His Taste (By His Command #7) (billionaire domination / erotic romance)

by Ana W. Fawkes

  BY HIS COMMAND

  #7

  His Taste

  by

  Ana Fawkes

  “Isabella Grace... the text messages... I know who it is. And it’s not Kellen.”

  Isabella Grace has been caught with the cell phone and all it's cryptic text messages. Messages of pain, torture, and death threats. While fear surges through her body, Jonathan Black is as calm as can be.

  Before she can beg him - or earn her way - to find out who 'K' really is, Jonathan orders her to do something she never thought he'd ask... Isabella must go on a date with Kellen, the man trying to destroy one of Jonathan's new business ventures.

  A first date becomes a second and each time, Jonathan grows more angry, showing Isabella his true command in the bedroom and outside of it.

  The text messages are still burning in Isabella's mind and when Kellen takes things too far, she looks for Jonathan to help her... but he's not there. It's the first time he hasn't shown... and perhaps it's his last...

  Isabella manages to escape the hands of Kellen but she may now face her greatest challenge yet... learning the truth about 'K'.

  -1-

  Jonathan had the phone on the counter that served as a divider between the living room area and the kitchenette of the hotel room we were in. His right hand touched his perfect chin, his fingertips grazing along the stubble of his face. He was normally clean cut, but missing today’s shave left him with a dark shadow on his face that only complemented his dark eyes as he stared down at the phone.

  His right hand held tight to the skinny neck of a large wine glass. The glass was once filled to the brim but now sat almost empty. It was Jonathan’s second glass. I had a glass of wine in front of me, in the living room, where I sat next to a small fire. The heat from the fire did no help to me as my body had been set ablaze already.

  I know who it is.

  Jonathan ordered the most expensive bottle of wine someone could find him. I didn’t dare ask the cost. I will say this, the bottle came in a small wooden crate and the label looked old, cracked, and was written in a different language. When I sipped the wine, it had a horrible bitter, fruity taste but imagining the cost of the wine, I convinced myself it was the best tasting drink of my life.

  When Jonathan brought the wine glass back to his lips, he stopped touching his jaw and went back to the phone.

  By then he had read all the text messages at least a dozen times.

  And it’s not Kellen.

  I couldn’t stop replaying the scene in my mind. Thinking I had been doing the right thing. Keeping myself and Jonathan alive. Wanting him to settle his problems with Kellen (whose beautiful stature was still a fresh image in my mind). But it all blew up in my face. The text messages got worse and finally led to a sick conclusion... whoever this ‘K’ person was happened to be very close to both Jonathan and I. Close in proximity; they could see me in the hotel room. But also close emotionally. Closer to Jonathan than I knew and as much as I wanted to know how close ‘K’ was, part of me wanted to take the phone and break it. To forget about it. To beg Jonathan to take me to his private jet and fly somewhere else. Somewhere across the world.

  But that would never happen, not in any world I wanted to live in that included Jonathan Black.

  He looked at me, his eyes, even across the room, burned at me. Sending signals that I couldn’t quite read but I could feel. Oh, I could feel them. His eyes moved from my eyes to the window behind me. Jonathan refused to close the large curtain. It left me feeling exposed and to be honest, scared. ‘K’ knew where we were and ‘K’ watched me at that window.

  “Close that,” Jonathan said.

  Even with almost two extra large glasses of wine in his system, his voice sounded clear and in control. It was fun to imagine Jonathan a blubbering drunk but something told me I’d never see that. It would never happen. He had too much control over everything to allow himself to become vulnerable, or worse yet, weak.

  I stood from the couch and walked to the window. There I stood for a few seconds, lingering, my eyes scrambling to pick out the lights on in the building directly across from us. I couldn’t imagine ‘K’ being in one of those, maybe even looking back. Then it occurred to me that maybe ‘K’ didn’t have the lights on at all. Maybe this person was a cold, calculated killer, standing in the darkness of their own room, watching Jonathan and I. Waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment.

  “Isabella Grace,” Jonathan said, “I won’t command you twice.”

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  I closed the curtains and stepped back, feeling somewhat relieved already. I went to the couch and took my wine glass off the table and walked to Jonathan. His eyes were back on the messages. He touched the screen with a finger and scrolled to start over again.

  “This is why,” he said, “this is why I can’t trust. And this is why he is in jail right now.”

