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Authors: N.M. Catalano

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BOOK: Black Ink
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Black…
I don’t answer.

He lowers his mouth to my ear.  “Black.”  His hands clasp my nipples as his tongue licks and his teeth capture the tendon at the crook of my neck. 

I grip him tightly inside as I suck in a breath.

“He wants you.  But it’s me who’s fucking you, me who knows what you need.”

A low growl comes from somewhere deep inside him. 

Slam!
My ass to his pelvis.

Slam!
His thrusts pound my uterus.

Slam!
Deep and hard.

Slam!  Slam!  Slam! Slam!
He fucks me continuously, nonstop, slamming my ass into him with each of his thrusts, until he grinds his hips into me holding my hips tightly against him.  I can’t catch my orgasm, staying just beyond my grasp and slipping from my hands.

“Fuck!” he grits out tightly coming so hard, I feel his shaft thicken as it jerks inside me.

Releasing his Vulcan grip from my hipbones, he licks my spine from the base to my neck. 

Oh…
my back arches and a push into him, tilting my head back, my body reverberating from the stroke of his tongue.

“I’d love to watch my cum drip from your cunt, then dip my finger inside just to have you lick it off.  Are you clean pet?  I know it’s been a long time since that pussy of yours has been adored.”

I nod my head slowly, unable to speak because my mouth is dry from the image of his thick white cream seeping from me, him slipping his finger in coating it with our juices then giving it to me.

“Good Gemma.  I am too.”

He stands not pulling out from me, I can feel he’s still semi-hard.

“I don’t have your blindfold, you do.  We’ll use your panties instead.”

The idea of tying my panties around my face strikes me as a touch dirty and taboo.

“It’s in the...,” I begin.

“It’s okay, I like the thought of those sexy little things that hug your pussy on your face.  You can smell what I’m smelling knowing what it does to me.”

This man is so fantastically filthy. 

“Don’t move,” he whispers in my ear, pinching my nipples.

As he moves to my dresser I listen as he opens the drawer and rifles around my lingerie. 

“You must look so good in these.  It’s almost a shame I only see you naked.”

Coming back to me, he directs me to stand to tie my underwear over my face.  The faint scent of my sex wafts to my nose. 

“Smell yourself Gemma?  It’s so much more pungent when you’re aroused, thick with lust,” his words stroke me like his lips at my ear.

“Get on the bed, I’m going to tie you.  It’s time for a little fun.”

Why don’t I think it’s going to make me laugh?

I take the same position I had last week, hands above my head and legs spread, almost appearing eager for what he has in store for me.  The Faceless Man doesn’t straddle me to restrain me this time, but stands at the side and foot of the bed.  His fingertips caress the length of my body, trace my contours, and outline all of my intimate ridges as he binds me tightly.  Then he opens the nightstand drawer.  My eyes fly open behind the strip of fabric as I turn my head toward him.

“What are you doing?” I ask almost panicking.

“Shhhhhh, I’m getting your toys,” he whispers as he licks the outline of my ear and jaw.

“Why?” my voice is almost a shrill, I’m so embarrassed.

“We’re going to play.  The game is called ‘Forced Orgasm’.  Don’t be embarrassed, Gemma, every woman should have toys, and they should be played with.”

Oh God, no…
I moan silently.

“Please don’t,” I whisper strangled.

The Faceless Man gently caresses my cheek under the blindfold with his knuckle.

“I know how ludicrous this sounds, Gemma, but trust me.  I would never do anything you wouldn’t enjoy.  I won’t give you anything that won’t take you out of that place you’ve locked yourself up in.  Everything that I do is for you to free yourself.  Know this.  And,” I can almost hear him shrug, “I love it.”  There’s a definite hint of warped satisfaction to his tone.

I let out a heavy breath.  I know everything he’s just told me is the truth, I know it in my heart.  Although I wasn’t aware of it before, this is why I wanted more. 

He is giving me myself.

The thump of my cashmere Prada bag on the tabletop makes me jump.  And wince.

Here it comes, shoot me now!

Seconds tick by and the anticipation is killing me.

