His Passion (By His Command #4)

This book is a work of fiction.  Any
references to historical events, real people, or real locales are
used fictitiously.  Other names, characters, places, and
incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead,
is entirely coincidental.

First electronic edition
January 2013

Copyright © 2013 by Ana W.
Fawkes at Smashwords

All rights reserved, including the right of
reproduction in whole or in part of any form.

BY HIS COMMAND

#4

His Passion

by

Ana Fawkes

With his hand tight around Isabella Grace's
hand, Jonathan Black leads her down another path in her life. One
that challenges her body and mind, sexually. One that feels so
good. And one that is definitely wrong… and murderous.

Their world now involves handcuffs,
blindfolds, and running from the potential loss of freedom, which
takes Isabella and billionaire Mr. Black to a place they both never
thought possible. Once in the company of Jonathan Black's rich and
brooding father, she feels scared, even with the comfort and
domination of Jonathan.

She cannot shake the feeling of being
watched... by someone other than Jonathan Black and his father. But
who?

-1-

From the moment Jonathan Black took my wrist
and pulled me from the hotel room, I felt watched, followed, and
guilty. I didn’t want to look back as we left the room, but I did.
How could I not? In that hotel room lay the dead body of a man I
helped murder. Granted, I did not put the knife into Oliver Rush,
nor did I twist it or pull it out, but I helped. I lured him to the
hotel, knowing Jonathan Black’s evil intentions.

The door shut and when it made that final
click –
locked
– a thought crashed into me.

Good for him.

I couldn’t believe I thought that, but as I
watched how fast and honestly Jonathan Black worked right then (and
since I had met him back at the elevators of his company) I knew
that Jonathan was the toughest, smartest, richest, and sexiest of
any man I had met or would meet.

Plus, Oliver Rush tried to attack me. He
caught me in a vulnerable place and put a horrific memory in my
mind that ultimately ended with his death.

But that wasn’t the reason why Jonathan
Black pulled me down the hall, darting left towards a back set of
stairs in the hotel.

Someone would eventually find Oliver Rush’s
dead body and I was certain by then everything would have been
covered up on Jonathan’s end, if it already wasn’t.

This new speed, this sense of panic – and
hate – came because I answered Jonathan Black’s cell phone. It had
been ringing non-stop for a day straight and finally, I answered
it.

It was Jonathan Black’s father.

He warned me that Jonathan was dangerous. He
wanted me to leave, right away, and forget all I knew. He blatantly
told me to take the memories of pleasure and consider myself lucky
that I had such a warning. Finally, he told me that if I didn’t
leave, I’d end up dead too. These were things I hadn’t shared with
Jonathan yet, unsure how to actually say it.

The words of his father made me shiver…
dead too
. That implied to me that Jonathan’s father knew
about his son’s intentions and perhaps even his actions.

The question was
how?

-2-

“Here, stop for a second.”

Jonathan flicked his wrist and my toes
skidded on the hard floor in the stairwell. I was then against the
wall, his hands on my hips. His touch, no matter how simple,
subtle, or sexual, made my body electrify. I sighed and bent my
knees, seeking relief. The entire day into night had been wrapped
in so many emotions and yet somehow in the mix of murder and
Jonathan’s father stepping into the picture, I looked into
Jonathan’s eyes and could only hope he would have my body.

Right there in the stairwell.

Have me. Right now.

“We have to go on now,” Jonathan said. His
voice was rough. I wanted to detect a hint of worry, but there was
none. The gorgeous billionaire before me wasn’t capable of worry.
He was capable of command and control. I needed that.

“Yes,” I whispered. “Just take me.
Wherever.”

His hand touched my face. He swallowed. For
a second I caught a glimmer in his eyes that suggested emotion,
care, and perhaps even love. Oh, I would have killed Oliver Rush
myself to have Jonathan Black fall in love with me. His stare was
that intense, leaving my body drained and turned on at the same
time. I expended all my energy just wondering what he thought
about.

His mind – and body – were something
beautiful, and even as I stood in the stairwell with Oliver Rush’s
dead corpse down the hall in a room, I wanted Jonathan Black. My
urge to run and hide didn’t exist anymore. It would only take
someone finding Oliver Rush to make this a big problem… a
housekeeper coming to change the sheets… a business associate
tracking him down… something small that would create something
huge.

We should have been on the run. We should
have been scrambling down the stairs, taking them two or three at a
time, to a getaway vehicle.

But we weren’t.

We stood in the open stairwell and stared at
each other. My heart echoed in my chest and my breathing echoed
around us.

He was calm, of course.

“Oh, Isabella Grace,” he said.

His mouth came forward and we shared a post
murder kiss. His lips were tender but his tongue was aggressive,
sending hints that our lust was far from over. If anything, perhaps
it had grown more. The man who had tried to put his hands on me was
dead. Jonathan had conquered an old enemy… a man that not only
tried to harm me but stole money from him. Money, sex, and power.
The lifeblood of Jonathan Black.

Now he had it all again.

