His Belt (Part Five)

  His Belt

  Part Five

  Hannah Ford

  Contents

  Copyright

  WANT TO BE IN THE KNOW?

  His Belt

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Copyright © 2018 by Hannah Ford

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  His Belt

  (Part Five)

  Chapter 1

  ELIJAH

  She is irresistible.

  Everything about her – her long dark curls, the fullness of her lips, the sounds she makes when she comes, how responsive her body is when I touch her, when I command her.

  I can still taste her pussy on my mouth, can still feel how tight she was against my tongue.

  And now I will be the first one to be inside of that tight little cunt of hers, the first one to see the look on her face when she finally has my cock buried inside of her, her cries of pain as I stretch her open turning to cries of pleasure as I begin to rock inside of her.

  I’m still carrying her up the stairs when the door to my apartment opens.

  The sound of voices and general commotion comes floating up to us from where we’re standing, halfway up the staircase.

  Abigail scrambles out of my arms and starts to quickly fix her clothes, buttoning her jeans from when I’d pulled them down and spanked her before eating her out just moments before.

  “Who the hell is that?” I ask, annoyed as I make my way back down the stairs. No one has access to my apartment – it’s on a special lock mechanism that needs to either be opened from the inside, or from the outside by a special sensor that recognizes your palm print. And no one is programmed into the sensor. Except for me, and –

  “Hey, bro,” Ryan says, appearing in front of me in the entrance to my penthouse.

  Kira, his fiancé, stands behind him, looking sheepish, and her sons – Ryan’s soon-to-be stepsons when they get married in two weeks – push past and begin darting around my apartment.

  Dmitri, the four-year-old, knocks into a table and a miniature glass statue totters, almost falling onto its side. “Cool statue, Uncle Eli!” he crows, picking it up and looking at it seriously before discarding it onto the couch and running into the kitchen.

  “What are you doing here?” I demand.

  “Nice to see you, too,” Ryan says. He’s wearing a black puffy jacket, jeans, and a sweatshirt. He begins to take off his jacket, like he’s planning on staying for a while.

  “What are you doing?” I demand. I turn to Kira, his fiancé. “What is he doing?”

  “He looks like he’s taking off his jacket,” she says, sighing. She pushes her bangs out of her face and gives my brother an accusing look. “I told you we should have called first.”

  “I don’t need to call first, Kira, he’s my brother,” Ryan says, rolling his eyes. He tosses his jacket onto the couch over where Dmitri has tossed my hundred thousand dollar sculpture.

  “Mommy, I’m hungry,” Cade, the two-year-old says. He sniffles and wipes at his nose with the back of his hand, leaving a trail of snot on his sleeve.

  Kira picks him up. “I know, sweetie. Just give us a second and I’m sure we’ll –” Her voice trails off as her eyes land on a spot behind me.

  A spot where Abigail is still standing on the open staircase.

  “Oh!” Kira says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t know you had company, Eli.”

  “Hi,” Abigail says, seemingly floating down the stairs. She puts her hand out to Kira, but Cade takes it instead, using the same hand he just wiped his nose with to pump Abigail’s hard as he says, “Nice to meet you, lady.”

  Abigail giggles, apparently not caring that Cade is a germ factory. “I’m Abigail.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Kira looks behind her at Ryan, who’s stuck his head into my refrigerator and is rummaging around, making a mess of everything.

  “Hey, Abigail,” Ryan says, giving her a nod and a smile, and then raising his eyebrows at me. “Is this why you wanted a plus one to the wedding?” I shoot him a look that tells him to shut the fuck up, and instead of looking chagrined, he holds up a bottle of imported beer. “Is this fancy schmancy shit all you have?”

  “You said a bad word,” Cade giggles. He wiggles out of his mother’s arms and runs across the room to me, throwing his arms around my legs. “I love you, Uncle Eli.”

  I sigh, catching sight of the look on Abigail’s face, her amusement at the way I’m being overpowered by a two-year-old child.

  “What are you doing here again?” I ask.

  “We were supposed to have dinner at Mr. Smalls. You know, that place with the arcade inside? But when we got there, it was closed for renovations,” Kira says, sounding apologetic. “Ryan thought we should stop by here, since it was only a few blocks away. But we didn’t know you had company, otherwise we never would have intruded.”

  “Oh, you’re not intruding,” Abigail says.

  My eyes narrow and blood pounds through my veins. They most certainly are fucking intruding, no pun intended. And it doesn’t look like they’re leaving any time soon, not with the way my brother is opening the oven and glancing at the dinner I was preparing for Abigail and myself, the dinner that had almost been forgotten in my haste to get her upstairs.

  “Your chicken is about to burn,” Ryan says, pulling it out of the oven and setting it on top of my stove.

  “Mommy, I’m sooo hungry,” Dmitri says. “I love chicken.”

