Black Obsidian

by Victoria Quinn

  “Yeah. In Manhattan.”

  She just lied to me. If she had been born here, Charles would have known about it. But since I couldn’t tell her I was a stalker and did a background check on her, I couldn’t call her out on her shit.

  “What about you?”

  “Born and raised.” I studied her face like a scientist looking into a microscope. I wanted to study all of her reactions so I could read her later. For instance, now I knew the face she made when she lied—because she just lied to me. “Christopher too?”

  “He was born in Kansas. We met a few years later on.”

  They weren’t related. So that meant one of them was adopted into the foster family. Or there was some other explanation. I wanted to come out and ask her bluntly, but that seemed too harsh. If she asked me personal questions, I wouldn’t appreciate it. “Did he have a good time with Patricia?”

  “He said they hooked up in the bathroom.”

  She was easy. Too easy, actually. “Did they meet up again?”

  “I doubt it. Christopher isn’t really the dating type.”

  Was he the same type as me? I didn’t detect any dominance from him, but I could be wrong. There was no reason for him to act that way around his sister. “Good for him. Glad he had some fun at the gala.”

  “She almost tried to have her fun with you.”

  I pretended not to know what she was referring to. If we continued down this road, I would have to admit I fucked Patricia once. And I didn’t want to talk about other women when I was with Rome. “What does Christopher do?”

  “He manages mutual funds.”

  “Good for him.”

  “He seems to like it, even though it sounds painfully boring to me.”

  “Some people are into that—numbers.”

  “Do you do anything else besides run Humanitarians United?”

  I hated lying and avoided it at all costs. It made me feel like less of a man. If you had to hide who you were, then you were weak. But I couldn’t tell Rome the truth—not this early on. “I have a few hobbies.”

  “Like what?”

  “Reading, biking, hiking, wine, and classical music.”

  “We have a few things in common. I love reading and playing the piano.”

  My fingers tightened around my glass at that response. The idea of her sitting at the piano and hitting the keys with her slender fingertips made my body burn. Knowing she made something beautiful with her body was one of the biggest turn-ons I’d ever experienced. I wanted to throw her on a grand piano and make some music together. “I’d love to hear you play sometime.”

  “Sure. Sometime.”

  I detected that distance again. She told Taylor how much she wanted me, but she suddenly hit the brakes and kept space between us. I still hadn’t figured out why, but I would know eventually. The mystery surrounding her drew me in. I always dug up information on my partners before I engaged them. Some had a past I couldn’t overcome, and some had tendencies that told me they were emotionally unstable. Isabella’s file was clean, but she ended up being an emotional wreck anyway. With Rome, I went into it nearly blind, and that only made me more interested in discovering her secrets.

  “What’s your brother like?”

  A shithead. “We look a lot alike. Anyone who sees us together knows we’re brothers. I’m the cool, rational one, and he’s the immature one. And, of course, I’m simply better looking. That’s the biggest difference between us.”

  She smiled at my cocky comment. “I have a feeling you’re right. Can’t picture someone better looking than you.”

  My stomach tightened at the compliment. It was the kind I’d never received before. Women told me to fuck them and make them come, but no one had ever said anything so generous while sitting across from me in a public place. “Then you haven’t seen all the underwear models on billboards in this city.”

  She shrugged. “They all look the same to me—photoshopped.”

  God, I wanted to fuck her. “Thank you for the compliment.”

  We ate our dinner while keeping our conversation going. When we stuck to meaningless topics like music and film, my cock behaved itself and remained soft in my trousers. Sometimes I had to go into a Zen mode so I wouldn’t grab her by the neck and bend her over the table. It took serious concentration for me to remain in control of my faculties. This woman turned me into a wild animal, a caveman. All I knew how to do was fuck.

  “Is there a story behind your generosity?”

  I didn’t understand the question, so I took a moment to figure it out. “Not sure what you mean.”

  “Did you know someone who struggled when you were growing up? Or did you have some kind of experience with being in need? I feel like the people who help others the most are those who’ve suffered through it themselves.”

  I had my experience with abuse, but that wasn’t the underlying reason for my behavior. I was related to the coldest and cruelest man I’d ever met, and it was my responsibility to erase the horrible things he did. Jackson resented me for getting most of the inheritance, and when he realized I gave it away to charity, he wasn’t happy. But if he knew why I got that money, he would shut his mouth. “No. The inheritance I received was more than any single person could ever need. I didn’t want to keep it all for myself. That’s all.”

  She nodded. “That’s very generous of you.”

  “What about you?” This was an answer I was eager for. I knew nothing about her prior to her years in college. She changed her name at one point, and she was untraceable. It was like she was in the witness protection program—off the map.

  “I didn’t have a great childhood. My parents were drug addicts, and I grew up in a foster home. That’s where I met Christopher.” She said the words so simply, like she was talking about the weather when she visited the beach. The expression in her eyes didn’t change, and her voice didn’t shake.

