BY HIS COMMAND
#6
His Lust
by
Ana Fawkes
Isabella Grace - hope you still have my money. I’m coming for it. And Him.
Love - K.
It's the first of many text messages Isabella Grace receives from a mysterious person only identified as 'K'.
Jonathan Black treats life as if it's back to normal, running his multi-billionaire dollar empire while dominating and controlling Isabella's moves in and out of the bedroom.
The threats become serious and Isabella is forced to keep her mouth shut about the text messages or else she and Jonathan will be pay the ultimate price... death.
Just as it appears things are settling, Jonathan receives news that a business venture is going to fail unless he can convince a cunning and manipulative banker to help him. It leaves him feeling drawn and more than once Isabella catches him up at night, staring out the window.
She feels isolated and needs Jonathan's touch... and she can't stop thinking about the text messages or the sexy banker. When Jonathan comes to her, needing her help again, she knows it's perhaps her only chance to make everything right again.
Isabella Grace - hope you still have my money. I’m coming for it. And Him.
Love - K.
-1-
In the air, secured in Jonathan Black’s private jet, I still didn’t feel safe. I still didn’t feel comfortable. I continued to read the strange text message, which I had memorized now, hoping the text or the names would change.
The phone had been in the pocket of Jonathan’s father’s coat and that coat had been given to me. Now it hung from the doorknob of a small closet, one filled with plenty of clothing for both Jonathan and myself. My life had become a mystery and thinking about all those mysteries made my head spin. The only thing I was able to count on and seek out was relief through pleasure. When Jonathan commanded me, tested me, and ultimately rewarded me with his mouth and body, I felt okay. The world made sense. My life had purpose.
I felt thankful that Jonathan wasn’t in the room with me right then because as I sat on the edge of the comfortable bed, my hands were shaking, my fingers touching one another, and when I looked in the mirror at myself, I looked like hell. Too much had happened to not think about it.
It wasn’t just the sex or the way Jonathan handcuffed me to a bed, bringing me into a submission that I never experienced before. My ankles and wrists were still tender but only to the touch. My memory, however, was a little more fragile. I couldn’t turn my memory off, no matter what I tried to do.
Jonathan had slept in the car, I didn’t. If he had been awake, he would have felt the phone vibrate... he would have seen the message on the phone. And then what? I feared he would accuse me of knowing who this ‘K’ person was. I couldn’t blame Jonathan if that happened, considering everyone we met wanted to hurt him or flat out kill him. What had I done to actually gain his trust? Being on my back, allowing handcuffs to tighten on my wrists, having a blindfold steal my eyesight, giving Jonathan my body in any way possible... was that enough for Jonathan Black’s trust?
Maybe that was the hardest part of it all - take away the murders, take away his manipulative father who took the fall for a murder, take away the detectives who didn’t seem fully convinced that Jonathan was innocent, and take away this text message from ‘K’. At the end of it all, whether I was handcuffed and just bedded by Jonathan Black, I wanted him.
I wanted the man that existed under it all.
He wore a thick shell. From his business skills to his billionaire status, Jonathan handled himself in a way that caught my eye a long time ago. My obsession with him started from day one and there were times when he would look at me and I could tell his obsession for me existed in the same light.
But here we were, high in the air. Nothing could hurt us there, right?
I swallowed and looked at the closet. My heart jumped a few times and I stood from the bed. It felt dumb to do, but I had to check the closet. The pleasure my body had experienced with Jonathan now shared space with endless paranoia. I waited for the next disaster to strike. Maybe it waited in the closet. Maybe it didn’t.
I opened the closet and a small light automatically turned on. It did so with a gentle click. That instantly sent my mind back to the snowy mountains of Jonathan’s father’s house. That shitty cabin made into an intense wealthy fortress. I had stood in the snow, in the dark, desperate to find Jonathan. Someone touched me, pulled me against them, and threatened myself, Jonathan, our life together. I fought, yes, but did I fight hard enough? Did I do enough to protect what I had with Jonathan?
Jonathan killed for me... what had I done for him?
I closed my eyes and forced the memory away.
When I opened my eyes I found the closet empty of any intruders, as expected. It wasn’t empty of danger though. The sight of Jonathan’s suits, hanging there, and the smell of his cologne, a penetrating scent that didn’t just attack my nose, but made quick work of forcing my body into a sensual rage of desire, made me bend my knees to keep from falling. My body ached for him, my hand gripped the side of the door so tight that it hurt. I could feel myself wanting to thrust my body. When I took breaths, my chest rubbed against my undergarments. They were the most basic, subtle moves, moves that happen all day everyday, but in that moment, they were intensely erotic.
I swallowed and took a shaky breath.
Close the door, Isabella...
I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t get enough of his smell.
In that moment, I was the one in control. Nobody touched me. Nobody commanded. And nobody hurt me. I was back to a place of innocence, where Jonathan was a breathing fantasy. Where I could control everything even though giving up control was part of the fantasy all along.
I wanted to succumb to Jonathan Black, not the world.
