Текст книги "Grace Street"

Автор книги: Ella Dominguez

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

She drove to 2500 East Grace Street with only the words of Habits by Tove Lo and Never Wanna Know by MØ in her head. She couldn’t and wouldn’t allow herself to think of anything else. When she arrived at the brownstone, she parked her car and waited for nearly ten minutes before forcing herself to go through the motions of opening the door, stepping one foot in front of the other and going inside.

The faint smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air and she knew her punisher was already waiting for her. She stood with her back to the front door, holding onto the knob so tight that her fingers blanched from lack of blood circulation. When she heard soft music coming from upstairs, she followed it, taking each step to her doom as slowly as she could. When she reached the landing, Mr. Black was standing in the doorway of the master suite looking just as magnificent as ever and visibly relaxed. His calm expression put her at ease. He wasn’t angry and that was good.

His pupils flared under the bright light in the hallway when he saw her and his mouth parted as his hungry eyes undressed her.

“Damn, Elsa…” he paused to lick his lips. “You’ve come well prepared, but your appearance isn’t going to deter me from doing what I’m going to do.”

Affronted, she moved past him and pushed her chin out. “That wasn’t my intention. I’m fully ready to accept whatever you have planned for me.”

His body stilled and she glanced over her shoulder at him as she lay her handbag down on the bed to see an incensed expression on his face.

“You say that now, but we’ll see if you’re still feeling that way when all this is said and done. You know… I wasn’t sure you would show up.”

“Why? I told you I’m a woman of my word, despite whatever you may have been told about me or read.” She was referring to what her brother might have said and she quickly shut her mouth before she gave too much away about knowing of their conversation.

“I could never read enough about you, My Sweet Peach,” he smirked.

The pet name sounded so much better before, when he was being his true self. Or maybe this was his true self. Her confidence suddenly waned at the thought. What if he were only the game maker and nothing more? While she waited for him, wordless and motionless, she tried to transport herself back to their sensuous night.

Mr. Black moved to the other end of the room and brought the wooden chair close to her, faced it against a blank wall and gestured for her to sit. With the little bit of courage she had left, she tried her best to appear impassive as she seated herself in it. Kneeling in front of her, he pushed her legs open and skimmed his fingers up the inside of her thighs to her bare pussy, gliding his fingers into her folds.

“Better late than never, I suppose,” he commented about her lack of panties.

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out several pieces of soft, nylon rope and Elsa’s body tensed when he began binding her ankles to the legs of the chair. Whatever he had planned that necessitated her to be tied down was a distressing thought. Suddenly her bladder contracted in sympathetic response as if remembering her earlier torture even though she had the forethought to empty it before she arrived. With both legs secured, he looked up at her and she eyed him with a calculating expression. What was going on in that head of his?

“Are you going to tickle me again?” she breathed out with furrowed brows.

His right eyebrow rose a fraction. “I never repeat the same punishment twice. What fun would that be?” he broke into a wide, open smile as he reached behind her to blindly tie her wrists together.

His hot breath touched her neck and she turned her face away from him in a desperate attempt to resist being captivated by his fiendish smile. She felt a cool chill touch her skin when he disappeared to turn the lights down and set some music.

Halcyon by Ellie Goulding began and Elsa did her best to calm her nerves. Her eyes darted around the darkened room and her pulse pounded through her veins. She could hear Mr. Black behind her fiddling with something when a whir and buzz followed as the wall in front of her lit up with the image of a sunset.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I’ve always loved sunsets in Virginia…” she barely heard him say over the music.

She heard a click and a seaside view of Virginia Beach popped up on the wall that looked almost identical to the painting she had hung on the dining room wall.

“I love what you’ve done with the house, Elsa, but it was completely unnecessary. Neither of us will be here long enough to enjoy the work you’re putting into it so save your energy. Your effort would be better spent in learning how to appropriately conduct yourself around me.”

She gritted her teeth and shifted in her seat, wrenching on the uncomfortable bindings.

The next image shook her system. It was Patrick. Her body froze and her breathing halted. It was a recent picture of him leaving work.

Click.

Patrick leaving his house, dressed in his best suit.

Click.

Patrick on a dinner date with an unfamiliar brunette.

Click.

Elsa didn’t want to see what was next and she tugged on her restraints, but was unable to stop herself from looking.

Patrick leaving the restaurant with his date.

No, she really didn’t want see where this was going. She began to curse under her breath when she felt Mr. Black’s hands on her shoulders steadying her body as she thrashed in the chair.

“Please, Mr. Black. I’ll follow your rules. You know I will…” she panted out when she heard the next click.

“Yes, I have no doubt you will,” he whispered into her ear.

Patrick fondling and kissing the brunette on his doorstep.

Elsa closed her eyes and stilled her body.

Click.

