His Passion (By His Command #4) (3 page)

I started to groan.

Louder by the second.

Jonathan’s grip became a vice but it didn’t
matter. I was winning this battle because my body couldn’t contain
itself. Each time I groaned, my sex throbbed, squeezing tighter,
leaving Jonathan’s face looked like he was going to lose
himself.

The voices then started to fade. The people
were walking down the hall. Jonathan turned back towards me and
exhaled.

“Fuck, this is fun,” he said. “Oh, Isabella
Grace, I wish you could see yourself. Feel yourself. Tied up and
perfect. Under my command… I’m going to fill you now.”

“Yes,
Mr. Black
,” I replied,
remembering my direct order.

That set Jonathan off.

His hand moved from my mouth and took its
place back at my hip. He lifted me off the floor and held me, so I
had to grasp the railing. I knew I had nowhere to go thanks to the
tie job he’d done with my hands but it was my reaction. I wiggled
my toes and pointed my shoes down but still couldn’t feel the
ground.

What I did feel was the immense pressure of
Jonathan inside me. Without my feet on the ground it just added to
the pressure in my body, leaving me dangling in more than one way.
I ached for him as he fucked me. I came again for him, leaking and
pulsing. All I wanted was him to fill me, just as he said he would.
The connection between us grew by the second, starting with lust
then sex then domination then murder… and now back to the first
three. It was a cycle I hoped would be endless. To see how far
Jonathan could push me. To see how far he would push himself. I
could do without the murder, but if this is what it got me…

Jonathan started to grunt louder, his
thrusts turning into violent pumps that I accepted. Each hit
forward came with slight pain. My muscles and legs started to feel
sore. My feet tingled, wanting to touch ground. His speed grew more
and more too, his hands tighter. He was ready to have me and at the
last second, he put my feet back on the ground. That allowed me to
quickly pump back at him, tightening my tender slit around his
shaft, pulling and forcing the orgasm from him.

As he came, he pumped harder than ever,
bucking and lifting me with each throbbing fill. His hands came to
my lower back and he pressed, up on his toes, slowing his thrusts,
using my pussy to milk himself. I felt the defined head of his
erection rubbing against me so hard and so tight, the last few
droplets of his release entering me.

Then as fast as it all began, it ended.

Jonathan pulled from me and picked up his
pants. He cleaned himself up nicely before tending to me. I thought
he would untie me, but being the dominate gentleman he was, he
lifted my panties up. When his fingers could touch me, he did,
rubbing the creamy mess of our public sex all around, then smearing
it up along my backside, moving between me, touching my other
tender hole. He was gone again, this time to lift my pants.

From there, he stepped down the steps to
face me, holding my face in his hand once again.

“You’re just perfect,” he said. “You make
everything right. The wrong keeps coming to us, doesn’t it,
Isabella? But we handle it, together. They’ll find our message,
won’t they?”

I nodded. I pictured the bloody corpse of
Oliver Rush and shivered.

“They’ll find it,” Jonathan said. “The rest
of the world will know. You belong to me, under my control. Nothing
will stop that.”

“Of course not,” I said.

Jonathan came forward and kissed my lips.
Once. He then lifted his head so our noses touched. Then, with the
smallest of spaces between us, he reached down and started to untie
the blood red silk cloth from my hands.

“We’re on the move again,” he whispered.

“I figured that.”

“We have to go back to go forward. Do you
understand that?”

“I don’t know.”

Jonathan half smiled. My hands were free so
I stood up and started to buckle my pants. His hands clamped on my
wrist a second later, causing me to jump. I knew it was Jonathan
but even still, I looked up the steps, half expecting to see
someone standing there. Waiting for us. To kill us. To lock us
up.

The steps were empty.

“We have to go now,” Jonathan said.

He took the steps and I followed, trying to
keep my balance, but each step I took I could feel the wetness
between my legs rubbing, a second by second reminder of the sexual
ability of the sexy billionaire taking me along for another one of
his adventures.

