Elias (GRIT Sector 1)

by Rebecca Sherwin

  “Now, open up. Use your teeth and you go back into the dungeon.”

  What was I doing? I knew this was forbidden, I knew it was wrong and I knew I’d be in an immeasurable amount of trouble; not only for shedding tears and blood of an Ashford, but for planning on violating her; for planning to fill her mouth to shut her up and claim her as mine. She wasn’t mine, and she never would be. She’d coaxed me into it; I’d tried so hard to resist her, but she’d as good as begged me for it, and then she took it back. She drove me insane. The only way now was to have my fill, get her out of my system, and then move on in the morning like nothing had happened.

  I was standing over her, feet apart, one hand on the wall as the other stroked my cock and edged closer to her inviting lips. I didn’t stand a chance against Trixie Ashford. She could bring a god to his knees and as much as I wanted to worship her on mine, looking into her fiery violet eyes as she opened her mouth and extended her tongue…that won. It would win a thousand times, before she’d even opened her mouth and brought me to breaking point.

  “Who says I don’t want to go back?”

  I grabbed her chin, kept her mouth open and shoved my cock in her mouth before she had the chance to say another word. I needed her to just shut up and take me. I needed her to let me be free; to disappear and claim freedom while she kept me cocooned in safety. I loved the hunt; I loved to chase, capture and command, but I loved how Trixie paralysed me. I loved how she took over and I dropped my hand, reaching out to join the other on the wall as I leaned over her, lowered my head and watched her choke herself.

  Fuck.

  I was in trouble.

  My body shook and shuddered. My head swam with the hundreds of possibilities having her here presented. My hands threaded into her hair as she swallowed me down and I hunched over to rest my head on the door.

  “God, Trixie,” I hummed, squeezing my eyes shut.

  I couldn’t. She was too powerful. My weak little Ashford was weak no more, and I needed to remember that she wasn’t mine to take. I couldn’t. But I wanted to. I needed to. But I needed control.

  I almost lost it, slipping out of her mouth before I could explode inside it without warning.

  Elias had greater willpower than I did. I knew we were destructive; I knew what we did was forbidden, but I didn’t care. I knew when he pulled out of my mouth, thrusted his hands to my shoulders and pulled me to my feet, that I had lost him. He slammed my back against the door, but I knew it wasn’t to continue what we’d started.

  Elias stood fighting for breath with his forehead against mine and his hands slid to my hair before he squeezed hard. I heard him swallow, watched his mouth open, and then he closed it to swallow again as he righted his pants and zipped up his trousers. He had no words. Elias Blackwood, King of the Sector, was speechless. My heart was racing, my head was fuzzy and my lungs fought for oxygen to keep me standing here with him. I gripped the back of his neck and tried to bring him back to me. I clawed at his shoulder, but I wasn’t strong enough to break him. He stared through me, looking lost and vulnerable like a deer in the headlights. It broke me. I had no idea who he really was, but his sadness and confusion tore me in two.

  “Elias…”

  “I can't.”

  “Why?” I flexed my fingers, reminding him where we were. “What happened?”

  He shook his head.

  “No.” I tried to stand my ground, but he moved me aside and opened the door. “Don’t do this again.”

  “I told you dinner was ready,” was his reply before he bowed his head and refused to look at me. “Your priority should be to learn to follow the rules, not fuck the head of the organisation. Dinner is in ten minutes, Miss Ashford.”

  I didn’t want to eat. I did, but not whatever Elias was serving for dinner. What was his problem? I wanted to stamp my foot like a child, and growl like a frustrated animal. I was a frustrated animal; a hot, needy, horny mess of an animal who just wanted to screw the man she hated. Why was that an impossibility? I pulled on some clothes—a pair of black silk pyjama bottoms and a white camisole, and left the room to see who would greet me this time.

  “You look lovely,” Elias said from wherever he was hiding, making me jump.

  “What’s for dinner?” I asked, refusing to search for him.

  “Black looks good on you. I love the curve of your shoulders, the contours of your back…” He was closer now.

