by SE Reign
“No need,” I remind her softly. “Just get your shit straight.”
“Will do, Master.” She smiles and winks. “Congrats. I may not stop by and meet your girl, so don’t be offended.”
I nod, understanding. She never bothered to introduce herself to any woman I’ve dated, mainly because she knows the girls in my life were too temporary to bother with.
“Take care,” she says and leaves me.
I stay leaning against the railing, thoughts drifting back to Natalie.
I’ve never turned down a free fuck before, and I’m not sure if that bothers me more or the idea of Natalie chasing some dick.
Definitely her chasing the Anchor.
The conversation with Malika returns to me, and my focus shifts again. Instead of hot anger, I feel cold rage at the idea of doing what she says I should.
She’s right about one thing: it’d be easy to find a woman to knock up. But Natalie?
I had to find the one good person on the planet who wouldn’t blindly have a kid just to get my money. Not that I’m seriously considering a child, but even if I did, I’m in a situation where I’m double fucked: once because I can’t consider bringing an heir into this world with my fucked up background and twice because Natalie would never agree, even if I wanted to.
Knock her up, Malika had said.
It’d be easy to replace or throw away her birth control pills without her suspecting. She’d never do it willingly, but she’d never walk away from her own child if she did get knocked up. She’d make a fantastic mother, too, though I’m not fully certain how she’s going to navigate her newfound fame yet.
I can’t believe I’m considering it!
I hate my father for what he is. I have no intention of becoming him.
Yet I want the throne more than anything else in the world.
“EJ?” Natalie’s voice is like her tonight: timid, soft, and excited.
I push aside all my disturbed thoughts and take a deep breath, facing her.
She smiles, her face glowing in the moonlight.
My first instinct is to smell her, to make sure she hasn’t fucked the Anchor in the short time we were a part. There’s a part of me that knows she never would, but I can’t help the emotional response.
I hold out my hand to her. She has a way of calming my racing thoughts when she’s in my arms. I don’t know if it’s her scent or body, but holding her helps me relax in a way nothing else really can.
I find myself thinking about what Natalie and Alisha might be planning along with where Natalie disappeared to for three months. The same instincts that warn me about business deals where something isn’t right are humming about those three months.
I need to know, before I get too comfortable. Before I make a choice to walk down a path I can’t recover from.
Chapter Six: Natalie
Elijah seems distracted. His arms open instinctively to welcome me to his body, but I can’t shake the sense he’s somewhere else mentally. He draws me into him, and I rest against him to keep warm in the chilly evening air.
“I got the Anchor’s autograph,” I tell him. “Along with a few more.”
“As long as they didn’t sign your breasts.”
I say nothing, disappointed by his reaction. Before, in the museum, I would’ve sworn he almost seemed to care. Right now, he’s treating my words with professional indifference, so much so, I think if I dropped my dress, he wouldn’t even look twice.
He’s such an odd mix of absolute, cold control and fiery lust so deep, I don’t think anyone could contain it, even him.
His grip around me is secure, and I breathe in his scent. He’s leaning against a pillar, my body resting almost wholly against his. He doesn’t seem to notice, though. He’s not getting hard like usual, not turned on by having me in his arms.
I’m not sure where I stand with him, and that bothers me. A lot.
“You’re figuring out your own power?” he asks. He shifts, as if to physically pull his mind back from wherever it is.
“Not sure about power,” I reply. “But you were right about no one turning me down.”
“For autographs, not rendezvous, right?” The warning note is back in his voice, the one meant to remind me that I’m his and no one else’s.
“Sure,” I say with false cheerfulness. I pull away to gaze up at him.
He’s watching me. I can feel his dark gaze, even if I can’t see his eyes. He cups one of my cheeks, his other hand sliding down my back to my ass, where he squeezes and holds me against his hips.
“You’ve done well, farasha,” he whispers in his low, velvety voice.
My blood is already humming with fire. He touches his lips to mine but doesn’t unleash his intensity the way he normally does when we kiss. This exchange is light, gentle, his tongue exploring my mouth leisurely rather than desperately.
His hand travels down my jaw to my neck then up.
The gentle kiss is as potent as his intense ones, and when he pulls away, I’m breathless. Elijah rests his forehead against mine briefly before pressing his roughened cheek to mine. We stand that way, in a silent, intimate exchange, listening to each other breathe.
His arms wrap around me. He’s not touching me in his normal way, like he’s ready to tear my clothes off, but in more of a way I’m used to. Like he’s interested in more than fucking me right now. His dick is hard and long against my belly. I know he’s horny as usual, but he’s not acting on it.
“Something’s bothering you,” I guess.
“What makes you say that?” he asks. He shaved earlier but is already sporting a five o’clock shadow.
I admire the shadows cast by the moonlight that deepen the darkness beneath his cheekbones and jaw. He’s stunning. Absolutely, gloriously perfect. If we’d met at a different point in life … if we were different people …
I can’t let myself think like this, even though I’m starting to suspect my walls are crumbling.
“You’re being nice,” I half-joke.
“Nice.” He says the word as if he’s never heard it before. Or maybe like he’s trying to figure out my meaning.
