KYNK Ch. 02

"We have unfinished business, anyway." Hopefully by the end of our meetup, though, some clearer lines would fall into place. I refused to let myself fall for his antics again. I realised that up until then, I'd been springing to act on every little order he'd given me. I could refuse him. Absolutely. Elliott Grimme was in for a surprise today.

When he'd picked me up that afternoon, I was determined to find an opportunity to put my foot down.

"Look, I don't know what you're up to, but if you think that I'm just going to do this whenever you ask-" He ushered me into the car, shut the door, and left me to sit in silence for several moments.

The moment he got in, I turned my glare on him. He didn't even so much as flinch. "I'm gonna take you sailing today."

"Well you know what, Ell- wait, what? Sailing?"

"Put your seatbelt on." was all he said, turning over the engine.

"You're not going to explain?"

"No." He offered me one of those smug little smiles of his, leaning over me to reach for the buckle and strap of the safety belt. He was close enough to kiss, mere millimetres from my face, our breaths mingling. Heat coiled in my belly, one I was becoming accustomed to feeling whenever Elliott Grimme was within two feet of me.

Then, he took us away from the loft, and I spent a majority of the drive with my eyes glued to the window. If he took me somewhere shady, I had to know where to tell the cops they'd find his body.

We arrived at the docks not too long later. Elliott got out and for the first time, I realised he was actually dressed for the occasion while I was. . . in torn jeans and a Ramones t-shirt. It didn't seem to make a difference to him, though, because before I knew it, we were leaving the car behind.

"I'll show you my boat."

His boat? "Wait, you have a boat? As in . . . not a rental?"

"I sail." he said so matter-of-factly that I almost felt stupid for asking.

"Of course you do. . ." That shouldn't have even come as a surprise.

"Come on." Elliott took me by the wrist and led me away, helping me onto the deck when he sensed my nervousness.

"This is your boat?"

"Well. . . yacht."

"I know what it is. Seventy-foot, monohull. . . is it fast?"

"Very. You know boats?"

"My dad's kind of a pirate."

"That explains a lot." He quipped, smirking.

The last time I'd seen the docks, I'd been praying that I didn't regret the decision to leave dry land with this man, but the moment we'd hit open waters, I'd practically burst with excitement, arms spread.

Wind whipped at every inch of me, blowing my hair up into a whirlwind of black fire whilst Elliott took care of the steering and I bellowed out into the wind. I'd always thought that I could understand how it must've felt to fly - the inequivocabile high that one experienced. I was experiencing it in those moments, arms spread on the bow of just about one of the sexiest racing yachts I'd ever laid eyes on. What was more, Elliott looked like a scene straight out of a movie - dark hair whipping in the wind, sunlight reflecting on his perfect teeth, dimples ever-present, and those steel-blue eyes . . .

I should've realised it then, but I was slowly succumbing to the powers of his persuasion.

We cut about several times, and I took care of the sails when the winds picked up, at least pleased enough to show off what my dad had taught me. It wasn't like I needed to impress Elliott, but if he was going to show off his yacht, then I was going to at least be on my game.

Two hours had passed before we'd returned, windswept, and my heart was still out to sea. I was sure it would take a while for me to come down from the high, but while I was still more or less walking on air, I wanted to revel.

"Hungry?" Elliott asked casually.

"Starving." I answered without thinking.

"Say no more."

***

Really, the entire evening was panning out to be a fantasy realised. I'd been dying to get back out onto the water, and now I was being taken out to dinner at one of the best seafood restaurants Seattle had to offer. I could barely contain myself at dinner, and I hardly felt sorry about it when were back in the car again and headed for our next destination. Actually, I had no clue where we were going?

"Is this destination a surprise, too?"

"Not exactly." He pulled into a deck and soon parked amongst what I noted to be ridiculously expensive cars.

"Holy shit, is that a Maserati?"

"Let's head in, shall we?" I heard amusement in his tone, but I was too busy pressing my nose to the window to get a better look at the vehicular embodiment of sex parked three whips down.

