Please note, this chapter is NC-17. If you are not yet 18, or you don't like that kind of stuff, hit the back button now!
The humidity has already penetrated the walls and twisted into the dimmest recesses of the room. Irritably, she crosses the floor and picks up a pile of discarded clothing. She hears the door open behind her and chooses to ignore him as she makes her way to the bathroom.
She's about to enter it when he grabs her arms and spins her around to face him.
His face is inexpressibly cold, his eyes pinpoints of frigid blue in a sun-darkened face.
"Don't threaten me, sweetheart." His voice is low and there is a vicious undertone that sends a chill coursing over Grace's skin.
"Don't threaten you!" She laughs condescendingly. "Babe, if I ever threaten you, you'll know all about it. You might think you're the big man about town, but you don't want to take me on. You think you have me pegged, but you know nothing about me."
"You don't think I've been watching you from behind *his* eyes for the past two months?" John Black growls as he steps closer to her. Her eyes narrow as she glares at him, defiantly standing her ground. "Sweetheart, I had you worked out from day one. So don't think you can surprise me."
"You can think what you want," her heart is pounding as she continues to hold his icy stare. "The fact remains, you only know what you've seen." She lifts her finger to his face and points at him deliberately. She knows it'll provoke him and she doesn't care. In fact, provocation is what she wants right now. Her voice is low and glacial as she continues. "I'm telling you, you don't know me, and you don't want to mess with me. I happen to know you're not as clever as you think you are, so why don't you just *back* off."
His reaction is as anticipated as he grabs the hand in his face and shoves her roughly against the wall.
"Listen lady," his voice is little more than a slow, gravelly rasp in the stultifying heat of the room. "I won't say this more than once." He pushes up against her, pinning her to the wall, his face mere inches from hers. "I don't like games, I don't take orders and I won't be hanging around if you continue to push me." He flashes an arrogant grin. "I've seen too many of the old man's conquests, I know his M.O., how he breaks people, how he trains them and I know the games he plays." His grip softens and he takes a small step back. "Believe me, I've seen enough like you to know exactly what you're about."
Grace is silent for a moment and then a slow, fierce smile curls her lips. "Well then," she says softly, "looks like you have me pegged." She steps away from the wall and makes to walk away. But after a couple of steps, she turns back to look at John. "Except, you know...."
With a lightening fast movement, she attacks him, a whirl of punches and kicks that catches him totally off guard. He staggers for a moment and then grabs her arm and sweeps her feet out from under her. But, unexpectedly, she takes him down with her and she is up on her feet before he even realizes what has happened.
He climbs to his feet angrily and lunges for her with a roar. She sidesteps him and brings him crashing to the ground with a well-placed kick. This time, however, he drags her down on top of him and he tries to grab her arms. She breaks free and deals him a right hook that momentarily blinds him.
"I'm not one of Stefano's conquests," she grunts as she hits him again, "and I'm not any kind of example of his M.O."
John manages to grab both her wrists now and he spits blood from his mouth onto the soiled carpet as he stares at her.
"Stefano didn't make me and he doesn't control me," she hisses, "which means you have *no* hope."
"We'll see about that," John counters hoarsely. He's not about to let this blonde bitch get the better of him. No matter how attractive she might be, she's still just a woman, and he's not being brought low by a mere woman.
She twists her arm, trying to escape his grip and he tries to right himself at the same time as fighting to keep hold of her. Their struggle intensifies as she breaks one hand free and scrambles a little away from him.
He growls and lunges for her again, smacking her backwards so that she hits the ground with a thump that leaves her winded. In that moment he is on top of her and she is flailing at him.
He falls back with a curse as her nails catch his face, scratching parallel grooves from his forehead down across his cheek.
"Fucking HELL," he yells as she struggles upwards, "you *BITCH*."
"Told you not to underestimate me." She's almost laughing. Well, she would be if she wasn't so breathless.
And then he's upon her again, throwing her back onto the bed and he's over her and all he wants to do, with every fiber of his being, is hit her.
But he can't.
