by Hannah Ford
Strict
Part Eight
Hannah Ford
Contents
Strict
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Copyright © 2020 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.
Strict
(Part Eight)
Chapter 1
CHLOE
“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, I’m ready.”
But even though the words are true – not only am I ready, but I want him more than anything – my body tenses and I writhe underneath him, my hips twisting on the sheets below me.
Gage still has my hands pinned over my head and he pulls my wrists together, holding them against the bed with one hand.
“Stay still,” he whispers against my ear, his breath warm. I shiver as goose bumps bloom across my skin.
“You’re going to want to move,” he tells me, his voice rough and raw. “But you need to stay still. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
He gives me a moment to settle myself, and I do my best to do as he says and keep still. I take a deep breath, willing my heart to slow, my adrenaline to dissipate, and my body to calm. And then he begins to push into me, his eyes on mine the whole time, our gazes lock as the electricity crackles and jumps between us.
“Oh.” I gasp at the size of him – of course I know how big he is, but feeling him inside of me brings it into focus. A tight, biting pain starts between my legs, and I start to move, but he uses his free hand to hold my hips in place.
“Stay still,” he whispers again. “I’m going to go slow for as long as I can, okay?”
I nod, watching his face in the soft light of the room. His jaw is set, and his eyes are filled with lust. I can it’s taking all of his self-control to keep himself from pushing inside of me.
And so I summon all my self-control and stay still like he’s told me to – if I disobey him, he will make this worse, and I want him to go slow for as long as he can.
“Good girl,” he says, his lips trailing over the side of my neck, down over my collarbone. And now my body is arching up toward his, and he’s slowly pushing further inside of me. When I cry out at the sharp pain, he kisses me, smothering my cries with his lips.
His tongue sweeps inside of my mouth with soft, slow strokes, and the pinching sensation between my legs start to morph into a soft, warm pleasure.
“You’re so fucking tight, baby,” he breathes, when he finally stops kissing me. He pushes his body up, the strong muscles of his biceps bunching and flexing. “Look,” he instructs. “Look at my cock inside of you.”
I make myself look, my heart pounding at the sight of him inside of me, not sure exactly how it’s possible, that I’m able to take his cock.
He starts to rock his hips and I watch in fascination as his cock moves in and out, the skin of his shaft glistening with the juices of my arousal.
He leans down and kisses me one more time. “Chloe,” he breathes. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I take one hand from its spot above me on the bed and trail my finger down his cheek, loving the way he’s looking at me, with tenderness and emotion. I know this is hard for him, know that this is him giving me as much as he can.
He presses his forehead against mine, and we still for a moment, still connected, him inside of me.
I take a breath, stealing myself, knowing what’s about to come. And then he pulls all the way out of me, and pushes back in, a groan emitting from deep in his throat, primal in its energy as he finally lets himself go and gives himself permission to do what he’s wanted from the beginning.
And even though he’s given me time to get used to his size, each thrust feels like it’s the first time, like he’s breaking me open all over again, like he’s taking my virginity with every push of his hips.
His hands pin my wrists over my head again, harder this time, his nails digging into my skin as he fucks me.
“You are so tight,” he grinds out. “Jesus Christ, Chloe, that pussy is tight.”
The edges of my vision start to blur as the pounding pain between my legs starts to beat in time with my heart. And just like before, now I’m getting used to it, and a warm pleasure starts to build, taking over my body.
I feel myself on the edge and I call out his name as I come, the sides of my wet channel pulling him into me, coaxing his own orgasm from him as he breaks apart and fills me with his cum.
He releases my wrists and I reach for him, my hands gripping at his back as he lowers his body down on top of mine.
“Chloe,” he whispers. “Chloe.”
We stay like that for a moment, our chests pushed against each other, his heart beating strong and sure against mine.
When he finally rolls off of me, he pulls me with him, gathering me in his arms.
My back settles against his chest and he pushes my hair gently from my forehead.
And when he whispers to me that I can never leave him, and that he’ll never leave me, I believe him.
In the morning, I take a long, hot shower and Gage orders room service – blueberry pancakes with brown butter, scrambled eggs with fresh herbs, fat slices of crisp bacon, warm sour dough toast, fruit, and a French press of coffee with fresh cream.
Gage is attentive, pouring me coffee and buttering my toast, making sure I have everything I need.
“I’m nervous,” I say as I nibble on a strawberry. I was starving after everything we did last night, but now I’m nervous that such a heavy breakfast isn’t the best idea right before an important interview.
“You’re going to do great,” Gage says. He was up before me, and he’s already dressed in a suit and tie, ferried across the city by yet another faceless assistant.
“That’s not what you said yesterday,” I say, reminding him of his warning about Nicholas Cove – that he only wanted to meet with me because of my connection to River and Genovin.