“Gemma…”

“Yes?” I answer apprehensively.

“I’m going to put the clips on your nipples,” he whispers.  Although it’s quiet, his voice is husky with arousal.

I swallow and try to make the saliva come back to my dry mouth.

“Okay.”

“This is going to be intense, pet,” his whisper now even quieter.

I swallow again, my heart beating wildly.

“Okay.”

He begins to slowly circle each nipple getting closer and closer to the tip.  With each pass my chest rises trying to push him to the needy points.  Finally, he takes each one between fingers and pulls them taut.  I feel the brush of the wooden clothespins along my bare areolas until they capture them just below the tips.  The sweet familiar ache begins to seep from that point throughout my body.  He brushes his fingertip over the captured nipple and the sensations are incredible.  My lips must have opened because The Faceless Man is gliding a fingertip across my parted lips, beckoning my tongue to taste it.  His flavor explodes in my mouth from that tiny contact, satisfying some unknown need in me.  The decadent drug of arousal begins to wash over me and I let it begin to take me away.

The tip of the hard vibrator startles me when it makes contact with my clit.  It was a light touch, soft and gentle.  My walls clench recognizing its inanimate lover, welcoming it with hunger.  He slides the head along my folds but doesn’t enter me with it.  The whirring sound of the motor startles me along with its vibration.  He’s got it pressed firmly against my clit.  This time, he’s got my arms and legs bound so tightly, there’s no give for even the slightest movement.  The wave of an orgasm rapidly rises and takes me with it, higher and higher, and the crash follows quickly behind it.

“Please,” I moan, my breathing coming rapidly.

“You’re going to come, and you’re going to keep on coming pet.”

The wave crashes quickly, slamming me down with the force of the orgasm.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God!” the chant spills from my mouth.

“You’re far from finished Gemma.”

He’s right.

On the tail of that climax comes another wave blending with the first one.  It throws me up and slams me down.  The orgasm that evaded me when he fucked me is claiming me with a vengeance. 

“Let it take you pet,” he whispers holding the vibrator against my pulsating engorged clit.

My back arches pulling against the restraints, the merciless captivity is sweet torture.

“OOOOOH GOOOOOOOD!”

My body is vibrating on such high frequency, I can’t think.  There’s nothing except the rapid relentless pounding of climax after climax. 

“I want more Gemma,” I hear him whisper through the lust engulfing me.

“NOOOOOOOO!” I scream as another orgasmic wave crests.

“Yes, pet, this one is going to be special.”

The pleasure is so intense it almost hurts. It’s ripping me apart and squeezing me back together, throwing me around and pulling me tighter.  I throw my head back and scream from the intensity.  Suddenly, wetness begins to saturate me, I feel it splattering my naked thighs.

“I’m peeing!”  I yell, lifting my head.

“No you’re not, your squirting Gemma.  It’s beautiful.”

He lifts the vibrator and replaces it with his hand, rubbing my sex as I shoot all over him.

The spasms of the tidal waves from my climaxes begin to recede and I slump into the bed, disoriented and panting.  He removes the clips from my nipples and palms the breasts, trying to ease the discomfort.  He kisses my collar bone and shoulder and whispers, “I’m going to get a towel.”

When he returns, he gently wipes me then unties the restraints, rubbing my ankles and wrists tenderly as he does. 

“Roll to your side, Gemma, let me take off the blanket.  I’ll get another.”

I don’t argue, I’m too spent. 

“Other side pet.”

He works the blanket from beneath me and replaces it with a clean, dry one.  Then he lays down next to me and pulls me close.  I press myself against his warmth and let his familiar scent fill me. 

“You were so perfect, pet.  How do you feel?” The Faceless Man asks against my neck as he cups my breasts, my ass resting snugly in his naked groin.

“It
was
intense,” I answer quietly, smiling.

He chuckles, “Yes it was.  But how do you
feel
?”

His erection is growing pressed against my bare ass.  An emptiness begins to grow in my loins, snaking through me, heating and pulsating inside me. 

“I feel…,” I try to say the words.

His hardness is now between the cheeks of my ass.  My hips grind into him longingly.