At the bottom of the steps, in the basement,
which would also serve as a private parking garage, Jonathan put
his hand to the door and stopped. He turned and pulled me in close,
letting our bodies touch. We stood in silence for a few seconds, my
breathing heavy, his calm.

“Don’t trust him,” Jonathan said. “Promise
me.”

“Trust who?”

“Trust me,” Jonathan said. “Always.”

“Of course,” I said. “Always, Mr.
Black.”

“Good. Just don’t trust him.”

I opened my mouth and Jonathan shook his
head.

I didn’t speak, I waited.

Jonathan pushed on the door and it
opened.

“And we’re off,” he said. His grip on my
hand tightened. With a growl and hate in his voice, he added,
“to see my father…”

-4-

As I sat in the backseat of yet another
black vehicle, this one a small, sleek car, I realized that a good
portion of Jonathan’s life must have been spent traveling. In the
calm roar of the engine, I was able to finally take a moment to
relax and assess myself, Jonathan, and our situation.

The driver of the car was a built man, with
a thick neck, wide shoulders, tattoos on his knuckles. The font was
thick and I wasn’t able to read what was written. He stared ahead,
focused on the road and nothing else.

I wanted to ask Jonathan about our
destination but my memory held tight to the sound of his voice when
he spoke before. About his father. I could understand the contempt
for a father and I hoped I would have the chance to understand
Jonathan’s story and even share mine. There were so many ways for
us to become connected, to continue to tie our souls and needs
together over and over, making it impossible to get away from each
other.

Jonathan had his left elbow on the door with
his chin resting on his open hand. His fingers rubbed his cheek.
The powerful man was deep in thought, and I knew better than to
bother him. And why would I? The sight of Jonathan like this made
my body and heart go wild. Nobody could ever compare. Even his
fingers were defined in their own way… his long fingers, slightly
curled, a small vein running in each one, showing the potential of
his strength without speaking about it.

I thought about what it must be like to be a
man like Jonathan Black. Traveling the world, managing his
multi-billion dollar operation. In constant control, working along
a variety of fields and investments, all with the purpose of
creating himself more wealth. A billionaire’s passion. As long as I
was included in that passion, I would go to the end of the world
and back.

And perhaps that’s right where I was
headed.

Jonathan’s right hand moved towards me,
climbing over my hand and going to my leg. He squeezed and
continued until his fingers were between my legs, touching me. As
his fingers pressed, my body reacted, wishing we were alone and
that I was naked.

“I won’t lie to you,” he said, still staring
out the window. “I promise you that, Isabella Grace. But I need
your trust.”

“You have it,” I said. “I swear.”

“You trust my decisions?”

I paused. I realized my hesitation and what
it could imply then quickly tried to save myself. “Yes, Mr. Black,
yes.”

My mind flashed the image of Oliver Rush,
dead on the hotel floor. Did he really need to be murdered? Was
death a necessity in that situation?

Perhaps.

Jonathan turned his head and looked at me.
He looked as powerful as ever, his head slightly tilted back, his
eyes staring straight at me. He made me feel like nothing else in
the world existed or mattered.

“Tell my driver to stop,” he said.

“What…”

“Tell the driver to stop the fucking
car.”

His voice was smooth and yet cold. His hand
was still between my legs. I shivered.

I looked at the driver and said, “Excuse me,
we need to stop. Here.”

The driver ignored me. His hands were tight
on the steering wheel.

“He didn’t stop,” Jonathan said.

“Excuse me, sir?” I called out.

“That won’t work.”

I looked at Jonathan then back to the
driver. When I glanced out the windshield I realized two things.
First, there were no lights around us. None at all. Second, the
headlights on the car weren’t turned on. The driver drove into
pitch black. Into nothing… but everything could be waiting.

“Stop the car,” I said.

“Come on, Isabella Grace,” Jonathan said.
“Where’s your voice?”

Seeing nothing but now we were moving
started to scare me. I reached out and touched the man’s
shoulder.

“Hey! Stop the car.”

It was the meanest voice I could manage.

The man looked into the rearview mirror and
half smiled.