My door opened and I nearly fell right onto my face, but Elliott caught me by the arm and straightened me up. I'd gotten so momentarily caught up in his eyes again that I hadn't thought to wonder where we had arrived and where he was taking me. I was, however, acutely aware of the hand that was leading me toward a lift of some sort, though.

Fast forward about five minutes and we're ascending in one of the classiest elevators (after the one at Grimme Enterprises) I had ever had the pleasure of riding in. Not that it was all that easy to be in a such a small space with Elliott Grimme. My only saving grace had been a little old woman cradling a yorkie to her chest. She departed too soon and the moment the doors had whirred shut again, I could feel Elliott's gaze bore into me.

The two of us had stepped into pure luxury, and I am talking marble, rich woods, orientals, the whole nine yards. The loft I shared with Jung could have easily fit inside it twice over, and the minute my shoes were off, I was wandering forward to descend into the living room.

I spied a sleek, modern kitchen and what looked to be a study farther down the hall, but my main fascination was with the seating arrangements. Just as was to be expected, they felt like heaven, too. My hands stroked over every fabric that came into my vicinity and for several moments I found myself wondering what sort of life Elliott Grimme had lived up until now.

Everything about his penthouse screamed luxury, comfort - but it didn't feel lived in.

Lifting my gaze to meet his, what I found there was intense. Elliott looked like he wanted to sink his teeth into me and then some. I barely had the chance to ask before he was closing the distance between us.

It felt like fire, warmth spreading from where his lips found mine, and before I could convince myself to break away, it was too late. My fingers had disappeared into his silky obsidian waves. He scooped me up, then, managing all of my weight as if I'd weighed no more than a feather, and walked me across the room. We spilled over onto the Chaise, Elliott drawing me into another fiery kiss, his form looming over mine, hand hitching one of my legs up over his hip. My hands slid beneath his shirt, fingertips discovering defined muscle beneath velvety smooth skin. I whined when he broke away, breathing against his lips. My breath caught when his fingertips popped free the closure of my jeans, hand sliding its way into the front of my Calvin Klein's. Oh, God, he was touching me.

"Ezra," He began, pressing a kiss just below my ear, then my jaw. I sighed when those lips brushed my neck and felt his teeth graze flesh. "I want you to be my submissive."

"What?" I was only half-listening.

Elliott's fingers had begun to stroke at sensitive flesh. His palm felt hot where it had closed about me, and I arched away from the chaise, reaching for his wrist. He started with even strokes, fingers working me up into a steady pant, free hand pushing my shirt all the way up to reveal my pale flesh.

He laid soft bites to my skin, from my chest, to my ribs, as ventured as far as my navel, fingers tugging my fly the rest of the way open. I made the mistake of looking. My hips had begun to roll in compliment to his hand, but his strokes were torturously slow, the pad of his thumb teasing me in a way that elicited the first moan to leave my lips.

He swallowed it, lips closing over mine to lure me deep into another kiss. I begged with my hips, practically melting when his mouth left mine to instead close over one of my nipples, tongue flicking over the jewellery that pierced it and teeth catching the sensitive flesh.

"Ahh-- Elliott, please--" I groaned.

And just like that, he'd released me.

I lay there wide-eyed, panting, unfulfilled. No!

"Ezraeil. . . Say you'll belong to me," He began, straightening up, dropping the hem of the shirt I'd managed to pull halfway up. "And I'll give you what you need." The look in his eye was dark and it sent a thrill through me. There was a hunger contained there that drew me in, and I knew the moment I'd heard him speak my name that the game was over. He wasn't playing anymore.

"And if I said yes?"

Elliott Grimme fixed me with a devilish smile, the sort that my mother had often warned me about in the days of my youth. In the depths of his eyes danced a fire just begging to be toyed with, and I was a poster child for reckless behaviour. I wanted him to brand me with it - with all the desire reflected in his gaze. He was looking at me the way nobody ever had.

He looked like he wanted to eat me alive.