  I closed my eyes as he circled me, and tried to supress my reaction. I tried to pretend my clit wasn’t throbbing for attention, my nipples hadn’t hardened at the mere sound of his voice, and my imagination hadn’t been kick-started when I thought about all the things we’d do if he didn’t keep shutting me out.

  “What’s for dinner?” I asked again, reminiscing about the feel of him in my mouth, how his smooth length slid down my throat and fed me a salty appetiser.

  “Are you hungry, Miss Ashford?”

  He was right behind me, trailing one fingertip down my spine as he kissed me behind my ear.

  I angled my neck for more and released a moan as I whispered, “Yes.”

  Elias’ free hand took hold of my wrist—always with the possessive hold I had come to crave—and his hand closed around mine.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he whispered, the Elias I liked most returning now he’d taken a minute to compose himself. “I just don’t want it here, like this. I want you to want me when you know everything.”

  “The truth isn’t going to change anything.”

  “It might. It should.”

  “It won't. I don’t care what the truth it. Whatever it entails, whatever ghosts and stories and secrets lie in this house, I want to face them with you.”

  “And what happens if you can't? What happened if I take you now and when you find out the truth, you’ll be bound to a man you hate, locked in a life you can't live, with secrets you can't escape from?”

  “You really should give me more credit.”

  “I can't,” was all he said before he stepped beside me and tugged my hand so I took my first step along the hallway. “I didn’t think you’d want a fancy dinner so I had the chef cook burgers. We can eat them in the kitchen and you can ask me your questions.”

  “What questions?”

  I wasn’t stupid and neither was he. We both knew I had questions, and plenty of them. I wanted to know exactly how honest he planned on being with me, while we dined like a normal couple of humans in a less than normal world.

  “Ask them and you’ll find out.”

  The burgers were good. They were nothing like the ones from the greasy van I sometimes bought dinner from, when the owner was rushing to close so he’d make it back to his family alive. No, these were good quality burgers, made with the finest Aberdeen Angus beef imported in from beyond the walls. Everything about the meal was delicious; hearty red wine shipped in from Italy, the brioche buns delivered from France, and the salad of hand cut vegetables grown outside where food was rife. It was perfect.

  Elias had had the maid set a candle between us and a small vase of rose heads. Dinner was served on the finest silverware, and we sipped the wine from crystal glasses as we sat on two stools at the breakfast bar. The kitchen was contemporary, with all the mod-cons of a twenty-first century kitchen, complete with white appliances and dark marble countertops to match the floor. Elias looked relaxed as he squirted ketchup on his burger after insisting I went first while he collected a bottle of water for us to share. It seemed so lame to watch a man eat, but I loved it. I loved watching him when he’d hunted and gathered, and arranged us a meal fit for the outside world. He was quiet, comfortable and no longer intimidating. I was sure a different Elias would appear soon enough, but for now I had this one and I wouldn’t have changed him for anything.

  “What purpose do the different personas serve?” I asked, popping a chip into my mouth.

  Elias glanced up at me from where he was hunched over his plate with his burger halfway to his mouth. H
e smiled and took a bite, making me wait for his answer.

  “Of all the questions on your mind, that’s the one you ask?” He wiped his mouth with a napkin and even that was fascinating. “You don’t have questions about you? About-” He waved his hand in the air. “This place?”

  “Sure.” I shrugged. “But they’re not the questions I’m asking.”

  Brushing his hands on his lap, despite having a napkin next to him, he thought for a minute.

  “Each one serves a purpose. Everything does. I don’t notice a shift so I can't explain them to you. They’re just who I am.”

  “Who was the man in the dungeon?”

  He sighed. “The second man I’ve been raised to honour.”

  “He was the one who controlled the activities down there?” He nodded. “And the man in the bedroom?”

  “How can you be sure they’re not one and the same?”

  I shrugged again. “I just know. I feel you change.”

  Impressed, Elias continued and elaborated. It was the first time he’d willingly offered me more information and I listened intently. “He’s the first. Eli Blackwood, born in 1509.”