And it's nothing to do with the way she's looking up at him, her golden eyes wild and hostile. Nothing to do with her full lips, nothing to do with the way she's panting, her full breasts rising and falling so that he can see glimpses of her nipples through the torn shirt.
It's nothing to do with that, although now he has stopped, that has definitely captured his full attention.
What stopped him, though he's not even aware of it now, is the voice in the back of his head. The voice that does not belong to him.
And then he's completely forgotten about the voice as moves his body atop hers and claims her mouth with his own.
Grace struggles briefly beneath him, but his mouth on hers and the feeling of his hardness digging into her belly soon puts paid to any thoughts of resisting any further.
Instead, she moans and arches her back, baring her neck to him. He immediately takes up on her offer and slides his mouth down to her neck, sucking and biting on the hot, salty flesh, his hands twisting into her tangled hair.
Grace's hands slip down over his shoulders and her fingernails dig furrows into his back as he works her skin with ravenous lips.
Within the span of a moment, she is tugging on the waistband of his boxers and between them they struggle to remove the sweat-soaked garment. Then, rolling onto one elbow, John one-handedly rips the remainder of the buttons from Grace's shirt and she gasps as he roughly yanks it over her shoulders.
Retaliating, she reaches down and slides her hand around his cock, squeezing roughly as she draws her cupped fingers up his throbbing length. John groans and tries to extricate himself from her grip. His attempt is unsuccessful however and she pushes him onto his back and straddles him in a quick movement.
"Jesus Christ!" He doesn't even attempt to collect his breath as she lowers herself onto him, sliding down around him, enveloping him a slick, moist warmth that brings him almost to orgasm the moment he is entirely inside her.
He manages to gather himself though and looks up at her through the haze of pleasure and lust. She looks incredible above him, riding him like she was born to it. Her hair is messy and her lips are red and her eyes are closed as she tightens her thighs, thrusting against him.
Grace is beyond any kind of rational thought. All she can feel is the tension building within her as she dances atop him. She can feel him inside her, his hands on her and the burning echo where his mouth plundered her neck and lips. And she can feel the wave rising as he hits the spot again and again and again....
And she grabs his arms and cries out as her orgasm thunders through her body, her muscles and nerves and blood singing with the crashing pleasure of release. And the sound of her and the feeling of her clenching around him sends John's consciousness reeling as he grunts and tightens and thrusts until every last bit of pleasure has been ridden into extinction.
And then Grace settles on top of him and the room is silent.
Its several moments before she gathers enough energy to roll off him and she collapses onto the thin damp sheets of the bed and lays staring at the ceiling. She's not entirely sure exactly what just happened. Well, she knows what happened, she's just not sure who came out on top....
For a moment there, he had almost frightened her and then his aggression had suddenly dissolved into lust and as much as she might have wanted to resist him, it was too easy and too gratifying a way to exit what had become a potentially very dangerous situation.
She has let him goad her into doing something stupid and she has to be damn careful that didn't happen again. He isn't Marlena's John and she can't count on his feelings for Marlena to protect her from his wrath. And while she is more than capable of looking after herself in a physical fight, there is no point in going *looking* for trouble.
Situations like this morning's have a habit of escalating and usually ended up in someone getting seriously hurt. Or seriously dead. And it isn't usually her. Well, ever her. And she isn't ready to part with John's company just yet. He will be useful if she wants to get to Stefano's property and find the information she's looking for.
The information that will just finish the Brady family off well and truly.
She looks over at him to find him staring at her. His expression is unreadable and she chooses to look instead at the mess she has made of his face. There is blood congealing in the scratch that runs from his hairline to the middle of his cheek and his lip is swollen and split. She's probably covered in his blood, she realizes, as she lifts her fingers to her neck.
"I guess we won't be leaving at nine after all," John offers in a raspy voice. "You want the bathroom first or...."
"No, you," Grace says quietly. And then, as he struggles from the bed, "I… I'm sorry ab-about…." she trails off, waving lamely at his face.
John looks at her for a long moment but says nothing as he turns and heads for the bathroom.
Grace exhales a long breath she's been holding and flops her head back down on the bed. The next few days are going to be interesting, to say the least....