His Urge

by Ana W. Fawkes

  “Mr. Black... I have no power...”

  “Of course you do,” Jonathan barked at me. “You have my father drunk and sleeping, regretting every decision he’s made. Regretting that he knows more than he should. Regretting that he stole the three billion...” Jonathan raised an eyebrow, judging my reaction.

  “In my pocket,” I said and started to point.

  Jonathan grabbed my wrist and pulled. I stumbled towards him, almost falling from the shower. He put my warm, wet hand to his face and his hand tight against my hand. His other hand palmed one of my breasts.

  “Shower,” he said, “because we have plans afterwards. I need you clean before we can get dirty.”

  I nodded, keeping my response internal. My hand shook a little as I touched his face. It was such a different move for Jonathan. Something about being at his father’s house seemed like it wanted to change him. Maybe he was coming to terms with his murderous decision.

  “When you look at me, you see murder,” Jonathan said.

  “No,” I responded.

  “What do you see, Isabella Grace?”

  “Power. Dedication. Sexy...”

  “And I see beauty before me. An innocent beauty that I’m stealing with each breath you and I take. But we’re doing it together, aren’t we? You want all this. You want the fantasy to come to life. The attention, the love... the lust.”

  “From you,” I said.

  Was Jonathan Black in love with me?

  The thought made my heart want to jump from my chest.

  With my free hand, I touched the shower wall, just in case I lost my balance or my body finally gave way. Of all the things we’d done before, this moment had to be the most intense. He wasn’t showing a dominant side. Or a commanding side. Jonathan Black was starting to show emotion.

  He slid my hand down his cheek. I felt the sandpaper stubble on his face and I liked it. It gave him a rough edge, a bad boy look with the slight hint of a five o’clock shadow. The baby faced, clean cut billionaire look was gone, for now at least.

  Jonathan slowly ran each one of my fingers along his lips, not moving his lips, not allowing me to move my fingers. Then he held my hand up so that my fingers were sort of blocking his mouth.

  “Oh Isabella Grace,” he said. His breath tickled my fingers and somehow sent chills up my arm and through my entire body. I felt my nipples harden as though I were in frigid temperatures. “I want to taste all of your body. I want everything you have. Even your power. Your beauty and what you do with it.”

  When Jonathan smirked that time, it scared me. He had the same ravenous look in his eyes when he told me he was going to kill Oliver Rush.

  Jonathan moved my hand from his mouth and placed it just above my breast. At first I thought were going to end up like before, me touching myself with Jonathan savoring the sight of self pleasure.

  But that wasn’t the case now.

  My hand lay flat on my chest, feeling the thuds of my heart. His hand on top of mine. He nodded.

  “I can feel it too,” he whispered. “Together, we’re one.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Mr. Black, yes.”

  With that, he backed away and allowed me to finish my shower.

  I couldn’t quite put my finger on what had just occurred between Jonathan and I but it seemed like he needed me beyond my sexual innocence and undying need for his touch.

  Our relationship had progressed, strangely through a conversation.

  I smiled because it all felt right. The outside world mattered none. I firmly believed that when it was time to leave, we would. Jonathan would have a car or a helicopter come to get us off the snowy mountain.

  Before the peace could settle in too much, Jonathan looked at me with his arms folded again.

  “Isabella Grace, it’s now time... for your punishment.”

  Was it wrong to feel excited?

  -6-

  I turned the water off and stepped from the shower, dripping wet. The bathroom had enough steam in it to trap all the heat so I didn’t mind.

  Jonathan stood before me with an intense look on his face.

  He meant serious business.

  Punishment.

  “I told you to stay here, didn’t I?”

  His voice was deep, oozing with command.

  My body tingled.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t. You insisted on venturing... not just out of the room and not around the inside of the house, but you went outside. In the dark. The cold. Where anything could have been waiting for you, Isabella Grace.” Jonathan’s lip curled and with a growl he repeated, “Anything...”

