His Passion (By His Command #4)

by Ana W. Fawkes

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  First electronic edition January 2013

  Copyright © 2013 by Ana W. Fawkes at Smashwords

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part of any form.

  BY HIS COMMAND

  #4

  His Passion

  by

  Ana Fawkes

  With his hand tight around Isabella Grace's hand, Jonathan Black leads her down another path in her life. One that challenges her body and mind, sexually. One that feels so good. And one that is definitely wrong… and murderous.

  Their world now involves handcuffs, blindfolds, and running from the potential loss of freedom, which takes Isabella and billionaire Mr. Black to a place they both never thought possible. Once in the company of Jonathan Black's rich and brooding father, she feels scared, even with the comfort and domination of Jonathan.

  She cannot shake the feeling of being watched... by someone other than Jonathan Black and his father. But who?

  -1-

  From the moment Jonathan Black took my wrist and pulled me from the hotel room, I felt watched, followed, and guilty. I didn’t want to look back as we left the room, but I did. How could I not? In that hotel room lay the dead body of a man I helped murder. Granted, I did not put the knife into Oliver Rush, nor did I twist it or pull it out, but I helped. I lured him to the hotel, knowing Jonathan Black’s evil intentions.

  The door shut and when it made that final click – locked – a thought crashed into me.

  Good for him.

  I couldn’t believe I thought that, but as I watched how fast and honestly Jonathan Black worked right then (and since I had met him back at the elevators of his company) I knew that Jonathan was the toughest, smartest, richest, and sexiest of any man I had met or would meet.

  Plus, Oliver Rush tried to attack me. He caught me in a vulnerable place and put a horrific memory in my mind that ultimately ended with his death.

  But that wasn’t the reason why Jonathan Black pulled me down the hall, darting left towards a back set of stairs in the hotel.

  Someone would eventually find Oliver Rush’s dead body and I was certain by then everything would have been covered up on Jonathan’s end, if it already wasn’t.

  This new speed, this sense of panic – and hate – came because I answered Jonathan Black’s cell phone. It had been ringing non-stop for a day straight and finally, I answered it.

  It was Jonathan Black’s father.

  He warned me that Jonathan was dangerous. He wanted me to leave, right away, and forget all I knew. He blatantly told me to take the memories of pleasure and consider myself lucky that I had such a warning. Finally, he told me that if I didn’t leave, I’d end up dead too. These were things I hadn’t shared with Jonathan yet, unsure how to actually say it.

  The words of his father made me shiver… dead too. That implied to me that Jonathan’s father knew about his son’s intentions and perhaps even his actions.

  The question was how?

  -2-

  “Here, stop for a second.”

  Jonathan flicked his wrist and my toes skidded on the hard floor in the stairwell. I was then against the wall, his hands on my hips. His touch, no matter how simple, subtle, or sexual, made my body electrify. I sighed and bent my knees, seeking relief. The entire day into night had been wrapped in so many emotions and yet somehow in the mix of murder and Jonathan’s father stepping into the picture, I looked into Jonathan’s eyes and could only hope he would have my body.

  Right there in the stairwell.

  Have me. Right now.

  “We have to go on now,” Jonathan said. His voice was rough. I wanted to detect a hint of worry, but there was none. The gorgeous billionaire before me wasn’t capable of worry. He was capable of command and control. I needed that.

  “Yes,” I whispered. “Just take me. Wherever.”

  His hand touched my face. He swallowed. For a second I caught a glimmer in his eyes that suggested emotion, care, and perhaps even love. Oh, I would have killed Oliver Rush myself to have Jonathan Black fall in love with me. His stare was that intense, leaving my body drained and turned on at the same time. I expended all my energy just wondering what he thought about.

  His mind – and body – were something beautiful, and even as I stood in the stairwell with Oliver Rush’s dead corpse down the hall in a room, I wanted Jonathan Black. My urge to run and hide didn’t exist anymore. It would only take someone finding Oliver Rush to make this a big problem… a housekeeper coming to change the sheets… a business associate tracking him down… something small that would create something huge.

  We should have been on the run. We should have been scrambling down the stairs, taking them two or three at a time, to a getaway vehicle.

  But we weren’t.

  We stood in the open stairwell and stared at each other. My heart echoed in my chest and my breathing echoed around us.

  He was calm, of course.

  “Oh, Isabella Grace,” he said.

  His mouth came forward and we shared a post murder kiss. His lips were tender but his tongue was aggressive, sending hints that our lust was far from over. If anything, perhaps it had grown more. The man who had tried to put his hands on me was dead. Jonathan had conquered an old enemy… a man that not only tried to harm me but stole money from him. Money, sex, and power. The lifeblood of Jonathan Black.

  Now he had it all again.

  I kissed back at him, my hands curled, my nails digging into the palm of my hands. I wanted to touch Jonathan. I wanted to have him. My body was on fire, but I resisted my urges for his needs. His command would be final, pleasure or not. As long as he touched me, took me with him, looked at me with his dark and dominant eyes, my life could go on.

