His Belt (Part Six) Page 2

  “No.” And it’s true, I’m not. It’s just… how do girls who look like that actually exist in real life? If I tried to wear an outfit like that, there would be lumps and bumps everywhere. And forget about not wearing a bra. I’d probably be arrested for indecency.

  “Good. Because you are the most beautiful woman here. And the reason everyone knows me is because I own part of the club.”

  “Wait, what? You own Edge?”

  “Part of it, yes.”

  “So you own an island and a club,” I say, shaking my head. “What else?”

  He pulls me closer to him, sliding me across the couch until our knees are touching him. Then he lowers his mouth to my ear. “What else do I own, Ms. Bennett? I own you.” He kisses me, his mouth warm, his hand tightening on my thigh.

  “Get a room you two!” someone yells playfully, and I look up to see Hailey and Will making their way across the rooftop.

  Hailey’s wearing an emerald green ruffled sleeveless blouse and a pair of cream pants that flare at the bottom, revealing the top of the tan wedges on her feet. And Will’s in a gray sweater and black pants, his hair long against his collar.

  “Hey, guys,” I say, standing up to greet them.

  After a moment, Elijah does the same, and I say a silent prayer of hope that the evening goes well.

  Everyone settles in, Will sitting next to Elijah, and Hailey next to me on the horseshoe couch.

  There’s an awkward silence for a moment, and I shoot Elijah a pointed look.

  “Congratulations on your design award, Hailey,” he says.

  I shoot him a grateful look, glad he’s making an effort. I reach out and take his hand, our fingers intertwining.

  “Thanks,” Hailey says, and I can tell she’s pleased. “It was a nice surprise, especially since that cover took like three million revisions to get right.”

  “Well, your hard work paid off,” Elijah says.

  “Cheers to Hailey,” Will says, pouring champagne into the empty glasses Brooke left at our table. We all clink our glasses together, and I feel myself start to relax as the music – some kind of electronica remix with a strong beat -- kicks up a notch and people start to head for the dance floor.

  “So, Mr. Armstrong, tell me about the new streaming service,” Hailey says. “It sounds super exciting.”

  “Please, call me Elijah when we’re outside of the office. And you don’t really want to talk about work, do you?”

  “Well, not really,” Hailey says, blushing. “But I am interested in any Chloe Castle gossip you might have.”

  “Chloe Castle is so hot,” Will says. “Is she as hot in person as she is on TV?”

  “No,” Elijah says firmly. “And she’s a raging bitch.”

  “Really?” I ask. “I didn’t get that vibe from her at all. I mean, not that I met her or anything. But at the premiere she seemed like she was being pleasant enough.”

  “She turns it on for the press and the cameras,” Elijah says, and spends the next ten minutes regaling us with stories of Chloe Castle and her on-set escapades, including her screaming fits, her obsession with cold-pressed vegetable juice (she had to have one every hour, in order to keep her metabolism running), and the time she fired a makeup artist because she accidentally gave her the same color lip gloss as another famous actress.

  Then Hailey tells a story about the time I was slicking my lips constantly with this new moisturizing lip balm I’d bought, not realizing it was tinted, and I went through my entire day looking like a clown without realizing it.

  The conversation and the champagne are flowing, and I’m relaxed and happy, thankful that everyone is getting along, knowing that they’re all making an effort for me.

  After a while, Brooke returns to our table, asking if we want anything besides the champagne. Hailey orders a glass of white wine, and Will gets a shot of tequila. I see Elijah’s eyebrows raise at that, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s surprised Will is ordering such hard liquor, or because ordering shots at a place like this isn’t considered appropriate.

  Brooke doesn’t seem thrown though, and as she heads back to the bar, Will’s watching her ass twitch under her basically see-through white romper.

  “Will,” Hailey says warningly.

  “What?” he asks innocently, his eyes never leaving Brooke.

  “You have enough trouble with women right now, you don’t need to add more.” Hailey reaches for one of the goat cheese bruschetta triangles that Brooke left on our table “compliments of Edge” before she went to fetch more drinks. “Will has a stalker,” Hailey explains to Elijah.