“Do you feel empty?”  He nibbles my shoulder.  “Needy?”  Pulls and twists my nipples.  “Aching?”  He slides a hand down my inner thigh and wraps my leg over his.

“Yes,” I whisper, tilting my head back against him.

“You need, pet.”

He pulls away from me and I’m certain he’s sliding another condom on his shaft.  Then he slides into my wetness and my eyes roll back in pleasure.   His rhythm is slow, taking his time, as his hands explore my body, touching, scratching, biting, nipping, marking me inside and out.     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

9 CHAPTER

 

Alexander

Gemma is different.  I saw she’s been different all weekend as I watched her.  She’s calmer, more relaxed and unguarded.  She seems freer.

I didn’t want to leave her Friday night.  I wanted to wake her as I pushed into her, watching her orgasm in that in-between sleep and awake state, raw and completely bare.

I run a hand roughly through my hair frustrated.

Snap out of it Black!  What the hell is wrong with you?

I
wasn’t supposed to want
her.
  The plan was to get her close, get her in a position to be exposed, then get her vulnerable.  Use whatever I had to in order to accomplish the task.  A man of my means, and unscrupulousness, has a wide array of arsenals at his disposal, and very little risk, no matter the method.

Find guilt.

That was the plan.

So far, nothing has come up on her computer and communications.  Outwardly, she appears to be completely innocent of any involvement with Malcolm.  Intimately, she’s far from innocent but apparently void of any attachment to him that way as well.   It’s evident that weasel hasn’t been a husband to her.  He’d probably only been married to her as a façade to hide his illegal dealings. 

It infuriates me. 

What I hadn’t factored in, because it had never been a problem in the past, was getting involved.  Right from the very beginning living out on the streets it has been, ‘Get in and get out quickly and efficiently.’ 

I have no idea when it happened but it was a very sobering realization when I noticed I craved Gemma Trudeau.  The thought of her made my mouth water and the blood pound through my veins.  As I’d watched her dress this morning on the monitor, picking out a black lace bra and panty set with bows and velvet trim, possessiveness raged inside me.  My mind screamed
MINE! 
Every instinct was pushing me to claim her in the most barbaric and primitive way.  I wanted to climb the stairs to her bedroom and throw her over my shoulder in her fucking lingerie and stockings, then tie her to a chair directly in front of me and keep her there.  All.  The.  Time.

She’s radiant.

I watch her as she walks from the elevator toward her desk, no hiding behind sunglasses this Monday morning, and she’s glowing from within.  Her outfit matches her mood, a little daring with a slit up the back of her tight red skirt, and her sleeveless metallic grey silk sweater molds her breasts perfectly.  She’s got on my favorite shoes, the black six inch ‘I’m-Ready-To-Be-Fucked’ stilettos that make her ass swish just right. 

I stop pacing and halt whatever I was saying mid-sentence.

She waved at me!  Wiggled those little fingers at me and smirked! 
 

The grin spreading across my face is automatic as I nod my head at her in response.  So is the tightening in my pants.  She has never even acknowledged me before unless I made her in this quiet time of the morning when it’s just she and I in the office.  It has always been me in her face.  It had all been part of the plan.

Apparently things are different and the game is changing. 

I’m glad your weekend was so enjoyable Ms. Trudeau, the fact does indeed give me great pleasure. 

 

Gemma

There was only a  single hand print drawn on my stomach the next day.  The note he wrote next to it said simply, ‘Need’.

I wanted him so bad, I
had
needed him.  So much I ached. 

Embracing that, accepting it, made me feel alive…and strong.  It seemed the world was made new and was opening itself up to me saying, ‘Here, indulge, you deserve it.  Live a glorious life, it’s yours for the taking!’

Monday morning when I walk into Alexander Black’s empire, I feel like a new woman I didn’t even care about riding in the Black Mobile. 

I want to do just that:  indulge, partake, and live for me.  Truly free, as if the chains I’d been carrying around with me for so long were finally broken and cast aside. 

