Текст книги "Grace Street"

Автор книги: Ella Dominguez

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

He heaved her body to the side and ravaged her, tearing her clothes off like a madman, the fabric of her snug-fitting dress shredding under his ravenous hands. She fisted his hair and bit into his neck harshly, making him hiss through his gritted teeth. So she liked it rough, too. He shoved her onto her back and fumbled in the nightstand for a condom. He tore open the package and with the agility of a porn star, had it on in seconds.

Elsa spread her legs to accept him and her submission besieged him. He had humiliated her and yet she was still offering herself to him willingly. Was she so desperate for attention that none of his actions would deter her? Or was it simply that she had no common sense? Everything that he had put her through thus far should’ve told her to run the other way. Not that he wanted her to and not that he would allow it even if she tried.

Draping one of her legs over his shoulder while pushing the other out away from him, he inhaled deeply. Her scent was nothing less than intoxicating. He loved the smell of cunt, too. Go figure. Opening her labia with his thumb and index finger, he plucked at her clit with his teeth, tugging and sucking at it until it swelled and brightened to a crimson red. When Elsa was a wet, squirming mess, he slipped his hands under her bottom and tipped her pelvis up to gain better access as he slipped his tongue into her.

The way her body responded to his touch caused Victor’s heart to thunder in his chest, the throbbing felt in his cock with each of his heartbeats. Nails on his scalp teased and enticed him as he tongue fucked her to within an inch of an orgasm.

Just as Elsa began to shudder, he gripped her waist and flipped her onto her stomach. Again, he wrenched her wrists behind her and pinned them to the small of her back and in one purposeful thrust, sunk balls deep into her. She let out a long sigh followed by a moan, but raised her ass and ground into him, meeting him thrust for solid thrust. Face down, her muffled grunts of excitement could barely be heard as he continued to pump into her fiery, hot pussy. Leaning down, he bit her shoulder blade with the same fierceness she had nibbled his neck, his revenge sweetened by her shriek of pain.

Biting into her milky flesh once more, her body began to quiver and the muscles of her inner walls contracted. He would allow her to come but not for her own pleasure, for his. He slowed his movements and stroked in and out slowly and deeply as the waves of her orgasm crashed against his stiffness. Backing away slightly with only the head of his cock in her, he thrust shallow, allowing her body to recuperate from her orgasm. When her body stilled, he plunged deep again until he got his release.

Fatigued, he peeled his condom off and threw himself onto the bed next to Elsa, listening to the slowing of her rapid breathing. He pulled her close, his chest to her back, allowing her to sap the heat from his body and simultaneously cool his overheated core. He placed his mouth next to her jugular vein and waited until he felt her rapidly beating heart slow and her breathing deepen.

While Elsa slept, he fell in and out of consciousness for only an hour, his mind always straying to his current case. The murders in and around Cambridge, Massachusetts, weighed heavily on his mind and he hoped, even prayed that Ant could give him some insight as to who the perpetrator might be. The case was at a standstill and the families of the three victims were pushing him hard to do something, anything, to bring them and their loved ones justice. He feared the body count was higher than three, but he kept that to himself until he could prove otherwise. Images of the decomposed bodies flashed in his mind. What a fucking nightmare.

Tired of his overwrought thoughts, he gazed down at Elsa. She was so beautiful; stunning, actually. Hell, they all were if he really thought about it – all fucking eight of them, even that pain in the ass Seven. He was such an asshole for having done what he did to them.

His body began to sweat profusely and his heart pound in his chest when he thought about where his life was taking him and the man he had become. He sat upright on the edge of the bed and spots filled his vision. He closed his eyes and concentrated on slowing his heartbeat and quickened breathing. He had to find the killer. He just had to. To do anything less would be unacceptable.

With his emotions and faculties back in check, he glanced over his shoulder. Reaching behind him, he pushed the hair from Elsa’s eyes before he rose from the bed. As he stood watching her, he briefly wondered if she was dreaming about him, though he doubted it. She was most likely dreaming about Patrick, however, he had no idea why. His background check of the man hadn’t revealed anything that stood out and by all outward appearances, he wasn’t even attractive and his grooming habits were less than pleasing. He shook his head. Reaching down, he ghosted his finger over a branch of her tattoo causing her turn onto her other side. Elsa was way out of his league. What the hell did she see in him anyway?

He exited the bedroom before giving one last look in her direction to make sure she was soundly asleep. When he was positive, he reached for the skeleton key that was hanging around his neck on a chain, and let himself into the spare room across the hall from the master suite.

Sitting at the bank of video screens, one for each room, he brought up the videos and images of the day, from their first meeting, to her piss-fest, to their fucking. He watched them all in entirety, zooming in on Elsa’s many facial expressions and making mental notes. He even watched what she had done after he had left, enjoying her pacing movements and impatience with the situation.

