Crave Me

by Geneva Lee

  “Oh!” Belle looked somewhat relieved, but not entirely.

  “I have a large adopted family,” Hammond explained. “I was raised to believe it was one’s civic responsibility to help those who needed it.”

  “And Georgia needed it?” Belle asked, a sharp current running under her words. Her innocent expression hid it, but I hoped no one else could read her as well as I could.

  “Georgia came to me when she was fifteen. Bad home life. She’s worked for me ever since.” Hammond tipped his wine glass slightly at the lovely brunette.

  “She worked for you? But she’s your daughter.”

  “Hammond believes in helping oneself,” I interrupted, concerned at where this line of questioning might lead. “He simply gave many of us a leg up.”

  “Us?” Belle repeated, glancing from Georgia to me.

  “At one time even Smith needed help,” Hammond said good-naturedly. “Although you’d never know it now. Is he as stubborn with you as he is with me?”

  “I imagine more so,” she said dryly.

  “Some things never change,” Georgia added, her mouth coming to rest in a perfect pout.

  Or rather a suggestive pout. Belle stiffened but kept the smile on her face.

  “You’ll have to excuse them. Those two grew up together.” Hammond’s words should have sounded like the equivalent of an affectionate ruffle of the hair. But, like Hammond himself, they came out twisted. Wrong. A perversion of what a normal man might mean.

  I couldn’t explain to Belle that Hammond was exactly that. A perversion. There had been no possibility of keeping her away from him. Some ties ran too deeply. The kind of ties that bound and gagged and suffocated more when you tried to fight them.

  “Wait!” Georgia exclaimed, her hand flying to her chest. “I do know you!”

  I gritted my jaw, bracing myself for whatever new move she was making.

  “We have mutual friends,” she continued.

  “We do?” Belle countered, no longer trying to mask her disbelief.

  “Alexander and Clara.” The names gushed from Georgia’s mouth. It was obvious that she had been waiting to reveal this all evening.

  “Alexander and Clara? Um, how do you know them?” Each syllable was carefully chosen. Belle had begun to see the eggshells lining her path.

  “Hammond is a jeweler,” I interjected. This time when I moved my chair closer to hers, she didn’t shrink away.

  “I made Clara’s ring,” Hammond said.

  “That was Alexander’s mother’s ring.” Belle was testing him just as much as he was testing her.

  “I made it for his mother. As well as Alexander’s wedding ring and the one for young Edward’s friend.”

  “Fiancé,” Belle corrected him coldly.

  “Of course, I go back with Alexander almost as long as I do with Smith.” Georgia rested her chin on her hand. So far she’d barely shown her true colors to Belle. She’d been friendly and gracious, but underneath it all she dripped venom.

  Judging from how Belle shifted in her chair, my assistant saw through her facade nearly as well as I did.

  Georgia knew it, too. Now that there was no reason to hide her fangs, she struck. “You were engaged to Philip Abernathy. Such a shame. What a cad. Already engaged to that awful Pepper Lockwood.”

  The intake of air beside me was audible. Belle’s hand flew to her stomach. “I hadn’t heard that news.”

  “It’s a rumor, of course.” Georgia made quote marks in the air. “But Father designed the ring. I expect they’ll announce it in the papers any day.”

  A poisoned silence fell over our end of the table before Belle pushed her chair back so quickly it nearly toppled over.

  “Thank you for a lovely evening,” she sputtered. “Please excuse me, I’m afraid I’m rather tired.”

  “Not at all.” Hammond’s grin showed too many of his crooked teeth. “Do drop into the shop some time. I’d like to get to know you better.”

  Belle’s face turned green, and I half expected her to vomit on him. Before I was on my feet, she had hurried out of the private dining room.

  “You can retract your claws now, Georgia,” I said to her coldly.

  “However did you find her, Smith?” She plucked at the tines of her fork. “Such a lovely, simple creature.”

  “Stay away, sis.” I nodded tersely to Hammond, not trusting myself to say anything else.