Jonathan leaned towards me and using his
other hand, he took my right hand and started to make a fist. His
lips were at my ear, teasing me, making me melt.

“Isabella, I want you to hit him. In the
face. As hard as you can.”

I swallowed and tried to look at Jonathan
but he was too close for me to do that. I knew by his tone – and
the words themselves – he was serious.

“Hit him,” Jonathan said with a growl. “Hit
him in his fucking face for not listening to you, to me, to
us.”

“Yes, Mr. Black,” I said.

His hand left my fist and I blinked a few
times. I couldn’t remember if I had ever actually hit someone
before. I know I had catfights in school, just as any girl would
have, but this was me being commanded to punch someone driving. He
was driving us away from a crime scene that we caused.

And I had to punch him.

The driver continued to ignore me and
Jonathan backed away a little, but remained close enough so I could
sense and smell him.

He really wanted me to do this.

“You have to stop,” I said, hoping to give a
warning. “If not, I’m going to hit you.”

The driver didn’t respond or flinch.

Fine. I had to do this, right now.

My hand started to shake but I began to
think about the circumstances around us. Where would we be right
now if it wasn’t for Oliver Rush? The touching. The murder. The way
my life changed in a second. With the stare of Jonathan Black’s
eyes. With the stab of his hand.

I swung.

My fist connected with the side of the
driver’s cheek. My hand instantly exploded into pain. I cried out
but kept my eyes on the driver, watching as his head snapped to the
side but then right back in place.

The car came to a screeching halt and he
turned to look at me with the rage of a true killer in his eyes. He
looked so angry and so mean, I felt – even for a second – that
Jonathan couldn’t protect me.

“Are we here?” Jonathan asked in his calm
voice.

“Yes,” the driver said.

His cheek was red and his eyes didn’t leave
me. He flicked the switch for the headlights and when they
illuminated I saw we were just feet away from an airplane.

I gasped and looked at Jonathan.

“What…”

“Here, let me see,” Jonathan said. He
reached for my hand. He held it in his hand, his thumb rubbing
along my now red knuckles. He looked into my eyes. “You did so
great. So beautiful. Perfect.”

“You need me to punch someone else?” I asked
with a flirty smile.

“Probably,” he replied.

Jonathan pulled my hand to his lips and
kissed it.

He then opened the door to the car and
ushered me out. We walked towards the private jet and the feeling
of being watched came over me again. I looked over my shoulder and
saw the driver of the car staring at me, touching his cheek. He
smiled but there was nothing kind about it.

We boarded the plane and I couldn’t wait to
get the hell out of the state… maybe it would take the feeling of
being watched away.

Maybe.

-5-

Jonathan demanded we sleep since we were
safe up in the air.

That’s exactly how he worded it too, making
it impossible to fall asleep comfortably.

He hadn’t acknowledged the idea of us being
in trouble, getting in trouble, or doing anything wrong. He kept
his arms tight around me, holding me to his body. I hated the
position we were in so I managed to roll to my other side, facing
Jonathan.

His eyes were open and lost in thought.

Was this how this man relaxed? Did he ever
stop thinking? Working?

“I won’t sleep until you’re asleep,” he
whispered. “Protection.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Mr. Black.”

“Good girl,” he said. He came forward and
kissed my forehead. “My beautiful Isabella Grace.”

When he said my name, it created a blanket
of peace around me. I left my eyes stared at him for a few more
seconds, taking it all in, and then I closed my eyes.

We were on the run. We were murderers. We
were together.

Every second of our lives ticked down
towards death, like everyone else, but for us, it seemed to tick
louder and perhaps even a little faster.

Asleep, I was in the arms of billionaire
Jonathan Black, and for all I cared, death could come get me right
then and there.

But it didn’t.

I woke to something touching my face. I
recognized it as fingers. Caressing my cheek, down to my neck,
around and up to my chin. The fingers along my jaw, back to my
cheek, repeating the same motion. I felt my eyes flutter but tried
to fight it, not wanting to give away that I was awake.