“Or maybe … just not quite you.”
“You want me to bend you over the railing and fuck you?”
“That would be more EJ-like.”
He kisses me, this time with his normal hunger and demanding. His hands travel down my body and pause at my thighs as he begins to inch my dress upward. He reverses us, so my back is pressed against the pillar. He presses his swollen cock to my lower belly, and I melt automatically, the fire between my legs flaring hot and wet.
“This better?” he whispers against my lips. His hot mouth trails down my jaw.
“Yes,” I reply. “But … doesn’t explain what’s bothering you.”
Just like that, he flips from hot to cold again. His fingers stop along with his kisses. Whatever it is, it must be bad, if he’s not interested in sex.
I hug him, almost scared by how still he’s gone. After a moment, his arms circle me, and we stand there. The embrace is strangely intimate, more so than all the nights we’ve fucked combined. He’s stroking my hair absently.
“Do you dance?” he asks.
I hadn’t noticed the orchestral music drifting onto the balcony before his question.
“Not really,” I say sheepishly.
“It’s easy. Just follow my lead.” He moves us away from the pillar, hands dropping to my hips so he can maneuver by body. I place mine on his shoulders and look up.
I’m not expecting to find him gazing at me, but he is. He’s even more handsome in the moonlight, the shadows of his face seeming to confirm my theory that he’s got to be the devil. I know he’s no angel, and no one else could manipulate my body the way he does or give me such pleasure.
The oddly intimate moment stretches on. I don’t want to feel … connected to him. At least not emotionally. That’s a one-way trip down a path leading only to disaster.
As usual, I let
him guide my body with his hands, and we move in sync, our lower bodies pressed together.
“I don’t like this,” I whisper uneasily.
“What?”
“You being nice. This isn’t a date. We aren’t dating.”
“What’s your favorite board game?”
Jesus, what is it with this man? I’m afraid to tell him more about me. I’m terrified to make this arrangement too personal, as if surrendering my body to him isn’t enough.
“Whatever kind,” I say.
“You’re doing it again.” The mocking note is back. “Isn’t this what normal people do?”
“Other people. Not us.”
“Which game?” he insists.
I sigh and shake my head at him then answer. “Axis and Allies.”
“Never heard of it. I watch American movies to learn the slang,” he says. “It took a while to shed the British accent. I keep an American idioms book with me at all times.”
“I never would’ve guessed,” I respond. “You sound like you were born here. What kind of movies are your favorites?”
“Any kind of drama. Not a fan of comedies. I can tolerate the occasional fantasy movie and watch chick flicks for the idioms. Action movies bore me.”
I can’t help but smile. If there’s one thing I admire about him, it’s that he’s very thorough. And sharp.
“Cartoons?” I tease.
“Pointless,” he replies. “I do like the hillbilly shows on the History channel.”
I laugh. “Really?”
“I love everything American. Nothing more American than the bayou or moonshiners.”
I can’t believe he’d admit to liking something that seems so tasteless. The man who has never heard of a gift card, who offered to buy me a Starbucks, likes hillbillies?
“I also prefer classical music to that drivel you downloaded on my iPad,” he adds.
“It’s fun and uplifting.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Okay, so not your type of thing,” I say with a snort. “I know you’re a fitness buff who loves news channels, too.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Jamil makes homemade sundae toppings, though, so I have ice cream every other day or so.”
Happy people, kids and clowns like ice cream. I can’t quite accept that Elijah does, too.
Not only am I smiling, but I’m almost having … fun. With Elijah. This feels like a real date between two people who not only have an intense physical connection, but who genuinely like being around one another.
That alarms me more than anything else. Elijah isn’t capable of a healthy relationship, and the last thing I want is to let myself fall for him.
We gaze at each other, back in the cocoon where I feel comfortable with him. I don’t like that it’s here, outside of bed, but I love being in his arms.
His gaze is intense, his grip around me secure. Sometimes I can almost convince myself I’m in the arms of a guardian and not the predator I know him to be. It’s moments like these when the idea of being truly owned by him thrills me, because I can see the tiniest flicker of potential. Even if it lasts all of two seconds, I know that, if he was ever in his life able to lower his guard enough to let someone in, he’d be the kind of man whose possession and dedication would know no bounds.
He’s the master of his world and everything in it. There is nothing he wouldn’t do to keep his treasures safe.
What would that be like? To be one of his treasures?
“I think it’s time we leave,” he whispers. “Before I fuck you right here.”
My whole body blooms into fire. I nod quickly, wanting him as much as he does me.
Elijah takes my hand and leads me into the glittering, bright museum once again. His faithful assistants and bodyguards follow us as he weaves through the people. I sense the flashes of people taking photos of us without really registering anything. His scent is in my nose, my blood humming with desire that buffers me from noticing the rest of the world.
We reach the front of the museum. The red carpet remains, though the press is mostly gone. A limo waits, and I understand his dictatorial efficiency enough to know it’s ours. A footman opens the door, and he climbs in first.
