Falling into Black (5 page)

I clasped my hands in my
lap and glanced out the window -- working up the courage to question my drop
dead gorgeous boss. Anything that I said might make him angry, and he could
turn that anger on my starving flesh. The idea sent shocks of need through my
veins.

“Champagne?” he asked
and opened a little refrigerator in the corner.

“Please,” I said. Maybe
the alcohol would give me some much needed courage.

His fingers slipped off
mine as he handed me a glass, and I took a long, eager sip -- the bubbles
tickling my nose.

“Why me?” I blurted out
suddenly, and my cheeks reddened.

Good going, Alicia! Way
to be smooth about it.

His bright blue eyes
turned on me. “Why you for what?”

I looked at the golden
liquid, the streetlights illuminating it just so. “For everything. The job --
this fundraiser. I just don’t understand.”

He snorted at that, and
out of the corner of my eye I watched him take a sip off his own glass. “Is it
that important? I hired you because I thought you’d be the best fit, and I
haven’t been proven wrong yet. You come through, Alicia, and that’s what I
need.”

Right. Good for the job.
But that doesn’t explain the rest of it.

After another sip, my
mind felt fuzzier and my tongue looser.

“Why the punishments?
Why this?” I asked and looked him square in his gorgeous face. “I know you have
other women who’d love to be here right now.”

“And you don’t want to
be here?” he asked and his long fingers tightened on the glass.

The question caught me
off guard. I did want to be there, but at the same time it was almost painful
because I knew how fake it was -- how the show was nothing but that -- a show.
If I had a choice, maybe I would have been back home with a frozen dinner and
my wine. At least I knew that was real. At least then I wasn’t being played
around with by some rich asshole just because he could.

The tears pricked at the
corners of my eyes, and I blinked to keep them back. “Not really. Not when I
know I’m the last choice you’d ever make.” The words tumbled out of my mouth
too quickly, and I couldn’t take them back.

His eyes widened. It’s
the first time I saw Dorian Black surprised about anything.

“You think you’re my
last choice?” he asked and gripped my arm with his free hand. His fingers dug
into my flesh, bruising it, but the touch still excited my senses -- making me
want more.

My cheeks burned, but I
nodded anyway. “Yes.”

For a moment his eyes
seemed to shatter like glass, the hardness they usually held falling away to
reveal a softer side underneath. Slowly, he leaned forward, his hand moving up
my arm until he gripped my chin in his powerful fingers. His breath was hot and
his lips were almost gentle as they pressed into mine. I melted into his kiss,
his touch and his lips, like an ice cube on a hot summer’s day.

Dorian Black was kissing
me!

His rich tongue eased
into my mouth, forcing my lips open as he gripped the back of my neck in a
strong hold. I let out a moan as I gave into his every want -- his every
desire. I know he didn’t really answer any of my questions, but he was too
perfect to resist.

Absently, I dropped the
glass of champagne as he gripped onto my hips, urging me to straddle his lap
and lift up my dress.

I obliged. What else
could I do?

His fingers ran up and
down my smooth thighs, pushing the dress up farther and farther until my legs
were spread wide, my lace panties on display just for him. He plucked at the
material, rubbing it under his scorching hands until I writhed beneath him, my
breath catching in my throat.

“You really don’t want
to be here?” he groaned, rubbing the rough edge of his cheek across my heaving
cleavage.

“I don’t know, Mr.
Black,” I mumbled, unable to focus on anything but the hungry passion of my
body.

“Hmm,” he said, his lips
kissing my ample chest. Pulling the dress down, my breasts popped free and he
engulfed the left nipple with his teeth and tongue. The sharp pain of each
bite, the tingling delight of his suckling, made it impossible to think of
anything else.

I gripped onto his head
and ran my fingers through the smooth black waves, urging him closer to my lust
ridden flesh.

The bulge of his cock
pressed into my wet sex, the thin material hardly holding back the thick
pounding muscle he hid. Without a word, he pulled my panties aside and slipped
a finger over my clit, teasing it into a state of unbelievable arousal.

My whole body sang with
the pleasure of his touch, his lips and hands assaulting me like nothing I’d
ever felt before. But it still wasn’t enough. Not when I wanted him inside me --
his thick heat filling me to the brim.

Steeling my nerves, I
reached down and rubbed my hand over the fat head of his concealed member, blindly
searching for his zipper.

He groaned. His face
still buried in my chest, and the unshaven edges of his cheeks rough against my
smooth skin. Then he looked up at me, his eyes hardly visible in the darkness
of the limo.

“Do you belong to me,
Alicia?” he asked in a gruff whisper.

“Yes,” I answered
immediately, without a moment of hesitation.

He kissed me again, his
mouth attacking mine with the same exhilaration that pumped through my veins.

I’m not sure how he did
it, but he shifted his weight and suddenly his body was on top of mine, the
limo’s leather seat slick against my back. His lips peppered my thighs with
kisses as he pulled down my panties, already dripping with need for him. Then
he gripped my ripe flesh, squeezing it between his fingers right before he
pulled back a hand and swatted me on my bare ass cheek.

My whole world narrowed
to that moment. The burning sting of his hand colliding with my enlivened body.
I twisted my hips, turning over so he could do whatever he liked to my naughty
bottom. At that moment I no longer cared what happened just as long as he was
the one doing it.

Another spank ignited my
flesh. And another. And another.

I gasped at each one.
The electrifying moment of pain and pleasure titillating my body into a flurry
of lust I’d never known.

“Do you want me to fuck
you now?” he growled.