  “I’m so sorry.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could restrain them. Pity rose in my heart, and I wanted to fix everything for her. I wanted to go back in time and get her out of there. I wanted to protect her from the horrible things she must have seen.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t feel bad for me.” The same strength I saw in the bar that night came back into her features. She was a fireball that couldn’t be doused with water. She burned brighter, making everything else look dark in comparison. “Don’t pity me. Christopher and I got out of that situation and made lives for ourselves. We may not have parents, but we have each other—and that’s always been good enough for both of us. We have a place to call home, and we have food on the table. I’m the very last person you should feel bad for.”

  Her resolve only made me want her more. She refused to have a pity party for herself, and when she spoke of her past, she didn’t choke. With a spine made of steel, she was powerful and strong. When life pushed her down, she got back on her feet and stood even taller. That resilience was sexier than any submissive I’d ever had—even those with all their daddy issues. This woman was fire and ice mixed together. She was painfully beautiful. “I don’t. I admire you.”

  Her hard expression softened. “Thank you.”

  Now I wanted to fuck her even more. We just had to get through this dinner, and I would offer to take her home. Once we were outside her door, I would kiss her until she invited me inside. I needed to get naked with this woman and fuck her all through the night. My dick needed to be inside her yesterday.

  We did the check dance before I finally got my money to the waiter. I suspected she would try to pay for her meal because that was just the kind of woman she was. And I was right. She fought me until she finally lost, but if she were my submissive, the fight wouldn’t have taken place at all.

  We walked outside, and I headed to my car parked off the street. When I realized she wasn’t walking with me, I turned back to her. “Let me give you a ride home. Those heels must be a bitch to walk in.” She wore t
hem like sandals, but I knew they must hurt the balls of her feet.

  “I’ll wave down a cab. Thank you for dinner.” She looked up at me with her striking green eyes, hiding something below the surface.

  “I don’t mind taking you home. It’s the least I can do since I didn’t pick you up.” Actually, she wouldn’t let me pick her up.

  “Really, it’s okay.”

  My left hand formed a fist, and I had to battle for dominion. I wanted to tell her to shut her mouth and get into the car, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere. She wasn’t ready to see my dark side even though I was ready to unleash it. “Rome.”

  She straightened when I said her name, picking up on my tone.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  This time, I couldn’t hold back. I snapped. “You know exactly what I mean. Don’t waste my time by treating me like an idiot.”

  She stilled at my command, and instead of being offended, she seemed embarrassed. “I would love it if you took me home. But I don’t trust myself around you. I know the second we’re in front of my door, I’m going to jump in your arms and wrap my legs around your waist.”

  “And what’s wrong with that?” It sounded like a pretty damn good picture to me.

  “I don’t want to rush this.”

  “Why?” Getting straight to the good stuff was how I did things.

  “Because I like you, Calloway.” She looked into my eyes with her bright ones, looking like a dream come true with her vulnerability. She only lied to me to protect herself, and the moment she was honest again, she was gorgeous. I loved seeing that expression on her face—like she trusted me with the truth.

  “I like you too, Rome.” Like wasn’t an appropriate word to express my feelings. Obsessed was more like it. I’d wanted to get under that skirt the second I laid eyes on her. It was all I’d been thinking about with my hand wrapped around my hard cock. But I wanted the real thing, and I was tired of waiting. She wanted me, I wanted her—end of story.

  “I don’t want to do something I’ll regret.” Her voice lowered further, more of her vulnerability coming to the surface. “I’ve made some bad choices in my life. I’m trying not to repeat them.”

  She was hinting at her ex, some asshole who did something unforgivable to her. I wanted to pry, but I knew it wasn’t my place. If she wanted me to know, she would have told me. “You won’t regret me, Rome.” When we were rolling around on my sheets, and she was coming all through the night, she would hate herself for waiting so long. She was the ideal woman, and I was the only guy who was man enough to handle her. I was the only man who deserved her. But I couldn’t make her see that. She would have to figure that out on her own. “Let me take you home. I’ll walk you to your door, kiss you goodnight, and then walk away like a gentleman.” Even though I was nothing of the sort.

  Her eyes searched mine for assurance. She obviously didn’t find it because she said, “Can you promise me something?”

  I had no idea what she would ask, but looking into her forest green eyes made me not care about whatever words came out of her mouth. I was hypnotized, as I’d been a thousand times before. This woman brought me to my knees with just an expression—and she did it so many times. “Anything.”

  “Can we wait a while? Even if I ask, promise we won’t sleep together.”

  Where was the fun in that? How was I supposed to chain her to my headboard when she wouldn’t even get on her back? This woman was strong and centered, so why did she need me to make a promise like that? If she were anyone else, I would abandon this hopeless feat and find someone else. “How long?”

  She cleared her throat before she answered. “Four weeks.”

  What. The. Fuck.

  Four goddamn weeks?

  Is she insane?

  A whole month?

  Hell no.

  Forget that.

  No one was worth four weeks. I’d find someone else.

  I’d die if I waited that long.

  Absolutely not.

  Her eyes glanced back and forth between mine, shaking because they moved so quickly. She tried to read my thoughts, but they were tucked away deep inside my chest. She must have expected my refusal because she was looking for it.