I was no longer held down by my hurtful ex-husband anymore.  I knew I was going to get through this mess he threw me smack in the middle of, trying to destroy my life, and me in the process.  The Faceless Man had been right, Malcolm did try to destroy me every opportunity he’d gotten in very subtle and calculated ways, and was still attempting to even behind bars.  He is going to see how strong I am, and the best part is he’d have a very long time to think about it.

I’d had half a lifetime to learn how to deal with Malcolm.

Tony Salvatore is a different story entirely

As I sit at my computer waiting for it to boot up, the one in my head begins its analytical process of putting pieces together, gathering data to assimilate a conclusion, and the best possible means to achieve it. 

What’s Tony’s angle?
 
Could it be as simple as he only wants to get in my pants?

For a man like Tony Salvatore, it could be quite plausible that he would react so forcefully when faced with rejection. He’s the epitome of a spoiled brat. 

But why now?  There’s something else besides the fact I’m virtually single.  Tony Salvatore has no morals where women are concerned, no mobster does except with their mothers.  If he’d wanted to sleep with me, he would have made it known way before now.  Our lives have always been intertwined.

As my homepage icons load, I drum my nails on the glass desktop thinking.  Glancing at Black, I sit back in my chair and cross my arms across my chest.

That man.  No one has the right to look that good.  It truly does
hurt
gazing at him, he’s so stunning.  Sleek, powerful, incredibly chiseled face with an air of danger.  He is the devil incarnate, luring you with sweet dark seduction.  His eyes dare you to take him, and all it will cost is your soul.

I hadn’t realized how strongly I’d been ogling him until the IM pings with a message.

Is this going to be a regular Monday thing, Ms. Trudeau?  You still hung over from your fuckfest weekend? 
Alexander Black

The gall of that man!

I shoot him the middle finger, I’m so appalled, the reaction is immediate an automatic.

By the expression on your face when you were staring at me, that is precisely what you want.  Please come in, my call to China is almost finished, then it will be your turn. 
Alexander Black

“How dare you!”  Pushing myself from my chair, it slides across the cubicle and crashes into the bookshelves behind me.  I march into his office and slam the door behind me.

He’s watching me in that casual arrogant way of his, jacketless and leaning back in his chair like he owns the world, and he loves it. 

“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to like that?!”  I glare at him, hands on my hips, anger boiling inside me.

“Mr. Yu Lee, everything is going according to plan.  My associate will be arriving in China in two days to finalize the agreement.  I look forward to a very successful future with you,” Alexander Black ends the call.  Swiveling his chair to face me, he has a very smug look on his face.

He doesn’t say anything right away, only considers me, studies me, and examines me inch by inch.  The intensity of his glare chips away at my attack bit by bit. 

He slowly raises an eyebrow at me.  “Tell me, Ms. Trudeau, do you think you
really
know who I am?” 

The question throws me so off-guard, I very unquestioningly admit the bare minimum cold, hard fact…I don’t.  But I won’t be intimidated or undermined by him.

“Mr. Black, I have no doubt the depth of all that you are is so complex, no one could truly understand it.  However, it is evident that you are a narcissist and a megalomaniac.”  I take a step closer.  “You think you own everything and everyone and, therefore, feel it is your right to use them when and how you see fit.”  Another step.  “Here’s a secret, Mr. Black, I am
not
one of your possessions.”  I close the space between us and bend down to peer directly into his face, (He smells so incredibly good).  “Get that through your thick fucking head.  You cannot speak to me in any way you choose.”  Jabbing my finger into his (very firm) chest, “Got that?”  I glare into his icy blue eyes.

There’s amusement in them, sinful mirth lifting the corners of his lips, those lips that rocked my world last week.  All the intense passion from the very arrogant Faceless Man washes over me, the same cockiness, same I-Know-You-Want-Me-To-Fuck-You.  I want to kiss the smugness off his face, then slap it.  Because he’s right. 

My body reacts to him as if he has
already
had me intimately, knows my deep dark secrets, is completely familiar with how I melt under control, and submit to all his demands willingly. 

It’s not him!
I vehemently remind myself.

