by Hannah Ford
His Belt
Part Two
Hannah Ford
Contents
Copyright
WANT TO BE IN THE KNOW?
His Belt
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
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 Two)
Chapter 1
ABIGAIL
His hand is on my chin, tilting it up toward him.
My heart is beating out of my chest and my pulse kicks. He towers over me, at least 6’4” his shoulders broad in the camel-colored cashmere sweater he’s wearing.
His thumb brushes over my bottom lip, and my body responds to him immediately, taking it into my mouth.
Stop! my mind screams. Jesus Christ, Abigail, stop! He’s your boss!
But I’m not myself.
My body is alive, all of my nerve endings on fire, the pulse that had been between my legs -- slow and steady and in the background -- now taking center stage.
“Stand up,” he commands, and I do as I’m told.
“Have you been kissed?” he asks.
I bit my lip. “Yes.”
I see the look of displeasure in his face, something akin to possession or, dare I say it, jealousy? But that makes no sense. Why would Elijah Armstrong be jealous of me kissing someone else?
He leans down. “I am going to kiss you until you’re breathless,” he whispers against my mouth, his voice ragged. “And then I will make you come. But I will not touch you, not tonight, not here. Do you understand?”
I don’t. At least, not really. He’s going to make me come but he’s not going to touch me?
“If you want to stop, say stop, okay? And I will.”
I nod, not sure where this is going. But my body is on autopilot, all of me ready to give myself to him.
He pulls me close, one hand on my waist, the other on the back of my neck. He kisses me, his lips gentle at first, and then the kiss deepens, his tongue pushing past my lips, rubbing against my own.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt, kissing Elijah. It’s deep and easy, soft and hard at the same time, and I can feel it through my whole body.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, pushing myself against him, feeling my breasts flattening out against the hard expanse of his chest.
His tongue moves against mine, teasing, kissing, probing, as my body bursts into flames.
He keeps kissing me, pulling me down onto the chair I was just in so that I’m sitting in his lap, my legs sideways across him.
“Jesus, baby,” he moans as he pulls back, looking at me. “Jesus, you taste good.”
My breath is coming fast and hard, and I feel hot.
He adjusts me on his lap, pulling me closer to him, rubbing circles over the skin on the back of my neck with his thumb.
“Did you like that?”
“Yes,” I murmur.
“Are you turned on?”
“Yes,” I whisper. The words he’s saying are unfamiliar to me, and I can feel myself blushing.
I shift on his lap, and the crack of my ass presses against the front of his pants. I can feel his cock, hard, underneath me, and it’s thrilling and terrifying all at once. God, can it really be that big?
He kisses me again, sucking my bottom lip, his teeth skimming over it as he releases me.
I cling to him, holding onto him tightly, my hands around his shoulders. His hand moves through my curls, his cock still nestled in my ass.
The pressure of it, along with the way he’s kissing me, makes the want I feel for him between my legs build until it feels almost unbearable. And yet he keeps going, stroking my neck, kissing me until I’m dizzy.
“Do you want to come?” he whispers.
I nod.
“Take off my belt, Ms. Bennett.”
I freeze, my hands still around his shoulders. Taking his belt off wasn’t supposed to be part of this. Taking his belt off means that monster cock is going to come out, and I’ve never… I’ve never even touched a cock, much less one that big.
“It’s okay, baby,” he breathes, his forehead against mine. When he talks, his lips brush feather soft against mine. “I won’t touch you. I won’t take my cock out. I just… I need you to take my belt off.”
I reach for it, my hands fumbling with the buckle as my knuckles brush against the bulge in his pants.
His cock jumps and twitches, swollen with blood, thick and ready. It’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to a cock before, and my head feels a little woozy.
When I’ve unbuckled and undone his belt, he reaches for me with one hand, pushes me down tight against him, his dick pushing excruciatingly hard against my ass.
He lifts his hips and pulls the belt out of its loops. “Give me your wrists.”
I hold them out to him, and he begins to wrap the belt around me.
Panic flows through me like the rush of a river. “I don’t… why are you doing that?”
“Do you want to stop?” His dark eyes are on mine, and I wait a beat before answering, trying to get control of the emotions that are barreling through me. “Abigail. Do you want to stop?”
The sound of my name on his lips, and the look in his eyes, makes the decision for me. I’m not sure why, but it’s like he’s letting me in to some part of him, letting me see something about him that he’s… not nervous about, exactly. It’s more like he’s hoping I’m going to let him do this, that if reveals this to me, I’m going to like it.
“No. I don’t want you to stop.” I shake my head, watching as he continues to wrap the leather around my wrists, binding them.