Gage regards me over the table. “I just want you to be careful.”
“Do you trust me to be able to take care of myself?”
His hands tighten around his coffee cup. I can tell he’s struggling with how to answer – on one hand, he wants to tell me the truth, on the other hand, he knows I probably won’t like it.
“I trust you,” he says finally. “I think you are smart and capable. I don’t trust other people, especially Nicholas Cove.”
“But if you think I’m smart and capable, then you should trust me to be able to figure out if someone is out to take advantage of me.”
“I don’t like the idea of you out there without personal security.” He picks up his phone, pulls his up his email and frowns. “I have calls in to other companies, but the background checks aren’t in yet.”
“I can go to an interview alone, Gage,” I say, standing up and stretching my arms up over my head. My whole body is sore from last night. “There’s probably tons of security at Cove. And besides, having a security guard is no guarantee of anything.” I know I’m pushing my luck alluding to the fact that I was able to ditch my last security detail, and I see a vein in Gage’s forehead pulse.
“I’m going with you.” He picks up his phone and starts to scroll through his calendar. “I have a meeting with River, but I can cancel it.”
I swallow, remembering what he told me last night, about how he’s trying to wrestle control of Genovin away from River, for no other reason than revenge. An uncomfortable feeling settles
deep in my stomach.
But I decide now is not the time to talk about that -- right now I need to focus on my interview. Once that’s over, I can deal with Gage and the River situation.
“You’re not going to my interview with me,” I say.
And before he can reply, I walk into the bathroom to finish getting ready, letting him know this is non-negotiable.
Chapter 2
CHLOE
“And you’ll text me as soon as you’re done,” Gage says.
“Yes,” I say, fighting the urge to roll my eyes and losing.
“Do not roll your eyes at me, Chloe.”
“Sorry, but you’ve told me, like, five times to text you as soon as I’m done.”
“If I’m repeating something so many times, it must mean it’s of the upmost importance.”
“Yes, I understand that,” I say, running my hands down over the wide leg pants of my black suit. When I came out of the shower, the new suit was waiting for me on the bed. It’s beautifully cut, with flowing pants, a silk blouse, and a fitted jacket that’s lined with a material so soft it feels like butter against my skin.
I thought about protesting, but then I realized that buying me this suit was Gage’s way of showing his support. So even though I worried that accepting an expensive gift from him when I’d been trying to get him to let me in emotionally maybe went against that goal, I let it slide.
We pull up in front of the building that houses Nicholas Cove’s office, a towering skyscraper right on Avenue of Americas in the heart of Midtown.
“How do I look?” I ask, suddenly nervous.
“Beautiful.” Gage leans over and kisses me softly on the lips.
I lean my forehead against his and take a deep breath. Here we go, I think to myself. This is my chance to get my future back.
And with one more deep breath, I say goodbye to Gage, promise him again that I’ll text him as soon as I’m done, and step out of the car.
I stare up at the building in front of me, wondering if I’ll ever get used to the towers of the city, if the shiny chrome and steel will ever not intimidate me. I ruffle through my briefcase (also a gift from Gage) one more time to make sure I have a hard copy of my resume, then take yet another long, slow deep breath.
This time, I add a mantra.
You’re going to be great, you’re going to get this job. You’re going to do great, you’re going to get this internship.
The chant falls in time with the clicking of my shoes against the sidewalk as I walk through the revolving doors and into the marble lobby.
Thirty minutes later, I stand back outside the building, my face burning, tears threatening to spill down my cheeks.
My suit, which not that long ago made me feel powerful and put together now feels tight against my skin, the material making me feel hot. I pull the suit jacket off and sling it over my arm, looking around for somewhere I can sit down and get some water.
There’s a café next door, but I need to get far away from here, so I join the throng of businesspeople and tourists crowding the sidewalk and let myself be pulled along in the slipstream.
A few blocks over I slip into a Café Metro and buy a bottle of water and a strawberry banana smoothie. I find a seat at a small plastic table and force myself to take small sips of water and smoothie.
My stomach is turning as I pull my phone out and text Gage like I promised I would.
Interview is over.
I shove my phone back into my bag, not wanting to see his reply, not wanting him to ask me how it went.
I don’t want to have to tell him how horrible it was, don’t want to have to relive the humiliation of what just happened.
Because it was humiliating.
How could I have been so stupid? I cringe as I think about how naïve I was, the stupid mantra I was chanting inside my head as I walked across the lobby, as I was given a visitor badge by the security guard, as I took the elevator to the twenty-first floor and was met by Nicholas Cove’s assistant.
It was only when I was brought into his office, his assistant sitting a few feet away, her notebook poised and ready to take notes, Nicholas Cove sitting behind his desk, his spine strong and straight like a dictator, that it became painfully clear that Gage was right.