  Belle was waiting on the curb outside the Carlton with her arm extended out to hail a cab.

  I pushed my valet ticket into the attendant’s hand as I passed him. “Bring it around immediately.”

  There was a murmur from the small line waiting for their cars, but the man jogged off to bring around the Veyron.

  “I’m going home,” Belle called as I came closer. “Alone.”

  “Fine.” I caught her upper arm and dragged her away from the side of the street. “But I’m taking you.”

  “What about your family?” She didn’t bother to hide her disgust any longer.

  “You don’t choose your family, Belle.”

  “It sounds as if you chose them.”

  “No, I didn’t.” I glared at her, daring her to press me further.

  The Veyron roared to the curb, and the attendant jumped out of it. I handed him a hundred pound note as I opened her door. She got in without a fight but as I shut the door, she said in a low voice. “How can I already know you better than I knew him?”

  The statement settled heavy on my chest. She didn’t know me. Not really. She knew nothing of my past. Little of my work. She knew how I took my coffee, and she’d seen me naked. That shouldn’t have been enough for her to feel that way.

  And yet as we took off, I had the most peculiar sensation that she was right. We didn’t know all the minute details of our past lives, but she already knew what buttons to push. She could already anticipate my responses. She could give as good as she took. I couldn’t say that about most women.

  I couldn’t tell her that she could never know more than that—that she wouldn’t want to.

  “I’ve been called out of town for a few days. I’ll be back this weekend.” I tapped the paddle shifters, and the Veyron revved into third as we merged effortlessly onto the motorway.

  Belle continued to gaze out the window, but her throat slid as she swallowed the news. Without thinking, I shifted the car into automatic drive and reached for her hand, hoping to draw her thoughts away from the past. Her head swiveled, revealing wide eyes framed by wet lashes. She looked at our hands, loosely clasped together, and then to me. Our eyes met, and past the tears, I saw confusion overtake the sadness.

  The same turmoil seethed within me. Apprehension. Anger. Denial. But most of all: need. God, I wanted to take her to bed and show her what it was like to be possessed. Kiss away the tears trickling down her face and replace her fear with mind-numbing bliss.

  She drew her hand back slightly, a signal that she’d made her choice.

  Denial.

  It was the safest option. But it was quickly becoming the least viable one. I had my own choice to make.

  I tightened my grip, crushing her delicate fingers inescapably. She had made her move. I had made mine. This time she didn’t pull away. We drove in silence to her flat, my hand clenching hers possessively. There was no turning back now.

  I pulled the Veyron up to the curb, wanting to turn it off and take her upstairs. My body already coveted my new possession. I wanted to strip her down, rip off her panties, and show her what it meant now that she was mine.

  But tonight wasn’t the time.

  “I’ll be back by Friday,” I told her in a low voice.

  “Friday,” she echoed.

  Abandoning the wheel, I caught her head in my hands, turning her face up to mine. The tears had evaporated, replaced by a hunger that burned so fiercely that she moaned when we made eye contact. I caressed my palm down her cheek and captured her chin so she couldn’t look away.

  Those eyes. That m
outh. The way her body angled itself toward mine. Every inch of her needed to be fucked. My thumb brushed over her bottom lip, and her mouth opened instinctively.

  So receptive.

  “Can you behave while I’m gone?” I asked sternly. My balls tightened at the thought of what I would do to her if she didn’t.

  “Yes, Sir,” she breathed, her petulant nickname for me taking on a new, and much more welcome, meaning.

  I smeared her lipstick with the pad of my thumb, enjoying the way she gasped and held her breath—as if her life depended on my touch “I have to get to the jet now. Go inside. Tonight I want you to dream about me and what I’m going to do to you when I return.”

  Her teeth bit down on the end of my finger. I slapped the side of her cheek softly until she released it.

  “Friday,” she whispered it like an incantation.

  “No one touches you until I do, beautiful. Not even yourself.” It wasn’t a promise or a date. It was an order.