  His body started to touch mine, offering a thrust on that made me whimper. The sound echoed up and down the steps, carrying for a few seconds before dying out. I could feel the thickness of Jonathan already matched perfectly between my legs. As he started to breathe heavier, the kissing getting hotter, his tongue in my mouth, tasting my lips, his lips closing over mine, opening again to repeat, I started to believe he was going to take me right there against the cold wall in the stairwell.

  He finally broke the kiss and let out a growl. His eyes flickered and he looked enraged enough to kill again. His left hand squeezed hard on my hip while his right hand let go and I watched as he made a fist. Our relationship thus far had no boundaries but as Jonathan wound up with his fist, I wondered just how far no boundaries could go.

  The large fist came forward and all I heard was the loud voice of Jonathan’s father and the concern in the man’s voice as he told me how dangerous Jonathan could be. How I should run – right now! The fist flew past my hair and the thud of Jonathan’s knuckles against stone echoed. The bone crunching sound made me cringe and gasp. I opened my mouth but knew it wasn’t my place to speak right then.

  Jonathan took his hand back and looked at his red knuckle. His middle knuckle had a small cut on it, forming a tiny bit of blood. He used his other hand to wipe the blood away.

  “I want you to have something,” Jonathan said. He reached into the pocket on his jacket and handed me another cell phone. “Keep that safe, just in case something happens. There’s only one number in the phone. Mine. The only one you need.” His hands shot out at me, taking my face in his hands. His eyes were wide and wild. A man fully capable of murder. A
man fully capable of endless pleasure and erotic command. “I’m the only one you need.”

  “I know that,” I said. “I swear to you… Jonathan…”

  “Call me Mr. Black,” he said. “Until I tell you not to.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  The command pouring from him was greater than I’ve ever seen.

  His thumbs gently massaged my face while we remained in silence for a few more seconds. He took deep breaths as though he was inhaling me.

  “I’m memorizing you,” Jonathan said. “I don’t need to, but I want to. You are my purpose now, Isabella Grace, and for that, I have something to do.”

  After moving his hands from my face, he reached back into his jacket. I saw something I wish I didn’t see. I saw Jonathan pulling a gun from his jacket and pointing it at me. I thought about being murdered by the man I had fallen for… with my heart and his command. An attempt at romance came as I pictured Jonathan killing me, and himself, at the same time. Then it would all end together, we would end together.

  But then I realized that would be impossible.

  Jonathan would never relinquish his power that easily. He was a billionaire CEO, a man who could create a global company and then murder a man. A man who had no problem with blindfolding me, handcuffing me, placing me into sexual circumstances that opened me in ways I never thought possible.

  Jonathan Black would not go down that way. If a bullet were to take his life, it would be a bullet by the finger of another person.

  “You’re mine, my sweet Isabella Grace,” he said. His hand slowly came from his pocket. I saw red. A crimson red and a touch of silk. “It’s just so fitting, isn’t it?”

  Jonathan held up a long piece of silk cloth. It reminded me of the cloth he used as a blindfold for me.

  My body instantly shivered with excitement and a touch of fear. I knew then we should have been on the move, putting distance between ourselves and the dead body in the hotel room down the hall.

  But Jonathan Black had other plans.

  “I need you to face the railing,” he said. “I’m going to tie you to the railing so I can go make a phone call.”

  “Your father?” I asked, my eyebrows raising.

  His lip curled and he wrapped the blood red silk cloth around his hand and came at me. I felt his hand, and the silk, against my neck. Non threatening, just commanding.

  “I have no father,” he growled at me. “You don’t know a thing about that man. Or me.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered with a plea.

  I swallowed hard so he could feel it against his fingers.

  “You want to go back with Oliver Rush?” Jonathan asked.

  The question hurt, and I wondered if he was jealous still that Oliver had touched me or if he implied that joining Oliver Rush meant death.

  “I want you,” I said. “Just you. Forever.”

  “That’s the Isabella I want to hear,” he said. His lip was still curled but his hand moved from my neck. Down towards my chest and finally cupping one of my breasts. He squeezed and pushed, groaning.

  “Yes,” I whispered. I bit my lip to keep from crying out. I needed him so bad, inside me, loving me, having me, fucking me.

  “Yes,” Jonathan said. His hand quickly slid behind my back and he pushed me towards the steps. “Put your hands onto the railing.”

  I listened and watched as Jonathan took two steps and then reached to my hands. The silk cloth was long enough to wrap around each of my wrists twice, then around the railing three times, before he finally tied it in a large knot. He didn’t have to ask for me to pull on the knot. I knew the drill by now. Jonathan Black didn’t just tie me up, he made me understand I couldn’t escape.

  “There, there,” he said, coming back up the steps. “Now you’re in place.”

  “I’d wait for you,” I said. “Forever, if I had to.”

  Jonathan growled again. His hand once again went into a pocket. I refused to believe he’d pull a gun on me but my mind flashed the image for a second time. There was no gun but there another piece of cloth.

  Black.

