The tears she had been fighting came in a flash flood and she cursed the air. Fuck Mr. Black and his game. She would win and this antic was not going to deter her and neither were his cruel words and cancellation of their time together. She was stronger than Mr. Black and she was smarter than Victor. She would be the champion in this game.
19: Invested
Victor was still incensed about the reporter’s question about Anthony when he woke on Sunday. His visits to the Virginia Pen were to be strictly confidential. He had no doubt who had leaked the information. Fucking Anthony. He loved the spot light and if he had a hand in helping catch a killer, he sure as hell was going to make it known to the world.
His work in Cambridge was done for now until all the proper paperwork and particulars could be sorted out regarding their main suspect. Victor had pointed the detectives in the right direction once he went with his initial gut instinct and things were panning out. It was a huge relief, but that negative inner voice was still nagging him because he knew better than to assume things would work out. Especially when it came to anything related to law enforcement. It wasn’t like the movies or the books where everything fell into place in a few days and wham, bam, you got yourself a killer. It took time – more time than people on the outside really knew. It would probably be another month or longer until they could even make an arrest. If they were lucky. But at least for now they could keep an eye on the person in question.
The weekend wasn’t completely over yet and he hoped to get the chance to see Elsa later when he arrived back in Richmond. He had cancelled their weekend, but needed release after the frustrating last few days he had.
Back in Virginia, he drove straight to the brownstone and cleaned himself up before texting Elsa.
Mr.Black: Meet me at the Grace Street brownstone.
He looked at his watch and clocked the time – 2:25 p.m. She had forty-five minutes to get there.
Seating himself on the duchess chair, he peered out the window. The day was gorgeous. Thinking about his last interaction with Elsa, he shook his head, still unable to believe the balls she had to try and tell him he was ‘free to leave.’ He should punish her for that statement.
The more he thought about it, the more appealing the idea sounded, but what and how? He hadn’t planned it out ahead of time and all forms of punishment were to be carefully premeditated and not haphazardly doled out. Elsa and her fucking light. What a joke.
Still tired from the flight, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
He woke with a jolt when he heard her car pull into the driveway. He glanced at his watch. 3:35. She was damn near thirty minutes late. Standing, he moved to the window and flung the curtains aside to see her looking as beautiful as ever, but moving leisurely toward the front entrance.
Irritated, he seated himself back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He heard her stumble in the front door and drop her bag. By the sounds of it, the contents spilled out and she cursed under her breath.
He listened as she scooped up the items, each second passing by slowly as thoughts of punishment returned. She was supposed to be ready and available to him within forty-five minutes. Was that so much to ask? Was she intentionally trying to elicit a negative response from him?
When Elsa came around the corner, Victor swore if she had anything less than an apologetic look on her face he would seriously lose it. She had left the door open and he felt the heat and muggy air float in, causing the air-conditioner to kick on. She lingered in the entry way, only infuriating him more. What the hell was she doing anyway?
Finally pushed beyond his limit of patience, his voice boomed, “Elsa, get in here.”
He heard the door slam and she peeked around the corner. The light from the bay window lit up her face and her stunning yet fearful eyes. Wobbly on her feet, she steadied herself as she walked into the living room.
He stood and took in every detail of her obviously freshly showered body. “Why the hell are you late?”
“Victor, I…” she started in but he didn’t care why. There was no reason that would suffice.
“Save it.”
He marched toward her and wrapped his arms around her body, her warm, damp skin clinging to him through the sheer fabric of her white dress. He hiked her dress up and dug his fingers harshly into her ass, making her gasp. In one motion, his skilled hands pulled the dress up over her head and he flung it to the side. Her bandages were still in place and though he wanted to cause her pain for having made him wait and for having told him to get out of her office, this wasn’t the way to go about it. He claimed her mouth and as he thrust his tongue in, he pushed her back toward the chaise and down onto it. Laid out before him, Elsa gazed up at him with fear vividly sparkling in her eyes.
Without speaking, he quickly rid himself of his clothing and stood over Elsa, allowing her to drink up his dominance. He was taking her and he didn’t need her fucking permission. She belonged to him. As he approached her, she turned her face to avoid eye contact, but he wouldn’t be denied. He placed his finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him.
“Rule number nine: eyes on me at all times,” he stated, spacing the words evenly.
His mouth found her breasts and he nipped at her pebbled nipples and pulled them to a point with his teeth. Elsa’s back arched, pushing more of her breast into his mouth. She carefully wrapped her legs around his torso and locked her ankles together as he slid into her unhurriedly.
As he plunged into her tight, wet depths, the pressures of work were forgotten. She was wet… so wet… and each slow thrust eased his tension and the smell of their mixed sex cleared his mind. When their tongues danced and twisted inside each other’s mouths, even her punishment was momentarily brushed aside. Elsa’s wordless moans breathed against his mouth pushed him over the edge. He had hoped he would last longer, back pressure was too great. His thrusts came quicker, deeper and harder until he hit her cervix and stilled. When he released into her, he opened his eyes to see her smiling up at him.
But the smile… it wasn’t real. He had seen her phony joy before - the first night he met her at The Brewery. She offered that same bullshit fake smile to the asshole that had his hands all over her.
Suddenly, his anger was back. Did she think he couldn’t read her?
Pushing himself off of her, he pointed toward the stairs. “Get cleaned up. You have ten minutes. Do you think you can comply with that request?” he asked acidly.
Elsa sat up and gritted her teeth, but held her words and moved quickly.
What the hell did she have to be pissed off about? He was the one who had been slighted by her lack of compliance.
As a wicked plan formed in his mind, he wondered just how invested she really was in this game. He would find out.
***
Elsa moved at double speed to wash her private parts. She was still shaky from the rear-end collision she had just been in. She wasn’t at fault, even so, there were laws and she prayed she wouldn’t get in trouble for leaving the scene of an accident. She left her insurance card and hoped that was enough. Her adrenaline was still surging through her veins. Not only because she had left before the police arrived, but because she knew there was going to be hell to pay. There was no way Mr. Black would let her being late slide. She leaned over the sink and splashed her face with water, ready to face her punisher.
As she descended the stairs, she tightened the strings of her silk robe and tried to slow her breathing and heart, but it was an impossible task with everything that had happened.
When she entered the living room, Victor was dressed and waiting by the bay window. He motioned for her and she approached cautiously. When he saw her nervousness, he smiled. He loved this. Elsa pushed her chin out and squared her shoulders. She would be the champion, she repeated.