Faron continues to ease his fingertips in and out of me and I know they are coated with my desire. He slowly withdraws his fingers, leaving me bereft as he brings a hand to my breast, pushing down the material of the dress and tugging the bra out of the way before he swipes the wetness over my nipple. I nearly collapse, knees buckling, from the intensity of the bolt that erupts like lightning down to my pussy.
And then he paints the same finger over my lips. “Open.”
He shoves his fingers over my tongue, and I taste the salty essence of my desire and moan around his finger. Faron then tips his head down, crashing his lips over mine in a harsh, demanding kiss. His tongue lashes over mine, as he rocks against me before pulling away abruptly.
“I fucking knew you’d taste sweet,” he growls, his hand returning to my hot, wet seam and continuing where he left off. “I fucking knew it.”
Circling, sweeping, thrusting and coaxing. All of it leaves me with no option but to finally let go. As if timed to perfection, the threesome in front of me has switched their positions, removing the woman off the post and laying her on her backside on a long chaise lounge. Roman is now thrusting his cock inside her spread legs as the other man stands at her side fucking her mouth.
“It’s too much…Faron, oh my god.”
I don’t know if I mean watching the threesome is too much, or the fact that I’m experiencing such intense pleasure that it’s too much to bear.
“I know you’re close, Gem. This orgasm is mine. Give it to me like a good girl.”
“Yes, sir.” I whimper.
Faron roars against my ear in appreciation, as my body tenses and bows so tight, I shatter to pieces, breaking apart in a swirling mass of bright lights and explosive detonations.
And then I’m limp, exhausted in a way I’ve never experienced, as Faron picks me up in his arms and carries me away.
13
I wake up in my bed alone.
By the way the bright sun streams through the crack in the curtains, I know it must be late morning, but I have no idea what time it is.
Everything comes rushing back from last night when I roll to my side, my body elongating into a stretch, a contented warmth passing over me, like a peaceful brook flowing downstream.
Although as soon as the memory of last night’s club experience and the way Faron made me come so explosively, I feel tingles between my legs. My hand moves to cover my mound, fingers poised to curb the ache already building like a volcanic eruption.
Slipping my fingers inside the slick wetness between my folds, I squeeze my thighs together, rubbing over the bundle of nerves that percolate at the mere imagery of Faron’s ministrations, his dirty words echoing in my memory that I deliciously devoured and savored as he brought me to orgasm.
A light tap on the door has my breath hitching and my hand flying nervously to my side. Jumping to a sitting position, I reach for the robe on the chair next to the bed and cover myself demurely.
“Mademoiselle, are you awake?” It’s Serene, the same woman from yesterday.
“Yes, come in.”
Gathering the silk materials over my shoulders, I lift and twist my hair into a bun on top of my head and slip on the slippers left for me so thoughtfully by Serene.
“Monsieur Blake has asked that you join him for breakfast on the terrace. I shall wait for you to get dressed and I will escort you down.”
I wave my hand. “It’s fine, I can find my own way down.”
She gives me a polite, if not tight, smile, tipping her head to the side. “It will be my pleasure. And you are not to be left alone.”
Ah, that’s right. For all intents and purposes I’m still Faron’s prisoner, even if I am treated more like a queen than a captive.
As I run a brush through my hair and freshen up, I decide to use Serene’s presence to ask questions about my captor and his accomplices.
“Serene, I met Faron’s brothers last night. Do Roman and West live here, as well?”
I stand at the sink, throwing a glance over my shoulder to find her eyes blown wide, her face suddenly flushed with color at the mention of the brothers. Interesting.
She shakes her head, looking down at her feet. “Non, Roman and Weston live elsewhere, but are here often. I used to work at the club, for Roman. But he chose to transfer me here.”
Her face pales and her voice tapers off softly. I wonder which part of the club she’s referring to – the dance club or the ultra-private club. Either way, she doesn’t sound like she is happy with the decision.
“What did you do for Roman?”
She smiles, clearly happy to share her role. “He put me in charge of the VIP lounges. I ensured our guests were taken care of properly.”
“What happened? It sounds like you enjoyed your job. Why did Roman transfer you?”
I slip out of my pajamas and step into a pair of shorts and a vintage concert T-shirt I’d brought with me, and I follow Serene out of the room and toward the staircase landing. As we hit the top step, she sighs.
“I don’t know, exactly. But one night, an important client tried to…well, he made advances on me that...”
She stops, placing a hand clutching her throat, her fingers curling around the banister to hold her up, obviously recalling something painful. I touch her forearm and feel the tremble of her fear.
“You’re okay now, Serene. Were you hurt?”
She nods. “I was taken to the hospital. When Roman found out, he was furious. And the next day, I was told I’d be working for Mr. Blake at his home as his personal assistant. And Roman avoids me now. Won’t look at me. I think he…”
We take the last step to the landing and I embrace her tightly. There’s something about Serene that I connect with. In another life, I know we’d be friends.
“Shh…I think he must care about you an awful lot if he moved you. He’s trying to protect you.”
