Bad Influencer by Kenzie Reed
Chapter Sixteen
Jillian
I pause outside Elliott’s office to check out my reflection in the glass of a framed poster. Hair is smooth and not frizzy, nothing in my teeth… why do I even care? I’m just here because Elliott wants to talk to me about work.
Supposedly.
At ten in the evening.
Okay, I think we all know where this is going,I tell myself. I tuck my hair behind my ear. Then I shake my head so it falls loose. Then I tuck it back again.
“Hey there!” Elliott calls out from his doorway. I let out a startled squeak. “Great picture, isn’t it?” he says, mistaking what I was staring at. “That’s my grandfather, Arthur, when he was a young man. He was my inspiration.” He walks over to me. “When I was nine years old, he told me I’d be the one to save the company.”
My eyes widen. “Wow. That’s a heavy responsibility for a nine year old.”
He frowns, looking puzzled. “I didn’t see it that way. I felt like he had faith in me and I didn’t want to disappoint him. I mean… well, that does make it sound like a lot. But it never felt like he was asking more than I could give.” Then he shrugs. “Anyway. Shall we? I had a few questions about our next steps, social media wise. And I’d like to hear about what kind of metrics you’re using for measurement.”
I follow him into his office. “Please tell me you don’t work this late every night?”
“Only when I’ve been away from the office for a week and an evil mega-corp is trying to destroy my family legacy with space lasers.”
I grin at him. “Space lasers, huh?”
He returns my grin, running his long fingers through his hair. “That’s my belief until it’s proven otherwise. Can I get you something to drink before we start?”
“I don’t suppose you have any tea?”
“I do, actually. Follow me.” He crosses the room and opens a door at the back of his office. I follow him into an expansive room that’s set up like a studio apartment, with a kitchenette, a daybed, a wall of books, and a black leather and chrome sofa and love seat.
“Whoa. You have hidden depths. And hidden rooms.” I follow him in, scanning the room, which looks like a classic bachelor pad except for the big framed posters of turn of the century amusement park scenes. There’s even a small bar cart next to the kitchen, complete with martini shaker. “What is this place?”
He throws out his arm in a dramatic gesture. “My superhero lair. This is where I fight the evil mega-corps.”
I laugh. “More like your super seducer lair.”
“You think this is seductive?” He laughs, a low, rich sound that warms me from within. “Tell me more. What part of the room’s doing it for you? The clown poster? The pictures of great-great grandad?” He points at a vintage portrait in a scrolled silver frame, sitting on the kitchen counter. A man with middle-parted hair glares directly into the camera lens. Getting a portrait taken in those days was not for the faint of heart. Those poor bastards had to hold perfectly still for like five minutes, and if they blinked or twitched, they’d ruin the photos.
That must be why he looks so murderous. Or maybe he was standing downwind from the elephant cages. They used to have elephants at parks back then, a practice they thankfully abandoned back in the 1950s. “Maybe not that particular picture.” I walk over and carefully lay the picture face down.
“Sorry, gramps,” Elliott calls out.
I cross my eyes at him. “You’re not helping.”
“My bad.” His mouth curves into a slow, lazy smile that’s full of heat and invitation, and there’s a long moment of silence between us. The air sizzles with possibility.
Finally he glances over at the kitchenette. “I’ll get started on that tea.”
Ahem. Yes. The tea.
Also, holy hell. I am alone in an apartment with Elliott, and we’re flirting. We are, aren’t we? God, am I out of practice.
I sit down on the couch and wait for him as he fusses around at the stove, and I pick up a retrospective book of Bradford Amusement Park photographs from the coffee table. The employees’ names, and how long their families have worked for the park, are printed across the bottom of each page. I see the same last name repeated for generations, and it touches my heart. There aren’t many family businesses left in this country, let alone businesses that treat their employees so well that their children, and children’s children, stay with them. I’d been so damn wrong about all of them.
He has a tray with a cup of tea and a bottle of water. “Here you go. I only had chamomile. I hope that’s okay.”
“Love it. Thank you.”
He sits down next to me and hands me the tea. After a few sips, I sit it down and lean back to look at him. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Of course. Or you could tell comforting lies, I like those too.”
I smile wryly. “The truth is, I have no reason at all to be mad at you right now, but when I saw Lauren draping herself all over you, I wanted to rip her weave off her head and strangle both of you with it. I still kind of do.”
He stares at me, his brow furrowing in confusion. “She has a weave?”
I burst out laughing. “Oh, babe. Don’t get me started on the list of things that are fake on that woman.” Then I make a face. “No, that’s catty. I shouldn’t be like that. I should be better than that. I will rise above it all.”
He snorts in contempt and takes a sip from his water bottle. “Don’t feel bad about dissing Lauren. She’s a horrible person.”
