Текст книги "Grace Street"

Автор книги: Ella Dominguez

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

His mouth seared a path down her neck to her shoulders and worked its way down. Kneeling between her legs, he savagely began to suck at her clitoris. Closing her eyes, the feeling of arousal wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket until she heard voices only a few feet away. Her heart lurched into her throat and her eyes darted to where the sounds were coming from. She could see the shadows of people walking by only a mere few feet away and her body tensed with mortification.

“What’s the matter, Elsa?” he let out a short breathy laugh against her damp folds. His tongue flicked her clit and he sunk two fingers into her making her bite her fist to try and stifle her groan of pleasure.

She grabbed his hair harshly and tried to drag his mouth away from her when she heard giggling to her right. She couldn’t be sure there were people watching her or not, but she didn’t dare look in that direction for fear of finding out the truth.

“Victor, please. People might be watching,” she whispered loudly.

“You like to watch, but you don’t like to be watched?” he nibbled at her now swollen pearl.

Was this another one of his damned games? She tried to escape his oral attack only to have him grip her waist forcefully and hold her in place. He glided back up her body and turned her away from him as he pressed her body against the scratchy and cool wall. She pushed her ass out trying to get him away from him, but soon regretted her action.

“So that’s how you want it?” she could hear the smile in his voice. “I aim to please, Ms. Cassidy.”

Like hell he did. He aimed to humiliate and embarrass her. She could hear more shuffling near the street and whispers in the distance and a wave of apprehension swept through her as she gasped and panted in terror. Victor was a known public figure. Yet even in the shadows, people could possibly see them. In the age of YouTube, could he really afford to have sex on the street when it was possible he would be recognized? Didn’t he care or was he just so reckless in his quest to get his way and play his game that he ignored the obvious?

“Victor, please,” she begged.

“There’s no need to beg for it, Peach,” he purred against her neck.

Victor’s body shifted and she could hear the zipper of his pants and the jingle of belt. Suddenly her apprehension turned to something she didn’t expect – excitement. He was really going to fuck her in this alley and the knowledge left her both thrilled and frightened.

Her stomach clenched when she felt his mouth on her bottom, his tongue seeking gratification. She pressed her palms against the cold stone and instinctively pushed her rear-end out to him, wanting his tongue inside of her.

“That’s it, give into me…” he moaned out as he licked the crack of her ass and briefly dipped his tongue into her anus.

This…Yes, this delicious thing he was doing… Elsa mewled with delight with each thrust of his tongue into that forbidden place. It had been so long since she felt the pleasure of this sinful thing. She accepted his mouth and drowned out the sounds of people walking by only feet away and focused on the wet, sucking sounds coming from his mouth on her ass. It was only the two of them she repeated over and over. She had to convince herself of it or else she couldn’t go through with Victor’s game plan.

Abruptly standing up, she felt Victor’s wet fingers poke into her rectum – first one, then two inserted gently. His movements stilled when she contracted down onto his digits and he waited until she relaxed. Slowly, centimeter-by-centimeter, he worked them in and out of her as his mouth descended once more on her neck.

He began to suck and gnaw so fiercely, it was all she could do not to scream. The exquisite pain was so overwhelming, but felt so damned good. As she eased into his rhythm, the head of his warm shaft was felt near her ass. Steadily, he pushed in.

“God damn, Elsa…” he murmured.

God damn was right. No one existed in that moment; it was just the two of them fucking in the shadows of that dingy, smelly alley. With each penetration, he pushed deeper until she felt his balls hit her pussy.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, Victor drew her to him and buried his face in her hair which was now damp with sweat and hiding her eyes.

“The next breath you take, you’ll be you screaming for me to allow your release. I may or may not give you my consent. It all depends on how freely you let those beautiful tears of yours flow. So if you want to come… cry for me, Elsa.”

Nothing about this man was sublime. He was intense, irrational, passionate and uncompromising, and Elsa couldn’t get enough. Snaking his hand from her belly down to her pussy, he thrust his two middle fingers into her as he continued to pump into her ass unrelentingly. He tugged at her vagina’s inner wall making her bite her lip so hard, she tasted her own blood. He wanted her tears… but why? What was it about her tears that aroused him?

“Don’t make me ask again,” he growled low and deep as he bit into the nape of her neck.

