His Passion (By His Command #4) by Ana W. Fawkes Page B

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