“Tell me all about it,” I say, prop my fist under my chin, getting comfortable to hear all the ways my hatred for a woman I don’t know is justified.
He raises his brow and grins at my eagerness. “Okay, well for starters, When I caught her cheating on me, she told me that it was my fault for being so serious and obsessed with work.”
It’s my turn to snort, but his frown has me quickly pushing it down. He’s clearly hurt by this and although she isn’t entirely wrong about his being serious and work obsessed, if it hurt him, I don’t want to repeat her mistake. “Sorry,” I offer.
He sighs, “It’s not so much the first part that got me, because I know I can be serious, especially when it comes to work. I don’t have a choice, Jillian. Who else is going to save this place?”
In this moment I see the weight of the world in Elliott’s eyes, and I want to reach out and smooth away the wrinkles, creasing the sides of his eyes. I want to wipe away the deep lines set into his forehead. I want to kiss away the frown marring his beautiful lips.
I cough, turning away from him. “Tell me more.” I say, but not enthusiastically. I’m suddenly nervous to hear how deep Lauren cut.
“She said I was so boring. That I put her feet to sleep.”
“That’s just rude,” I bark. “And after you caught her cheating? After she should have been begging your forgiveness?”
“I asked her why she’d wanted to marry me in the first place, and she said, obviously, my family name, and that she knew we’d have good-looking children.”
I shrug. “She’s not wrong about that last part.”
He grins. “You do realize I’m part of that equation, right? Are you saying I’m good-looking, Jillian?”
His beautiful face coupled with that smirk has me squirming in place.
“Moving on,” I quip, trying to get out of answering his question. No way am I going there right now.
“She said that I’d made her a promise, and we were still getting married. She actually threatened to sue me for breach of promise when I threw her out on her ass, and needless to say, she kept the ring.”
“She… wow. What an absolute twatmuffin!”
“I loved her,” he says, head lowered. “I would’ve given her anything, but it wasn’t good enough. I wasn’t good enough.”
That does it. The hurt in his voice. The fact she made him feel less than, makes me livid. I jump to my feet and storm towards the door.
“Where are you going?” he calls out after me.
I spin around to answer him. “Back to plan A. I’m going to find her and rip her weave off her head.”
His eyes go wide, but he throws back his head and laughs.
“It’s not funny!” I protest. “She’s a monster.” My hands are on my hips, and I watch as he collects himself, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye.
“I love that you’d do that for me, but she left the bar hours ago.”
I huff an angry breath. “Damnit. You’re right. I was so mad I forgot, but I did witness her dramatic flounce, and she made sure to slam the door behind her.”
He leans back on the couch. “Also, for you to be able to fulfill your contract with us, we need you not to be in jail.”
I plop back down on the couch next to him. “Yeah, people say that kind of thing to me all the time.”
“My, what an interesting life you lead.”
“So do you.”
He shakes his head, smiling ruefully. ”Not me.”
I frown at the self-deprecating way he said it. As though every single thing Lauren said, he truly believes. It pisses me off. Operation ‘get Elliott to see his worth’ needs to commence and I’m taking the reins. Underneath the stuffy suit and serious demeanor, there’s a charming man, who despite what he thinks, can be funny. I’ve seen it and he needs to see it too.
“Oh, come on. You run a string of amusement parks!”
He shrugs. “That’s interesting on paper. In reality...” he gestures at himself. ”What you see is what you get. I punch the clock, I keep the wheels turning, I keep the company in the black. I’ll never be anybody’s dream man. I just-”
I lean forward and kiss him. He stiffens in surprise for just a moment and then leans toward me. I move back until I’m sinking into the soft leather sofa back, with Elliott pressed up against me. His soft mouth caresses mine, his tongue leading mine in an intimate dance. I smell the faint hint of his cologne mixing with his unique male musk.
His hand moves up to caress my face, his thumb brushing against my cheek. Finally, we break apart.
“What was that?” he says, breathless. “Not that I’m objecting. I just want to know what I did to earn that, so I can do it again.”
I slide my arms around his waist, lacing my fingers together behind his back. “Remember when I was on top of the roller coaster, freaking out?”
He smiles ruefully. “How could I forget?”
“You kissed me to make me stop freaking out. Well, this is kind of the same thing. I kissed you to make you stop saying stupid things.”
He bursts into laughter. “Is that all it takes? I just have to say stupid things, and you’re overcome with passion? Jeez. Okay. The Earth is flat, and that’s where all the missing persons are. They fell off the edge.”
I snort-laugh, then clap my hand over my mouth, self-conscious. My mother actually called in a voice coach when I was little, to “help me with my laugh.” He doesn’t seem bothered by it though.
“Ancient aliens walk among us, and most of them are reality tv show hosts.”
“That’s not ridiculous, it’s actually true.” I grin at him.