  I knew who Jonathan referred to as he.

  His father, John Black.

  After confessing to two murders he did not commit, John Black should have been rotting in prison. But it seemed now that wasn’t the case. If anything, John Black relaxed in prison, knowing all the pieces of his son’s life he tried to destroy. And one of those pieces included me.

  “He knew the message would come through,” Jonathan said.

  “It happened,” I said. “But how do we stop it?”

  Jonathan looked at me. He blinked and smiled, the first sign of some kind of peace in hours. I was at the point that I wanted to strip naked to ease him. We could lock ourselves in the bedroom and...

  “Isabella Grace,” he said as he reached for my face. His hand was warm and strong. “You’re still so innocent. We can’t stop what’s in motion. That’s how people get hurt. Understand?”

  I didn’t reply. It made some sense but I felt comfort in Jonathan touching me and hearing his voice, his attention, his everything directed at me.

  “See, if a one ton rock rolled down a hill towards us, would we put our hands out and hope we could stop it?”

  I shook my head.

  “Of course not,” he said. “We would move away and let it roll until it came to a stop. Then we could assess the damage and move from there. That’s how I’ve always worked. I stay on top of the situation but I never commit to it. Commitment is a form of weakness, Isabella, please understand that.”

  Commitment.

  Exactly what I had give Jonathan.

  Commitment.

  I’d given my body, my submission, and I would give my life for him if he told me to. Wasn’t that a form of commitment? Or was I just part of something greater? Were my actions part of him assessing the damage in and around his life at that moment?

  I hated thinking so seriously but times in life required a sense of serious thinking.

  “Whether you like it or not, Isabella, ‘K’ is coming,” Jonathan said. He started to half smile but then curled his lip. “It will all come together, and soon.”

  His hand slipped behind my head, his fingers moving through my soft hair like a slithering snake in tall grass. He pulled me to him, our lips collided in a beautiful yet erotic fashion. He kissed me and I allowed him to. When I closed my lips, I tasted the wine on his lips. When his tongue slipped into my mouth, my body ached. It was the only thing that made me feel alive. It gave me purpose.

  The kiss ended hours too early for my liking but I would have to deal with it for now.

  “I’m more worried about Kellen,” Jonathan said. “He can’t get away with his baby actions, can he?”

  “No,�
�� I whispered.

  “Maybe we should explain to him what we can do.”

  The talk of we excited me but my mind kept me clearly informed that just a handful of seconds ago Jonathan refuted the idea of commitment.

  “Wouldn’t that be spectacular?” Jonathan asked. His eyes were glossy and wide. The wine obviously ran its course through his body but he still kept composure. “We could introduce him to the fate of Oliver Rush and Peter Cresh...”

  The two names made my shiver and cringe. I still hated the two men, even if they were dead.

  “But we must resist,” Jonathan said turning his attention back to the cell phone on the counter. “We can’t stop what he’s going to do. The good part is that what is he going to do is wrong. He thinks he has me. Oh, yes. He thinks he’s holding the insatiable fate of Jonathan Black in his clammy, pale skin palms. But he’s not. It’s an illusion, created by his own eyes, his feeble mind, and his weak heart.”

  Jonathan paused and as he took a sip of wine, I noticed the glass shaking in his hand. His other hand made a fist and I could feel the urge surging through his body. I could only breathe, not wanting to push him over the edge by saying the wrong thing or speaking at all.

  “Did you hear me?” Jonathan growled.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “His weak fucking heart!”

  Jonathan’s fist came down and hit the cell phone. His middle knuckle his the screen, cracking it into what looked like a million pieces. When he brought his hand up I expected to see blood but there was none. His knuckle throbbed apple red but again, the perfect and intense command of Jonathan prevailed.

  I glanced at the phone and saw the screen slowly die out rendering the cell phone nothing more than a cracked paperweight. My heart tensed, wondering if ‘K’ meant to send more messages to me. If so, and I ignored this person, what would happen? Would the ignorance bring the person to Jonathan and I? Or perhaps it was exactly what Jonathan wanted.

  He rolled his fingers and using the thumb on his other hand, he wiped his red knuckle and left it at that.

  “With that settled,” he said and reached for his glass of wine. He sipped and took a deep breath.

  I did the same.

  “Now we can focus on Kellen’s weak heart and expose him,” Jonathan said. “I’m sure you understand by now, Isabella, I don’t need him. Do I?”