As I look over her beautiful ebony skin, her dark hair swept behind her head and plaited in a complex braid flowing down the middle of her back, I now notice a scar that runs along the side of her neck, beginning at her throat where her hand just covered. She sees where my gaze has gone and turns away, shielding it protectively with a hand.
“He is ashamed of my appearance. My imperfection and that is why I no longer work there and can no longer model.”
Pushing through a glass door that opens up onto an expansive terrace overlooking a lush private garden below, surrounded by a fortified wall of stone, she offers with a wave for me to enter, as she remains at the door.
“I’ll leave you now. Enjoy your breakfast.” Serene dips her head, and I catch her eye as we exchange a shared glance.
Faron, Roman and West are all eating breakfast, the table filled with a lavish spread of sweet breads, coffee, fruit and platters of cheese. I notice the way Roman stares off over my shoulder, in the direction Serene has gone. His gaze reflects longing, certainly not shame that Serene believes he harbors.
But then I see Faron, whose stare penetrates me like a hot stoker right from the fire. It burns and sizzles every cell in my body. It eats me up like a wildfire on the rampage.
“We’ve been waiting for you. There’s business to discuss this morning.”
His tone is icy cold intonation, lacking any of the passion we shared last night. Now I wonder if it was a figment of my imagination because the warmth has disappeared, like it never even happened.
I take the seat offered to me, saying good morning to everyone. The only one who seems particularly generous in his greeting is Roman, who returns his attention immediately to eating the massive plate of food while West is distracted by his phone.
A member of the house staff pours my coffee, asking if there’s anything else I’d prefer to drink, ticking off several fresh squeezed juices to select from. I ask for a peach Bellini and begin to load my plate with a flaky croissant and some fruit.
Faron clears his throat to gain my attention, a serious inflection in his tone that has my nerves
on end.
“Gemma, as you know, we've been trying to get in touch with your father to continue our negotiations, but he wasn’t returning any of our attempts to reconnect."
I fold a napkin over my lap, pinching my brows together as I stare down at my hands.
“Gemma, look at me.”
Slowly, I raise my head and see the hard lines of frustration in Faron’s inscrutable expression.
“Do you want me to call him?”
Faron’s lips purse together tightly, as if whatever he’s about to say is bitter.
Weston pipes in. “I don’t think that would do much good.”
My head snaps to him, a man I don’t know at all, but who clearly dislikes me. He’s been nothing but rude and contentious toward me since we met.
“Why not? I am his daughter, after all.” I say it with conviction, although I’m not convinced of it myself.
West mumbles under his breath. “A daughter he sold…”
“Enough,” Faron barks, his demand aimed at West. “Gemma, that won’t be necessary at this point. We reached out to our contacts in New York this morning. Your father was found dead. He was shot. I’m sorry.”
14
Everything coming from Faron’s mouth is tumbling around my head like a drier of loud static in my ears. A low hum of incoherent noise that doesn’t compute or translate and is a jumbled mess.
“Gemma? Did you hear me?”
I’m staring at Faron but don’t see him. All I see are faraway memories, flipping through my mind as if on a photo carousel, images moving far too fast for me to even piecemeal them together.
If only everything could just stop for a moment, long enough for me to rid myself of this dizziness and vague disarray. Too many emotions fight for dominance right now - a mix of sorrow, shock, jubilation and disbelief.
My father is dead, and it leaves me vulnerable and unprotected.
“Leave us,” Faron says to Roman and West, who immediately do as he commands. They’re probably relieved to get out of here and not have to offer condolences to their enemies’ daughter.
I take stock of how this news affects me. Should I be a heartbroken mess? Crying in grief? Wailing for the unfairness of it all?
None of those emotions seem to trigger a response. It’s as if a wave of calm numbness settles over my body, lifting me from the chains that had kept me prisoner within my father’s control since I was born, washing over me with a sense of freedom and gratitude.
Faron crouches on his haunches next to me, tenderness replacing the frozen daggers in his eyes, reaching to place my hand in his. His palm is so large and powerful, yet protective and consoling.
“Are you okay? Do you want to go lie down?”
I shake my head and search my brain for the words to describe what I want and what I need.
“Do they know who killed him?”
His thumb absently strokes the top of my hand. I think about last night and what his hands are capable of doing. How sensual and deliberate they are in coaxing out an orgasm from me. Making me come so beautifully, so unexpectedly.
And now they take on a completely different role, demonstrating a gentle sympathy and calming strength.
Standing, he pulls me to my feet and guides me to his lap as he sits back down in his chair, securing an arm around my waist.
“The police are checking leads, but rumor has it that it may be someone else that he conned. He may have swindled the wrong mark this time.”
I flash a hard, questioning look at him, and he shakes his head in denial.
“No, Gemma, it wasn’t us. I may have wanted to kill him for fucking with our original agreement but killing him would have done us no good. Now I’m left without a means of getting that diamond and derails my plans immensely. It’s possible my buyer might back out entirely, so I need to figure something out fast.”
I nod in understanding. “What do you need me to do?”
He gently tucks the hair behind my ear, nipping my earlobe between his teeth.