I duck into the back of the limo and immediately feel his arms go around me. His mouth finds mine, hungry and demanding, and he falls back, pulling me on top of him. We lay on the floor of the limo, lust unlike anything I’ve ever experienced roaring through me.
I laugh. “Am I the master tonight?”
“Never.”
He works my dress up to mid-hip.
“Unzip me,” he orders with urgency.
I obey, fumbling with his zipper until I feel the soft skin of his dick against my hand. The head is wet already, making my insides burn hotter for him at the display of how much he wants me. He rolls on top of me, riding his cock against my belly.
“Tell me to fuck you,” he directs me, nibbling on my ear.
“Fuck me, EJ,” I whisper and wrap my arms around his neck.
His hands slide to my bare ass, and he grips me hard then positions me. I wrap my legs around him.
He pierces me fast, and I gasp at the brief discomfort of his huge dick penetrating my pussy.
“All in,” he says, pushing himself into me as far as he can go. His kisses crash down on my lips, his control sliding away faster than I’ve seen it before. He tastes of something sweet, possibly champagne.
I’m so turned on, so aware of the dick inside me, the roughness with which he touches me, the bruising kisses that take my breath away …
I need him more than ever, and I’m too far lost in his scent and the heat of his skin to understand how it’s possible to want anyone so much.
The fingers of one hand slide into my ass, and I groan. His mouth finds mine, and he kisses me, pressing my back against the floor as he starts to move in and out of me.
“Is this what you want?” he murmurs. “For me to fuck you hard and quick right now?”
“Oh, god yes!” I respond, beyond turned on. The friction of his cock moving in and out of me is incredible.
“Tonight, after I fuck your cunt until you’re screaming my name, I’m gonna do the same to your ass,” he tells me. “I’ll fuck you from behind until you’re too tired to stand. I may even lick your pussy before I bend you over one more time and …”
His dirty talk has a way of driving me wild. I love hearing what he plans for me, especially while he’s fucking me. The anticipation makes me hot for him until the moment he puts his hands on me again.
“I love your cunt!” he exclaims quietly, moving against me faster. “So tight and juicy!”
I’m panting already from his hard kisses. He pulls out of me and shifts down my body, between my thighs, and buries his face in my pussy.
“The smell,” he whispers, his nose nuzzling my clit in a way that makes me gasp. “The taste.” His tongue darts into my depths, and he groans as he licks and sucks my juices. “All day long, I miss this.”
“Please get inside me, Elijah!” I beg, trying to pull him back into my body. I’m shaking with need and urgency.
He moves to his knees and peels off his jacket and shirt then stretches to open a drawer whose interior lights up. I can’t see what he pulls out, but I don’t care. I need him inside me too much. I paw at him, willing to beg to soothe the ache of my body.
He takes my hands and seconds later, I hear the familiar click of cuffs.
“No!” I whine.
“Hush,” he says with a husky, wicked laugh. He grips my hips and rolls me onto my belly then lifts my cuffed hands.
They catch on something on the door, and I tug at them, ready to get up and move. I’m too turned on to lie here and wait for him to do what he wants.
“Stop, farasha.”
I lie on my belly, hands stuck above me and body quivering with need. It’s going to drive me crazy if he doesn’t touch me soon, and I’ll absolutely die if he’s not inside me!
�
�Elijah!” I beg again.
The weight of his body moves over mine, and he kisses my cheek, his lips finding mine despite the odd angle. When the head of his dick breaches my pussy, I moan uncontrollably.
“I need you to come quickly, farasha,” he whispers. “I will claim your ass before we get home.”
He thrusts into me, and I cry out, amazed at how quickly his size can make me come. Elijah murmurs into my ear, his hands moving between my breasts and the floor so he can squeeze my nipples.
“Now,” he orders.
“Oh, god, EJ!” I shatter, my pussy rippling around his dick while powerful waves of pleasure tear through me.
“Good girl,” he says and withdraws from my body.
I lay, panting, lost in the heat and intensity of my orgasm.
“You will love this one,” he says. I feel the cool rubber of a dildo enter my seizing pussy. It’s huge, about his size, with a wand that reaches my clit on the outside. “This is big red.”
“Ohhhh …”
He flips it on, and I shudder. With the pad of the wand gently working in circles around my clit and the vibration in my pussy, the orgasm isn’t allowed to die, egged on by the device.
The tip of his cock touches my anus, and I gasp. The area is more sensitive than I thought, more so after coming.
“This may hurt a little,” he tells me. “I’ll go slow. Just relax.”
I’m too weak from my orgasm not to be relaxed.
He rests one hand on the small of my back. The pressure of his dick turns from tickling to uncomfortable.
“Relax,” he says again.
I focus on the feel of the dildo. It’s got nubs that gyrate against my G-spot, and I’m amazed to feel the tension within me again so soon after coming.
Elijah pushes into my ass slowly, and I grate my teeth, torn between the unusual pressure in my ass and the stimulation of the device that won’t let me focus solely on anything else.
I know he’s huge, but my god – he feels enormous in my ass. My anus is stretched so tight, it’s almost painful. I can feel every inch he moves into me, and it take a lot of control not to tense up or push him out.