The throbbing in her neck was severe enough it drowned out the pleasure in her bottom. He dug his fingers deeper into her sex and thrust balls deep into her ass as the pain and pleasure fought against one another to overtake her.

Her lower belly began to pulsate and her loins heated to an unbearable temperature. She was close. Rising on her tip toes ready to come, Victor’s hand stilled as he clutched at her pussy harshly.

“Tears, Elsa. I don’t see them.”

Her body began to quiver and she tried to force the tears to come, but it was no use. “I want to come, please make me come…” she panted out as she ground her ass back onto his pulsating shaft.

She thrashed her head back and forth and began to whimper with need.

“You’re so close, I can feel it. Just cry for me… give me your tears…”

Victor’s usually demanding voice was all at once unfamiliar and different – vulnerable and desperate.

“Don’t deny me, Elsa. Give them to me…” he whispered in her ear.

He thrust his fingers into her again to give her release and the devastating sound of his husky voice crushed her. His desire was a like a drug, lulling her to euphoria and she turned her head to look at him.

“Yes, Victor,” she nearly sobbed at the sight of his black eyes dazzling with fury and yearning.

Wanting nothing more than to give him what he wanted, she conjured the worst of her memories. Dredging up each time her heart had been broken and how desolate she felt every time a lover told her goodbye, the tears began to stream down her flushed cheeks. This time they had come freely and with no anger behind them, and she didn’t feel wrong about having done it. The reward for her tears was sweeter than she could’ve ever imagined when she saw elation in his normally tortured eyes. This man, Victor Laurenzo, had opened up something within her and had dragged her to the dark side to show her what her body was made for – him.

A satisfied smile graced his rugged and magnificent face and he plunged one last time into her. Grunting loudly, his cock twitched and she felt his warm release. He remained inside of her as he continued to finger her until her climax came only a few short moments later. He quickly withdrew from her and spun her around to kiss each of her eyes and swipe away her tears with his thumbs.

The last of her orgasm slowly subsided, leaving her in a weakened state and Victor held her steady as he stared down into her eyes, imploring her for some unknown thing.

“Has anyone ever told you how beautiful you look when you cry?” She shook her head no, still too fatigued to speak. “Then I’m happy to be the first.”

12: Layers

Feeling weary, Elsa collapsed onto the chaise as soon they arrived back at the brownstone leaving Victor to carry her up to the master suite and undress her. He was momentarily reminded of having to care for his mother while he cleaned her up as she slept, though this was by far more pleasurable.

As Eight slept, he reached for the key around his neck only to find it missing. He shot her an accusing look as he stood glaring down at her. His jaw clenched at the thought of her going behind his back and snooping into things that were none of her fucking business. But he would’ve read deception on her face. Wouldn’t he have? He casually looked around the room thinking perhaps it had come off during their violent exchange that morning. Something glinted against the overhead bedroom light next to the chair and there it sat – the skeleton key on a chain. He sighed with relief. He was glad to not have to dole out any more punishment.

He placed it back around his neck and tucked her in, pecking her on the forehead before he went into spare room to journal his thoughts. Once in there, he decided against watching the video footage of Eight’s torment. It was still plenty vivid in his memory, so there was no need. He reached for his briefcase and noticed the latch open. He stared at it for a moment trying to remember if he had left it like that. He blinked several times and looked around the room to see if anything was out of place. It all looked as he had left it and he shook his head. He was getting paranoid in his old age.

Resting his legs on the desk, he leaned the chair back and began penning his feelings.

Rules were broken tonight, my rules for myself to be specific. I suppose it was an experiment not only for you, but me. Being with a subject in an uncontrolled environment is a new twist in the game. But change is good, not only for you Eight, but for me as well. It keeps me on my toes and my mind alert.

You were well-behaved while we were out, though I expected no less from you. I’ve seen you interact in public before and other than the first time you nearly slapped your uninvited guest, you’ve always exuded professionalism. But it’s behind closed doors and in the shadows where you really shine. That’s where you let your true self out.

My, God, those tears… I almost wish you hadn’t given me what I asked for. Almost . But you did and they were nothing less than spectacular. And real. What I wouldn’t give to know what you were feeling that made them flow so flawlessly – what memory you recalled to satiate my sick hunger for them. It wasn’t I who caused them this time – no pain or punishment handed out, no harsh or cruel words to make it happen, yet they came effortlessly.