  “Since you’re mouth won’t stop right now,” Jonathan said, and he walked towards me.

  He put the other silk piece of cloth around my mouth and tied it behind my head. I could breathe through my nose and when I did, I could smell him. I could smell Jonathan. His musky cologne and his own unique scent. Something that was lodged into my senses and memory for life, a smell that not only connected my senses and memory but also my body. As the smell flooded up into my nose, I became turned on.

  By the time Jonathan stopped tying the silk cloth around my mouth, I was wet. My body throbbing and aching for him.

  “This will keep you here, and quiet,” he said.

  His hands touched my shoulders.

  “You have to understand,” he said. “My Isabella Grace. You just have to understand.”

  I nodded. I made no noise.

  “Nobody can stop me. Nobody ever will. They can try… oh, they can…” His hand climbed through my hair to my neck and one of his fingers started to draw lines, tickling me but also sending sensations through my entire body. “I’ll kill anyone in my way. In the way of my command, in the way of my heart. And certainly in the way of my money.”

  His right hand gripped my shoulder too tight and I tried to wiggle him away.

  He let out a small laugh and then both of his hands came together, running down my back.

  “Let’s see how quiet you really are,” he said.

  His hands were at my sides. The movements sultry and fast. He went down, one hand cupping my backside and the other reaching around to my front. He lifted my shirt, touching my warm skin. My knees bent and I sighed. His hand on my ass slid down and around, touching between my legs. He pressed with the tips of his fingers hard enough to press my pants into my panties and my panties into myself. My knees bent some more and I thrust back at him, trying to cry out but there wasn’t much of a sound.

  Just the muffled sound of my voice, quickly dying before an echo could be heard.

  “Well then,” Jonathan said. “Looks like you’re all set.”

  His hands were at my sides again as he pressed his body hard to me. I looked over my shoulder and saw the look in his eyes. Something changed. Something was very different. From the moment I met Jonathan Black, he had been calculated and powerful. Now… he appeared a little unstable. Maybe it was the nerves of just murdering a man, maybe it was having me in such a wild position, in public. There were no locks on the door right behind Jonathan. Anyone could open the door and find me tied to the railing with a piece of silk cloth around my mouth.

  I couldn’t understand why we weren’t on the move, putting distance between ourselves and the dead body down the hall. Thinking that way made me shiver. I had to look away from Jonathan because the excitement and ecstasy of his touch quickly started to turn into fear.

  He lifted my shirt up, exposing my lower back. His fingertips ran along my smooth skin and he let out a long sigh.

  “Any other person in the world,” he said, “and it would be easy. But it’s never easy, is it, Isabella Grace?”

  I shook my head, praying it was the answer Jonathan was looking for.

  “It could be a double, couldn’t? Man and woman… caught cheating and they wind up dead. Or perhaps a murder-suicide. Instead, my heart seals itself back together. For you.”

  He leaned down and kissed my lower back. His lips were wet and perfect, sending heat through my body. His second kiss included a little of his tongue. I tried to cry out again and was left with nothing.

  No sound.

  He stopped kissing me and pulled my shirt down.

  “It could have been easy,” he whispered. “But Isabella Grace makes everything hard.” He thrust at me, ramming his point home.

  I understood then what he meant. The easiest decision would have been to kill Oliver Rush and me. He could set it up anyway he wanted it then. He could be on the run, alo
ne. But he didn’t. Knowing perhaps that’s how Jonathan Black’s mind worked scared me but knowing he kept me alive and kept me in his command had some kind of romantic subtext to it.

  “I’m going to make a phone call now,” he said. “Business. Back to normal life.” He laughed. A forced laugh, a laugh that didn’t sound natural for Jonathan. “You’re obviously going to stay here. Stay put.”

  He tapped my ass with his hand and then opened the door. The metal sound of the door was like thunder. It swung shut in silence until the metal clasp caught, hooked, and echoed.

  It was the last sound I heard for a long time… but I felt like I wasn’t alone.

  -3-

  The door opened and I turned my head. I felt my neck twist and an instant pain, knowing I had moved too fast. It didn’t matter to me about the pain, it mattered as to who came through the door. I couldn’t tell whether Jonathan had been gone for a minute or an hour, all I knew was that the moment the door latched shut, my heart pounded. The feeling of being watched, the feeling of not being alone, it blanketed me.

  I knew it was just because of the risky position I found myself in. Tied to a railing with a blood red silk cloth, reminding me of what had occurred with Oliver Rush. When Jonathan Black talked about murder, committed murder, and moved on from it, he did it so cool. As long as I was by his side, I felt okay. Being alone allowed my conscience to enter and my mind conjured up the scenes of television shows and news reports on murderers being caught, tried, and sent to prison for the rest of their lives.

  But a billionaire wouldn’t go to jail, right?

  Then again, I wasn’t a billionaire, only Jonathan was.

  The door was open and it started to shut and I saw nothing. Not a person in sight. The door shut again and remained shut, the click of the lock floating both up and down the open stairs. My eyes were wide, open, my neck throbbing. I couldn’t look away now.