  Soon, she would find it.

  Four weeks was unacceptable. It’d already been two weeks since I last got laid, and I hadn’t beaten off so much in my life. Another four on top of that would kill me. My cock would never forgive me, and that resentment would only grow as time passed.

  But I couldn’t walk away from her. I would regret that even more.

  I wanted her to trust me enough to allow me to do some twisted and dark things. I wanted her to trust me to gag her, bind her, and bring her to the highest levels of pleasure. I wanted her to trust me to hurt her, to bend her until she nearly snapped in two. How would I earn that unconditional trust unless I gave her a reason to trust me? This woman wasn’t like the others, and I’d accepted that from the beginning. If I really wanted her, I’d have to work for it. And I was always up for a challenge. “Okay.”

  The strain in her eyes finally dwindled. She obviously expected me to disagree with her request, which any normal man would, and I surprised her when I didn’t. But my eyes were on the prize—the best submissive I could ever ask for. “Thank you.”

  “But what constitutes as sex?” I had a lot of different definitions of the act.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I won’t sleep with you for four weeks—even if you ask me to. But you need to define it better. Can I kiss you? Can I touch you? Can I finger you?”

  She didn’t hide her surprise at my vulgar questions. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “Well, do so now.”

  “Anything but intercourse.”

  Thank god. I could work around that. “Alright. I won’t sleep with you for four weeks starting today.”

  “Even if I change my mind in a few weeks.” She was obsessed with keeping my cock out of her pussy, but why was it so important to her? Refraining from sex just for the sake of it was stupid as fuck. There shouldn’t be a timing threshold for a good lay. When I first met her, I thought she was different than the others. I assumed she thought for herself and lived by her own rules. She lived in the moment and didn’t care what anyone thought of her. Maybe I was wrong about all of that. Or maybe I was missing a key factor in the situation.

  “Even if you change your mind.” If I didn’t have my own agenda, I would just break my promise the second she asked me to fuck her. But if I could show that kind of restraint when a naked woman was underneath me, then she could agree to being suspended above the floor while I wrapped her legs around my waist and fucked her.

  She got what she wanted. And I got what I wanted. She finally relaxed now that the dumbest conversation in the world had come to an end. “I’d like a ride if you’re still offering.”

  “Baby, I’m always offering.”

  I walked her to her door and pretended not to feel uncomfortable by the place. Just a moment ago, a tattooed gangbanger walked down the hallway with baggy pants and an oversized jacket, probably hiding a delivery of crack. He gave me a threatening look before he kept going—and he only lived a few doors down from her.

  I couldn’t let her live there.

  I wanted to buy her a flat in Manhattan, so she wouldn’t have to commute to work. I even considered asking her to move in with me. She could pay her rent by fucking me from the second I got home until the second I fell asleep at night.

  I didn’t voice my concerns because I knew how she would take them. She was stubborn and wouldn’t appreciate my bossiness—just yet. But I could only keep that side of me at bay for so long. It was the bulk of who I was—a Dom who always got what he wanted.

  She got the door unlocked and invited me inside. The place was smaller than her office, with a bedroom, kitchen, and living room all condensed into a single room. The only door in the place led to the b
athroom. “Would you like something? A glass of wine?”

  I just wanted to make out. “No, thank you.” I locked the door behind me and tested the door while she was turned away. At least that was secure. The idea of some asshole bothering her pissed me off so much I thought about kidnapping her.

  She walked to the wall and grabbed a tiny rope hanging from it. Once she pulled it down, a queen-size bed emerged, with the sheets, blankets, and pillows on top. The only furniture she had was a small armchair, and we both couldn’t fit on there—unless she sat in my lap.

  And I wouldn’t mind that in the least.

  “I know it’s small, but it’s cozy.” She pulled out a table from nowhere then rearranged the picture frames on the surface. One was of her and a few girlfriends, and another was of her and Christopher. She sat at the foot of the bed then looked at me expectantly. “Do you want any water?”

  “No.” There was only one thing I wanted to do. I’d been dancing around her for a while, and now that the ground rules were laid, I wanted to get down to business. Those lips were mine—both pairs.

  When I reached the bed, I grabbed her by the waist and tossed her backward until her head hit the pillow. Her eyes widened like she hadn’t been expecting me to throw her like a doll. I crawled up her body and immediately separated her thighs with mine. Her dress rose up to her hips, but I didn’t look at her panties—even though I wanted to.

  I grabbed both of her wrists then pinned them over her head. She didn’t fight me but looked at me with the same arousal in her eyes. Her green eyes shined a brighter shade, looking like large leaves in a jungle. They became lidded as she stared at my mouth, her lips desperate for mine.

  There were so many things I wanted to do with her, but I didn’t know where to begin. So I started with her mouth. I pressed my lips against hers and kissed her so hard her mouth would be swollen the next day. Her soft lips felt amazing against my mouth, and when they moved with mine with the same hunger, my spine stiffened. My cock immediately hardened in my slacks, and I pressed it against her clitoris, wanting her to know how much I wanted her.