The leather is supple, soft, and yet he pulls it tight, making it clear that this isn’t just for show, that he wants me bound.
Panic shoots through me again, this time hard and intense, like a firecracker.
I watch as Elijah traces the line of the belt, where it bites into my skin. His face softens, his eyes soften too, and his gaze meets mine.
For a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something, looks like he’s about to put an end to this, looks like maybe he’s about to undo the belt from around my hands and let me go.
But he takes in a breath instead, and his hand tightens around the back of my neck.
“Lift up your dress.”
I hesitate, lick my bottom lip. Is this really happening? He’s my boss for God’s sake. And yet I’m on autopilot, my body’s desire overriding every other instinct I have.
I reach down and pull up the bottom of my dress, and he moans at the sight of my panties, a lacey black thong.
“Jesus, Ms. Bennett,” he growls.
One hand fists my hair while the other grabs the ends of the belt.
“Move your panties to the side.”
“I don’t… I mean, I’m not sure I can – ”
He silences me with a kiss, his tongue moving against mine, his lips soft but the kiss
insistent, making it clear that he will get what he wants, and making it clear to me that my body wants to give it to him.
I reach down and push my panties over to the side.
His cock pulses beneath me, and I close my eyes, humiliated at being bared to him in this way, my pussy on display.
“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Move your legs apart just a tiny bit, baby. Let me see that bare cunt.”
I do as I’m told.
“Jesus, you look so sweet.”
He takes the ends of his belt from where they hang down around my bound wrists and uses them to guide my hands to my exposed pussy.
“Show me how you touch yourself.”
I place my finger on my clit softly, moaning at the pressure, moaning at the look in his eyes as he watches me, the hunger there. I feel his hand tighten around the belt strap, like it’s taking every ounce of his self-control to stop himself from touching me.
“Rub yourself, angel,” he says softly.
I do as I’m told, rubbing my clit under his watchful eye.
“Do you like that?”
“Yes,” I moan.
“Put a finger inside yourself.”
I hesitate, my finger stopping.
He notices the look on my face. “Have you ever put a finger inside your pussy, baby?”
I consider about lying, but I want him to know exactly why I’m not doing it, that it’s not because I don’t want to please him. “No.”
His eyes alight, as if this were the right answer, and his cock strains against his pants, pushing harder into my ass.
“Rub your clit, then, baby. Rub it in circles for me while I watch.”
I do as I’m told, locking eyes with him as tells me what to do, when to slow down, when to start back up, how to move, how to touch.
It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done, my wrists bound for him, him guiding me by tugging on his belt, his cock hard under the crack of my ass.
Finally, he pulls me close to him, his forehead resting against mine.
“I’m going to be the first one in your pussy,” he tells me. “The first thing ever in that tight hole is going to be my finger, my tongue, and then my cock. I’m going to stretch you, get you used to me until I ruin you for any other man.”
I moan and rub faster.
“Good girl,” he says. “Rub your clit while you think of me taking that virgin pussy.”
I do as I’m told, rubbing faster and faster, and when I come, he silences me with a kiss, his mouth covering mine, muffling my cries as I break beneath him. My orgasm comes in waves, each one seemingly more intense than the last, until finally my body is spent. I feel vulnerable, raw, and satisfied in a way that can’t be put into words.
Elijah undoes the belt from around my wrists.
There will be a mark tomorrow -- I can already tell from the way my skin looks, rubbed and red.
Elijah picks me up and sets me back down carefully in my seat, and I readjust my dress, pulling it down over my knees.
The marks on my wrist will be there tomorrow for sure, a reminder of what happened. A reminder that won’t be able to be scrubbed away or forgotten about so easily.
Chapter 2
ELIJAH
“Your brother is on line two.” The voice of my receptionist comes through the speakerphone on my desk.
I sigh.
Dealing with my brother is the last thing I need this morning.
Not after last night with Abigail.
I cannot stop thinking about her. The way her hand had moved slowly to her pussy, the way she hesitated before touching herself, the look of pure ecstasy on her face when she came, the way she felt as her body shuddered on top of me.
We ate dinner and then I drove her home, where I jerked off in the shower and then again this morning.
I’d tossed and turned all night, thinking about her, wanting her, imagining what it would feel like to slide into her virgin hole.
Even so, I knew I had to end it.
Last night had been a mistake, both for her and for me.
“Put him through,” I growl. If my idiot of a brother decides he wants to talk to me now, then it’s fine with me. I’m in just the mood to take out my frustration on someone, and it might as well be Ryan.
“Hello, brother,” I say.
“Hello,” he says brightly, as if we’re the best of friends and not two bastards who can’t stand each other. “I’m calling to confirm our plans tonight to visit Dad.”
