His Urge Read Free

being tied and handcuffed.
    I wanted more of it.
    “You keep moving,” Jonathan said, rubbing his cheek against my cheek.
    “I’m sorry,” I whispered.  “I was just...”
    “Disobeying me.  That’s all it was.”
    “Mr. Black, please...”
    “There’s only one thing to do now,” Jonathan said.  “If you can’t keep yourself in one place, I’ll have to do it for you.”
    I moaned again, knowing what the words implied.
    “You’re coming with me,” he said.  “We’re going back to our room.  Don’t look at him and don’t respond if he talks to us.”
    “I’m so sorry,” I said.  “After he said stuff to me, I needed you, Mr. Black.  I came to find you outside...”
    “You shouldn’t have done a thing,” Jonathan said.
    He reached up and took my right hand, forcing it behind my back.  He repeated the motion with my left and then held both of my wrists with one of his strong hands.  He squeezed a little too hard and I winced in pain.  I whimpered, wanting him to know my pain, but the whimper ended in a moan.
    I enjoyed it.
    I loved it.
    With my chest pressed against the cool garage door and Jonathan’s body pressed against me, I waited for him to move, to take me with him.
    “Take me,” I whispered.  “I don’t want to be here right now.”
    “Neither do I,” Jonathan said.  “But business sometimes requires uncomfortable positions.”
    Agreed.  I wasn’t going to argue that. 
    Jonathan backed away and I instantly felt disappointed.  I turned around, finally able to face him.  His dark eyes, his perfect face.  The way he stood, radiating power, had my body longing for him. 
    “He gave me...”
    “No more words,” Jonathan said.  He touched my face with one hand, the most gentle caress I could imagine from a man like him.  “It’s been a long day and tonight will be the same.  You could use a hot shower.”
    “Yes,” I said, almost falling towards him, desperate.
    “That’s where you’re heading.” 
    I smiled.  Jonathan ran his hand along my jaw and lifted my chin.  Our eyes were perfectly locked.
    “Isabella Grace... I’m going to watch.”

-4-
     
    As we walked back through the large living room, the fire had lost most its life, as  did John Black appeared to be too.  His head slumped to his left, his hand holding a glass half full of his whiskey.  Before I could suggest the idea of John dropping the glass, his hand opened.  It hit the floor and shattered to pieces.
    Oh well.
    The fire crackled and sparked and Jonathan Black pulled me along.  I welcomed the back room’s vast size and lingering scent of myself and Jonathan.  He already enjoyed my body once in the room, and now it seemed a second time was in order.
    With a shower.
    Thankfully.
    Jonathan opened the bathroom door and nodded.  I walked into the bathroom and for the first time since meeting Jonathan Black, I wasn't shocked to find the bathroom larger than any other bathroom I'd ever seen.    There was a small window, narrow and long that (judging by my attempted sense of direction) overlooked the back mountain.  It intrigued me to see what the window looked like from the outside.  To see if it was somehow hidden.  Directly under the small window rested a couch.  A small couch, yes, but still, a couch in a bathroom.  The tile was dark and comforting.  A sidewall was lined with a long porcelain sink, angled so that the water appeared to just fall to the counter but actually ran back towards a drain. 
    A large tub was in one corner and a walk in shower next to that.  The shower was floor to ceiling glass and looked big enough to hold ten people with room to spare. 
    There wouldn’t be ten people in the shower.
    There might not even be two people for all I knew.
    Jonathan walked to the shower and opened the door.
    “Strip, then shower,” he said.
    He reached in and turned the water on.  Just hearing the sound of the rushing water crashing to the tiles of the shower made me