Isabella’s lips are supple, soft. They dance across mine as I deepen the connection between us, pulling her in against my body harder. She splays her hands on my chest and her head arches back, letting her jaw drop. I’m smitten, taken aback by how beautiful she is inside and out. Faced with danger, she melts into me. Aroused, she does the same for me. But her honesty is refreshing. She’s given me what she knows, and now I will reward her.
I back her across the room toward the darkened hallway. She glides effortlessly, clinging to my neck as I continue to kiss her. My eyes are open, searching, and she is putty under my touch. My hands search her curves gently at first, then more roughly as we start toward my bedroom. Her hands work to unbutton my shirt. I unzip the dress she wears and let my hands smooth down her back until my pinky fingers brush over the elastic of her panties.
In my room, I break the sensual kiss with a sigh, my cock throbbing in my pants. I drag my fingernails down her back, causing her to arch against me harder, silently begging for more. Her moan is music to my ears as I reach into my drawer and pull out the item I need.
A riding crop.
Isabella’s eyes widen, but she doesn’t pull away from me in resistance. My respect for her grows tenfold at that single, minuscule act of defiance. Her eyes lock on mine as I slide it over her ribs, then her hip, narrowing my gaze on the dip between her breasts. Just a hint of a nod at the shoulder and my stubble could scrape her skin as I sink my teeth into her, but she doesn’t shy away.
“I’m going to need you to step back for me, beautiful,” I say gruffly, struggling to control myself in her presence. Her scent consumes me as her eyes drop to the tool of our torturous lust in my hands. I watch as a flush creeps up her neck, and she obliges, taking a few steps back. She lifts her hands, sliding the wide, sequined straps of her dress off her shoulders. The material slips over her curves effortlessly, pooling at her feet, and I take in the sight of her peaked nipples.
“Breathtaking… Like a rare Degas.” My eyes drink her in before I step forward. I hook my fingers into her panties and in one swift motion, they are down at her ankles. She steps out of them without a word, and I take her wrists in mine, guiding her to the bed where gently I boost her onto the mattress.
She starts to remove her shoes, but I click my tongue and lift my eyebrows and she leaves them. Her wrists are soft, delicate as I wrap them with silk restraints from my bedside table, tying her to the headboard. She exhales a shaky breath but doesn’t protest, doesn’t squirm. But her eyes watch every move I make, and I like the hint of fear mingled with the look of pure lust she gives me. I can smell her—aroused and pleading with me to fuck her.
“Mmm,” I hum as I walk around the foot of the bed like a predator about to pounce on its prey. “It seems you have been a very bad girl tonight, haven’t you, Isabella?”
Her cheeks flame red with arousal and she bites her bottom lip before arching her hips upward for me. “Yes, maybe I have.”
“Maybe?” I drawl, grabbing her ankle and lifting it upward. The crop slides along her leg to her core, where I tap her clit lightly. “You’re soaking wet for me, Bella. Does my dark side turn you on? Do you like that nothing is off limits to me? That I get what I want?” All but one of those paintings are stolen, and I wonder how much of it she knows about.
She doesn’t respond. Instead, she lets her knees fall apart, seeking more contact. Her pussy is slick and swollen as I swat the crop against her inner thigh, enjoying the sound of the leather on her skin as well as the way she hisses. Her lip pinched between her teeth, she still doesn’t break eye contact. I don’t know what sort of shit she’s into, but I’m about to unleash all of my fury on her.
“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, Isbella?” I drag the crop down her stomach and between her legs. Her hips jerk, involuntarily. Her pussy lips are so swollen and wet, I can almost taste her on my tongue.
“I… I like it,” she pants as I tickle the side of her cunt before flicking the tip of the crop against her clit again. She jerks again but doesn’t close her legs. “I like how you—” The rest of her sentence is lost on a moan as I smack her again, this time harder.
Isabella pulls against her restraints, and I don’t think for a second that she’s trying to get away. She wants to touch herself. I’ve got her right where I want her as I unbuckle my belt and pull it off, kick off my shoes, and shuck my shirt.
“Tell me again,” I whisper in her ear before licking her cheek. “Tell me how much you like it. Whose pussy is this, Bella?” I swat the riding crop at her core again, smacking it full on, and she whimpers and heaves. She’s panting, quivering on my bed as she anticipates what I may do next.
“Yours, Victor. I—” She pants. “You can have it.”
“That’s a pretty bold statement, Bella. Are you sure?” I ask. I cock my eyebrow and drag the crop higher, teasing her collarbone, her earlobe, the side of her neck before flicking it against the tip of her nipple. She arches her back and forgets to breathe as a sharp exhale of air escapes her lips. “Because once I have you, I don’t think you’ll ever want anyone else. Does that scare you, beautiful?” I ask, tracing the tip of the crop along her bottom lip as I crawl onto the bed with her.
“Mmm…” Her moan is a whimper but music to my ears. She watches as I slide my slacks and boxers off, tossing them before rising to my knees next to her. My cock is rock hard. I stroke it, and she eyes me, flicking her tongue over her bottom lip.
“No,” she whimpers. “It doesn’t scare me.”
“And why is that, Bella? Tell me,” I coax, wrapping my hand around her ankle and bringing her leg toward me. My cock taps against her wet entrance before I feather it along her slit. Her juices coat the head as she whimpers and bites down on her bottom lip. My tip seeking the entrance to her core, I shove forward into her wet heat—only to grind against her core teasingly.