  Belle wriggled in her seat, but for once she didn’t challenge me. I released her, pulling away and breaking all contact. She opened her mouth to speak, changed her mind, and popped the handle on her car door. She slid out of the seat gracefully, considering how low the car was to the road and how high her heels were. She’d almost exited when my hand lashed out and caught hers. She turned hopefully back to me.

  “What was in your past no longer matters,” I informed her in a soft voice. “Now that I’m here, no one will hurt you, Belle. I won’t allow it.”

  And if they tried, I’d kill them.

  “No news?” I called over the frenetic pulse of Brimstone’s sound system. The club was packed, making it as hot as the hellfire that decorated the walls. I wiped beads of sweat off my forehead, remembering guiltily that it had been my idea to stick to the main level where we could easily dance.

  David gave me a thumbs down as he pushed through the crowd. Edward followed behind him, a cluster of shots held high over his head.

  “I just want to know before Us Weekly,” Lola grumbled at my side. Since Clara had officially gone on bedrest earlier this week, we’d all spent the last few days obsessively checking our mobiles for updates on the baby. The crisis, which the doctors assured all of us was completely normal, had provided a welcome distraction from Smith’s absence.

  Or rather Smith in general.

  My belly tightened as I thought about him. I’d expected him home today, but still no word. It was beginning to feel like my life was measured out in texts and voicemails. I grabbed a shot from Edward and downed it. Now I could pretend the warmth spreading through my core was from booze rather than the conflicting emotions tumbling through me.

  “Clara rang to tell me she requires a photo of you dancing, and I quote, with a man. Don’t shoot the messenger!” Edward held up his hands, but the smirk spreading over his charming face undermined the effect.

  “Not bloody likely!” Lola cried, coming to my defense. “She’ll have to accept one of her best friend and her sister.”

  Lola took a shot, slammed the glass down on the table, and tugged me out onto the dance floor. Clara’s baby sister had turned out to be wildly different than I’d expected. Any occasion I’d spent with her, either Clara or their mother, Madeline, had also been present. As she began to grind against a guy on the dance floor, motioning for me to join her, I realized it took a lot less to loosen her up than the other women in her family. Five minutes ago, I’d been casually picking her brain about up and coming grassroots publicity campaigns. She’d been focused, driven, and completely brilliant with her thoughts. Then she flipped a switch and turned into a party girl.

  I had to admit I found myself liking her more.

  She reached out, wagging her fingers for me to come closer. I giggled, the effects of the vodka already setting in, and pressed against her. The guy dancing behind her slid his hands from Lola’s waist to her hips, then they disappeared. Lola pushed me gently forward and peeled herself off of him, shaking her head in annoyance. It was too dark to see his face in the club, but the man held out his arms.

  Lola laughed as she hooked an arm around my neck and we pushed our way further into the crowd. I’d had my reservations about wearing a minidress in London’s fickle autumn weather, but now I was grateful I had taken the chance. I lost track of time as Lola and I danced with each other, obliging various men who wanted to join in—until they became handsy. My black dress clung to my slick skin as the DJ morphed the music from a fast, electronic rhythm to a haunting, deep pulse. It was slower—languid almost—and it vibrated through my flesh into my bones. My head fell back as I let it undulate through me.

  A pair of familiar arms circled my waist, and I relaxed against Edward. The perks of having a gay best friend included, but weren’t limited to, always having a dance partner and always having a dance partner who wasn’t trying to get his hand up your skirt.

  The record merged seamlessly into a Lana Del Ray mix and I dropped lower, circling my hips against Edward. His strong arms supported my gyrations, but the closeness of his body was only making me warmer. I pushed my hair off the back of my neck and held it in a loose bun as we continued to move to the beat.

  A third hand gripped my shoulder, and my eyes flew open to find Smith glaring possessively down at me. In his suit, he stuck out from the rest of the crowd. Then again he would have stuck out anywhere. But his tailored three piece was where the professional look ended. His hair was mussed across the top matching the wild look glinting in his eyes despite the club’s dim lighting.