  I thought for a second. Jonathan had met with Kellen, hoping to finalize some real estate project. But I knew better than to venture against the winds of Jonathan Black. It was better to stay with him... the life, the pleasure, they were both worth it all.

  “Isabella Grace, I asked you a question,” Jonathan said. “I can look away for a moment for the sake of your fear, but too much fear shows weakness and distrust in me. Do you trust me?”

  “Of course I do,” I said. No hesitation needed there. I trusted Jonathan with every ounce of my body.

  “Then answer my question.... I don’t need Kellen, do I?”

  “No, you don’t need anybody,” I said.

  “Ah, that was once true,” Jonathan said. He lifted his wine glass and swirled the liquid around, testing the expensive drink to the edge of the wide glass, over and over. “I don’t need anybody, except you, Isabella Grace.”

  Jonathan put the wine glass down and turned, leaving me standing with my body and mind racing.

  It wasn’t necessarily a term of endearment or the super romantic moment most women dream of when they’re with their dream man, but considering Jonathan Black and all that made up the strong, sexy, dominant billionaire who had stolen my heart such a long time ago, it was perhaps the most romantic gesture I’d ever received.

  My mind yelled at me... Jonathan Black needs you!

  Of course he needed me, but in what capacity I still wasn’t exactly sure.

  Jonathan stopped walking at the curtain. It was the same window he had been standing at night, just staring out to the city before him. It made me wonder if he knew ‘K’ was watching and if he stood there on purpose to entice ‘K’. There was a sickening genius behind every gesture Jonathan Black made, each one well designed and perfectly executed.

  “Come, Isabella, right now.”

  He put his left hand out. I rushed to him. The distance between he and I - even from the kitchenette to the window - felt like miles upon miles.

  I put my hand to his, leaving my hand open so he could close his first, thus keeping control. Subtle movements, yes, but they were ones I knew Jonathan required, each one acting as its own small building block of trust. All that I could offer him.

  “I’m going to break Kellen,” Jonathan said. “And I’m not going to use my hands. I’m going to finish something I started a long time ago, a time when your innocence was as fresh as the first bloomed flower in a spring meadow. Understand right now, Isabella Grace, there are two things you need to know.”

  “Please, tell me.”

  I actually felt desperate at that point. Anything to get my mind off ‘K’ and anything to keep my mind on Jonathan.

  “First off,” Jonathan said, turning to me, “I’m going to take care of Kellen. With your help. You are going to shine, Isabella Grace. You’re going to be forever stuck in his mind and that, oh yes, that alone is worth keeping him alive. To have him savoring something he can never have. Yes.”

  Jonathan nodded and the corners of his mouth twitched like he wanted to smile.

  Please, smile, please.

  He didn’t smile.

  He turned away, looking back at the closed curtain.

  “You said there were two things,” I said, almost in a whisper.

  “Yes, I did, didn’t I?”

  I waited.

  Jonathan slid his hands into his pockets. He appeared retreated, at peace. But of course I knew better than to trust in any of Jonathan Black’s body language. The only language that I believed was his sexual language. The language of his eyes, hands, and mouth.

  “You, Isabella Grace, got all those text messages,” Jonathan explained, “and never told me.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, but...”

  “No, I’m speaking right now. While I respect your common sense to comprehend the messages - the ones laced with intentions of death - I have to feel pain within myself that you could be so weak to believe them. To believe that anyone could challenge me... us. You left me in the dark, didn’t you?”

  My lips puckered. My heart raced.

  I couldn’t deny it.

  That’s exactly what I had done to Jonathan.

  I had left him in the dark.

  Not only had I received the messages, I had replied. I, perhaps, set the entire thing into motion. If only I had ignored the messages, never replied, maybe nothing would have happened.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Black.”

  “Yes, you should be,” Jonathan said.

  He took his hands from his pockets and slowly undid his tie. He stretched his neck as he did so and then rolled the tie up, finally gripping it with one big, strong hand. He reached his hand out to me and opened it, forcing me to hurry and catch the tie.

  I did, feeling its silky touch.

  I could barely control my breathing.

  “I’m going to show you how it feels, Isabella Grace,” Jonathan whispered. He turned his head and looked at me. “I’m going to keep you in the dark... so you won’t know what I’m going to do to you next...”