  “Oh?” Elijah leans against the back of the couch, holding his champagne glass languidly. “Did you get a restraining order?” The sound of his voice makes it seem as if having a stalker is something that’s totally run-of-the-mill, and that applying for restraining orders is as commonplace as getting your license renewed. I wonder if he’s had stalkers himself, and figure he probably has. You don’t get as rich and famous as he is without having a few brushes with stalking. I think about all the rumors about him, about the supermodels he dates, the ones who can’t get out of bed because he’s broken their hearts so badly.

  “No, it’s nothing like that. She’s just a girl I went out with a couple of times,” Will says. “She can’t really get it through her head that it’s over.”

  “That’s not true,” Hailey says. “She’s totally crazy. She follows him wherever he goes, you know, stalking him on social media to find out where he’s going to be. She even emailed Abigail. Right, Will?”

  “Yeah, but she’s harmless,” Will says, with the ease that men can have about things like stalkers, a luxury that is never afforded to women in the same situation.

  “She emailed you?” Elijah asks me, his hand tightening around mine.

  “Um, yeah,” I say, realizing this probably falls under the umbrella of things he wants to know about that have to do with my safety. “It wasn’t a big deal, though.”

  “What did the email say?”

  “It just said that she wanted to talk to me about Will.” I shrug and take a triangle of bruschetta, realizing that I never even opened the second email she sent me. “Wow, look at that girl dancing,” I say, trying to change the subject. There’s a girl on the dance floor with her hair in a million tiny braids, and she’s twerking as she swings her hair around, her braids flying and hitting the girl next to her, who gives her a dirty look.

  “Did you reply?” Elijah asks, his voice low and even.

  “No, of course not.”

  “How did she get your email?”

  “I guess she found it on the company website.”

  “How did she even know who you were?”

  “Elijah, seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

  “It is absolutely a big deal,” he says. “What is this woman’s name?”

  “I don’t… I mean, why do you need to know that?”

  Will and Hailey shift on their seats, giving each other an uncomfortable glance, the kind of glance you give someone when a couple is fighting in front of you, and you’re not sure what to do.

  “Do you want to dance?” Will asks Hailey.

  And even though I’ve never known Hailey to dance in her life, she says, “Sure.”

  “No, you guys, it’s fine, you don’t have to –”

  But the two of them are gone, swallowed up into the crowd of beautiful people that seems to be growing by the second, the sea of bodies creating a layer of warmth that seems to permeate the entire roof deck.

  “That was rude,” I say to Elijah.

  “What is this woman’s name?”

  “Elizabeth something,” I say. “And you’re being a dick. You can’t just start acting like that way in front of my friends, giving me the third degree and making it out like I did something wrong when I didn’t.”

  The muscle in his jaw ticks, the one that always ticks whenever he thinks I’m being disobedient, and before I know what’s happe
ning, he’s pulled me onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around my waist, making it impossible for me to move.

  “You did do something wrong, Abigail. You agreed to let me know anything – anything – that would influence your safety.”

  “I wasn’t keeping it from you,” I say. “I just hadn’t had a chance to tell you yet.”

  It’s the wrong thing to say. His hand tightens even more around my waist/

  “I should take you over my knee and spank you in front of all these people,” he growls.

  I’m about to point out that it probably wouldn’t be wise for the CEO of Armstrong Media to be spotted spanking a girl in public, but before I can, he’s guiding me off of his lap, taking my hand and leading me over to the side of the rooftop.

  There’s a long chrome railing that snakes around the perimeter of the roof. It comes to about my chest, and he pushes me up against it, the metal digging into my stomach.

  “Do you think it’s fun to defy me, Ms. Bennett?”

  “I wouldn’t say fun, exactly, but – ”

  He fists my hair, snapping my head back and repeating the question.

  “No, sir.” He lets me go.