My feelings are mixed. An emotion I haven’t felt since the Chapter I do not speak of made its way into my psyche – hope. But hope for what? I am not young and easily manipulated anymore. Hope is for fools and I am no fool, nor will I be made into one by the mere presence of your fucking tears. I enjoy the torment I cause too much for that to happen. Not always, but often enough to know that I crave absolute power in a way that defines who I am.

Yet tonight... when you gave them freely it was a different kind of control I experienced. I have dominated my partners before, Peach, let me be clear about that, but your submission tonight was… I’m still unable to find the words to describe it. Those God damned tears have clouded my thoughts.

I must focus harder than I’ve had to before when I’m with you. My game plan is still to test your limits to make you into someone stronger. Your heart-felt willingness will not deter me and neither will your soul crushing tears.

My usual methods of breaking a subject are proving of no value with you and for that reason I must now adopt a different stance in order achieve my goal. I must push you harder until you break. But I will break you with words and use actions only when necessary. It only seems appropriate, no? Sweet words for a juicy, sweet peach.

***

Elsa woke to the sun shining through the bedroom window and the heat of Mr. Black’s body enveloping her. He had stayed the night and slept next to her. Just thinking about it made her heart swell with familiar, but unwanted emotions.

With sleep still in her eyes, Mr. Black rolled over and gathered her in his arms. No words were spoken as he leaned down onto her and eased his morning wood between her legs. Elsa loved morning sex. She could think of no better way to begin her day than with Mr. Black inside of her and staring down at her as he fucked her slowly. This was the real man behind the designation of Mr. Black: the unpretentious and peaceful Victor Laurenzo. Their limbs twisted and intertwined under the sheets and she arched her back, letting out a satisfied sigh as he pushed deep inside of her.

“Mr. Black,” she moaned.

He whispered into her half-open mouth, “Call me by my real name.”

The new light of day had barely touched her eyes and she was already grinning. “Victor.”

If only it could be this good every moment with him.

In the post morning bliss, Victor fell back to sleep, giving Elsa the opportunity to study him more closely. Propping herself up on one elbow, she burned into her memory all of his facial features: the dark stubble covering his face, the small mole on his right cheek, his thick eyebrows and long lashes, and all the other little nuances that were unique only to him. She leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, unable to resist his firm, red lips that were only centimeters away. He stirred and his mouth twitched in response.

She touched a long, deep scar that stretched from the underside of his chin to his jawbone and was camouflaged by his unshaven face. She ran the tip of her index finger along the angular shape of it. When she did, his eyes fluttered open and came into focus, the sun glinting off his green irises.

Paying no mind to him, she continued on her quest to learn him, her eyes roaming endlessly over his handsome face.

“You’re wasting your time,” Victor said softly.

She knitted her brows together, unsure what he was referring to.

“Trying to figure me out,” he explained. “I can’t be easily labeled like all the rest of your lovers.”

None of Elsa’s lovers were easily classified and she shook her head to his egotistical response. “You’re an egomaniac.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a discreet smile. “And your opinion is subjective,” she continued, causing his smile to show itself fully. “I like this man,” she dared to confess.

“And which man would that be?” Victor pulled his head back to scan her face.

“Victor Laurenzo.”

He quirked a brow at her, “As opposed to Mr. Black?”

“Yes. Mr. Black is erratic and capricious.”

He rolled onto his back and grabbed his stomach as he belted out a loud laugh. “I’ll let him know you feel that way,” he said in between laughs.

She widened her eyes exaggeratedly and shook her head. “I’d rather you didn’t. He might not take kindly to my criticism.”

Rolling onto his side, he pushed her hair away from her eyes. “No, he might not, so it’ll be our little secret.”

She couldn’t help but feel like their kidding wasn’t entirely lighthearted. Mr. Black wasn’t a man to be fucked with and yet, he was the same person as Victor Laurenzo. Or was he? Was his personality split real or imagined? She didn’t know him well enough to have that much figured out and she was too terrified of what might happen if she asked.