“Yes,” I moaned,
wiggling my ass. I never talked like that -- never squirmed with overwhelming
desire like I did at that moment. The leather seat stuck to my cheek, my head
pressed into the material at an odd angle, but I didn’t care -- not if he was
going to give himself to me.

Then the thick heat of
his cock pressed against my sex, forcing its way inside with deliberate ease.
My fingers gripped onto the seat just as he grabbed onto my hips.

He thrust slowly at
first -- the fat head nudging against an intense bundle of nerves my vibrator
could never reach. I bit my lip, trying not to scream at each thrilling
entrance.

Dorian Black was fucking
me!

I could hardly think
straight. It was all I could do to move my hips in time with his thrusts. The
only sound in the limo was his intense breathing, the low guttural moans coming
from his lips, and the loud beating of my heart.

As he thrust faster, my
world blurred into nothing but our bodies, slick with rich desire for each
other, urging us closer and closer to the inevitable peak of pleasure.

Suddenly, I moaned and
writhed, unable to sit still as the passion of the moment overtook me. The
orgasm shook my body from head to toe, shocks of gratification running through
my veins like electricity.

A moment later, the rich
heat of his come filled up my gasping pussy, sucking his cock dry with the last
of his urgent thrusts. Then the warmth of his body engulfed me, the smell of
his cologne and sweat rich in the air. A gentle kiss pressed against my cheek,
his arms enveloping me in their muscular hold.

“We’ve arrived,” the
limo driver said from the intercom.

I blushed at the thought
that the driver had heard everything, but I couldn’t bring myself to be
embarrassed.

Not then.

Not with Mr. Black still
buried inside me.

“You belong to me,” he
said, his chest rumbling against my back as he caught his own breath.

“Yes,” I agreed. I
belonged to him -- but what exactly did that mean?

*
* *

As we walked down the
red carpet and into the art fundraiser all eyes were on us. Much to my surprise
the paparazzi and photographers still huddled around the entrance in abundance.
Of course Mr. Black would arrive fashionably late, but that wasn't what got
everybody whispering and pointing.

It was the chubby nobody
hanging on his arm – me.

After our excursion in
the backseat of the limo I was hesitant to just waltz into a fancy event, but
what choice did I have?

Mr. Black helped me pull
up my panties and right the pink satin dress over my curvy hips. Walking into a
crowd of people all so much wealthier than I was made slightly easier knowing
what just happened. Mr. Black wanted me to be his. Only I didn't really know
what that meant.

His girlfriend? His
lover? I was already his personal assistant and his date for the night. Well
maybe I'd find out later -- if he saw fit to tell me.

A blush seeped over my
cheeks, and I smoothed my damp palms over my dress. Even wearing such finery I
knew I didn't fit in. I felt like a ragdoll surrounded by perfectly crafted
porcelain dolls. The looks of surprise the other guests gave me showed they
felt the same way.

"Dorian! We hoped
you'd arrive soon," a refined middle-aged woman said and took his hand.

Dorian
.
She called him by
his first name.

Mr. Black gave her a
tight smile and nodded. "I had another affair to attend, but I did
RSVP."

The huge diamond
necklace she wore sparkled in the artificial light. "Yes, of course. You
are such a busy man. Is this a friend of yours?" she asked and her voice
got shrill. Disapprovingly shrill.

"My date actually.
Alicia Jones," he said and wrapped his arm around me, digging his fingers
into my flesh. The heat of his touch reminded me of our time in the limo.

"Oh," the
woman said just like my mother did when I claimed I wanted a bullfrog as a pet.

Great. I'm the bullfrog.

"I spotted Sylvia
earlier, I just assumed –"

"You assumed
wrong," Mr. Black growled, his eyes narrowing.

"I didn't mean to
imply anything, Dorian. You know how the social circle gets. Everyone's so
curious."

Was Sylvia the blonde
woman I met the other day? The woman who claimed she was the only one who could
give Mr. Black what he needed. And his friends didn't even know they broke up?

What the hell did you
get yourself into, Alicia?

 "Yes, well
it's nobody's damn business but my own. If you'll excuse me," he said and
pulled me away.

I glanced at Mr. Black's
perfectly handsome face – his straight nose, smoldering eyes, and dark
wavy hair.

What was he hiding?

"Who’s
Sylvia?" I asked. Part of my mind knew I should keep quiet, but I was
still riding high on the thrill of our lovemaking and my earlier glass of
champagne.

He sighed heavily and
squeezed my arm. "Later. Right now let's get through this evening."

Was he really going to
tell me? If so I'd just have to be patient. I nodded, and he lifted two glasses
of champagne from a passing tray.

More alcohol –
just what I needed.

We wandered around the
fundraiser for the better part of an hour snacking on hors d'oeuvres and
sipping champagne as he chatted with acquaintances and business associates. It
all seemed like a rush of fine art and fancy clothes. If I had more courage I
would've sneaked away, but I clung helplessly to Mr. Black's arm and kept an
eye out for the blonde woman.

What was I going to do
if I found her?

Confront her?

Tell her Mr. Black asked
me to be his?

I didn't know, but I
could at least warn him that I saw her. A distinct feeling in my gut told me
she was bad news.

Of course, my best-laid
plans failed miserably in typical Alicia fashion.

I went to the bathroom
and when I walked back out to the art museum's floor Mr. Black was nowhere to
be seen. It's not like he could blend into the crowd – someone as
strikingly gorgeous as he was stood out.

I peeked around the corner
and spotted him and the blonde woman talking at the end of the hallway. They’d
gone off alone together to have a private conversation. My heart lurched into
my throat and my stomach sank. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

Approach or keep my distance?