  I started wondering if he knew what I knew. Did he know more beyond what happened to me outside?

  I swallowed hard and didn’t respond.

  “There’s danger everywhere we go,” he said. “I’ve told you that. People want to hurt me, and us. They want power and control. But they can’t have it. They act vile, ruthless, and let jealousy fill their veins where they wish they could possess what we have, Isabella Grace. And that’s what waits beyond the doors of this house... that’s what waits beyond the door of this bathroom.”

  He paused, letting it hit me.

  Was he speaking of his father? I didn’t want to believe that John Black would do harm to his own son, but then again...

  Jonathan lunged at me and took my wrists into his hands. His face was just inches from me.

  “It’s everywhere,” he whispered. “It’s left me unable to trust, unable to satisfy the hunger for comfort... until I met you. And I want to know why. So I’ll explore your mind, your body, your deepest sexual desires until I know.”

  “Please,” I said. “Please keep going.”

  “But first you must be punished. Now, come with me...”

  He released his grip and turned, heading for the door. To my left I caught sight of the towels, wondering if I could and should grab one. Opening the door allowed a flood of cool air into the bathroom. It attacked my body like a horrible winter chill as it pierced my skin, working down to the bone. Jonathan crossed the threshold and I walked behind him, into the bedroom we’d been in before. It was strange how I had no idea what kind of punishment I was in store for yet my mind could only think about clothes.

  I needed fresh clothing.

  But first, and more important, I needed Jonathan Black.

  He pointed to the bed and said, “On your back, arms and legs spread wide.”

  I shuddered and climbed the bed, still fully naked. For a few seconds, I stayed on my hands and knees, looking to my left to see Jonathan’s reaction. My breasts were thick and hanging, my nipples aching and erect. The moisture on my body glistened, adding to the effect of how I looked. My wet hair was thick and hanging in my face. The curves of my body all worked to one spot...

  “On your fucking back,” Jonathan said.

  His impatience turned me on but I thought about time again. It was counting down by the second.

  I moved to my back, spreading my arms out first. I felt my breasts pulling, resting flat on my chest. I looked down, seeing the bumps of what was still visible, plus my rose nipples as they throbbed for attention. As I opened my legs, it was like peeling them apart. The wetness there had nothing to do with the hot water from the shower. It was pure sexual desire, my sweetness flooding the air of the bedroom. My soft folds opened and I could feel my body already tensing and releasing, desperate for Jonathan’s perfect touch.

  “Now,” he said, “I’m going to show you what I mean when I tell you to stay somewhere.”

  He retrieved a small black bag. He unzipped it and dug inside, knowing exactly what he was looking for.

  When he lifted the first set of handcuffs, I moaned and lifted my lower half. Maybe he’d handcuff me in the front and make me pleasure myself while being handcuffed.

  I couldn’t believe these kinds of thoughts were actually going through my head.

  At sight of the second pair, I thought I knew what he was
going to do.

  Handcuff my wrists to the bed. To show me I should have stayed instead of going outside.

  Before my mind could process any other wild ideas to do with two pairs of handcuffs, Jonathan Black took out two more.

  Four sets...

  He slid a finger into all four and lifted them, showing me my punishment.

  “This is to keep you in one spot,” Jonathan said. “This will help you learn, maybe even save your life.”

  Oh, how Jonathan was right, but neither one of us knew it at that point. Then again, it was Jonathan Black, he could have known anything.

  He started with my wrists, my right wrist then my left. He cuffed me tighter than he normally did, making any sort of movement almost impossible. If I did try to move, it hurt. Like hell.

  My eyes were wide open, eager to watch Jonathan cuff my ankles to the bed. He had other plans...

  Jonathan dangled the handcuffs, a pair in each hand, over my body. I watched the large silver circles slowly twisting left to right, almost taunting me.

  “You won’t ever go against my orders again, will you?” he asked.

  I looked at him, knowing my eyes were lying. “I won’t.”

