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He grinned.
“If she gives you a hard time, don’t be afraid to give her a taste of your belt,” he remarked.
I chuckled.
“Don’t you worry, Eric. I’m more than ready to teach her of her rightful place,” I replied.
Eric and I trailed Chloe’s taxi all the way to her apartment building. I didn’t take my eyes off of her as she paid for her taxi or even when she walked inside. Using my phone, I watched as she entered her apartment. Once she shut her door, she peeled off her jacket and started to undress.
I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
She was so fucking perfect.
I couldn’t wait to bare her gorgeous body for myself tomorrow night. I would enjoy every whimper and protest when I exposed her bare nipples and I would especially enjoy the moment I discovered just how wet she was for me after I stripped her completely.
She would fight me. I expected her to.
She was a feisty little thing and I would enjoy breaking her, first over my knee and then over every last inch of my cock.
Chapter 6
Chloe
That night, I dreamed of Silas. Images of what had happened up on that stage and what occurred back in my dressing room plagued me for hours and when I finally woke up, I was soaking wet.
I groaned, feeling the residual pulse of my desire tingling through me and before I could stop myself, I grasped my bare nipples between my fingers and squeezed them hard, just like he would have done.
The sun shone through my lone window, bright beams of lights that drew across the floor. I pushed myself up onto my hands and sucked in a breath as my bottom pressed against the bed. I reached between my legs and slowly explored the arousal that slicked my thighs. I shuddered as I dragged a single finger against my clit.
With a soft sigh, I jerked my hand away. I shouldn’t do that. Getting myself off while thinking of him was not something that I would willingly do.
My clit seemed to throb in open annoyance to my own self-denial.
A phone started ringing somewhere. The ringtone was unfamiliar, and I looked around, trying to find it before I missed the call. There was a brand-new iPhone sitting on my dresser, glowing bright against the dark cherry wood. I flipped the covers off and rushed over to it. I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Good morning. I’m looking for a Miss Chloe Banks?” a woman on the other end said.
“This is her speaking,” I replied.
“My name is Denise Rivers. I’m the musical talent coordinator at the Radio City Music Hall. The opening act for Ariana Grande just cancelled for tonight, and your name was next on the list to replace them. Can you be here at five o’clock for a quick rehearsal and sound check?” she explained.
For a long second, I stood there speechless. That was only seven hours from now.
“Miss Banks? I need an answer,” she pushed.
“Yes. Yes, I can be there,” I replied as quickly as I could.
“Good. Wardrobe has already been informed of your measurements, so they are readying your stage outfit. Hair and makeup will be done on site. A car will arrive for you at promptly four-thirty. I look forward to meeting you tonight, Miss Banks,” she explained.
“Thank you, Denise. I look forward to meeting you too,” I answered.
She hung up the phone.
I stood there for several minutes in disbelief.
What the fuck just happened?