  Spread out below me is the lower level of the restaurant, the one for the non-VIPs. That level also has a dance floor, and it’s even busier than the dance floor up here, the tangle of bodies even more dense. The soft hum of conversation floats up to us, and I can feel the bass of the song that’s playing reverberating in my chest.

  Under that, and all around us, the city is spread out like a blanket. The sun has set, but the sky hasn’t completely darkened yet, leaving it a deep navy. A warm breeze blows across my skin.

  Elijah reaches around and unbuttons my jeans, then rests his palm on my bare stomach.

  “Elijah,” I breathe. “Please…”

  “Please, what?” His index finger rubs against the pull of my zipper, playing with it.

  “I won’t… I won’t keep things from you again. I won’t defy you.” My mouth has gone dry and I lick my bottom lip and tell myself to stay calm. He wouldn’t actually spank me here in front of all these people, would he? And if not, what will he do?

  “That’s what you said earlier. Remember? In my office, when I had you tied up, spread naked, that tight little cunt glistening?”

  “Yes, sir. But I won’t… I’ve learned my lesson.” I can hear the desperation in my own voice. I don’t know what he’s capable of doing to me. If you were looking at us from behind, it would look like he just had his arms around me, at least for now. But there are people everywhere.

  The thought of anyone seeing whatever it is he’s about to do to me is another level of humiliation that I’m not prepared for.

  My face is red, my whole body filled with heat, panic simmering below the surface of that heat.

  “I don’t think you have, Ms. Bennett.” His voice is rough against my ear, tinged with regret, like whatever he’s about to do is going to be for my own good, like he wishes he didn’t have to, even though I know that couldn’t be further from the truth. “And it’s up to me to make sure you understand there are consequences for your behavior.”

  “I understand,” I say, desperate. “But please, Elijah, I won’t – oh!”

  In one swift movement, his expert fingers have pulled the zipper of my jeans down, his palm slipping down over my pussy, cupping it through my panties. Searing heat slides through my body like molten lava, and I close my eyes and try to take deep breaths.

  If I move even the slightest bit, if I talk back or antagonize him, I know he will make it worse.

  “The city is beautiful tonight, isn’t it, Ms. Bennett?”

  I nod, trying to focus on anything but his palm against my pussy. “Yes, sir.”

  “Not as beautiful as you,” he whispers into my ear, and my breath hitches in my chest as his lips brush against the sensitive skin on the back of my neck.

  My knees weaken, and my head swims. I feel dizzy and disoriented, both from the height, and the humiliation of knowing his hand is down my pants.

  “Does that feel good?” Elijah asks, as if he can sense my desire.

  “Yes, sir.”

  His index finger moves lazily over the slit of my pussy outside of my panties.

  “You are so wet, Ms. Bennett. What do you think everyone here would think if they knew how bad you’ve been, and how much you’re turned on by what I’m doing to you right now?”

  “I don’t know,” I whisper.

  “Yes, you do.” He slides the sheer fabric of my panties over, and now he’s touching my bare cunt. “What would they think, Ms. Bennett?”

  “They’d think I was a little slut,” I whisper. “They’d think I was a bad little slut.”

  I can feel him smirking against my skin, pleased with my dirty words.

  “That’s right. And can you imagine what they would think if they knew I was about to make you come, right here, right in front of everyone?”

  His thumb parts my pussy lips just the slightest bit, the pad of his finger running over my clit. I still and immediately try to move away, but his hand on my hip, and the fact that I’m pushed up against the railing, makes that impossible.

  “No, Ms. Bennett,” he says. “If you move, everyone here is going to see you standing here with my hand down your pants. You don’t want that, do you?”

  “No, sir.” I force my body to go still.

  “Good girl.” He holds my hip and pulls me back against him, his finger still brushing expertly over my clit. And then he slides his middle finger inside of me.

  I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

  “How does that feel?”

  “Good, sir.”

  “Are you still sore from when I fucked you last night?”

  “Yes, sir. But it feels good.”

