Enthrall

by Z. L. Arkadie

  “You really haven’t heard from him either?” she said.

  “If I had, I would tell you,” Spencer said.

  She grunted thoughtfully. “Well, I’ll find him before Christmas, come hell or high water. My next step is New York.” She tapped the tips of her fingers on the table nervously. “I’m going to see Jasper and Holly and baby Jane. Have you met your niece yet?” She watched Spencer as if she already knew the answer to the question.

  He shrugged. “Not yet.”

  “Okay, then.” Bryn sprang to her feet. “I’m leaving.”

  Spencer seemed surprised, and he stood as well. “Okay.”

  “Now…” She tossed the cloth napkin that was in her lap on top of her plate. “Don’t be a stranger, Spence. And stop ignoring my emails.” She winked at me as if she knew I was the one answering them. “Nice meeting you, Holly.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. Then, lowering her hand, she smirked cynically. “Oh, I meant Jada. Spencer always wanted one of her of his own, and here you are.”

  Spencer shook his head, sneering at Bryn as she turned her back on us and walked out of the dining room—and our lives—just as fast as she’d appeared.

  Chapter Twenty

  After Bryn left, Spencer and I went to my bedroom. It took him no time to brush his teeth, strip down to nothing, and crawl into bed. I couldn’t get the anxious feeling out of me as, still in my skirt and bra, I stood at the sink, scrubbing my face. I had just told Spencer that I didn’t like what his sister was suggesting about my mom.

  “She didn’t mean anything by it,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes at my image in the mirror. I could hardly believe he was defending her, seeing as she’d spent the first part of dinner needling him. “And what was this?” I dropped my face towel on the sink and pressed my forefingers and thumbs together, imitating what Bryn had done when she decided to stop being mean to her brother and start screwing with me instead.

  “What was what?” he said from the bed.

  I stormed out from in front of the vanity to show him what I was doing.

  Spencer laughed his head off, but I just shook mine. “It’s not funny, Spencer. She’s destructive.”

  “I thought you were into Bryn for a moment.”

  I shook my head rapidly. “‘Into Bryn’? What does that mean?”

  He smirked, and for once, I was too inflamed to want to kiss him for it. “Most women like Bryn’s brand of female.”

  I felt my face squish into a frown. “What’s Bryn’s brand of female?”

  “She’s unrestrained. Most women are buttoned up, living by rules and shit. Bryn’s is the antithesis of that. That’s all I’m saying.”

  I cocked my head, absorbing everything he’d just said. “Did you just say antithesis?”

  Spencer’s eyebrows pulled. “Did I?”

  I could feel my smile smolder. “Yes, you did. It was hot, by the way.”

  “Then you like clever men?”

  “Very much,” I purred to my surprise. I didn’t even recognize my own voice.

  “Damn, I wish I could think of some more words that’ll get your ass over here on this bed already.”

  I quickly turned to glance over my shoulder. The water was still running in the sink, and my face was still damp but not as moist as what was between my legs.

  Spencer’s eyes narrowed to a lustful haze. “Come here, Jada.”

  My heart thumped like an overheated radiator. “The water,” I barely said.

  “Leave it.” He held out a hand. “Come here.”

  Each step was slow as my conscience pulled me to do what I thought was right—turn off the water. Meanwhile, my desire tugged me toward what I wanted—Spencer all over me.

  I gave myself to him completely when I got close enough, and he drew me onto the bed. He rolled me onto my back. Spencer unbuttoned the side of my skirt then slid down the short zipper, undressing me as if I were his sacred artifact.

  “Your ass looked delectable in this skirt,” he said, taking my garment by the hem and sliding it down my legs.

  “Um, delectable,” I hummed seductively.

  “Don’t move,” he said as I twisted my bum to make it easier.

