His Urge

by Ana W. Fawkes

  I could only thrust and moan as I lost complete control to my body and its needs.

  And I lost to Jonathan’s command, but that was obvious the second he handcuffed my hands and feet to the bed.

  As Jonathan hovered over me, his strong hands holding tight to my breasts, he positioned his erection at my sex, letting the thick tip tease me, rubbing it gently against the soft folds of my body. I thrust at him, hoping to force him inside me but Jonathan pulled away.

  “No, no,” he said, “I’m in control. Not you. Do we need more punishment?”

  “No, Mr. Black,” I whispered, but really, in my mind, I wondered what else he could or would do to me.

  He read that instantly in my eyes and smirked. His hands left my breasts and he leaned down, letting his chest touch my chest. His muscles were so strong against my tender chest. My erect nipples tried to fight with his hard skin but any sort of motion that occurred pleasured me.

  Jonathan placed his lips to my ear and took a deep breath.

  “If you want more, Isabella Grace, I can give you more...”

  I sighed and thrust my lower half again.

  Jonathan quickly put his right hand to my hip and held me down, or at least tried to.

  I thrust again, fighting against his amazing grip.

  “Isabella Grace...”

  His voice sounded angrier, annoyed with my slight disobedience.

  I didn’t care.

  My body never before felt like it did.

  I started to wiggle my hips, rocking and thrusting, desperate for Jonathan. He finally broke down and let out a growl in my ear and came forward with the hardest thrust I’d ever felt.

  His cock didn’t just penetrate me. It sliced me open, tore at my tender walls, and dug its way so deep that my back tried to arch again but was met with Jonathan’s hard chest. I couldn’t even put my head back. I closed my eyes and opened my mouth to scream but Jonathan placed his mouth to mine, engaging me in a tongue filled kiss that stole everything from me.

  As fast and as hard as he entered me, he left me, leaving his erection close enough to my slit that I could feel his presence but he lingered, until I was able to find my breath. I opened my mouth wider and moaned as we kissed.

  And that’s when he came at me again, equally as rough, but this time, he started to have my body. His movements started fast and continued faster, fucking me so hard that the entire bed shook with fury. The pain in my wrists and ankles I welcomed. The cracks in my erotic shell were exposing themselves.

  Jonathan broke our kiss and locked his elbows, holding himself up so he could watch our bodies. We were separated on the top half, my breasts dancing for him, my aching nipples still erect. Our lower halves were together, the sexy lines of his stomach muscles coming to my body at my mound. With my legs spread, Jonathan was able to do what he wanted as he needed.

  He thrust hard, fucked fast, and then he would pull from me and wait a few seconds. It left the room in a deadly silence, the only thing to be heard was my heavy breathing. Inside my mind I could hear and feel the throbbing of my heart and sex as it all seemed to be connected.

  Jonathan stared at my body, watching me sweat as I breathed. I watched his cock, enjoying the way it throbbed and bounced. It meant that my body was doing its job.

  He ran his hands along the outside of my thighs, squeezing when he felt like it, teasing me. Then he moved to the inside of my thighs, his fingertips sliding all the way up between my legs but he didn’t touch me.

  Instead, he left me in a constant state of erotic torture, his way of ensuring his command over me wouldn’t pause for a second.

  He tried to open my legs more but they were as wide as nature intended for me to spread my legs. He slithered forward and offered his body to me, penetrating me with the slowest and gentlest offering he’d offered me yet. I felt my body opening for him and I felt every possible detail of his body. The thickness of his tip lead the way for his rock hard shaft. My walls tried to clench against his shaft but couldn’t. This created a tightness and pressure that made me whimper while Jonathan Black groaned like an animal, deep within his throat.

  He slid all the way in and reversed the motion. Between the two speeds - fast and slow - I wasn’t sure which felt better. Going slow allowed emotion to slip between Jonathan and I as we stared at each other. Going fast was just raw sexual need.

  I wanted both, from Jonathan, all the time.