I closed the closet door and knew I had to talk to him. I had to face him as I was. He would know what to do and what to say. If anything, just a subtle touch would cure my mind. There was plenty I could accept, and plenty that the world could offer that I could accept, including death. What I couldn’t accept was the idea of Jonathan never touching me again.
As I started to turn the door handle to leave the bedroom, I heard a noise.
I froze and closed my eyes again, refusing it.
No way. No way it’s not possible, at all.
I didn’t want to believe that the cell phone had just gone off again. It had been hours since that first message came through. I ignored it but I also ignored the fact of telling Jonathan about the message too. That I could partly blame on how fast everything moved. When he woke up, we were at the small airport. He ushered me to the plane while ordering the driver, the pilot, and anyone else he could reach. He seemed ten feet tall, and in a strange way, refreshed. He made a phone call on his cell phone, demanded a newspaper and laptop, and made no waste of getting to work. In a quick tender moment, he carried me to the bedroom of the airplane and told me to rest. When he touched my face, I moaned for him, but then his hands went to my wrists and he smiled, reminding me I was still under his command.
No matter what I said to myself, it felt wrong that I didn’t tell Jonathan that someone had texted me from his father’s cell phone. I could only hope that whatever trouble was there had been left far behind. Jonathan’s father was in jail, and two men were murdered, what more needed to happen?
I rushed to the black coat and found the cell phone.
My hands shook as I opened the message.
I th
ought he never left you, Isabella Grace?
I dropped the phone and backed up. I spun around the room once, twice, and then stopped. Nobody was in the room. Maybe someone was on the plane. I looked down at the phone. The screen still lit. A fire raged inside me and I knew I had to answer the message. I had to push back. Threaten. Show Jonathan that my loyalty was for him and that he could trust me.
I typed on the phone with determination in my body.
He never leaves me. He’s with me now. Who are you?
The message came back simple.
K
I already knew that, but I wanted to know who ‘K’ actually was.
I touched the screen to write back but another message came through.
How many more people have to die before you listen, Isabella Grace?
The phone almost fell from my hands again.
Was this person trying to blame me? For the death of Oliver Rush and Peter Cresh? That wasn’t my fault... those two men were after Jonathan Black long before me. They sought revenge financially and in other ways. If anything, I helped to delay what could have been Jonathan’s morbid fate.
Unless...
I’m the honest one here.
That text rattled me.
I refused to reply to the text messages, regretting that I had done so already. The phone went back into the pocket of John Black’s coat and I stepped back. I hated the coat and couldn’t believe Jonathan let me keep it this long.
That’s when a thought hit me.
I blamed the phone, the text message, the person at the other end of it. They knew what they were saying because they already knew too much. I felt like I was trapped between my weary mind and my desperate body.
This time I was leaving the room no matter what.
I opened the door and stopped, on purpose, letting the thought strike at me again.
It hurt me to think it, but I had to do it. I had to think it. I had to explore it. I had to figure this all out...
What exactly did Jonathan Black want me for?
-2-
He sat with one leg crossed on top of the other. A laptop on his lap, another one next to him on a small table, his cell phone next to that. His fingers gently tapped the keys as he stared out the small window. There was nothing to see this high in the air other than pockets of large clouds, hazy blue sky, and maybe the occasional small dot of another airplane on its own journey.
His face was still beautiful, a man with a sense of trouble, and his structured good looks were too much to ignore, and to resist.
I stepped to him and looked at the papers scattered next to him. Numbers were everywhere, a numeric language that I didn’t understand but I’m sure Jonathan did.
“Real estate investments,” he said and then rubbed his chin.
“I’m sorry?”
“The financials,” he said. “They’re some of my real estate investments. I require monthly reports to monitor them. Usually just basic reports but I’m in the mood for details. I want to know everything I can about what I’m involved in.”
I swallowed. Sometimes he spoke so cryptic, it was like he knew what my mind was thinking.
Jonathan finally looked at me, a welcoming relief to my body. My heart pounded in my chest and I opened my mouth to talk but I could only breathe.
What could I say to him?
How could I say anything?
He witnessed his father being handcuffed after learning his father set him up to be murdered. He witnessed the closest I’ve ever come to death and had to make a split decision to do something about it.
“Your eyes are on fire,” Jonathan said. “There’s enough weight in them to pull this plane to the ground.”
“Would that be so bad?” I asked.
“You want my plane to crash, Isabella?”
“No, not crash. But if we just landed wherever and made it our own.”
“That’s charming,” Jonathan said. “Still have a touch of that innocence about you, don’t you?”
I tried to smile.
Jonathan beat me to it, smiling first. “Don’t worry, there will be no innocence for you, Isabella Grace.”
“Mr. Black...”
“See, I like to know everything,” Jonathan said as he reached for the papers next to him. “It’s not just the fact of looking at these documents and understanding. It’s my knowing that the knowledge I need is available when I need it. And if it’s not... that I don’t know everything I want to know...” Jonathan took two sheets of paper and tore them slowly. He opened his hands and let them fall, then wiped his hands. “Then I get rid of it.”
