His Urge Read Online Free PDF Page B

walking outside, looking for Jonathan.  I had to trust in him, as I always did.
    As the air settled around me, the room started to feel cool.  Most of the water had since dried off my body but my hair was still soaked.  And laying in my wet hair kept everything wet and cold.  The shivers only made it so far before another wetness made everything warm.
    It was an odd feeling, having my legs forced open, when all I wanted to do was close them.  I wanted to feel myself, feel the warm gush, the folds of my sex.  There was a need to touch myself like I never had in my life.  Jonathan had once again opened another door into my sexual den of secrecy.
    And he was gone.
    I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, calming myself.  Or at least attempting to calm myself.  I focused on my breathing and tried to ignored the rush inside my body.  The heat.  The subtle movements of pleasure.  The thoughts of Jonathan Black and all he could accomplish with the flicker of his tongue or the thrust of his cock.
    The door clicked then squeaked for a brief second but stopped before I could open my eyes and look.  A narrow strip of light came into the room.  I watched, waiting for Jonathan to make his entrance.
    He didn’t.
    The door remained cracked and I remained handcuffed to the bed.
    After a few seconds my heart started to race.  Memories came back to me, ones of being in a hotel in California when Oliver Rush tried to touch me.  I shivered at the horrible memory of the man, not to mention how he ended up afterwards.
    “Mr. Black?” I whispered. 
    Nothing.
    I broke a rule and asked, “Jonathan?”
    Still no response.
    My heart bounced inside my chest and anything that felt cool or cold was now burning.  I didn’t want to be filled with fear but without Jonathan Black right next to me, it was all I could feel.
    Fear of what waited after the situation outside.  Fear of someone discovering Oliver Rush’s body.  Fear of someone other than Jonathan finding the paper with the numbers on it...
    The paper.
    It was still in the bathroom.
    “No,” I whispered.
    I couldn’t imagine someone like John Black setting things up just to steal three billion dollars from his own son.  But this was a different world.  A world of wealth and power.  When people have all the money in the world, what else could they ask for and control?
    Life.
    The door moved again, this time with much more speed.  I had the urge to scream for help (even if it meant having John Black see me naked), but it vanished when I saw Jonathan coming back into the room.
    I wasn’t sure how long he had been gone but for all my body knew, I had a sense of virginal desire running through me. 
    And he was carrying my clothes from the bathroom.  They were in a ball in his hands and he walked them to the bag that he had taken the handcuffs from, dropped them and turned to face me. 
    My mind told me that he must have opened the door then went into the bathroom to get my clothes.  Maybe he knew about the paper in my pocket.  Maybe he didn’t.  Maybe he didn’t even open the bedroom door.  I wanted to look again, towards the hall, but I couldn’t break my stare from Jonathan. 
    He reached up and grabbed the knot of his tie.  When it was loose enough to slide over his head he did so and placed the tie on one of the bedposts.  As he moved I caught the scent of the billionaire, that wild musky smell that had a touch of man and desire mixed in.  Being in the bathroom with me with the thick steam it allowed him to smell even more potent, more sexy, if it were possible.
    Jonathan then began to strip himself, a sight that made my body rage with need.  He did it in perfect order, working top to bottom.  When he stood with no shirt on, just suit pants, the lines of his muscles were beautiful and I wanted to taste all the nooks and crannies his body had to offer.  His stomach was rippled to perfection and lines disappeared. 
    When he finally stripped his pants and