  “You will,” he said, “because you like this. You like the thrill. The risk. The power of the moment.”

  He lowered his left hand, letting the handcuff touch my lips. They were room temperature. I opened my mouth and let my tongue taste the steel. I curled my tongue and let go quick enough so the cuffs could swing.

  Jonathan groaned and moved the cuffs down, letting the handcuffs touch at my shoulders. As he moved down, I took a deep breath and thrust my chest up in the air. I watched as the handcuffs worked down my breasts right to my nipples.

  Shit, I should have known he was going to my nipples.

  How couldn’t he? They were rock hard and desperate.

  He slid the handcuffs over my nipples, the steel cuffs slicing against my sensitive erect nipples. It hurt but I moaned.

  “Oh, you like that?” Jonathan asked.

  I didn’t nod. I didn’t shake my head. I just stared at him, letting my heavy breathing do all the talking.

  He pulled the cuffs back up along my nipples again. This time it hurt just as much but now I expected the pain. It created a throb of pleasure. Jonathan repeated the move, needing to go back over my nipples to continue his descent down my body.

  My breasts were left aching for more of Jonathan. He slid the handcuffs down my stomach, making my breathing turned erratic. Once he reached near my sex, he paused, considering his next move. My legs were wide open, ready for whatever he had to deliver.

  His right hand moved down my left leg, the handcuffs sliding along. I looked to my left leg just as Jonathan allowed the other set of handcuffs to drop between my legs.

  The steel against my wet folds made me cry out.

  Then in a move of pure torture, Jonathan began to twist his wrist, making the handcuffs twist. The cuff against my pussy moved in circles, starting slow then moving faster. Constantly tapping my skin, teasing my clitoris, making my body want to explode.

  “Mr. Black... please...”

  “Shh,” Jonathan said.

  His right hand was now at my foot. He then placed the handcuffs that were between my legs against my body, one cuff touching my mound, the other resting against my sex. His concentration went to my ankle, which he cuffed to the bed. Then he repeated the move, leaving my entire body dangling between orgasmic pleasure and physical need.

  I never needed something or someone so bad in my entire life.

  Once I was cuffed - wrists and ankles - Jonathan took a step back from the bed and folded his arms.

  “There, now you can’t move.”

  With that said, Jonathan adjusted his tie and made a move towards the bedroom door.

  I was shocked. So shocked, I took a gasp of air and that was it. All I had to offer.

  As Jonathan stood at the door, he looked over his shoulder. “Now, I can leave in peace. You’ll stay, won’t you, Isabella Grace?”

  -7-

  I stayed, because I had to. And even if the cuffs weren’t on me, I’d stay. I learned my lesson by walking outside, looking for Jonathan. I had to trust in him, as I always did.

  As the air settled around me, the room started to feel cool. Most of the water had since dried off my body but my hair was still soaked. And laying in my wet hair kept everything wet and cold. The shivers only made it so far before another wetness made everything warm.

  It was an odd feeling, having my legs forced open, when all I wanted to do was close them. I wanted to feel myself, feel the warm gush, the folds of my sex. There was a need to touch myself like I never had in my life. Jonathan had once again opened another door into my sexual den of secrecy.

  And he was gone.

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, calming myself. Or at least attempting to calm myself. I focused on my breathing and tried to ignored the rush inside my body. The heat. The subtle movements of pleasure. The thoughts of Jonathan Black and all he could accomplish with the flicker of his tongue or the thrust of his cock.

  The door clicked then squeaked for a brief second but stopped before I could open my eyes and look. A narrow strip of light came into the room. I watched, waiting for Jonathan to make his entrance.

  He didn’t.

  The door remained cracked and I remained handcuffed to the bed.

  After a few seconds my heart started to race. Memories came back to me, ones of being in a hotel in California when Oliver Rush tried to touch me. I shivered at the horrible memory of the man, not to mention how he ended up afterwards.