  “There’s not enough,” I say.

  “Ryan,” Kira says. “Come on, let’s just go down to the burger place at the end of the block.”

  “I don’t want burgers,” Dmitri says. He’s back to the glass statue now, and he’s begun to slide it over my newly polished floor, like it’s a snake instead of a priceless piece of abstract art by an artist who New York Magazine called “one of today’s most brilliant.”

  “Well, what do you want to eat?” Abigail asks.

  “Pizza!” Dmitri says.

  “Then pizza you shall get,” Abigail says. “Only it’s gonna be even better, because guess what we’re gonna do?”

  “Abigail…” I give her a warning look, the tone in my voice letting her know that it’s time for her to stop, that my family needs to get the hell out of here so we can continue with what we were doing.

  But she’s already on her phone, pulling up an app and typing away.

  “What?” Dmitri asks, abandoning the glass statue and running over to Abigail excitedly. “What are we gonna do, Abigail?”

  Cade releases me from his grip, leaving dirty handprints on my pants. He runs over to join the melee.

  “We’re going to make our own mini-pizzas,” Abigail says. “I’m ordering the food right now.”

  “How?” I ask.

  “On an app,” she says, showing me the screen. She types and scrolls, and then hits send with a flourish. “There we go. It will all be here in twenty minutes.” She sees the stunned look on my face. “What? You think you’re
the only person who can order up anything they want and have it delivered?”

  “You know, I really like her,” Ryan says, picking at the chicken and popping a piece into his mouth before taking another sip of his beer.

  I look at my soon-to-be-nephews gathered around her, and the satisfied, happy look on Abigail’s face. Something inside of me loosens.

  “I really like her, too,” I say, and Abigail grins.

  Chapter 2

  ABIGAIL

  The pizzas are a hit, the kids are super cute, and Ryan and his fiancé Kira are so nice. By the time they leave, the kitchen is destroyed, I’m full of pizza and Diet Coke, and feeling content and happy.

  I drain the rest of my Diet Coke from the fancy goblet it’s in. Apparently Eli doesn’t have normal glasses. Poor Dmitri and Cade had to drink from champagne glasses. They broke two in the process.

  Elijah walks back to me from the front door of the penthouse, where he was saying goodbye to his family.

  “That was fun,” I say.

  “Was it?” He raises his eyebrows.

  “Come on,” I say, rinsing a plate and sliding it into the dishwasher. “Admit that you had fun, too.” The boys had convinced him to play wrestling with them, which consisted of Elijah picking them up one by one and tossing them onto the couch, while Kira looked on nervously and the boys giggled with delight.

  “I don’t have fun, Abigail.” Elijah grabs my wrist gently, stopping me from washing another plate. “I have a maid to do that.”

  “You’re going to let a maid show up to this?” I ask, looking around at the kitchen. Tomato sauce is strewn across the island, there’s six pieces of pizza with one bite out of each one sitting on the table, because Dmitri couldn’t decide what kind he wanted. There’s even some pepperoni stuck to the back of Elijah’s couch, which he hasn’t noticed yet and I don’t have the heart to tell him is there.

  “I pay her three hundred thousand dollars a year to show up to this,” he says, his arms snaking around my waist.

  “You pay your maid three hundred thousand dollars a year and you pay me forty thousand?”

  “No.” He pulls me against him and I relax into his arms. “Armstrong Media pays you forty thousand.”

  “I want a raise.”

  “That might be able to be arranged.” He kisses my neck, and fireworks of desire explode from where his lips brush against me. I think about what we were about to do before his brother got here.

  “I want to take you to bed,” he murmurs against me, his breath warm on my skin. “I want to take you upstairs and make you mine.”

  I swallow, my heart pounding, my body aching for him. I think about everything that happened today – meeting Elijah’s mom, finding out he was having me followed, my fight with Hailey, the destruction of my computer, the fact that I have no idea what’s even going on between Elijah and I, what the parameters of our relationship are going to be, what he expects out of this dominant/submissive relationship.

  All of these things are running through my mind, the same way they always do when I’m with him.

  “I want to go upstairs with you,” I say. “But I want to be in your bedroom, not the other room. I want your bedroom to be…” I swallow, not quite able to make myself say the words. “That’s where I want it to happen.”

  Elijah nods.

  “And I want to stay the night.”

  “I told you, you will stay here until I can make sure you’re safe.”

  “No. It can’t be just that. I want to spend the night not just because you’re worried about me, but because you want you want to be with me tonight.”

  He frowns, like he can’t reconcile these two facts in his head. Finally, the expression on his face softens. “I want to be with you tonight.”

  And then he takes my hand and leads me up the stairs.

  His bedroom is beautiful and surprising.

  I expected it to be austere, kind of like his office, but it’s not. It’s beautiful. The space is wide and open, with tray ceilings and huge windows covered by gauzy grey curtains. The bed is a California King with a comforter done in splashes of white, grey, and red.