  He goes quiet then, the only sound my labored breathing as he begins to fuck me with his finger, in and out, the whole time his thumb still drawing lazy circles on my clit. I grip the railing in front of me tightly, telling myself not to make a sound when I come, because I can already feel my orgasm building inside of me.

  My knees have gone completely weak now, my body responding to his in a way that’s beyond my control. The rhythm of his fingers is intoxicating. I’m helpless to stop it, and by the time my orgasm pulses through me like a tidal wave, I can’t help but moan his name, thankful that the music is loud enough to camouflage my cries.

  Once I still, Elijah removes his finger slowly, buttons and zips my pants for me, then kisses me softly on the neck. “Good girl.”

  Chapter 3

  ELIJAH

  Her pussy is still so tight. It was snug around my finger, and I have to remind myself that she’s only been fucked twice in her entire life. The thought of that – that she’s only been fucked twice, that I was the first one inside of that tight virgin pussy – makes my dick hard. It took every ounce of my rapidly depleting self-control not to fuck her right here in the club.

  Instead I lead her back to our table, wondering how much longer it will be before I can get the hell out of here, take her home, and have my way with her.

  I’ve decided on twenty minutes, tops, when Will and Hailey return from the dance floor, their faces flushed from dancing and alcohol.

  “Wow,” Hailey says, picking up her champagne and taking a sip. “I forgot how fun that is.”

  Will is right behind her. “You need to get out more, Hails,” he says, sliding onto the couch next to Abigail.

  My body tenses. I don’t like him sitting so close to her. I remember how he kissed her cheek that night when I saw them at the bar with Ryan. Just friends my ass. He obviously wants to fuck her.

  “You guys want to dance?” Hailey asks. She rummages in her purse, checks her phone for texts, then drops it back in.

  “I’d rather gouge my eyes out with this knife,” I say, reaching for the knife Brooke has left with a cheese plate. I cut myself a piece and take a bite. It’s a Camembert, and it tastes chea
p. Not suitable for the VIP area. I make a note to take to the chef.

  “Oh,” Hailey says, looking startled. And a little annoyed.

  “What about you, Abs?” Will asks. He picks up a piece of cheese and eats it, apparently not caring that he could get something better at the bodega on the corner. “You want to dance?”

  “No,” I say. “She doesn’t.” Abigail shoots me a look. One of those ‘you’re being an asshole, Elijah’ looks. But I don’t give a shit. I’ll be damned if fucking Will Manning is going to be out there dancing with Abigail, his hands roaming her body. The thought of it fills me with a rage so almost blinding that I have to look away from him, reminding myself that it was just a thought, that he hadn’t actually touched her.

  “I think Abigail can decide for herself if she wants to dance,” Hailey says. She’s smiling, but her words are laced with an undercurrent of warning.

  “Do you want to dance, Abigail?” I ask.

  “Maybe a little later,” she says, leaning back on the couch and trying to sound light in an effort to diffuse the situation. “I need a couple more drinks in me before I get out on the dance floor.”

  “You won’t be getting drunk tonight, Abigail.”

  She shoots me another look. “I didn’t say I was going to get drunk, Elijah. I said I need a couple more drinks before I feel comfortable dancing.”

  “And if you think that I’m going to let you out on the dance floor, tipsy and buzzed, then you’re mistaken.” As if to prove my point, a drunk woman wearing high heels way too high loses control of her dance moves and bumps into our table, her purse toppling the cheese plate onto the floor. She doesn’t even apologize, just keeps up her ridiculous gyrating. The worst part is that there are about three guys in the crowd who actually think it’s attractive.

  Brooke appears as if from out of nowhere, sweeping away the broken plate and cheese, then disappears again.

  An uncomfortable silence settles over the table. At least, it seems as if everyone else is uncomfortable. I don’t mind uncomfortable silences. In fact, I kind of enjoy them.

  Hailey’s wired with tension, her lips pursed, as if she’s a second away from going off on me. She’s holding it in, though, because I’m her boss and also because Abigail is her friend. I meet her gaze, wanting her to know that I may be here, that I may have come here for Abigail, but that doesn’t mean I like it.