  I didn’t move a muscle as his fingers snaked under the crotch of my wet panties and plunged in and out of my wet pussy. With his other hand, he unclipped my bra between my breasts, setting them free. He watched them, sucking air between his teeth. I moaned and writhed as he never eased the speed of finger-fucking me while his warm mouth covered my nipple. His tongue rounded the hardness, and his teeth scraped the tip. The sensations sent me reeling and lifting my chest and hips to give him more. At the same time, I was in such a pleasure overload that I wanted to pull away to give myself a reprieve.

  “Be still,” he commanded after his mouth abandoned one of my breasts to pay the same attention to the other.

  I closed my eyes, trying to not move an inch.

  “Um…” he said with one last hard suck and nibble on my nipple.

  I jerked from the stinging and gasped.

  “Good girl…” Spencer curled his hands under my thighs, and after one smooth maneuver, he was standing on the side of the bed, pumping his cock in and out of my pussy. “Fuck,” he muttered, not missing a beat.

  My head rolled above my neck then jerked back and forth. I could feel every inch of him as I called out his name.

  “Damn it,” he said, increasing his pace. Then he tossed his head back as his condom restrained his warm wetness.

  Our hazy gazes connected, basking in the afterglow of what we had just done. He stood between my legs, and I positioned myself on my arms. We refused to look away from each other. The longer we stayed in that pose, the more I wanted to know what he was thinking. The seconds mounted. I dared not ask.

  Finally, Spencer pulled himself out of me. “Be still. Don’t move.”

  His absence had released me from whatever trance our eye contact had put me in. I remained very still as he walked to the bathroom. My legs were still parted and pussy still weeping for more of him when I heard the water turn off in the vanity area. Our gazes connected again when he returned with a warm towel and wiped my pussy then threw the washcloth over his shoulder, pushed me toward the headboard, and spread my thighs as far as they could go before sucking my oversensitive clit into his mouth.

  “Ah!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, twisting my body to bear the orgasm racing through my pussy. He had made me come seven times already and was now kissing his way up my stomach, sinking his tongue into my belly button, then squeezing my tits while his mouth consumed mine. Spencer and I rolled around on the bed, kissing deeply and passionately as if we’d die if we stopped.

  “Oh, baby, I…” he whispered, squeezing me so tightly that I felt as if our bodies would merge into one.

  “What?” I whispered, cheek-to-cheek with him as my fingers slid through his soft hair.

  Spencer shifted me onto my side, pressing my back against his front. His breaths came heavy against my ears as he groped every part of my tits. I put my hands over his, going along for the ride. It was clear it would take a long time before Spencer and I got each other out of our systems. When I turned to face him, his mouth melted against mine, and I was soon on my back again, kissing feverishly. His mouth went to my pussy. Then he was inside me again, this time making love to me with slow, deep thrusts. By the way he moaned and whimpered, I could tell he felt every bit of me just as I had him.

  The staff were now used to seeing us in bed together, and I was used to them seeing us this way, which was why I didn’t flinch when the servers, Ignacio and Ray, rolled breakfast in on a cart. I lay facing away from the action, covers pulled up to my neck, relishing the scent of French toast, scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, and bacon, which I’d requested earlier in a sleepy haze, when Spencer asked what I wanted for breakfast.

  “Thanks, Ignacio,” Spencer said.

  “You’re welcome, Mr. Christmas.”

  I heard their
steps rushing past my bed, and then the door closed behind them. Finally, we were alone. With a bright morning smile fueled by total satisfaction, I turned around.

  “Oh,” I said, surprised.

  Spencer was dressed in his dusty camouflage pants and a black sweatshirt, the shirt collar beneath it rising around his neck.

  “It’s been a good break, but I have to get back to it,” he said.

  I still wanted more of him around me, beside me, inside me. I frowned, irritated that he was choosing his mysterious project over morning sex. “What are you looking for down there, anyway?”

  He tilted his head, his eyes scolding me. “You already know the answer to that, babe.”

  I sighed, remembering I’d agreed not to ask him about what he was doing beneath the house after he promised he wasn’t engaging in illegal activity.

