Delusive (9 page)

I clenched my thighs together as the irritating sizzle began to increase my discomfort. I tossed my body to the side and clutched the pillow on my right. I shoved it between my thighs and squeezed the stiff pillow between my legs. The small corner of the cotton grazed against my clit for a brief moment—easily felt through the thin lace portion of my panties—making the feeling intensify and pushed me to release my pent up tension.
 

My hand skipped down my body, fingering the light mist of perspiration coating the skin on my sternum and stomach. I slid my hand underneath the lacy fabric of my panties, raking my fingertips against my closely-trimmed pubic hair. I discovered my closely shaven labia and began to rock my fingers up and down my slick slit. Lifting my wet fingers up, I circled my nub, making it swell and throb under the manipulation of the pads of my fingers.
 

I closed my eyes, imagining the sight of Elias’s naked body. A sight I was sure would stun me once he revealed it to me some day. Feeling as though my fingers were his, a quiet moan escaped my throat. My breaths grew sharp and ragged as my fingers moved quickly. My back arced off the bed as my toes pointed, preparing for the purging rush with his name on my lips.

A buzz on my dresser called my attention to my phone.

“Hello?” I didn’t take note of the time or the name of the caller when I answered breathlessly.
 

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” It was Elias, and I could’ve sworn he had a smile on his face. The genial inflection of his voice almost mocked me. His seductive raspy voice always held a tinge of what could’ve been assumed to be exhaustion, but in the middle of the night, he didn’t sound tired in the least.

“No. No. I wasn’t doing anything.” In trying to sound innocent, my delivery made it clear I’d, in fact, been caught doing something I didn’t want him to know about.

“It’s three o’ clock in the morning, and I can hear you panting.” An elongated silence passed. “Hanley”—his voice lowered to octave and rumbled down my spine—“where are your fingers?”

I immediately removed my hand from my clit. “No,” I stated in a high pitched voice, answering him as if he asked me if I’d been masturbating. Reprimanding myself for my erroneous slip-up, I slapped my forehead. I couldn’t have sounded guiltier. “I meant to say my hands aren’t anywhere near the area you think they are.” I drew my legs up, tucked my knees, and stared at the shadows dancing across my ceiling. “I was going for a run.”

There was hushed pause on the other end.
 

I was going to ask if he was still there when he finally spoke again. “You want me to believe you were exercising something other than your fingers at this time of the night? If you were in the middle of a run, I might have to find you to make sure you made it home safely. It’s not a good time to go for a
run
.”

“I’m on the treadmill at home.”

He sighed audibly and in an elongated matter. “It bothers me when people lie to me. So, Hanley, before I get my keys to find you and take you home to keep you safe, tell me what you were you doing.” He paused for only a few seconds. “If I’m completely forthright, I was sitting in my office thinking about you when I’m supposed to be working…and I’m…”—his voice cut away for a moment—“so hard for you right now. Every time I think about you, I have this problem.” His voice lowered with a huskiness that made my unrequited desire worse. “I’m in agony right now.”

“Why don’t you do something about it?” I asked, softly, aiming for seductive. "With yourself, not me?” I amended.

His quiet and low laugh made me smile in response. “I’ll answer your question after you do a few things for me. First, I need your honesty.”

“Yes,” I whispered guiltily. “I was masturbating.”

“And who were you thinking about?”

“You.” I responded without taking a second to breathe.

He gasped my name on the phone, and it almost sounded as though I tortured him further with my admission. “If your fingers aren’t inside your panties right now, they need to be.”

I slid my hand back down, touching my wet, throbbing bundle of nerves. “They are now,” I responded, my voice barely audible.

“Place your phone next to your pussy, Hanley, and make yourself come.”

“What—”

“No questions. Do it. Don’t take your hand away until you’ve come for me.”

Shoving my panties down to my knees, I spread my legs a little and put the phone close to my hip. I slipped two fingers inside my sex while I positioned my thumb against my clit. With my fingers slamming inside me, making sloshing sounds, my thumb thumped against my swollen nub. Having been near to my climax earlier—and knowing he was listening—it took very little effort.
 

The rush worked me over, making me moan his name as my body rigidly shook.

I immediately removed my fingers when the quick climax began to wane and placed my phone next to my ear. “I came for you.”

The sound he made was either him sucking his teeth or his bottom lip. Whichever of the two alternatives was the case, it made me tremble with the desire for more. “Thank you,” he said softly.

“Did you come with me?”

“No,
querida
.” He paused for far too long. “Are you ready for this?”

“Please…tell me.”

“I’m not going to touch myself, because right now my cock craves to be inside of you. My hand will pale in comparison to what your body will make mine do. I want to fuck you and hear you moan my name as your pussy strangles my cock. I want to fuck the back of your throat and coat your tongue and beautiful lips with my cum. I want you to ride me while my cock fills your ass and my fingers slide around your wet clit, making you come with me. What I want, is what I’m going to do to you. I’m going to fill all of your holes, Hanley. Every…single…one.”

A sharp gasp resounded and I nearly dropped the phone.

“Are you still with me?”
 

“Y-yes, Elias.”

“Sweet dreams.” He hung up on me.

The phone slid from my hand, landing with a soft thud on the mattress. Staring up at the ceiling, I shrilled,
“Holy shit this man is too much for me.”
I thrust my hands in my hair shaking my head repeatedly. The bed became a pit of sinking sand, enveloping me whole. My persistent state of panic did very little to help me sleep that night.

SIX

IT HAD BEEN A week since I’d seen Elias. Instead of personally keeping his promise to provide transportation when I needed it, he sent someone to drop me off and pick me up from work. My driver was the same man who insulted Skylar and me on the day I met Elias. He was an olive-skinned man with closely shaven hair and built with enough muscle to ensure he could lift a small car with little effort, if he wanted to.