  “What’s his purpose?”

  He looked at me, thinking over his answer as his eyes darkened and slid to my neck, before he made eye contact again.

  “He debases.”

  My heart sank to my stomach as butterflies moved in to dance in anticipation. Debasement. I didn’t think Elias was talking about decreasing the value of money, and it was the alternate possibilities that had my heart racing and my legs clamping together beneath the table.

  “Just like that?” I asked and cleared my throat. I sounded needy and aroused, and I needed to hide that from him.

  “Just like that. If he wants a woman, he takes her.”

  “How many have there been?”

  I could see he wasn’t going to answer my question in the way he blinked a little slower and pursed his lips. He didn’t like talking about himself. He didn’t want me to know.

  “In the early 1500s, women were not only seen as virtuous and beautiful but as wanton creatures seeking pleasure. They were no longer seen as nothing but vessels to carry children.” Elias picked at a handful of chips and I watched as he ate without a hint of discomfort. This was where he was comfortable, talking about centuries gone but not forgotten here. I was enamoured. “However, it was still men who controlled sexuality. Eli Blackwood was one of those men. He was seduced by the sirens of the streets, scarred and destroyed by the one women whom he’d thought was devoted to him. At a time when women were beginning to discover themselves and explore their own sexuality, Eli’s wife fell victim to curiosity and she paid the price. Eli’s method of punishment for her betrayal was to bathe in what the harlots of the City offered freely and with new excitement.” His eyes were black when he licked his lips and snagged the bottom one between his teeth. “My ancestor was creative. He was a dark, devious man, and his actions did not go unnoticed. Instead they became the foundations for all derivatives of his name.”

  “So you force women into sex because this Eli did so, five-hundred years ago?”

  “No.” He growled, forcing me to stop picking at the crumbs on my plate and look into his haunting eyes. “I do not rape women. I’m not a rapist. Please try and remember everything I’ve told you about evolution.”

  “So you’ve evolved into a sadist?”

  Elias shook his head and scrubbed his face with his hands. “How do you even know what that means?” I raised one brow and prepared to snap at him for assuming my naivety, but he raised his hand. “No, don’t answer that.” He took a deep breath. Now he was uncomfortable. I would never believe he didn’t want me. I knew what was running through his mind and it matched mine…but I stayed quiet and let him educate me. “I didn’t say anything about hurting women. I told you there is an element of debasement. I told you there is a need for control. There’s no need for pain beyond what is pleasurable and tolerable.”

  “Pleasurable and tolerable are at opposite ends of the table, Elias.”

  He groaned at my use of his name, and then he sighed with conflict. He couldn’t talk about sex as twenty-first century Elias without sixteenth century Elias wanting to break through.

  “Why is this so important?”

  “It just is.”

  “Okay, but you asked for it. Remember that.”

  I froze when Elias stood up and rounded the breakfast bar to stand behind my seat. I could feel the rope tightening, drawing us closer. My skin prickled with awareness as the frustrating ache moved in and I wondered if it would be sated this time.

  “When I pulled your hair…” he started, gathering it in his hands and wrapping it around a tight fist. I stayed still, trying not to move—so as not to encourage or deter him. I wanted him in complete control. “What did you feel?”

  “I liked it,” I answered, resisting the urge to pull away from him, to bow my head in embarrassment.

  “Did it hurt?” he asked, giving my hair a quick jerk.

  “A little.” He pulled harder and I winched, hissing through my teeth and squeezing my eyes shut. “Yes. Yes, it hurts.”

  “But is it tolerable?” He stroked my cheek and pulled again, so my head rested on his chest. “Pleasurable, since you said you liked it.” I nodded, my blood pounding in my ears with each sharp tug against my scalp. “And yet it hurt, didn’t it?”

  “It did.”