  “Excuse me, mate.” Edward shoved his hand off of me.

  I snapped out of my shock and darted between them just as Smith’s hand clenched into a fist. Placing my palms on each of their athletic chests, I turned to Edward and mouthed, “It’s cool.”

  His eyes narrowed, but he stepped away. He tilted his head in acquiescence to Smith and shot me a look that said I’d be hearing about this later.

  Smith’s hand closed over mine, and he pulled me out of the mass of squirming bodies and toward the back door. Locking my knees, I forced him to halt in his tracks.

  “Come. Now.”

  A quiver of anticipation snaked across my skin, but I shook my head. “I need to tell my friends I’m leaving.”

  I had meant to tell him to fuck off. I’d planned to. Now all I could think about was following wherever he led.

  “They’ll figure it out.” He tugged on my hand, but I yanked it away from him again.

  “They’ll worry.” I didn’t wait for any more of his orders. Pivoting around, I made my way back to our table with Smith following behind me. He paused leaving some distance between himself and my friends.

  “I take it that’s Smith,” Edward said, distaste coating his words. He studied him for a moment then frowned. “God, that man’s dick must be a heat-seeking missile.”

  Lola bounced up to the table, dripping with sweat. She looked from me to Edward and back again. “What’s going on?”

  “Have you heard the one that starts ‘two alpha males enter a bar?’” I bit out.

  “Sounds like a one-hander!” She wiggled her middle finger suggestively. Her gaze traveled a few feet past me. “Speaking of killing kittens…”

  “Meet Belle’s alpha du jour.” Edward nodded toward Smith.

  Lola grabbed my arm and shook it. “Why are you not having sex with him right now?”

  “Because we’re in public.” I removed her hand gently from me and patted it. “I’m getting out of here.”

  “Getting off, you mean.” David made a kissy face next to Edward who swatted him on the shoulder.

  “Don’t encourage this behavior,” he warned him.

  “You’ve been praying she’ll get laid for months and now you want to cock block here,” David said in exasperation. “Not cool.”

  Edward looked over my shoulder. “I wanted her to get laid. Not make up for all the lost time in one night.”

  “How do you know—”

&nbs
p; “Honey, I might be gay, but I’m still a male.”

  “Then I should get going. I have plans for the rest of the night.” I stuck my tongue out at him as David passed me my wallet.

  Displeasure radiated from Smith as I approached. I stopped short and crossed my arms over my chest. I wasn’t going anywhere with him until he cooled off.

  “You need to get out of here,” he informed me.

  “Maybe you need to leave,” I said haughtily. He’d told me that he liked it when I provoked. Considering it annoyed me when he gave orders, I’d have no problem giving him exactly what he wanted.

  A low rumble vibrated from his throat. He’d actually growled. I did my best to look unaffected as I drenched my knickers. So much for holding on to my dignity. Smith lunged forward, catching me around the waist and crushing me against him. “Come. With. Me.”

  The club faded away. There was only us. Only the heat scorching through me where our bodies met. Only the air he breathed. Only him. I blinked and nodded. There was no point in trying to break the spell. I didn’t want him to relinquish me back to the swarming crowd. I wanted him to carry me away and choose my fate.

  Smith let go, seizing my hand as he turned around and led me toward the rear entrance. As we neared the door, a bouncer moved to the side.

  “Mr. Price.” He tipped his head and opened the back door.

  An evening breeze sang along my damp skin, instantly cooling me down. I raised my face toward the stars and inhaled the fresh air greedily.

  The Veyron was parked in the back alley, guarded by another member of the Brimstone security team. He took his leave without a word.

  “Come here often?” I asked, watching the man disappear into the building.

  “The owner is a client.” He opened my car door, my hand still locked in his tight grip.

  Maybe it was the fresh air, or finally being free from the noisy, packed dance floor, but the events of the evening began to click into place. “How did you know I was here?”

  “That doesn’t matter.” His tone was thick with warning. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”

  “A phone doesn’t really fit in this dress. I left it at home.” I shrugged.