He quickly jogged to the living room and retrieved his briefcase and journal before returning to his make-shift man-cave. So much had transpired in such a short amount of time, he had to get it all down on paper before his thoughts and feelings became indecipherable.

My tasty C8, what an interesting subject you’re turning out to be. You accepted my punishment better than I ever could have imagined and proven that you’re worthy not only of my time, but my effort. You’re trying to figure me out – I can see it in the way you focus on my movements and reactions, and the way you watch my mouth. But I should warn you – many before you have tried to gauge me and failed. My own actions often times perplex me so what makes you think I’m that easily assessable? I can’t be figured out and so your efforts, though valiant and warranted, are futile.

I, on the other hand, am having difficulty staying focused due to my current case, but your beautiful tears eased my anxiety – something I didn’t anticipate. Yes, those exquisite tears were by far the best thing I’ve experienced in a test subject thus far. Make no mistake, I’ve been the cause for tears before. Many times, in fact, but yours C8, were somehow different – more real, more powerful, more sincere.

Perhaps I’m over thinking things. Submission and beauty have always been my weakness and you exude both while simultaneously maintaining your strength and defiance. It’s a heady combination for me to try and navigate my way through. Will I ever be able to rein you in and make you into the person I want you to be? Time will only tell, but fortunately for the both of us – I’ve got plenty of it. Until then, I eagerly await the next time I can exert my power over you. And I WILL exert my authority over you, my delightfully, fuckable little plaything.

I’m quite enjoying the struggle you’re having with what you’ve been told is right and wrong, and what your body and mind is telling you to give into. You like it rough and seemed to show no restraint or humiliation when being fucked vigorously so I will make it my goal to test your limits further in this regard.

I vow to both you and I that I will prove that your body will only want what I allow it to want and that your mind will only know what I permit it to. Oh, the games we shall play…

He put his pen down and exhaustion overtook him. He was physically and mentally worn out from not only the sex they had, but the fight Elsa had put up while he exacted his punishment.

After performing a few chores in the bathroom, he dressed himself quietly. It was time to test Elsa once more.

As he walked the two blocks to the parking garage where his car was hidden from sight, he wondered if Elsa would be there when he returned the following day. After her penalty, he had no doubt she would.

7: Hesitation

Elsa woke in the late morning, startled by the sound of a loud humming and buzzing from the first level. She jumped out of bed, dug into her overnight bag and slipped on the robe she had brought along. She slowly descended the staircase, her body aching and sore from the previous night’s tickle torture and rough fucking. Unsure of what she would see, she peeked around the corner into the living room to see a short and stocky young man feverishly cleaning the chaise lounge with a steam cleaner. When he noticed her out of the corner of his eye, he promptly turned it off.

“I fell asleep with a drink in my hand,” she lied.

The man lifted his eyebrows and rubbed the back of his neck and smiled at her knowingly causing her to blush. She was a terrible liar and surely the stench of urine was a dead giveaway. Mortified, she scanned the kitchen and living room for Mr. Black.

“The owner of this house, is he here?” she asked, tightening the strings around her waist.

“No ma’am. I received a call early this morning about an emergency cleaning. The door was unlocked when I arrived. My appointment has been paid in full by Mr. Laurenzo, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She nodded and glanced over his shoulder and out the large bay window. Where the hell was Mr. Black, anyway? She was furious that he had abandoned her in a strange house and then left the door open for a complete stranger to come in.

“See yourself out when you’re done,” Elsa turned away to go hide out in the safety of the bedroom.

Once inside the room, she locked the door and rummaged through her small bag. Every single piece of her clothing except for her bra was either damaged or filthy. In the bathroom, she found her previously urine soaked skirt washed and hanging on the shower stall, air dried. Folded neatly on the counter she also found a man’s plain white t-shirt with a small note.

“Since you seem to have a hard time remembering my rules, I’ll write them down for you. 1. No undergarments. 2. Hair down in my presence. 3. Showered and ready upon my arrival. 4. WAIT. To be continued…”

Wait. Should she? She stared at the note and his flawless handwriting, contemplating what to do. As awful as the tickling incident had been, the memory was already fading into the background. He didn’t seem to care too much that she had humiliated herself in front of him and had apparently already moved past it. Why then shouldn’t she do the same? Because he was clearly a man with issues. But what man didn’t have issues? She had never met one that didn’t. Or slept with one that didn’t for that matter. She scanned the note one last time: to be continued. She could only imagine what other ‘rules’ he could come up with.

Following her shower and dressing in her now clean skirt and Mr. Black’s t-shirt, she ventured back downstairs to find the cleaning man gone. She brought down her backpack and unpacked an item she had brought along to personalize the place: a large snow globe that held fond personal memories of her vacation with her family at the age of sixteen.