Victor rose from the bed and grabbed her hand, dragging her into the shower with him. They washed each other and it was as if Mr. Black no longer existed. But she knew better. She could see him hiding behind Victor’s captivating eyes and hypnotic smile. Yes, he was there, waiting until the moment she fucked up so he could dole out his punishment.

As Victor began to finger her, she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the caution signs that were popping up in her subconscious.

Lowering himself onto his knees, she propped a foot onto his shoulder as he buried his face in her pussy. She grazed her nails against his scalp and he groaned, making her knees go weak. He looked up at her as his tongue made lazy circles around her clit. She wiped her eyes to get a better view and when their eyes met, they shared an intense physical awareness of each other. God, she hoped this moment of passion was real and not part of his game.

She threw her head back as her climax began to wash over her.

She reminded herself that Mr. Black was ever present and asked, “May I come?”

Victor’s brows drew together as if confused and Elsa inwardly smiled. She truly loved the look of surprise on his face when she did something he wasn’t expecting.

*

Sunday afternoon blew by like a summer breeze, warm and friendly. Victor remained attentive and kind, always watching her and in some way, touching her. They cooked lunch side by side with what little bit of food was in the house, and worked together in unison as if they had been doing it for years.

Seated at the bistro table, they ate in silence as Victor read something. She assumed it was work related, but never asked. The key around his neck was teasing her and his briefcase that sat nearby was taunting her. She could see the edge of his journal peeking out, setting her nerves on edge. She wanted to read what else he had written about her. If he would just excuse himself to the restroom… or leave to have a cigarette… or…

“What’s going on that head of yours, Elsa?”

His voice interrupted her thoughts. She shrugged, embarrassed at herself for obsessing over his damned diary.

“Does my little Peach want a fuck?” he winked.

Her eyes darted up to his. What a ridiculous question. Of course she wanted a fuck. Always. There was no need to ask. She eagerly nodded her head.

“I’ll see if I can accommodate you. First, I need to run down the street and get some cigarettes. Be ready for me when I get back.”

He rose and moved toward the door and her pulse skittered. Not because of the upcoming fuck, but because she could sneak a peek into his private thoughts. Just as he reached the door, she reached for his briefcase but Victor spun on his heel and strode back.

“Forgot my wallet.”

Elsa’s throat tightened at almost getting caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She needed to pull herself together and relax. She plastered on her best fake smile and he was none the wiser. When she heard the front door latch, she bolted to the bay window to see him walking leisurely in the direction of a small tobacco shop.

When he was just out of view, she tore into his briefcase and opened his journal to a random page.

Chapter 7

Weekend 5:

Another pointless two days have come and gone. Will you ever learn? Your childish antics have driven me to the point of no return and no amount of penalties seem to motivate you to follow my rules. Five fucking weeks have been wasted on you – five weeks that could’ve been better spent on a more worthy test subject – five weeks that should’ve been spent working on the Cambridge case. I’m disgusted just thinking about the hours spent and the energy put into you for absolutely fucking nothing in return other than your grating on my nerves.

I’m dwelling. It’s time to be done with this. One last round of castigation will be delivered for the hours you have cost me and then I will move on to the next Chapter. What shall your final farewell reprisal be? I must think on it. Something wicked. Something that will leave you reeling and withered under my hand. There’s nothing like leather to get the job done and I do love the smell of it and the sight of welted flesh. Then again, maybe a good old fashioned bit of collar and restraint therapy to bring you to heel – a bit of fun mingled in with your punishment. We shall see. I’m too worn out by your lack of keeping me amused to think right now.

Not even the sex we have is worthy of my time. You’ve failed me miserably, C,7 and I’ve let myself down by not seeing the writing on the wall when I chose you. Your needy, over-dramatic, immature, attention-seeking behaviors are unchangeable and I can’t help you. After this coming weekend, we’re finished.

Elsa sat stunned by the cold words she read and her stomach churned. Whoever Emily was, she had feelings – she was a person who needed love and attention and he blew her off because she hadn’t ‘amused’ him. That had to be Mr. Black writing that journal entry. Elsa laughed out loud, the kind of nervous, weird laugh that came only out of realization that Victor was Mr. Black. Test subject. She reread the words over and over trying to make sense of them. Was she also a ‘test subject’? No, she was more than that. She had to be.

Unable to stop herself, she turned to another random page.