  As the tip of his erection was about to move from me, I thrust at him, sliding on his shaft a couple inches. He groaned again and his hands moved to the top of my legs and held them down.

  “You just don’t want to listen, do you?”

  “I need you,” I said. “I want to feel...”

  “You don’t get wants, Isabella Grace. You get needs... my needs.”

  He fell forward and thrust at me again like he did in the beginning, with a vigorous motion that filled me with pleasure, again and again. As the speed and intensity grew, and as I stared into Jonathan’s eyes, I knew this was it. He wasn’t going to stop this time. He wouldn’t until he finished.

  I tried to match his thrusting, offering more of myself but by then, he had it all. Each pump was deep and fulfilling, his perfect body did not miss an inch of my insides. His right hand traveled from my side up to my chest, touching each breast, satisfying all my urges. He cupped my left breast for a few seconds then moved to my right where he took my erect nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and twisting just enough to match the pain in my wrists. It made the pleasure that much more intense. Then his hand came up my chest, flat, sliding along my sweat. At my neck he held there in a dominant move that should have been threatening but only made me fuck at him harder. His hand came to my cheek where he held my face straight, looking at his.

  The sex became fast enough that the bed was moving again but the sound of our sex overtook the thumping of the bed against the wall.

  When it came time for Jonathan to climax, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment as I felt his cock thicken inside me. Then with one last thrust forward, he started to release himself. He was deep inside me, his body throbbing. Each time he came I lifted my body to him. I wanted it all. I wanted everything inside me, and that’s what I got.

  Jonathan got his needs and I got my wants.

  Together, we were perfect.

  After he came he slowly started to fuck me again. I could feel the warm mess inside my body working with and then against his movements. He finally exited my body and moved from the bed. I turned my head and watched as he stepped into his boxers and pants, pulling them up. Instead of reaching for his shirt, he walked back to the bed. His hands were on my breasts again, loving them as I moaned. I tried to lean towards him but obviously couldn’t move.

  Fucking handcuffs.

  “I’ll give you one want,” he whispered. “You have a second to tell me...”

  “I want to lick your chest,” I cried out.

  Of all the things I could have said, that’s what came out first.

  Keeping true to his word, Jonathan leaned down towards me and my hungry tongue flicked at his rock hard chest. I tasted his muscles, his sweat, his cologne, and the hot desire of our sex as it dripped from him. I licked up and down and even had the brief chance to lick one of his nipples. Then he pulled away just enough that I couldn’t reach him but he was still very close.

  “Oh, Isabella Grace,” he said, “you want more punishment, don’t you? I can feel it inside you... you’re opening, you’re exploring.”

  “Yes, Mr. Black,” I said. “Please...”

  “I have more for you then.”

  The words made me shiver. More punishment? More of what? I was already handcuffed to the bed. What could happen next?

  “But before that, we need to discuss our plans. And all you know.”

  “I know...” I froze, thinking again about the numbers for the three billion dollars. Thinking about what happened outside. Thinking about John Black an
d what he implied...

  “I had to come here,” Jonathan said, “against my will. Some men are cowards, Isabella Grace. Just know that. Some men would rather hide and have their dirty work played out elsewhere. I’m sorry about outside... but I needed to see how far he’d go.”

  My eyes widened.

  Jonathan knew?

  “What was outside?” I asked, fearing the answer.

  I wouldn’t get my answer because from the doorway came a voice. It obviously wasn’t Jonathan Black’s voice. It also wasn’t John Black’s voice. For a second I had the eerie chills that it was Oliver Rush, back from the dead. But that was impossible.

  But I knew the voice.

  I turned my head and saw a man standing with a gun in his hand, pointed right at Jonathan Black.

  I knew the man.

  And I knew the gun.

  I screamed a second before the gun went off.

  -8-

  Being handcuffed to the bed had nothing to do with the frozen state I found myself in. It was shock and fear. Seeing the gun, seeing the quick flash of the gun going off, I could only scream.

  That scream proved to save Jonathan Black’s life.