A sharp tug of her hair brought her head back.

“Open your eyes and see the man in front of you. Really see him,” his voice was deep and dusty.

She shook her head. She wouldn’t.

“Open your eyes, Elsa. Look at him,” his voice hardened. “Ten… Nine... Eight…” he began counting down.

“Please stop…” she pleaded.

“Seven... Six…” He yanked her hair harder. “Trust me when I say you don’t want me to get to zero.”

The sinister tone of his voice left no room for delay and Elsa pried her eyes open and gasped when the image of two naked and intertwined bodies brightened the wall. They were in Patrick’s bed – the same bed she had made love to him in on so many occasions.

Click.

Tears bordered her lashes and she inhaled sharply at the next image – the brunette’s legs draped over Patrick’s shoulders as he plunged into her. She blinked rapidly, her heart tearing in two at the image of her ex-lover’s sexual exploitations. She began to cry. How could one person be so cold? What kind of man thinks of a punishment like this?

Click.

“Enough, you cruel son-of-a-bitch!” she screeched and tried to stand in the chair. Victor stood and pushed the chair down and held her head face forward.

The next image of Patrick being sucked off sent a wave of nausea over her causing her to retch loudly.

“I’m going to be sick…” she whimpered, still feeling the effects of too much wine.

When she heard the next click, she turned her head and closed her eyes tightly. She knew what the next picture would show and she didn’t need to see in vivid clarity Patrick coming into the pretty woman’s mouth.

“Five…”

“Fuck you, Mr. Black!” she sobbed out as she held her ground.

“Four…”

“Go to hell!”

“Do it, Elsa. Look at the man you can’t seem to get enough of,” he ground out between his teeth.

So Mr. Black had heard her conversation with Patrick and not only was she suffering his wrath for not wearing panties but for her interaction with an ex-boyfriend.

“Three…” he stood and moved to the side of her as if preparing for something worse.

Opening her tear-filled eyes and boldly meeting his gaze, she shimmied her foot until her shoe loosened and kicked it in his direction, the platform catching him on the shin.

“You’re a fighter, I’ll give you that. Two…” he continued, undaunted by her ferocity as he moved closer.

She began to shake uncontrollably but forced herself to stare at what she already knew she would see. She gagged and completely broke down when it came into focus through her blurred vision.

He moved to the back of the room and she wailed with relief when the projector finally shut off and the lights in the room came on, nearly blinding her.

As she was still shaking and weeping, Mr. Black unbound her ankles first and attempted to wipe her tear stained cheeks but she jerked her head away, repulsed by his sadistic touch.

No sooner were her hands freed when she stood and pounded her fists on his chest.

“How could you?” she screamed at him.

Grabbing a hold of her wrists, he tried to rein her in but she was on a mission to make him pay for his cruelty. She fought to get free and when she did, she slapped him so hard she heard his jaw creak under her palm. He snarled, stepped back and his beefy hand swept across her cheek, leaving it blazing with heat.

Elsa shrieked and covered her cheek, shocked that he had just hit her.

“I told you that only the first one was free,” he spat out.

Enraged, she raised her hand again to deliver another blow to his ego but he caught her wrist in mid-air.

“Don’t,” he growled.

She lifted her other hand and he gripped her by that wrist as well. “I meant it, Elsa. Do not. Hit. Me.”

Holding her by the wrists, he dragged her hollering into the bathroom and pushed her into the shower and swiftly turned on the cold water.

“Cool down!” he shouted as she shrieked from the sudden system shock.

She couldn’t believe what was happening to her. She was still so enraged and her mind clouded so far beyond making any kind of logical thought, she pounded on the shower door as he held it closed. Several minutes later and thoroughly soaked and shivering, she broke down crying again and sank to the floor of the shower with God-awful images of Patrick still fresh in her mind.

Her brother’s words echoed in her brain: what had she gotten herself into?

10: Challenging

When Victor opened the shower stall, Elsa had the appearance of a wet, scrawny and trembling cat with her make-up running down her face. She had exhausted him and his body ached from her assault, but he found the strength to wrap a large bath towel around her and carry her into the bedroom where he undressed and dried her. Surprisingly she accepted his assistance, but he knew it was only because she had worn herself out as well. She was one hell of an opponent and the ache in his cheek and chest was proof of it.

Dried and wrapped in a thick, over-sized terrycloth robe, she began shutting down. He could see it in her demeanor and actions. She wouldn’t make eye contact with him and the tears were still seeping from her eyes. Yes, he was a shit for what he had done, but holy hell, those tears… She was so fucking beautiful.

