing if never called her again.

Well into the evening and back at home, her emotions skidded back and forth and her mood dipped up and down from hating Mr. Black to feeling torn about Victor’s heartfelt words about love and wanting to really be seen.

She was obsessing and teetering on the verge of losing all sanity. She was fixated on Victor and he was consuming her every thought.

Tuesday and Wednesday came and went. Mr. Black was nowhere to be seen or heard from and Elsa found herself, once again, alone. The days droned on and the silence was gut-wrenching. It was as if he was only a figment of her imagination. Perhaps he had been. That damned scar…

Thursday was another uneventful day other than the now constant thoughts of Victor making it impossible to get anything done. Yes, Victor, not Mr. Black. She never wanted to think about him again. Except for the way he had fucked her… If only Mr. Black didn’t exist and it was only Victor… he was something special. Or had he only manipulated her into believing that he was?

It pained her heart to think about it and made her brain hurt recalling everything that had transpired over the past two weeks. Had it really only been two weeks or had it been longer? She had no idea. She had lost track of time and the days mixed together endlessly.

Back home, she sulked all evening. Her phone rang out as she was showering and she nearly slipped and injured herself hauling ass to answer it, hoping, yet fearing, it would be Mr. Black.

Her brother’s name came up and she frowned with disappointment. She swiftly cut him off as soon as she answered, not wanting Mr. Black to hear their conversation; if he was even listening anymore.

Dressed in only a robe, she went to Viv’s and borrowed her phone to call Nick back. The conversation was brief but her big brother had done her proud. He provided not only a home address but several interesting and revealing details about Victor.

Apparently his mother had died at the fairly young age of 58 from liver disease. Also, in his younger years, when he first came into the public’s eye, he had made his rounds on the dating scene and had quite the reputation of being a ladies’ man. All his dating abruptly halted a few years later, though, right after a big break in a big murder case.

That was all Nick could find out other than that Victor had never been married and had no children to speak of. Elsa felt the weight of a burden lifted off of her. At least he hadn’t lied about that.

Back in her apartment, she kept glancing out her window. It had become habit, but instead of seeing Mr. Black’s glowing cigarette or Victor’s silhouette, only a dark street glared back at her. Would this week never end?

***

An unplanned trip to Massachusetts halted Victor’s plans to plot out his course of action and stalk his favorite yet mouthy and unpredictable Chapter. The phone call had come immediately after her abrupt dismissal. Another body was discovered near Cambridge and everyone involved suspected it was the same perpetrator that had already taken the lives of three young women in the area.

During the plane ride, he had no time to go over the upsetting scene that played out between him and Eight. Instead of dwelling on the harsh words they threw at each other, he studied his case file yet again, willing his eyes to see something he might have missed.

In the spare moments during his endless meetings and forensic evidence recaps, he jotted notes down on Eight’s new rules. Of course, the old rules would still be in effect, but there were several new ones he was adding to the mix. If he guessed correctly, Elsa was coming undone at not having heard from him. At least he could hope she was.

Three days passed in the blink of an eye and he pushed Eight to the back of his mind, though her accusing statement and inquisitive eyes kept piercing through his thoughts. Everyone’s eyes were on him as he tried to establish a profile for the killer and they all hoped he could shed some kind of light on who they were looking for. It was exasperating. What did they expect from him? He wasn’t a miracle worker or a mind-reader. He was merely a man. A man who was not only failing the community, but who had failed Eight by letting Mr. Black out over an innocent question.

His mother thought he was a failure, too.

Who the hell did Elsa think she was to even speak to him in such a manner? Had he been too lenient or given her reason to believe he would put up with that sort of behavior and disrespect? Let there be blood? She had no idea what she was saying. If he weren’t afraid of the end consequences of letting his demons out, he would’ve taken her up on her offer and bloodied her mouth for being such a brash little bitch.

No, Eight was no bitch, she was just too fucking meddlesome for her own good. It was natural for her to want to know more about him considering the physical interaction they were engaging in. All the other Chapters were curious, too, though they already knew who he was and his reputation. Eight was clueless. And hotheaded. He had dealt with temperamental Chapters before, but Eight… she was something else. She truly didn’t know when to keep her mouth shut.

Despite this annoying character trait, he was growing fond of her, but not more so than the others. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself of – that she was just another Chapter. He wouldn’t allow her to be anything else. He couldn’t. Not after what happened before.