  “Wow,” I said, letting it go. I twisted my body seductively, pushing out my tits so he could get an eyeful.

  Spencer narrowed an eye, focusing intently on my face. “Wow what?”

  “You called me ‘babe’ so easily,” I replied, simpering.

  He smirked naughtily and thumbed over his shoulder. “I’ve got to go.” His gaze relished my nakedness and then rested solidly on my face. “Enjoy breakfast, and don’t work too hard.”

  “You either.”

  He winked at me and headed toward the bathroom. Boldly, he opened the entrance to his secret world and closed himself inside it. Once I was alone, I had to have an answer to the question that was aggravating me. I got up, walked to the mirror, and tried pulling it open.

  “Damn it.”

  It was locked.

  As I ate breakfast, basking in the exhilaration of three straight days of making beautiful love to Spencer, I took my phone out of airplane mode and allowed my fingers to dial up Mother.

  “Jada,” she said, answering on the first ring.

  “Hey, Mom.”

  “I’ve been trying to call you.”

  “Sorry, I was away from my phone.”

  “You’re working for Spencer Christmas?” Her tone was laced with accusation.

  “Yes. And, um, he’s going to be joining us for the dinner party.”

  A deathly silence fell between us as I waited for her next response.

  “Why is your boss accompanying you to Christmas Eve dinner?” she finally asked in an overly formal tone.

  I pressed my lips together, remembering how Bryn had made me feel about my mother during her short visit. I found myself questioning my mom’s line of questioning. I wanted her to ask if there was something more going on between Spencer and me, but instead, she kept him in the role she would be comfortable with—to her, he was my boss.

  “He’s not only my boss, Mom. We’re together.”

  “Is that so? How old is he? I was picturing someone a lot younger for you—someone not so worldly, if you know what I mean.”

  I knew what she meant. She was referring to the Spencer Christmas depicted in the book.

  “I’m not a child, Mother. I live alone in New York City.”

  “How old is he?” she snapped as if what I’d just said hadn’t sunk in.

  “I don’t know. I don’t care. But he’s not that much older than I am.”

  “Jim Lovell will be joining us for dinner. I wanted you to get to know him. He has a job for you in public relations. You’ll be managing him and his campaign and not working as an assistant.” She said assistant as if it was a dirty word.

  I bent over, covering my face with a hand. “Mom, I already have a job.”

  “Ha.” Her disapproval blared loudly in just that one little word. “Well, I guess I can’t change your mind. Bring him.”

  I twisted my mouth, contemplating what to say next. Whenever Patricia Forte gave up that easily, there was a catch-22. I briefly considered letting Spencer know we should take Bryn up on her invitation, but just thinking of putting up with her passive-aggressive behavior made my stomach uneasy. Since the relationship between Spencer and me was fresh and new, and I didn’t want anyone to knock us off course, I took a risk and decided to go with the devil I knew.

  “All right, then, we’ll see you on Christmas Eve for dinner.”

  “All right,” my mom said with more than a reasonable level of irritation. “I have to go.”

  “Me too.”

  She ended the call without saying goodbye, therefore fucking with my head once again. I sat still in the chair for a long time, wondering if I should see my own version of Spencer’s Dr. Mita Sharma. No one could get to me like my mother, and at some point in my adult life, that really should have stopped being the case. Patricia had a way of making me feel like an insolent child, and that moment, I hated her for it just as much as I loved her.

  I groaned and mussed up my hair, agitating my scalp. I decided to stop thinking about my mother and get to work. One deep sigh propelled me to my feet. I went into the bathroom to shower, half hoping Spencer would join me. The other part of me felt the loads of fucking we’d been doing. My body ached as though I’d lifted weights for three days straight. Spencer was an active lover, flipping me this way and that, contorting me on one side and the other. I loved watching his engorged cock go in and out of my mound, stroking my pussy in all sorts of positions.

  I’d been in the shower a while, taking my time washing my hair and body, when it became clear that Spencer wouldn’t be joining me. I turned off the water, dried off, and readied myself for the office.