Everything about his previous miserable day had been erased from his memory when he watched her cry. Even the images of the newly found body in Massachusetts were momentarily forgotten. Running on only four hours sleep in the past thirty-six hours because of work and trying to get surveillance footage of Patrick at the last minute, he was starting to shut down mentally as well, but he knew Elsa needed him. He had just put her through the wringer and if he didn’t engage her quickly, she would be lost to him. Maybe forever and he wasn’t ready for that. Not when he desperately needed her to keep playing his game to help him escape from the daily atrocities he faced with his job.

He heaved her into his embrace and lifted her off the bed.

“No,” she mewled and fought weakly.

“Hush, My Sweet Peach,” he commanded as he carried her down the stairs. He fired up the electric fireplace and set her down in a dining room chair that was near to it in order to warm her while he made something for her to eat.

While he prepared a simple tortellini soup, he watched her through the kitchen entrance. She stared into the fireplace quietly, her body swaying hypnotically, her hand coming up to wipe her eyes of the tears that were still flowing. Maybe he had pushed her too hard this time.

His stomach cramped and a knot rose in his throat. Why the fuck did she have to call that piece of shit? Her punishment was only going to be light until she dialed his number. He could live with the panty wearing, but not with her contacting an ex-lover. Lover. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at thinking of her with another man. He hoped by making Elsa see him with another woman it would make her forget about him… but she was still crying. For what? That man never loved her. If Patrick had, he never would’ve let her go. If he wasn’t the man he was now and he was like he used to be, he sure as hell never would’ve let Elsa go willingly.

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed sorrowfully. He needed a long vacation away from everyone and everything; away from killers and victim’s families’ pleas for justice. And Anthony. Fuck him. Hell, he needed a break from life in general. Even away from his cherished, but challenging, Eight. He glanced in her direction again to see she had moved from the chair to the chaise. No, he didn’t need time away from her, he needed more time with her; time to break her down in order to take complete control of her.

He bowled the soup and carried it to the small table.

“Come eat, Elsa,” he gently ordered.

She shook her head. “I have no appetite.”

“You need to eat. You’re worn out and after all that wine last night and your menial breakfast, you need something with substance in your stomach.”

Her sable eyes darted to him. “You know everything, don’t you?” she asked contemptuously.

“It’s a fact that your body becomes dehydrated after alcohol binges and you need to replenish it.”

“It wasn’t a binge, thank you. But you’re full of lots of little facts aren’t you, Mr. Black?” Her eyes revealed the agitation rising up again and Victor feared another show down with her. “Here’s a little fact: you’re sadist and a son-of-a-bitch,” she hid her face in her hands and began to cry again.

Victor left her comment to linger in the air. What would be the point of denying it? It was true. Hell, it was in his blood and he had no one but his mother and father to thank for those fucked-up qualities.

***

Elsa wiped her tears and looked up at Mr. Black when her statement went unanswered.

“How could you?” she asked again, sniffing.

His look of imperviousness turned to agitation and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Why are you crying over a man who doesn’t deserve you?”

His statement stunned her. How the hell would he know what Patrick deserved? “You don’t know Patrick or what he deserves. You know nothing about him,” she tried to defend him.

“I know he used you for his own pleasure and then threw you away as if you meant nothing to him,” he glared at her.

Elsa winced. It was true, Patrick had done that, but still… “You hypocrite. What is it that you’re doing with me if not using me for your own ruthless pleasure?”

Now it was Mr. Black’s turn to wince. “I’m not using you,” he puffed his chest out. “I’m helping you.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Did he really believe that? “Say what?”

“You heard me. I’m helping to make you a stronger person.”

“No, you’re making me learn to hate you, VICTOR,” she gave emphasis to his real name.

Suddenly the bad-ass Mr. Black shrank in his seat. “Hate is a strong word,” his eyes reflected hurt.

“Yes, it is; the strongest. And I don’t use it frivolously.”

Recovering quickly, he waved his hand in dismissal. “Hate me if you want, but you’ll be a better person because of me when this game is over.”

Him and his damned game. There was no getting through to him and Elsa was too tired to try. “You know nothing, only stupid, useless facts,” she turned her face away.

“I know your precious Patrick likes to fuck his sexual partners in the ass,” he shot back.

His cruelty knew no bounds and she rose to her feet, ready for another fight.

“I have some footage of that, too, if you’d like me to show you,” one side of his mouth curled upward revealing his amusement in her annoyance.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she blared at him.

“Did he fuck you in the ass?” he plunged on, his voice low and composed.

Feeling the blood rise to her cheeks, she seated herself and fidgeted with the hem of her robe. “No,” she whispered, trying to avoid eye contact.

Sitting on the edge of his seat, Mr. Black gave her a pointed stare. “I’ve already told you once that if you’re going to lie to me, then make it convincing.”

“You want me to lie to you?” she asked with incredulity. What person in their right mind wanted to be lied to?