Yes, he had been too lenient with her. He knew that, but she was responding so well to gentleness, how could he deny her? She was blossoming under his tutelage, even if it wasn’t his usual modus operandi. If not for Mr. Black’s need to control every damned thing in his environment, he would be content to continue down this path. But Mr. Black had needs and compassion and sympathy weren’t encompassed in those requirements. Mr. Black just needed to learn to control his temper is all and remember that everyone is allowed a mistake or two.

What the hell was he thinking? He was Mr. Black. There was no personality split like Elsa was joking about, though it might seem that way to her with his explosive behavior.

He had no time to think about this nonsense. More pressing matters were calling.

***

Seated at the same small café where Victor had made his now infamous proposition, it was as if karma had finally shown Elsa favor when she saw his face on the television over the counter. She asked the cashier to turn up the volume and listened with shocked interest to find out he was in Cambridge, Massachusetts, working on a murder case – a case she remembered hearing about it when she lived in Boston.

Victor was standing behind several other men during a press conference, looking stoic and professional as ever in a black business suit. And damned handsome. Even on the small monitor it was hard to miss his spellbinding green eyes. And that mouth… it had been on her only days before and the delicious memory worked its way down her body and settled in her lower belly. So he was real and not just a figment of her imagination.

As the news story ended, she was hit with a nefarious idea, one that could possibly land her in jail if she were caught. Or worse – put on her Mr. Black’s permanent shit list. She reached into her backpack and pulled out Victor’s home address. She eyed it for several minutes before deciding to throw caution and common sense to the wind. She rushed to her car and dug into her hatchback to find an old, black hoodie that she kept there for cold nights and slipped it on. She was really doing this. She had to know where Victor called home. She had to know everything about him. Absolutely everything.

The drive took her nearly forty minutes to get to the edge of Richmond. She wasn’t familiar with the area and she drove around in circles for another twenty minutes before she finally located his house which was set back in a thickly wooded area. The home was larger than she had imagined considering he was single. It was a one-story architectural piece of beauty. For a man who is so secretive, she found it odd that he would live in a house where every room could be seen through its ceiling-to-floor windows. What was the saying about people who live in glass houses throwing stones?

Parking a quarter-mile up the street, she decided to walk the distance back to his house to stay out of view. She scanned her surroundings for any signs of security cameras and was astonished to see not one single camera. Then again, maybe they were hidden like they were at 2500 East Grace Street. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and slipped the hood over her head. Keeping her head down, she approached the darkened front entrance when motion sensor lights flicked on, nearly causing her to piss her pants. She rolled her eyes at herself. How apropos considering what he had put her through.

She peered into the glass front door. On the wall next to the door was a blinking security box. Now what? She stood there like a moron not knowing what to do next. What the hell did she expect for a man whose job it was to catch killers? An open door or a welcoming party? Feeling like a jackass, she turned to walk away when she noticed several large rocks and neatly hedged bushes lining the walkway. Could it be that Victor was a man of habit? She kicked several of the rocks over and replaced them when nothing was revealed, but then counted the third bush to her right and bent down. She couldn’t believe what she found – a spare key tucked neatly under a fake rock just like the one he had hidden for her at the Grace Street brownstone. With the heavy, electronic-looking key in her hand, she froze. Once she stepped foot inside, there was no going back.

Telling her inner voice of reason to fuck off, she pushed forward and shoved the key into the lock. She turned it and when she did, the security system chimed and deactivated, but the loud click startled her and her heart rate spiked. Every one of her senses became heightened as she turned the door knob. Her eyes darted around and she craned her neck to look behind her, positive that Mr. Black was going to assail her at any moment. Slowly and with the stealth of a cat, she tip-toed into the house and quietly shut the door behind her.

The entrance was pitch black and the silence was eerie, but the smell was overwhelming – Victor. His expensive cologne assaulted her senses and she gulped loudly. Damn, she missed his touch. The one scent missing: cigarette. She hadn’t smelled it outside either. Was this nasty yet sexy little habit strictly confined to the Grace Street residence?

She reached for a nearby wall and felt around until she touched a light switch. Flipping it on, she was greeted to a small foyer that opened up to the one of the largest and most stark white living rooms she had ever set her eyes on. Despite the lack of color, it was gorgeous with sparse contemporary furnishings. The floor was concrete and covered with colorless area rugs. What was Victor’s fascination with white?

She stood near the leather couch looking over everything, trying to figure out what it was about the place that seemed serene despite the drab surroundings when it struck her that everything was as white and pure as the freshly driven snow. Perhaps that’s what his home was to him – a place where all the ugliness of the world melted away into the background; a place of pure calmness. She could sympathize with wanting a place to hide away from everyone and everything. She often wished she had that kind of place to call her own.