  When I found the strength to turn my head, Jonathan Black stood shirtless with his arms at his sides. My scream made the man jump and the bullet missed Jonathan. I didn’t know where it hit just as long as it wasn’t lodged in Jonathan’s body, taking his life.

  I wanted to scream again but didn’t. Jonathan looked down at me for a second. That glare told me to be calm.

  Just be calm...

  “I know everything,” the man said, the gun pointed at Jonathan.

  If he pulled the trigger again, he wouldn’t miss.

  “No point in shooting me then,” Jonathan said. “Then you’d have nobody to blame.”

  “No blame. Just truth.”

  “Come on, Cresh, cut the bullshit.”

  There it was, the name.

  Cresh.

  That’s when everything connected.

  Peter Cresh.

  The man from the cab back in California. The one who said Jonathan stole his company. The one Jonathan said was a young hotshot. The one who had no problem whipping out a gun and threatening me and the cab driver.

  He was young but rough looking, this time looking a little bit older. Like a man who hadn’t slept in a long time. Like a man who knew too much for his own good.

  Cresh looked at me, my naked body in all its sweaty glory. I felt uncomfortable. I tried to move but couldn’t. The pain from the cuffs hurting worse than ever. Without pleasure pain just sucks.

  “Eyes up here,” Jonathan called out. “What do you want?”

  “What you stole,” Cresh yelled. “You took my fucking company and life.”

  “You walked away with more money than you would have ever made,” Jonathan said. I was amazed how he kept calm with a loaded weapon pointed at him.

  “Fuck you,” Cresh said. His voice cracked. He was a mad man. As he blinked rapidly, he started to smile. I could sense what he was feeling.

  Power. Control. Command.

  The gun had all that of course, not Cresh, but he didn’t know that nor would he care if someone pointed it out.

  “You’re mine,” Cresh said. “Because I saw it all. Everything you did.”

  “You don’t know what you saw,” Jonathan said.

  “No?” Cresh lowered the gun.

  I kept my eyes on the gun. But Jonathan knew what he was doing.

  “I followed you to the hotel,” Cresh said. “You and Isabella Grace.”

  I hated the way Cresh said my name and my head snapped to the right. Jonathan was already making fists. Nobody could speak my full name like Jonathan could. He wouldn’t allow it and I didn’t want it.

  “Good for you,” Jonathan said.

  Then he took a step.

  A step that Cresh didn’t see.

  “Jon, you’re not listening to me.”

  Jon? That just sounded so wrong, so disrespectful to the billionaire who had opened my heart, soul, and sexual needs. But Jonathan let it go, only taking another step towards Cresh.

  “Tell me what you know,” Jonathan said.

  “How you tied up Isabella Grace.” Cresh looked at me again and I hated it just as much as the first time. I couldn’t believe this was happening with me naked. And cuffed. I had no defense. All I could do was wait. And listen. And hope Jonathan Black didn’t get shot or killed.

  “How you lured Oliver Rush...”

  Now Jonathan’s face started to change. He looked angry yet slightly worried. I didn’t like him worrying. It made me worry.

  “How Isabella Grace flirted with him and took him to the point where he was about to make his move. But, wait, what happened next? Oh, that’s right. You were already inside the room. And you, Jonathan Black, murdered him.”

  Peter Cresh smiled, satisfied with all the knowledge he just spilled all over the room. But what Cresh forgot was that Jonathan Black was a murderous person. His care for money seemed to be only matched by his obsession with command over me.

  Threatening Jonathan meant threatening me...

  Jonathan had already taken quite a few steps towards Cresh and when Cresh started to laugh, Jonathan saw his chance. As he lunged at Cresh I gasped for air. My eyes went to the gun. Cresh started to lift the deadly weapon as Jonathan hit him. I knew Jonathan wanted to hit him in the mouth, to shut him up, but logic thankfully won. With his left fist, he punched Cresh’s wrist, making Cresh cry out as he dropped he the gun. It hit the floor and I winced, waiting for it to go off.

  It didn’t.