I don’t know why but a wave of terror came over me then. Seeing Jonathan so calm and collected all the time had grown on me, but this, this was something different. His defense wasn’t up, it was broken and replaced with the cold steel stare of his eyes. He spoke at me, about me, and consumed me, all in one sentence and one action.
“I hope you understand what I’m telling you,” he said, and smiling again.
“Yes, I do,” I whispered. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”
“Hardly bothering me,” Jonathan said. “I’ve made my phone calls, sold a couple defunct properties, and rescheduled a banking meeting. I’m tired of old assets, of value depreciating at a rate that sickens me, Isabella. I want something that stands strong, firm, and can focus beyond the ripples of time.”
Jonathan reached for more papers and his cell phone screen lit up. He lifted the phone, laughed to himself, and placed it back down.
“They’re not happy with me, Isabella.”
My mind thought of ‘K’. The text messages.
How many people have to die...
“Who’s not happy?” I asked. I may have been pushing the boundaries speaking like that, but the emotions still swirled in my head. I couldn’t stop them, or myself.
“The world,” Jonathan said.
He moved his laptop off his lap and slowly stood. Without his suit jacket on, his dark grey button down shirt pulled against his shoulders in a way that made him a living wet dream for my eyes. A black tie hung loose from his neck, tempting me as I wanted to just grab the tie and pull him to me.
“The world, Isabella,” Jonathan said. “The world is mad at me. Why? Because I’m smarter. Faster. Stronger. And I’m more capable than anyone else... isn’t that right?”
I nodded.
Nobody could ever come near my body and pleasure me the way Jonathan did. Nobody ever would either. The thought of another’s touch made me shiver. That couldn’t happen. It had to be Jonathan, always.
“Oh, my Isabella Grace,” he said, stepping towards me.
His left hand touched my face and held it. His right hand touched my neck. A non-threatening move but I still felt my heart speeding up. The potential of Jonathan meant so much to me, keeping me on my toes, sometimes literally. His hand moved down my neck towards my chest. He touched me but not in a sexual way. His hand opened wide, his fingers feeling like he could hold my entire body. The palm of his hand pressed hard to my chest.
Then we were frozen.
Standing.
In silence.
Together.
“See? I can feel it.”
“My heart?” I asked.
“Your life,” Jonathan said. “Beating. Calling me. Tempting me. It’s a forever kind of feeling inside me, Isabella. And I will never let anything do you harm. I will do whatever I have to...”
“I believe you, Mr. Black,” I said. “I’ve seen it.”
“Then why do your eyes look guilty?”
Wow, such a loaded question. The billionaire could see through any cloak I dared to dangle in front of his sexy eyes and perfect face.
“It’s me,” I whispered. “Me... I keep seeing myself...”
“What do you see, Isabella Grace? I need to know.”
I was suddenly back in the cabin. In Jonathan’s father’s little fortress.
“On the bed,” I said. “All those handcuffs.”
>
“Oh, Isabella, they were just part of our relationship. You didn’t listen and you were punished. You couldn’t move.”
“They saw me,” I said. “In such a position...”
“Don’t forget,” Jonathan said, “one set of those eyes is dead. And another is sitting being bars, reflecting on all he has done. He may shut his eyes, Isabella, and he may force his memory to bring those images to life, but it won’t work. It won’t happen.”
I felt a little ease pulling from my chest. I blinked and felt as though I were protected.
I was.
Jonathan had stepped back and took me with him. He sat down and his hands were at my hips, pulling me towards him, so I could spread my legs and climb on top of him. I tried to be careful of his paperwork and his laptops but Jonathan had not a single care. He swatted at the laptop, letting it fall to the floor. The papers were a mess and scattered but his eyes didn’t leave me.
“Your worry,” Jonathan said, “gives me desire. Your body doesn’t feel safe and secure, does it?”
I didn’t respond.
I didn’t need to.
Jonathan’s hands were at the bottom of my shirt. He curled his fingers and held tight. Slowly, he lifted my shirt and I put my hands up. The cloth slid off me and he placed it gently next to him. His fingertips then touched my neck again. I watched his eyes open wide at the sight of my breasts as they pushed against my bra. I’m not one to think highly of my body but the way Jonathan stared at my chest, it made my body ache for him. He made me feel perfect and beautiful.
And I wasn’t topless.
Yet.
His fingers moved down my chest to the top of my bra. Then using just his middle fingers, he ran along the line of my bra, following it up to my shoulders. There, his strong hands squeezed and pulled, forcing me closer to him.
I felt his breath before I felt his tongue. He kissed and flicked his tongue, between my breasts. I put my head back and moaned, my hands gripping the top of the seat. I could dig my nails and take out any personal frustrations I felt as Jonathan tasted my body.
He made a horizontal line of small kisses across my chest. His fingers moved to my bra straps and started to push them. The movement was slow, effective, and erotic. I knew he could have just unsnapped by bra but what would be the fun in that? Jonathan enjoyed drawing things out and I couldn’t blame him at that point.
His Lust (By His Command #6) (billionaire domination / erotic romance) Page 1