At the mention of my father, my darkness deepens.
“I’ll be there.”
“Wonderful!” Ryan says with false cheer. “We’ll visit him and then go out to eat afterwards? The boys are looking forward to seeing you.” Ryan is engaged to a woman named Kira and she has two boys, age four and two, who for some reason think I’m the coolest human on the planet. I think it’s because I actually treat them like humans, instead of how Ryan and Kira treat them, like they’re fragile creatures who will break if they touch a swing set or kick a ball too hard.
“I’m looking forward to seeing them, too.” This isn’t a lie. The rest of it I could do without, but seeing my soon-to-nephews will be nice. But the momentary brightening of my mood only lasts a few seconds.
“Okay.” There’s a hesitation on the other end of the line. “How are you doing, Eli?”
“Fine. And how are you?” I shoot back, not even trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
“Are you still seeing Dr. Parker?” Ryan presses.
“Are you still being a nosy bastard?
“Eli.”
“Dr. Parker was an idiot. He wanted to give me drugs.”
“He didn’t want to give you drugs, Eli. He wanted to prescribe you something for your – ”
“I have to go,” I say abruptly. “There’s a pressing business matter I need to attend to.”
I hang up on him before he can stop me.
And then, because I don’t want to be a liar, I press the button for Will, my executive assistant.
“Yes, Mr. Armstrong?” his voice comes over the line, poised and polished.
“Please get me Abigail Bennett,” I say. “I need to see her in my office immediately.”
There’s a slight pause on the other end of the line. “Certainly, sir. May I tell her what this is in regards to?”
“It’s in regards to none of your fucking business.”
“Of course, sir.” His smooth, polished tone is back. Will is used to my outbursts. Fuck, everyone here is.
“Just get her up here as soon as possible.”
I hang up on him and wait.
She arrives fifteen minutes later.
There’d been a part of me that was hoping that seeing her this morning would snap me back to reality, would keep me from wanting her again.
I was hoping she would turn out to be something I needed to get out of my system, an itch that needed to be scratched. I'd told myself all morning that the aching inside of me had nothing to do with her specifically, that of course I would be wound tight since I hadn't come last night.
But even those two jerkoff sessions had done nothing to lesson my feelings for her.
And if I thought that bringing her to my office would have been enough to stop it, I was wrong there, too. Because as soon as she walks in, it's like a bolt of lightning hits me.
This time, I’d resisted looking at her on the security monitor, had resisted getting up and meeting her at the door.
When she knocks, I give a curt, "Come in.”
The effect of seeing her suddenly appear in my doorway is, therefore, startling.
Jesus. Is this woman trying to kill me? She wears a white dress today, the color stunning against her smooth skin. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, a few wayward curls escaping and framing her face softly. She wears little makeup, her cheeks naturally pink, her lips naturally plump and ripe.
Before I can stop myself, my eyes fall to her wrists. There they are, the faint marks I left with my
belt last night.
The intense cry of her orgasm replays in my ears, and I tighten my hand around the edge of my desk.
"Sit down, Ms. Bennett."
She sits, crossing her legs primly in front of her. The bottom of her dress slides up, giving me a view of her thigh. Wicked thoughts again invade my mind, thoughts of those thighs wrapped around my waist, how it would feel to plunge into that tight virgin pussy. The thought of anyone else being inside of her -- not just the first one, but ever -- makes me want to punch something.
My eyes travel up and meet hers.
Gone is the innocent look she had last night, when the soft O of her mouth gave away her inexperience and pleasure. Now she is staring me down with steely resolve.
"I won't waste your time, Ms. Bennett," I say.
"I'm sure you won't, Mr. Armstrong." She sounds matter-of fact, but with an undercurrent of bitter, and again, that smart mouth makes me want to punish her.
“What happened last night can’t happen again. It won’t happen again.” The words sound wrong coming out of my mouth, like trying to nod when you’re saying the word “no.”
“Of course not. Is that all?”
“Yes. That is all.”
She nods and stands, walking toward the door, and panic envelopes me. I don’t want her to leave. Was it that easy for her to just forget about what happened?
“How is the new hire coming along?” I ask.
“We’ve posted the job this morning. I will personally go through any promising resumes and send them to HR.”
“You understand that I will have to approve whoever you hire?”
“Of course.” Her tone is bitter, sarcastic.
“Turn around and look at me when I am talking to you.”
Instead, she moves toward the door.
I am out of my chair in a flash, pushing the door shut before she can escape.
My chest is only inches from her back, so close I can feel the heat of her body. I can smell the cherry scent of her perfume, and the urge to pull her close is almost unbearable.