  “But it still made you wet.” I gasped and crossed one leg over the other as Elias leaned closer and rested his hand on my stomach. “It still turned you on. That one little piece of discomfort stirred a hunger for more. A bigger rush. A bigger, harder wave of intensity that soaks your cunt.” Oh Jesus. Elias and dirty talk. I was desperate for more. More words and a touch I’d craved for what felt like so long. “Are you wet, Trixie? Does this turn you on?” He gave another pull and his tongue ran the length of my neck, from where my shoulder ended to where my ear began. I moaned. His hand slid lower, fingertips sneaking beneath the waistband of my bottoms. “So smooth, Miss Ashford, and yet so hot, so…” Parting my legs with a dexterous hand, he dipped a finger inside me. “So wet.”

  “Elias…” I hummed, my eyes rolling closed as I circled my hips to draw him in deeper.

  “Shh…” I shivered when he whispered in my ear. “I’ve got you.”

  Fluid fingers eased in and out of me, his thumb stroked my clit and his hold on my hair kept me captive, forcing me to feel every ounce of intensity he created with one fucking hand. His rhythm was uneven, his strokes alternating between soft and rough, fast and slow, each fucking flick over my clit making me shudder and cry out and climb a little higher, like I was scaling the city walls and searching for something I didn’t know existed. He made me see stars. He made me black out and focus on his fingers driving in and out of me. He made me quiver, every inch of my body desperate for him. He made me cold, aching to be covered with his body, and he made me hot—ready to explode if he’d just flip the switch. He knew it; he knew exactly what he was doing; he was keeping me on the edge until he’d decided I’d earned an orgasm. He was showing me pleasurable could be painful and pain could be tolerable. He was showing me exactly why the lines were blurred, and I knew we hadn’t scratched the surface of his abilities. Debasement. Just the thought of it—of returning to the dungeon at the mercy of the man finger-fucking me into oblivion—made me heave for breath as pleasure stole it from me. The dungeon. Chains. Splinters. Tools. Pain. Pleasure.

  Elias.

  My legs clamped around his hand as my orgasm rippled through my entire body, curling my toes, making my nerves judder and my eyes stream as I cried out and reached behind me to hold onto him. He held me tightly, kissing my neck as I rode the high and let it take me. He stroked me back to reality, with just enough pressure to keep me on edge without forcing sensitivity upon me.

  “See?” he said, “One and the same.”

  “Not fair,” I choked, shaking my head as I stil
l fought to return when all I wanted now was to sleep. “You have an unfair advantage.”

  “Do I?”

  Elias let go of my hair and began combing his hands through it. He was caring. He was soothing. He was human, beyond the God, king and emperor I’d come to think of him as.

  “Yes.” I kept my eyes closed and hummed as his hands lulled me into a sleepy relaxation. “I can't resist you. I can't help but want you.”

  Elias stiffened, and his hands froze in my hair, but he said nothing, recovering and beginning to caress me again. He still didn’t respond and it filled me with worry and hope as I closed my eyes and let him stroke me to sleep. I still didn’t understand him. I still didn’t know if he hated me, cared about me like I hoped he did, or if this was one big game to him. Another challenge to overcome and dominate.

  I wasn’t sure I’d have the willpower to survive this.

  I'd brought her to orgasm. I wouldn't be selfish and take one from her, but it was an image I would get myself off to every night. Masturbation always threw me off guard...perhaps doing it to the memory of Trixie lost in sexuality—the state of arousal the first Eli would have revelled in extracting—would keep me grounded. Remind me of everything I stood for when all my walls were being threatened by a goddess.

  Trixie fell asleep on the sofa in front of the fire after dinner, curling up next to me and gradually moving closer. Tugging the throw off the back, I laid it over her and tucked it around her small form, trying my best to be gentle and not disturb her. Everything about me was brutal and I wanted to spare her that. I watched her for a while, knowing my time wasn't my own tonight. I wished I didn't have to do this. I wished I didn't have to continue life this way, because she deserved so much more than a heavy conscious and a false sense of righteousness. I stood from the sofa, closed the door when I left the living room and crossed the house to the office I'd led her to just hours previously.