“Because.” She pants. “I want you. I want you so bad I can’t think straight… please.”
“What—” she whispers as I pull back and deny her again. Her hips jerk off the bed, but I am relentless in my torment. Instead of sinking into her depths, I drag my tip back up, finding her kitty wet and aching. I circle her clit before sliding just inside before pulling out again. “God, stop torturing me,” she cries out as her toes curl.
The crop in my hand is too tempting. I bring it down in a hard, loud slap on the outside of her thigh, and her body lifts off the mattress as I thrust forward, our bodies colliding hard.
“I’m not done, Bella,” I growl, burying myself to the hilt inside her, and she moans brokenly. “You should’ve known better than to rile me up. Now you’re going to have to deal with my dark side.”
“P–Please,” she begs breathlessly, her pussy clenching my cock like a vise grip.
“I love it when you beg,” I growl in her ear, my thrusts picking up speed and intensity. I reach down and roughly grab her breasts, twisting her nipples so hard she arches off the bed, feverishly digging her nails into the restraints. “I can do whatever I want to you, Bella.” I smack her ass with the crop, grinding my pubic bone against her clit as I spank her swollen cheek again.
“Oh, God,” she moans brokenly. “I—“ Her sentence is lost in a string of profanities as she climaxes over me, squeezing me so tightly I can barely thrust, but it feels too damn good to care. The bed frame bangs against the wall and her core pulses around me, milking me. I’m not far behind, pushing my cock deep inside her one last time before I unload like a Mack truck, painting her insides white.
“Vic…” She pants, trying to catch her breath as I kiss the side of her neck, taking her scent in as I pull my cock from her hot, tight core. My hand reaches up and pulls the end of the silk tie, loosing her wrists, and she slides her arms around my chest. I lie on top of her, breathing her in, letting my cum drain from her body as her legs wrap around my hips.
“So fucking good,” I tell her, and she bites my shoulder, small recompense for the way I’ve treated her so far tonight.
I pull away and find my scotch and two glasses in my side table. She turns to her side to watch me fill them with the amber liquid and takes one as I hand it to her. The bed jostles as I slide in next to her and pull the sheet over our bodies, and she sips her liquor as she eyes me, still unspeaking.
‘Why do you deny yourself what you really want, Bella?’ My playful nickname for her is more than just a shortening of her name. She is beautiful in every way that counts, and it’s my softness toward her that draws that name to my lips.
‘As if you know what I really want.’ Her eyes watch me over the rim of the glass. ‘Why do you do anything you do?’ The words are accusatory. I’ve let her see who I am fully, and this is her judgment. I’m tempted to throw her out of my bed, but that’s the vulnerability of this moment. If I’m ever to get her to let her guard down, I have to lower mine.
‘As if you know what I want,’ I say, repeating her. Musing for a moment, I sip from my full glass and think about what I do really want aloud for a moment. ‘I really want to do something with my art… With the gift I’ve been given, more than forgery and criminal activities. To make this world feel as deeply as I do simply with the strokes on the canvas.’
She scoffs at me, rolling to her back before sliding up the mattress to lean on the headboard. It stings, the way she has already made up her mind about my motives and intentions. I suppose that’s my fault. I’ve only ever been my father’s pawn, only done what he expects. But art is the thing that can change the world—a universal communication to souls bypassing logic or pragmatism. It breathes hope and inspiration where only darkness is seen.
‘You’re one of the souls on this planet who understands beauty can change the world…’ My comment seems to soften her edge. Her shoulders relax, and I think about how much her opinion matters. I just don’t know why. Perhaps because I’ve seen her passion and I know it rivals mine. Or maybe because her willingness to see the real dark side of me while not drawing back entirely is something I’ve always needed… Because I prize the fact that she isn’t on my level, that somehow, her moral superiority and approval mean I’m not the evil man some people think I am.
‘Someday, I want to transform this family’s horrible practices into a legitimate art business. I’m not sure how, or when, but I will.’ The statement sits between us as a ribbon that binds our hearts. I see her glass is empty and I reach for it. ‘I’ll pour another,’ I tell her, but she’s off the bed before I am.
‘I need to go. I should be at a hotel. I appreciate your hospitality, but I can’t stay tonight, Victor.’ This isn’t normal. I’m the one who beds women and sends them away, not the reverse, but I won’t force her to stay.
‘I’ll send you with Gerard. He’ll drive you wherever you want to go.’ I can’t display how it hurts me that she’s leaving after my confession, but I have work to do, anyway.
She dresses, and I put on my slacks and show her out. Gerard is waiting for her and opens the door. When she’s safely tucked inside, I pull him aside for instructions because no one will ever lay a hand on my Bella and get away with it.
‘Keep her safe. Do you hear? You sit on that hotel and if you see anything strange, you call me immediately. There are people watching her.’ My stern expression draws a nod of acknowledgement.
‘Yes, sir. I understand,’ he says, and he rounds the car to climb in. I watch them drive away, but I’m not confident this is a good idea. With more players in the game, I can’t be too careful. I knew this may happen, and now it’s time to stake a claim to what is mine.
The painting.
And the art lady.
And no one is coming close to either of them.