“Ms. Trudeau,” his voice is like warm cognac gliding over me, thick and burning, seeping into me completely.  He stands, his massive presence unaffected by my body towering over him, and the simple act pushes me easily out of the way.  “The moment you accepted the position, you belonged to me.  I have not even begun to use you in all the ways I intend to,” his body looms over mine.  “There’s only one thing standing in the way,” he says dangerously quiet.  “I’ve yet to make a conclusion on that matter yet.”  He hits the button on his desk to smoke the glass walls of his office, never breaking his penetrating look.  “Such an interesting word, possession, don’t you agree?  Control,” he grabs me by my hips and sits me on the edge of his desk.  “Force,” then yanks my skirt up so my panties peek out above my stockings and garter clips.  “Taken,” he spreads my legs wide and stands between them.  “The thing I hadn’t considered before is that the thought of someone else fucking you, especially that scumbag Tony Salvatore touching you with his filthy hands, makes me insane.”  He cups my ass cheeks firmly and shoves me against his bulging crotch.  “If he touches you, I’ll kill him.”

“…if he had I’d have to kill him,”
The Faceless Man’s words echo in my memory.

My heart is pounding against my ribcage, my arousal is skyrocketing, I can feel the slickness already coating me. 

“Tony Salvatore makes me sick,” I mutter.

“Good Gemma.  I knew you had better taste than that.”  He presses my sex against his erection, and the pressure makes my loins quiver.  “You didn’t have anything to do with Malcolm’s scheme.”  It’s a statement.

“How could you even think that I did?”

“You’re his wife, he’s stupid, you’re brilliant.”

He pulls my skirt up leaving the lower half of my body exposed in my underwear.

“You are the most incredibly sensuous woman I have ever seen, Gemma,” his voice is rough and deep.  He strokes a finger over my now damp panties, then brings it under his nose and inhales deeply.  “Delicious Gemma, your scent is an aphrodisiac.  Pull your panties to the side, let me see you.”

I gawk at him, shocked at his pornographic request.  It makes my heart skip a beat.

“No,” I whisper, my fingers curling around the edge of the desk to keep them from doing anything he asks. 

“Yes.”

Putting his hand over mine, he lifts it and places it between my legs.  Then pushes my thighs wider, gripping the meaty flesh firmly.

“Now, Gemma.”

I have no control, he’s stripped me of everything, and my hand does his bidding.   I slowly move the thin black fabric to the side and bare my hungry mound to his penetrating gaze.  I close my eyes tightly, I can’t look.

“Open your eyes Gemma.  I want to watch them when you’re coming.”

I open them cautiously, my body trembling with need.

“Your pussy is exquisite.  Don’t close your eyes or I’ll stop.” 

“…I’ll stop…,”
again the familiar words repeat in my memory.

Alex uses a single finger to trace my folds, then circles my pulsing clit, then dips just the tip inside me.  My hips flex into him wanting more.  He holds my legs as wide as they’ll go with a hand gripped tightly on one and his body pressed against the other.  I feel so naked, so exposed, so open to him.  His strokes over my pussy are slow and leisurely, bringing me just to the point of coming and no further. 

I’m biting my lip, wanting to beg for release. 

Fuck me, just fuck me and make me come!
my mind begs.

“I do want to fuck you Gemma, sink into you, your sweet delicious pussy hugging my cock, but not today.  Do you want to come?”

Why are you making me admit it?

My brow furrows as I nod my head ‘yes’. 

He lifts his finger to his mouth and licks it, then brings his mouth to mine. 

“Taste how sweet you are Gemma.”

He traces my lips with his tongue then.  My desire is at a fevered pitch, I suck it into my mouth, staring into his eyes as he watches me.  Our mouths fuck each other in a slow heated frenzy as he pushes two fingers inside me and begins to fuck me with them.  I thrust into his hand over and over again chasing the wave that won’t crash as we glare into each other’s eyes.  When his thumb hits my clit and rubs it, his two fingers bent inside me rubbing my walls, that sensitive place that blows my mind, I scream in his mouth with the force of my orgasm.  He’s mercilessly keeping me coming on his hand. 

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