  Jonathan came across with a right hook, hitting Cresh in the cheek. His head twisted and a line of saliva flew from his mouth. He fell back and hit the wall and as Jonathan wound up again, Cresh started to laugh.

  “Kill another man,” Cresh said, “go ahead. Like your father will help you...”

  He cackled as blood started to drip from his mouth.

  That’s when Jonathan’s face became enraged. Enraged with the murderous look that I saw the night he killed Oliver Rush.

  “No,” I whispered. I spoke louder. “No. Jonathan... Mr. Black. No. We can run. They’re setting this up.”

  “Bingo,” Cresh said smiling. He threw his head forward and hit Jonathan in the chest, which made Jonathan stumble back.

  Everyone looked at the gun. I was the only one who didn’t have a chance to get to it.

  “It’s all over,” Cresh said. “All I want is my fucking money. Then I’ll disappear.”

  “I don’t have your money,” Jonathan said. “I never did.”

  “Where’s the three billion Oliver Rush stole?”

  Jonathan gritted his teeth. “How...”

  My eyes turned towards the black bag. That’s where the paper was, with the banking numbers. What had John Black set up? He brought Cresh here... he gave me the numbers... he confessed his love to me...

  “I know everything,” Cresh said.

  Jonathan stepped and Cresh started to crouch. He was closer to the gun than Jonathan.

  That’s when I knew I needed to help.

  “Hey, Mr. Cresh?” I called out.

  Cresh looked at me, confused.

  “Do you like what you see?”

  I hated trying to sound so flirty, but this was life or death. Literally.

  The two seconds that Cresh took to scan my naked, cuffed body, Jonathan came forward and pushed him to the ground. He concentrated on the gun, kicking it with his foot, out of the room and across the hall towards the bathroom.

  The gun never went off and nobody got hurt from it.

  But Cresh wasn’t done.

  “You fucking tease me?” he asked with a sick look in his eyes.

  He growled and stood, just as Jonathan turned. He swung and Jonathan managed to block it. Jonathan punched Cresh in the gut. Cresh bent over with a grunt of air and pain, but then came up with a fist of his own, connecting at Jonathan’s jaw. I
started to scream, wanting to distract Cresh, but it was no use.

  Jonathan fought back, being bigger and stronger. I knew it wasn’t going to end well and as Jonathan landed punch after punch on Cresh’s face, blood spewed everywhere. Cresh backed up and when Jonathan took a break, Cresh just smiled.

  He was a sick man.

  In a fast motion, he lifted his shirt and pulled out a long bladed knife and raised it. Jonathan looked at the knife and Cresh kicked him in the groin. It was a cheap shot but Cresh seemed like the guy to do such a thing without regret. He then took a handful of Jonathan’s hair and drove his head into the door with a thud so sick, I cried out for Jonathan.

  Jonathan collapsed to the floor, knocked out. Cresh stood over him, holding the knife.

  “You’re not worth killing,” Cresh said. “You can rot in prison.”

  He dropped the knife to the floor and turned, looking at me.

  His eyes were sick, evil, and they burned with intention.

  And I was trapped, handcuffed to the bed, naked.

  -9-

  Of all things to notice first, I saw Cresh’s fingers wiggling. Like someone who was about to indulge on something wrong but good. He slithered his way towards me, his eyes taking a hearty gaze upon my body. There was nothing I could do, not even an attempt at moving because moving made my chest move. When my breasts moved, it made Cresh’s eyes widen with excitement. My legs were spread, still damp with the remembrance of what Jonathan had done to me.

  “Look at you,” Cresh said, now standing at the side of the bed. “Just... look at you...”

  “Please,” I whispered. “Don’t do anything. Not like this.”

  “He handcuffs you. He abuses you.”

  “No, he doesn’t. He commands and protects me.”

  Cresh looked at Jonathan’s still body on the floor and laughed. “I doubt he’ll be protecting you. Plus, you don’t need him. You don’t need a man like that dragging you into murder. I’ll only drag you into life. Into beauty. Into love.”