  Later that day, I was in a finance-and-planning meeting with all the department heads, including Carol. I kept watching her, seeing if she noticed the change in me. However, she was careful to not make eye contact with me, so after a while, I focused on taking accurate notes for Spencer and writing down specific questions the officers of his company had for him.

  Once again, my day blew by with more meetings, more documents to sign, and more requests for Spencer to appear in person. Spencer joined me for dinner. His mood seemed heavy, but he attentively listened as I told him the high points of the day’s meetings and described my mother’s reaction to the news about him joining us for Christmas Eve dinner.

  He stroked his chin as he frowned thoughtfully. “Jimmy Lovell, huh?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve never heard of him. Have you?”

  “Yes.”

  I waited for him to elaborate. “Are you going to tell me how you know him?”

  “He’s a wannabe politician from my home state.”

  “Rhode Island.” I grunted thoughtfully. My mom often groomed politicians from other states so they could eventually become her political allies in Congress. She was shrewd that way and said it was all part of effective politics.

  He watched me with that indecipherable expression of his and then sat up straight, smirking. “I missed you today.”

  I beamed. “I missed you too.”

  His smirk turned naughty. “Let’s finish dinner so I can eat you too.”

  I ate the last bite of my risotto and said I was ready to go to the bedroom. Spencer wasted no time pushing his chair back, getting up, taking my hand, and leading me upstairs.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Spencer Christmas

  Jada didn’t know that every waking moment, I had been riddled by anxiety. The next day was Christmas Eve, and I felt as if I were getting closer to discovering what I was looking for. My jackhammer blasted through the concrete like an explosion. This was it. If I found nothing here, then there was nothing to be found on the ranch. That would mean I had heard wrong.

  I stopped to catch my breath. As I pulled the shield from over my face and swiped the sweat off my forehead, I recalled that conversation I’d heard between my father and Arthur Valentine. I was thirteen, maybe fourteen. It was after Amelia had told me the truth. I remembered everything they’d said—at least I thought I did.

  “They’re at the ranch,” my father said.

  “Fuck, Randolph,” Arthur muttered. “Where did you put the bodies?”
/>   “They’ll never find them.”

  “Where?” Arthur insisted.

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Fucking where?” Arthur roared.

  I quickly hid in the secret vestibule outside the room they were in. As a kid, I liked roaming the house, searching. I didn’t know what I was looking for until the day I heard the conversation between my father and Valentine.

  “They’re buried. In concrete. At the ranch,” my father said.

  “Shit.” Arthur sighed. “Who?”

  “I think one of the kids’ mothers. Petrov’s there too. I had Petrov specially handled.”

  Valentine grunted, then my father said he had some fun for him upstairs.

  “I like the sound of that,” Arthur said. Then the door opened and closed.

  I put my face mask back on, lifted my jackhammer, and pressed the tip against the concrete. I bought the ranch a year and a half ago. It wasn’t for sale. I had to convince the owner to sell it to me, which meant I paid four times what it was worth. For one year, I led a crew of professional excavators to search every inch of the property, using top-of-the-line technology. No mass graves were found. The team kept asking questions that I didn’t want to answer, so I decided to pay them and let them go. They’d each signed a nondisclosure agreement. Plus, due to the nature of their business, I never feared any of them would talk to the press. Searching with discretion was what they did, but at some point, they thought I was crazy as hell for making them comb parts of the property they knew would turn up no results.

  While they worked outside, I worked the tunnels with Gabe, the architect I’d hired to read the secret blueprint I’d found—the one my father hadn’t submitted to the county when he built the structures of the ranch. Gabe tagged all the walls in the caves that were not load bearing. Once I knew where to break concrete, I paid him and sent him away. I turned on my jackhammer and chiseled away at the last area that could yield results. Before Jada arrived, I worked at this night and day. I barely slept or ate, and I never thought I wanted to fuck again. My dick had had enough.