In the kitchen, she was happy to find an assortment of fruits and snacks in the refrigerator, along with bottled water. At least her time waiting wouldn’t be spent hungry.

The day crept by slowly, hour-by-miserable-hour ticking painfully by. She had read an entire novella on her e-book app on her phone and played mindless games until her frustration practically boiled over. It was absolutely preposterous for her to wait around for a man she knew nothing about. Okay – that wasn’t entirely true. She knew the size of his dick, which, by the way, was perfect, as well as the fact that he was good in the sack and liked deep throating her.

Elsa rolled her eyes. What a shitty list of things to know about someone. She wanted to know him more personally – more about his life; his history; his past relationships. Or did she? This was, after all, supposed to be only a ‘physical association.’

Bored to tears and perturbed that she was still unable to open the spare bedroom door despite nearly kicking it in, she lay on the now pee-free lounger and decided to pleasure herself. Post masturbation, she fell asleep and woke several hours later to Mr. Black’s signature cigarette and aftershave scent and to his fingers inside of her.

Her body writhed with need and she thrust her hips upward into his palm as her eyes flickered open. The room was dim with only Mr. Black’s silhouetted profile in view. He pumped his fingers in and out slowly while his thumb pressed down firmly on her clit. Her nethers were still over sensitized from her own manipulation, making his massaging and probing all the more intense. She fisted her own hair and sunk her teeth into her bottom lip as her climax neared. She was so close and it felt so good... The heat in her lower belly descended and turned into a cool chill when Mr. Black abruptly stood and moved to the chair without saying anything.

Elsa sat up, hot and bothered and her hormones raging. Seated on the chair, he watched her with the same look of displeasure on his face as the previous night. What had she done now? Would she never please him? Hell, she waited all damned day for him. She glanced out the bay window to see the sun barely on the horizon and rubbed her eyes.

“I waited like you said to,” she smiled tentatively at him, smoothing her skirt down over her legs.

“I see that,” he replied coolly as he dipped the same fingers that had just been in her into his mouth, licking them clean of her juices. “What else did you do today?”

She huffed, “Nothing.”

Mr. Black adjusted himself in the seat, gripping his hard-on, and shook his head. “That’s not entirely true, now is it?”

What did he want? A blow-by-blow account of her daily activities? “I ate. I read. I played a few games on my phone. I ate again. I waited.”

“And?” he prompted.

Her parted lips clamped shut. Did he know she had played with herself? Of course not. He was just guessing. Her stomach knotted and she stiffened under his accusing stare. Sitting up straight, she crossed her legs and placed her hands in her lap while remaining quiet.

Pushing himself off the chair, he began to pace back and forth in front of her, then around the chaise, his hands clasped behind his back.

“I’m disappointed in you. I had hoped we could enjoy each other’s company tonight and that I could taste that exquisite pussy of yours again, but…” he trailed off, pausing in front of the window and looking out. “Seeing as you don’t need me to get you off and you can do it yourself, I guess our time here is done. Gather your things and I’ll see you next weekend.”

Elsa’s mouth gaped open in utter disbelief. She had waited all day and for what? So he could deny her an orgasm and dismiss her because she had fingered herself? She stood, incensed and exasperated and… she couldn’t even put into coherent thoughts what she was feeling.

As her breathing became more labored and loud, he peered over his shoulder and lifted his brows. “What are you waiting for? You’re free to leave,” he replied with a finality that forbade any further discussion.

She stomped upstairs, seething more with every passing minute. She retrieved her bag and tore back downstairs to get the hell out of there when Mr. Black’s inflamed voice resonated through the hallway behind her.

“Rule number five: All your orgasms belong to me.”

***

The door slammed behind Eight and Victor winced at her abrupt departure. He really had been looking forward to spending some quality time with her – namely in the form of fucking her flawless mouth. He would just have to settle for watching her finger banging session and rub one out, he supposed. Standing in the hallway staring at the door, he decided his time would be better spent going over the minutiae of the Cambridge case, details he had burnt into his memory.

In the dining room, he reached for his briefcase and jacket and noticed a snow globe on the fireplace mantle. Picking it up, he turned it over and watched the glitter and white flakes float around a fake waterfall. The brass plate on the front read Winter in Niagara. It looked old. He upturned it and found a carved date on the bottom. 2001. Elsa would have been sixteen at that time. He shook the globe again and watched the white dust drift around as he thought about her on vacation with her brother and parents. He smiled at the thought of a teenaged and rebellious Elsa ending up in juvenile detention for thirty days on two different occasions for smoking pot and getting in a girl fight. He couldn’t help but wonder what the fight had been over. His research didn’t reveal that little fact. Maybe it was over a boy, though she didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would fight over something so petty.