He only ever said two sentences to me: the first sentence was an apology for what he’d said the first time we’d met. The second sentence was an introduction; his name was Jaco. If I tried to engage him in a conversation, he silently made it known he had no desire to speak to me.

THE DECISION TO attend the event Elias invited me to was easily made when Skylar showed up at my door a few hours before the start of the event at the Design Center. We spent the time we had together chatting about the mundane. She spent most of the time bleaching and toning the ends of my hair into a beautiful brown, multi-tonal ombre effect. As she styled my hair with a large clip-less curling iron into body curls, she gave me more advanced tips on how to do my makeup for La Dentelle while I “put on my face.” The ombre effect looked striking yet palatable in my jet black hair.

Skylar prepared for the event at my house and looked breathtaking in a candy pink halter swing dress with blood red embroidery on the bodice. Her hair was pulled up in a neat chignon and her makeup was done in nude and peachy-pink shades.

Making us an hour late, her date and the man she insisted on being my date showed up at my house to take us to the event. Wanting to avoid an explanation and awkward moments with my father, I never allowed the two men to come inside. My father remained shut up inside his bedroom the entire time Skylar visited me, but I knew he’d make himself known if I had company that included more than one person.

Brent, my reluctant date, could’ve been someone’s type, but he just wasn’t mine. He greeted me at the door by telling me a crude joke and hitting me hard in the shoulder while he guffawed alone. I scanned over his attire. From the faux tuxedo T-shirt, to the dingy jeans, and oily mop haircut, I thought he might’ve been confused about where we were going.
 

After not seeing Elias in a week—even after responding to his short text messages throughout the week to which my responses were ignored—I was ready to change my haphazard and half-cocked strategy. Every now and then, I had thoughts about not attending the event at all.
 

My need to push things forward with Elias from their current stagnant state became more important than my desire to be sensible and patient. In truth, I had a notion bringing a date would help to reveal Elias’s intentions when and if I saw him.

ONCE WE ARRIVED at the Design Center, Skylar and her date, Robin, disappeared to find the bathroom while giggling as though they were going to do something they shouldn’t.
 

In a black, sequined bodice and layered taffeta ballerina dress with sky-high gold strappy stilettos, I stood in the middle of the grand hall of the Design Center amidst a host of men in dark suits and women in floor-length formal dresses and pantsuits. It was a dress I bought on credit and had every intention of returning first thing tomorrow morning. In truth, I couldn’t afford the dress in the first place.

The Design Center was a marvel itself with an exterior of frameless glass windows. Inside, large squares of red carpet were set perfectly alongside the large black marbleized tiles. The vaulted ceiling reached at least four stories high and was lit by an enormous crystal chandelier in the center of the hall.

Fifteen minutes into our outing, Skylar and Robin returned from the bathroom, and for the next thirty minutes, they were a complete embarrassment—boisterous in their retellings of bawdy jokes, constantly giggling, and overindulging on the hors d'oeuvres. Futuristic models were displayed on all the tables, and unfortunately, Skylar and Brent wouldn’t stop tampering with the miniaturized plant life. All three, my date included, were visibly under the influence of one too many drugs. It was the first time I’d seen her behave this way, and I was none too pleased that she chose tonight to show me this side of her.

I stepped away from them for a while, but Brent followed me.
 

I glanced at my date, hovering over one of the 3D architectural models. “Brent, why don’t you get us both glasses of champagne?”

“That shit is gross,” he balked. “Do you think they might have spiked punch?”

“Uh huh. Sure.” I patted his back, patronizing him. “Why don’t you go find some?”

Brent shocked me by kissing me on the cheek before I could push him away. He left a trail of his rank scent: weed, something I couldn’t quite put an origin to, and stale body order. I watched his back disappear deeper into the crowd of people.
 

Out of the blue, the fine hairs on the back of my nape bristled. I could feel Elias’s presence. My senses remembered his smell, making me feel as if he stood behind me. My attention settled across the displays until I found him. He was clothed in a fitted dress shirt and slacks amongst men in misshapen suits. His skin gleamed with a golden glow and his tapered hairstyle was parted and molded every which way. Even if he hadn’t been wearing what he was, he would’ve stood out…he always did. His colleagues tried to get his attention, but he appeared to be too captivated by me to care. From his attitude, a mixture of boiling hot anger and fascination, I knew he’d been watching me for some time, and might’ve caught my brief interaction with Brent.
 

He stalked toward me, moving me as though he were closing in on his wounded prey. His confident stride made people part before he approached. My heart was set to a rhythm equal to that of an intense drum beat, inundating my ears with the sound of blood-pumping sound.

I gulped down the large lump in my throat. My feet felt as though they were gelled to the floor. The acute visceral reaction to his jealousy—when we weren’t dating—was unexpected. He looked poised to hurt Brent…or me. In a rush of fluid movement, he grabbed my elbow and ushered me out of the hall and onto the terrace, a secluded area of the party. The swift pace made me lose my poise and nearly take a tumble due to stepping down incorrectly in my high heels.

A simple look from him was all it took to make the few people on the terrace disappear and give us privacy.

Releasing me, he spun to face me. The chilly night air tickled my shoulders. Hugging myself to keep warm, I tried to look any place else but at his face. He thwarted my attempt to avoid him and stepped forward, making sure he was the only person I could see.
 

His dark brows were knitted together, casting a shield of darkness across his eyes. His lips were narrowed and a blood-tinged pink. His jaw firmed, setting the perfect angles against his neck. It was awful to admit it to myself, but I couldn’t help it—Elias looked irresistible when he was pissed off; a fact that could very likely prove to be a problem for me. “Explain this to me… Why did you think it was a prudent choice to bring a date to an event I invited you to?”