“No, but if you’re going to play my game and continue to do it, then put some fucking effort into it and make me believe what you’re saying,” he snapped. “Here’s another little fact for you, Ms. Cassidy: despite what everyone says about the merits of truth and honesty, lying can be an extremely useful skill to master. It can get you out of a helluva lot of shitty situations and it may even save your life someday.”

There truly was no talking to this man logically or otherwise and she sat slack-jawed staring at his ridiculousness. Is this what they trained him to be in the FBI? An egomaniac who touted the virtues of dishonesty?

“Now shall we try this again? Did Patrick fuck you in the ass?”

She wasn’t going to play his game. Not this time. “Yes,” she answered without blinking an eye.

His blazing eyes seethed with fury at her honesty. “Did you like it?” he continued to badger her.

Pushing her chin out, she answered truthfully again. “Yes.”

Seemingly resigned, Mr. Black sank back into the chair and folded his arms back over his chest. Elsa felt pride in having won this round against the inscrutable Mr. Black until she saw the light in his eyes return as if he was ready for the next go round.

“I’ll have to keep that little fact in mind.”

She gave up. It wasn’t even noon and she was ready for a nap. She curled into the chaise and turned away from Mr. Black. She couldn’t stand to look at him one more minute. The room darkened when the curtains were drawn on the bay window and without warning, the tears came again. But they weren’t for Patrick, they were for the loss of the last little bit of innocence she had retained over the years. Mr. Black had annihilated it and she felt used up.

“Peach,” she heard from above her.

She wasn’t anyone’s sweet anything. She was just plain old, used-up Elsa with a broken heart and a battered and bruised spirit.

The small chaise could barely hold her, but Mr. Black squeezed his body in behind her and crushed her with his arms.

“Don’t touch me,” she tried to shrug him away.

“Stop fighting me, Elsa,” he cooed into her ear.

She needed his warmth and grudgingly gave into his embrace. He tugged her closer yet until her body ached.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” he breathed against her neck. “That was never my intention. I just wanted…” he sighed. “Just let me hold you.”

*

Elsa woke hot and sweaty and with Mr. Black’s limbs wrapped around her. She freed herself from his grip and moved to the window. She had no idea what time it was, but she was guessing it was late afternoon. She peered over her shoulder to see him slumbering soundly.

She was still feeling the effects of his reprisal, both physically and emotionally. Would she ever forgive him for what he had done? Could she? She wanted to. The desperation heard in his voice as he held her close spoke more to his intentions than his actions.

Kneeling by his side, she pulled her fingers through his thick hair and he mumbled “Cambridge” before rolling onto his side. The skeleton key hanging on the long chain around his neck jangled and dipped off the edge of the chaise. Skimming her fingers over the old silver ridges of the key, she had an idea of what door it might open after looking it over closely – the door to the room she had been trying to gain access to during each of her visits to 2500 East Grace Street.

She fretfully chewed the corner of her lip, pondering what to do. She lifted the key to see if she could slip the chain over his head but when she tried, he stirred and nearly woke up. Instead, she slid the necklace around until the clasp presented itself. Slowly she opened it and released the chain from around his neck.

Quietly, she climbed the stairs and put the key into the opening. She took a deep breath and turned. The loud click of the door unlocking startled her and her eyes darted to the staircase, positive she had woken Mr. Black. When she was convinced she hadn’t, she tip-toed in. Flipping on the lights, she was faced with a wall of small televisions and a computer on a desk. She immediately knew what she was looking at. Surveillance monitors. Her stomach dropped. He had been watching her all along in the house. It was no wonder he knew that she had masturbated. But what was the purpose of watching her? What exactly was his agenda?

She glanced out the door one more time and listened carefully to make sure there were no signs of life from below before booting up the computer.

One by one, the monitors came on, revealing each of the rooms in the house except the surveillance room and the hall to the bedrooms. She could see clearly that Mr. Black was still in the same position she had left him. She punched several buttons randomly on the computer and was faced with a panel of options, one of which was to view recorded video. Undoubtedly her punishment had been recorded, but she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing that horrible fiasco played out and her reaction. Or Mr. Black’s.

Remembering the slap, she touched her cheek. She wasn’t going to make excuses for his heinous action against her, but he did warn her. She had no doubt that no matter how harsh his response had seemed at the time, he had most definitely held back and that he could’ve hurt her far worse than he did. Actually, her cheek wasn’t even sore and she suspected there was no trace of it. She shook her head of the thought. He hit her and she would never allow it again. Like she had been allowed one for free – so had he. She vowed at that moment to never raise her hand in anger against him again, but not out of fear of reprisal but out of respect, even if he didn’t deserve it.

Sitting on the floor next to the desk sat his briefcase. She opened it and reached a hand inside, pulling out the first thing her fingers clamped onto – a thick, leather-bound journal. When she opened it to the page that was bookmarked, her pulse skittered when she read the heading.