With his eyes still on the remaining glitter that hovered in the water, his thoughts drifted to his sixteenth birthday and his smile faded. His mother had fucked up yet another celebration for him on that day. It was supposed to be his coming of age party and all it ended up being was his day of cleaning up the drunken, violent mess that she had left behind, yet again. To make matters worse, he had walked in on her giving one of his classmates head. He got his own lesson in humiliation the following day back at school.

That particular birthday was also the day he found out that his father was still alive. In his mother’s inebriated state, she had let that little bit of information slip after having lied to him his entire life and leading him to believe that his father was some kind of war hero who had died valiantly. Lying fucking bitch.

He shook off the memory, reminding himself that his mother had lied about his father for good reason and that she did have a few good qualities. Like the fact that she raised him on her own and without the help of the government or anyone else. And the fact that she had taught him to be independent and had gotten him a loan to pay for his college degree in criminology. Of course, she ended up defaulting on the loan when she drank her savings away and he ended up paying it back on his own, but that was neither here nor there. He just reminded himself that adversity built character and made people stronger.

Then again, sometimes adversity also broke people. That’s what he had accomplished so many times with his Chapters. He had given them tough situations in an attempt to help them overcome their fears and weaknesses and become stronger individuals while studying them, but all of them had proven that his brand of education was just too much for them. It didn’t help that he enjoyed the harsh conditions he provided and that tidbit only confirmed that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

Elsa, on the other hand, might just be the lone, star pupil in his long list of failed attempts. So long as she played his game by his rules.

***

Seated at the same small café where Mr. Black had made his proposition and in the same booth, Elsa sipped on a cup of overly-sweetened coffee. She was still raging about his dismissal of her and her idiocy for having waited all damned day for nothing. So what if she had masturbated? He was doing the same thing the night before that prompted her to take matters into her own hands. And mouth. That damned perfect cock of his. It all came down to her lack of dick and common sense when not getting it often enough. She knew he was a bad seed from the moment she set eyes on him and still, she signed that stupid piece of paper. She rolled her eyes at her offer to sign it in blood. He probably would’ve enjoyed it if she had, the sadistic, piss-inducing-sicko that he is.

No undergarments. Whatever.

Hair down in his presence. Ogre.

Showered and ready. Seriously? Like being clean wouldn’t already be on her agenda?

WAIT. Egomaniac.

No masturbating. Fuck you, Mr. Black. Fuck. You.

And that ridiculous physical examination? Double fuck you.

What was up with him wanting to be called that, anyway? Too worn out and annoyed to care anymore, she finished her coffee and went back to the safety and privacy of her apartment.

Privacy. The word cascaded across her subconscious and as she readied for bed, she began to wonder how the hell he knew she had masturbated. Wanting to know about the mysterious asshole she was having sex with, she went to her computer to try and do a search. Again, when she typed his name into a search engine, she was redirected to a completely different site. When she yielded the same results on her 4G connection on her phone, alarm bells once again went off in her head. There was something rotten in Denmark.

Elsa unplugged her laptop and went down the hall to Viv’s place and was given permission to borrow her WiFi for a short time. Once connected, she hit the jackpot with a simple Google search.

Mr. Black wasn’t just any run-of-the-mill businessman as she had suspected. He was a well-known criminal profiler for the FBI with a long list of accolades and honors to his name. He also had a list just as long of criminals he had helped to capture and cases he had helped to solve. Elsa continued on her quest to seek out all that she could about him, stunned at everything she was reading. He was truly an amazing man, even if he was a harsh task master.

If the community only knew of his bizarre requests and rules, they might not think so highly of him. Not that she would ever disclose that sort of thing. Everyone was allowed their secrets. But surely she wasn’t the first of his conquests. He was nearly thirty-six years old and by his actions with her, he clearly had presence of mind and experience in dealing with women. Most especially in the manner he was dealing with her.

With his government connections, it was no wonder he could manipulate her computer and phone access and was privy to all her personal information. He truly was a nosey douchebag of epic proportions – albeit an intelligent, crime-solving, gorgeous, sex-depriving douchebag.

Overcome with everything she had learned, she sank into Viv’s couch and laughed ironically at herself. What was it about her that she could attract the most screwed up and demanding men? Did she have a target on her head that said: if you’re an asshole, here I am! Use and abuse me! Break my heart! Maybe the bull’s-eye was on her pussy. She must be secreting some jacked up pheromones to be attracting such weirdoes.

Why couldn’t Mr. Black be like he was after her punishment: The one who had read her mind and body and taken her like she had always wanted to be taken; the man who had held her close as he slept next to her; the person who had watched and touched her gently when he thought she was asleep; the gentleman who had hand washed her skirt and set out one of his own clean shirts for her to wear. That guy. Why not him? Was that tender man the real person hiding behind the cold façade or was she just deceiving herself like she had with Patrick?

She leaned her head back and sighed heavily. Now what was she going to do? The answer remained unspoken, but hovered on her lips: follow his rules until he says otherwise.