“Mmm, little girl. That’s a loaded question. It pains me not to be able to lay you across this table and take what I need from you this moment.” He kisses a strip of skin down my neck, as I delight in the contact.
I pull away. “Why didn’t you take me last night? I was willing.”
An almost animalistic growl rips from his throat and the hard ridge of his erection grows between us, a physical confirmation he did want to but held back for some reason.
“I could’ve taken you. You were dripping wet for me, little girl. So wet and eager. I could have made you kneel and had my way with you. Stolen your virginity in front of anyone who wanted to watch me fuck you so hard your voice would’ve been raw from screaming my name.”
I nod, biting down on my lip with a heavy sigh.
“But you didn’t. Why not?”
He lifts a shoulder casually. “There will be time. Last night you were under the influence, and I want you completely sober and able to agree to everything with a clear head.”
“Yes, I want that.”
Scooting from his lap, I drop to my knees in front of him, lifting my eyes to show him the truth and my intentions. Seeing his desire and approval gives me the confidence to proceed.
I run a tentative, shaky hand over his thigh, the soft give of the material so opposite to the rigid swell at his groin.
And this is where I hesitate, because it’s all foreign to me. Touching a man, especially an experienced, powerful man, is not something familiar to me.
My voice is a faint whisper. A plea. “Tell me what to do, sir.”
We’re alone, everyone having left already or back inside the house, but the idea that anyone could peer outside at any moment is a thrilling thought. And based on the atmosphere of the club last night, being watched in front of voyeurs is something Faron enjoys, his proclivity for sexual activities in the open part of his make-up.
He groans, his voice rough and gravely. “I won’t be easy on you. I’m going to fuck your mouth hard because you’re a dirty little girl. Now take my cock out.”
A thrill lights up my spine, tingling with anticipation and yearning. I make quick work of his zipper, undoing the button between my fingers, flipping open the tabs of his pants. The bulge looms large, my mouth salivating to unwrap him in his entirety. To see what awaits me underneath his briefs.
I run my tongue over my lips to moisten them, peeling down the briefs for him to lift his hips as I slowly uncover his cock. My breath hitches as I stare at his length, the way it points proudly upwards toward the sky, begging to be touched.
Faron scoots forward in his seat, legs spread wide allowing me room to square my shoulders and lean in. Breathless with anticipation.
“Open.” His fingers wrap around his cock, guiding it to my mouth, which I open for him as I get my first taste of him.
The mushroom tip slides past my lips. Tangy, salty flavor with a hint of masculine musk covers my tongue. I curl my lips around him and suction my mouth, as he surges into the back of my throat.
The tip hits me so forcefully that I gag, my eyes stinging with tears, coughing and trying to catch a breath. My eyes flick to Faron’s face looking down on me with an expression of excruciating pleasure. His brows tighten with an edge of restraint.
“That’s right, dirty girl. Choke on me. Feel me claiming that pretty mouth of yours. Take me in so deep you’ll feel it in your pussy.”
His dirty words flood my panties with moisture, my thighs clenching together to ward off the building ache. I slip a hand between my legs with the intent of rubbing my clit to ease the burn, but Faron grabs it with lightning fast speed, capturing it roughly behind my back.
“No touching what’s mine to touch. Keep your hands behind your back.”
His cock slips from my mouth on a protest, my butt falling back onto my heels.
“But…”
Faron leans forward, bending his head so his face is an inch from mine. “You asked what you could do fo
r me, did you not?”
There’s no need for me to respond since we both know I said that. The scent of his spicy aftershave is an aphrodisiac like no other, sweetening the abrasive words he utters.
“You will submit to me and do as I say. If you don’t, I will punish you. If I’m pleased, then you will be rewarded in return. What will it be, little girl? Do you want to be rewarded?”
I’ve never wanted anything more. I want to submit to Faron in whatever manner he wishes. I will offer him everything, like a sacrifice, to be his. To be claimed and used and ruined.
Because that’s the only outcome. There’s no turning back now. I’m a passenger on this train and he’s my conductor.
I shift back onto my knees, locking my wrists behind me, and present my open mouth to him once again.
“Good girl.”
15
As a teen girl in Jersey, I never had female friends, nor did I have a mother, which left me very lacking in those all-important heart-to-heart chats about boys, sex and the realities of sexual acts.
Like, for example, how to properly give a blow job.
Perhaps if I’d ever had an opportunity for those private discussions, I would have been more prepared with what to expect when a man comes in a girl’s mouth.
As it was, I didn’t know.
Once I return to my kneeling position, Faron shoves me full once again as I begin sucking and licking in earnest. Faron’s thrusts become faster, wilder and less controlled. I’m overwhelmed with pride knowing that I’m the reason he’s losing his carefully managed grip on his restraint.
With one hand holding his cock as he strokes himself in between thrusts to the back of my throat, he weaves his other hand through my hair, cinching my strands between his fingers, tightening it in a fist so hard that my eyes sting and I nearly beg for mercy.
But with every indecent word of praise, he works me through the bite of pain, as I swallow and suck his engorged cock down.
Leave Me Breathless: The Black Rose Collection Page 110