I kissed back at him, my hands curled, my
nails digging into the palm of my hands. I wanted to touch
Jonathan. I wanted to have him. My body was on fire, but I resisted
my urges for his needs. His command would be final, pleasure or
not. As long as he touched me, took me with him, looked at me with
his dark and dominant eyes, my life could go on.

His body started to touch mine, offering a
thrust on that made me whimper. The sound echoed up and down the
steps, carrying for a few seconds before dying out. I could feel
the thickness of Jonathan already matched perfectly between my
legs. As he started to breathe heavier, the kissing getting hotter,
his tongue in my mouth, tasting my lips, his lips closing over
mine, opening again to repeat, I started to believe he was going to
take me right there against the cold wall in the stairwell.

He finally broke the kiss and let out a
growl. His eyes flickered and he looked enraged enough to kill
again. His left hand squeezed hard on my hip while his right hand
let go and I watched as he made a fist. Our relationship thus far
had no boundaries but as Jonathan wound up with his fist, I
wondered just how far
no boundaries
could go.

The large fist came forward and all I heard
was the loud voice of Jonathan’s father and the concern in the
man’s voice as he told me how dangerous Jonathan could be. How I
should run –
right now!
The fist flew past my hair and the
thud of Jonathan’s knuckles against stone echoed. The bone
crunching sound made me cringe and gasp. I opened my mouth but knew
it wasn’t my place to speak right then.

Jonathan took his hand back and looked at
his red knuckle. His middle knuckle had a small cut on it, forming
a tiny bit of blood. He used his other hand to wipe the blood
away.

“I want you to have something,” Jonathan
said. He reached into the pocket on his jacket and handed me
another cell phone. “Keep that safe, just in case something
happens. There’s only one number in the phone. Mine. The only one
you need.” His hands shot out at me, taking my face in his hands.
His eyes were wide and wild. A man fully capable of murder. A man
fully capable of endless pleasure and erotic command. “I’m the only
one you need.”

“I know that,” I said. “I swear to you…
Jonathan…”

“Call me Mr. Black,” he said. “Until I tell
you not to.”

“Yes,” I said.

The command pouring from him was greater
than I’ve ever seen.

His thumbs gently massaged my face while we
remained in silence for a few more seconds. He took deep breaths as
though he was inhaling me.

“I’m memorizing you,” Jonathan said. “I
don’t need to, but I want to. You are my purpose now, Isabella
Grace, and for that, I have something to do.”

After moving his hands from my face, he
reached back into his jacket. I saw something I wish I didn’t see.
I saw Jonathan pulling a gun from his jacket and pointing it at me.
I thought about being murdered by the man I had fallen for… with my
heart and his command. An attempt at romance came as I pictured
Jonathan killing me, and himself, at the same time. Then it would
all end together, we would end together.

But then I realized that would be
impossible.

Jonathan would never relinquish his power
that easily. He was a billionaire CEO, a man who could create a
global company and then murder a man. A man who had no problem with
blindfolding me, handcuffing me, placing me into sexual
circumstances that opened me in ways I never thought possible.

Jonathan Black would not go down that way.
If a bullet were to take his life, it would be a bullet by the
finger of another person.

“You’re mine, my sweet Isabella Grace,” he
said. His hand slowly came from his pocket. I saw red. A crimson
red and a touch of silk. “It’s just so fitting, isn’t it?”

Jonathan held up a long piece of silk cloth.
It reminded me of the cloth he used as a blindfold for me.

My body instantly shivered with excitement
and a touch of fear. I knew then we should have been on the move,
putting distance between ourselves and the dead body in the hotel
room down the hall.

But Jonathan Black had other plans.

“I need you to face the railing,” he said.
“I’m going to tie you to the railing so I can go make a phone
call.”

“Your father?” I asked, my eyebrows
raising.

His lip curled and he wrapped the blood red
silk cloth around his hand and came at me. I felt his hand, and the
silk, against my neck. Non threatening, just commanding.

“I have no father,” he growled at me. “You
don’t know a thing about that man. Or me.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered with a plea.

I swallowed hard so he could feel it against
his fingers.

“You want to go back with Oliver Rush?”
Jonathan asked.

The question hurt, and I wondered if he was
jealous still that Oliver had touched me or if he implied that
joining Oliver Rush meant death.

“I want you,” I said. “Just you.
Forever.”

“That’s the Isabella I want to hear,” he
said. His lip was still curled but his hand moved from my neck.
Down towards my chest and finally cupping one of my breasts. He
squeezed and pushed, groaning.

“Yes,” I whispered. I bit my lip to keep
from crying out. I needed him so bad, inside me, loving me, having
me,
fucking
me.

“Yes,” Jonathan said. His hand quickly slid
behind my back and he pushed me towards the steps. “Put your hands
onto the railing.”

I listened and watched as Jonathan took two
steps and then reached to my hands. The silk cloth was long enough
to wrap around each of my wrists twice, then around the railing
three times, before he finally tied it in a large knot. He didn’t
have to ask for me to pull on the knot. I knew the drill by now.
Jonathan Black didn’t just tie me up, he made me understand I
couldn’t escape.