  “Mr. Black?” I whispered.

  Nothing.

  I broke a rule and asked, “Jonathan?”

  Still no response.

  My heart bounced inside my chest and anything that felt cool or cold was now burning. I didn’t want to be filled with fear but without Jonathan Black right next to me, it was all I could feel.

  Fear of what waited after the situation outside. Fear of someone discovering Oliver Rush’s body. Fear of someone other than Jonathan finding the paper with the numbers on it...

  The paper.

  It was still in the bathroom.

  “No,” I whispered.

  I couldn’t imagine someone like John Black setting things up just to steal three billion dollars from his own son. But this was a different world. A world of wealth and power. When people have all the money in the world, what else could they ask for and control?

  Life.

  The door moved again, this time with much more speed. I had the urge to scream for help (even if it meant having John Black see me naked), but it vanished when I saw Jonathan coming back into the room.

  I wasn’t sure how long he had been gone but for all my body knew, I had a sense of virginal desire running through me.

  And he was carrying my clothes from the bathroom. They were in a ball in his hands and he walked them to the bag that he had taken the handcuffs from, dropped them and turned to face me.

  My mind told me that he must have opened the door then went into the bathroom to get my clothes. Maybe he knew about the paper in my pocket. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t even open the bedroom door. I wanted to look again, towards the hall, but I couldn’t break my stare from Jonathan.

  He reached up and grabbed the knot of his tie. When it was loose enough to slide over his head he did so and placed the tie on one of the bedposts. As he moved I caught the scent of the billionaire, that wild musky smell that had a touch of man and desire mixed in. Being in the bathroom with me with the thick steam it allowed him to smell even more potent, more sexy, if it were possible.

  Jonathan then began to strip himself, a sight that made my body rage with need. He did it in perfect order, working top to bottom. When he stood with no shirt on, just suit pants, the lines of his muscles were beautiful and I wanted to taste all the nooks and crannies his body had to offer. His stomach was rippled to
perfection and lines disappeared.

  When he finally stripped his pants and boxers down, revealing his thickness, I cried out his name. A warm feeling had since built between my legs and I realized that I was about to come, without anyone touching me. I could feel it, right there, the ache and throb desperately wanting to come, seeking any kind of relief from the erotic tension that had built in the bedroom.

  Jonathan stepped towards me and my eyes focused on his erection. He stopped at the side of the bed and with an instinctive move, I tried to reach for him with my hand. The handcuffs dug into my wrists with an intense pain. I screamed and thrust my entire body, hurting, pleasured, and annoyed all in the same breath.

  Jonathan placed his left hand to my right wrist.

  “Isabella Grace,” he said, “it’s okay. Punishment is supposed to feel like this.”

  I moaned and looked down, just in time to see Jonathan’s right hand come down against my aching mound, his thumbing playing with the stubble of my pubes. His fingers were together, tight, and came against my folds with enough pressure that my body had no choice but to release itself.

  My wrists and ankles tightened, and my back arched. I started to convulse, leaving my breasts jumping on my chest. The pain of my wrists and ankles started to mix with the intense pleasure of my orgasm. My body enjoying was itself, but wanted more. An orgasm without any movement is something to be desired but staring at a man like Jonathan Black, I just wanted him inside me, having me, to keep the pleasure going.

  It was a quick orgasm but effective. My body glistened with sweat as though I had just stepped from the shower again. Between my legs, the throbbing continued, slowing but still depositing a healthy amount of warmth and wet to Jonathan’s fingers. When he slid his hand from my sex, he looked at his fingers and even I could see the moisture on them.

  “Just perfect,” he whispered.

  He leaned forward, allowing his thickness to touch my stomach. He forced himself to move up and on top of my stomach, where he rested. The harder I breathed the more I could feel his cock bouncing on my stomach. With his wet fingers he touched just above my belly button and then made a straight line up, leaving wet streaks all the way to my breasts. There he cupped both breasts and climbed onto the bed.