They didn’t want me working there. At least, not for the right reasons.
They wanted me only because of my connection to Gage, because of my connection to River.
Nicholas hadn’t even tried to hide it – he’d pretty much told me straight out that there were rumors going around that Gage was going to invest in River’s company, and that he wanted in on the action.
He told me he knew that I was seeing Gage, but that if I could get him in on the River deal, he would guarantee me not only an internship but a job with a six-figure salary once I graduated. And that after a year of working for him, we could talk about seed money for a company of my choosing.
Starting my own company.
My dream.
Laid out before me, like a glittering yellow brick road.
And all I had to do was try to steal River away from Gage.
And the worst part of it all was that I knew I could do it. All I had to do was go to River and tell him about Gage’s plan to see off his company the first chance he got.
My hand tightens around the plastic cup holding my smoothie, and my body pops and burns with energy.
A woman pushing an empty stroller hovers nearby. She has a toddler who’s pulling ketchup packets from the plastic container and setting them down on the floor before stomping them, watching with glee as ketchup splatters everywhere.
I know the woman is waiting for my seat.
It’s annoying for some reason – shouldn’t she be more worried about picking up her monster of an offspring and taking him home so he can learn that there are consequences to his actions?
I consider leaning back in my chair, then making a big show of pulling out a bunch of papers and spreading them out on the table, being that jerk that takes up table space when other people are waiting and doesn’t give a fuck.
But the truth is, I have no work to do.
All I would be pulling out is my ineffectual resume, and some research on Nicholas Cove.
And besides, suddenly my skin is starting to feel tight and hot.
So I get up and rush out the door, hoping that some fresh air will make me feel better. But as the Manhattan crowd rushes around me, I don’t feel better at all.
Anger and annoyance beats inside of me as I hurry down the stairs of the nearest subway station, not sure where I’m going until I’m on the train heading to Brooklyn.
I pull out my phone, thinking I should maybe call someone, that maybe talking to someone about what happened at my interview will make me feel better.
But I have no service, and besides, who would I even call?
My parents aren’t speaking to me. My best friend is missing. My sister is dead.
And the man I’m in love with is the subject of my distress.
When the train pulls into Brooklyn, I’m still staring down at my phone.
As the car lurches to a stop and the doors open, my anger roars back full force.
I told Nicholas I wouldn’t do it. Of course I did.
But why the hell shouldn’t I tell River what Gage’s plan is? Why shouldn’t I use the information I have to get ahead?
It seems like that’s the kind of thing you have to do in this world to make sure you end up successful. Look at what Alanna did by telling Dr. Truett what was going on with Gage and I. It was a shitty move, but Alanna got reassigned, and I ended up with no internship and no prospects.
Gage himself is setting out to destroy his own brother – it’s not like I could be blamed for telling River the truth. In fact, I would be saving him.
And if Nicholas Cove wants to invest in River’s company legitimately, then wouldn’t that be doing the right thing?
I mull over these ethical dilemmas as I order a co
ffee at Fuel -- the coffee shop that picked up Grace on their security cameras -- and take it to a table outside on the sidewalk. I know there’s a slim chance of seeing Grace, but right now I miss her so much that my heart aches, and besides, I don’t know where else to go.
My phone buzzes with a new email.
Nicholas Cove’s assistant, Karrie.
Mr. Cove enjoyed meeting with you today. If you reconsider, please let him know, as he would love to meet with you.
My finger hovers over the reply button.
It would be so easy to write back, to tell them that I am reconsidering, that I’ll call River and set up a meeting.
But I know that I can’t.
There’s no way.
I love Gage.
And destroying him isn’t an option. It might be stupid and naïve, but I believe Gage is a good person. I believe that there’s good in him, that beneath all the pain he feels is a wounded soul that just needs to be loved.
Even though he’s told me it’s not true, I just can’t help but believe it.
I toss my phone onto the wrought iron table in front of me.
I put my hands in my head, blinking back tears.
Get it together, I tell myself.
I wipe my eyes and glance up.
And that’s when I see Grace coming out of Fuel.
She’s wearing an oversized red hoodie, so big on her that it’s almost to her knees, black leggings, and a pair of beat-up white Converse, and no socks. In her hands, she carries two paper cups, both of them the extra large size, so big that she holds them carefully as she starts down the sidewalk.
I go to call her name, but then I stop.
What if she’s in danger? I glance around for the person who took her, half-expecting to see a shadowy figure lurking a few steps behind. But I don’t see anyone.
Just Grace.
And she doesn’t look like she’s in trouble.
In fact, she looks pretty relaxed, balancing her coffees as she crosses the street.