  The walls are painted a lighter grey, the floor long planks of rustic dark wood. The walls are lined with black and white prints of different places in New York City – the Strand bookstore, a caricature artist in Central Park, a random diner.

  The whole room is modern, gorgeous, and yet cozy and warm at the same time.

  “This room is amazing,” I say, running my hand over the comforter on the bed.

  “My decorator.” He’s over near his nightstand, his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, watching me carefully. “She insisted my entire room couldn’t be black.”

  “Well, I like it.” Now that we’re up here, my nerves are starting to kick in. I’m about to have sex. For the first time. The two of us, together, him moving inside of me. Elijah Armstrong, my boss, famous billionaire, and notorious billionaire, is going to be the one to take my virginity.

  “You never told me why you’re still a virgin,” he says. He’s trying to keep his voice light, but I can tell there’s more to his statement than he’s letting on.

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Not that bullshit about not finding the right man. I mean the real reason.”

  “If you’re going to psychoanalyze me, then you’re not going to get anywhere.” The last thing I want to talk about right now is how he thinks my mother being a prostitute has led to me holding onto my virginity for this long. I turn to look at him.

  He moves toward me, cups my chin in his hand and raises it so that I’m forced to look him in the eye. “I want to make sure you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

  “I’m doing this because I want to. And because I trust you.”

  He closes his eyes and takes in a breath. “Your heart is pounding.”

  “Not because I’m anxious,” I say. “I mean, I am anxious. But mostly I’m excited.”

  I can still see the hesitation in his expression, can sense it in his bearing. So I reach for his pants and being to undo his belt. His cock is already erect, and I try not to brush against it as I take his belt off. I pull it slowly through the loops, our eyes locked on each other’s the whole time, the anticipation of what’s about to happen excruciating.

  When his belt is off, I hold it out to him. He takes it, his hand wrapping around it so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

  I pull my top off, revealing the lacey red bra underneath, the one that plumps my breasts up and causes them to swell over the top of the material. Then I unbutton my pants and turn around, shimmying out of them, making sure he gets a full view of my ass.

  When I’m done, I turn around, presenting my body to him, wanting him to know how badly I want the things he’s about to do to me.

  His eyes move up my body, his gaze dark and penetrating, and like always when he’s looking at me like this, my cheeks warm and my skin covers in goose bumps.

  “Sir,” I say, folding my hands in front of me.

  Elijah pulls back his shoulders, his full height of 6’4” seemingly taking over the room. He’s an intimidating figure, his chest broad, his suit hugging his body exquisitely, his jaw strong and seemingly cut from glass.

  I lower my eyes as his eyes slid up and down my body again, and I’m suddenly extremely aware of what’s about to happen. That huge cock, inside of me, those strong arms around me, the belt… who knows what he’ll do with the belt.

  For a moment, I almost wish we were in the torture room, because at least then if I called the whole thing off, no one could blame me.

  He eliminates the short distance between us, his fingertips skating over my abdomen, tracing over the marks he’s left on me.

  “I have never wanted someone more than I’ve wanted you,” he murmurs, and my body pulses with heat. He gathers me against him, his hands taking my wrists and pushing them behind my back as he draws my mouth to his.

  The kiss is soft, te
nder, the only sign of his dominance the way he’s holding my wrists behind me so tightly that I can’t move.

  When he breaks the kiss, his broad chest is heaving with desire.

  “I don’t want to have to use the belt on you. Not for your first time.” His eyes are stormy, tortured. “But I don’t know if I can promise you that I won’t.”

  I bite my lip, thinking about his confession in his office today, how he needs to use the belt because of what happened with his father.

  “I just want you,” I murmur. “I don’t care how or what you do to me. I want all of it, Elijah. I want all of you.”

  His eyes harden, the softness and vulnerability that had resided there just a moment ago disappearing, leaving no trace of it in its wake.

  He steps back and begins to remove his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one, his hard chest coming into view, the dip between his muscular pecs appearing, giving way to the hard ridges of his abs, the soft line of hair that starts at his belly button and dips down, disappearing into the front of his trousers, where I know his hard cock is waiting for me.

  When he’s done, and naked from the waist up, he comes back to me.

  “Hands behind your back.”

  I do as he says, and he reaches up and slides his thumb and forefinger up and down the strap of my bra. “I’m not going to fuck you until you’re ready for me,” he says, as his knuckle skates over my skin.

  He slides the strap down slowly, then repeats the maneuver with the other side, allowing me to move my arms to pull them out of the straps before instructing me to put them behind my back again.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m going to have your tight cunt dripping for my hard cock before I slide inside of you.”

  “Yes, sir.” I wonder if he knows it’s already dripping for him, if he can tell that my panties are already stuck to my skin because I’m so wet, so turned on, so ready for him.