He takes his glasses, slides them off his face, and sets them on the end table—next to a ceramic statuette of a circus performer on an elephant’s back. “The moon is made of green cheese. I’ve had some of it, actually. In a grilled cheese sandwich. The reason NASA is keeping it on the down low is because...”
“Okay, now that’s just crazy talk. It is clearly not made of green cheese! It’s made of Swiss cheese, thus, all the craters.” I kiss him again.
His mouth is warm and sweet against mine, and I draw in a long, quivering breath. My tummy does that weird little dip it does at the top of a rollercoaster, just before you tumble over the edge in an exhilarating rush. Of course, the fun of a fairground ride is that the danger is make believe. In reality, the ride operator has everything totally under control.
If anyone has this situation under control, it certainly isn’t me. And despite Elliott’s reputation for being all work and no play—judging from the way he groans into my mouth as my hands go to his belt—he’s in just as much of a spin as I am.
His hands are everywhere too, mussing my hair as he explores the silky contours of my mouth with his tongue; tugging at my clothes to expose an inch of my body here, another inch there, so he can press greedy, feverish kisses against my skin.
He pushes me back against the couch, his cock thick and hard against my inner thigh, and as we tumble into the horizontal together, his foot clips the tea tray, sending an arc of chamomile droplets across the spotless carpet.
Out of habit, I half move to pick up the mess, but he wraps his fingers around my wrists and guides my hands above my head, muttering, “Don’t you dare.” His voice has a low, sexy catch that makes me squirm with desire.
He holds both my wrists in one hand, freeing the other to move down my body, exploring each curve. I arch up towards him, pressing my breast into his palm, but he moves his hand inexorably downward as I wiggle underneath him. When he slips his fingers between my thighs, I know he can feel how wet I am for him, even through my panties. His pupils dilate, like inkblots blooming in water, and he bites back a groan. Then his fingers still, the effort it costs him plain in the tension of his body.
“I don’t have any condoms up here,” he mutters, voice tight with frustration.
“Why the hell not?” I groan, struggling into a sitting position and sweeping my tangled hair back from my face. “What kind of carnival superhero lair has no condoms? They have so many uses. Water balloons… slingshots… trampolines for trained mice…”
“And since the fiancée fiasco, all of those things are more likely than me bringing a woman here… until today.” He’s a little breathless, because I’m nibbling his ear and trying to get my hand down the front of his pants, and he sounds kind of annoyed too. Not surprising, really—that thing has got to be uncomfortable. I mean, it would just be cruel of me not to do something about it.
“It’s okay,” I husk in his ear, “I’m on the pill, and I tested clean for STIs since my last partner.”
“Oh thank god,” he gasps, “me too. I mean…” he presses me back against the couch again, “I haven’t been with anyone since Lauren, I got tested after, and I’ve got a clean bill of health. I’m not on the pill.” He kisses my collarbone and trails his lips lower, undoing buttons and exposing flesh as he goes. “Though if they ever invented a pill for men I’d be down…”
His progress down my body is too slow, and I’m just about to beg him to please, please shut up when he flips my skirt up, grins at me, and says, “Speaking of down…”
He makes short work of my panties. He makes short work of my self-control. He parts my folds with his long fingers and laps at my clit, teasing the tingling flesh until I’m writhing mindlessly underneath him. He works his index finger inside me, and I feel his grin against my pussy as I clench hard around him. He knows I’m close—he can feel my thighs quivering and taste my slick excitement. As he flicks his tongue against my pussy, he crooks his finger inside me, dragging his fingertip over my G-spot as if beckoning me to come. And I do. I come hard and fast, clutching at his shoulders and arching against him, gasping out a series of hoarse, wordless cries.
The spasms haven’t yet died away as he positions himself between my legs. He hooks my knee over his hip and uses his hand to work the tip of his cock against my slick core, lubricating himself with my juices. Even though I’ve just orgasmed so hard I’m still seeing stars, I’m suddenly desperate to have him inside me, and I wrap my legs around his hips, groaning with satisfaction as he slides into me. He’s big and hard, and even though I’m slippery with excitement, it feels like a tight fit. He feels it too, and he’s careful and deliberate as he presses himself all the way home inch by inch, rocking back and forth, letting me get used to his size.
With each little push inside me, I feel a frisson of excitement, each building on the last into a rolling, crescendoing pleasure, and as he begins to thrust, I’m already coming.
He’s not far behind me. He thrusts faster, harder, not even giving me time to catch my breath before I’m crying out his name. He shudders, freezes, and gives a long, low, toe-curling groan as he comes inside me, half collapsing on top of me as we both gasp for breath.
After a minute or two spiraling gently back towards Planet Earth, he gives a long, slow sigh of contentment.
I nestle my head into his shoulder. “So… that was…”
“Incredible?” he offers, and I nod.
“I was going to say mind-blowing, but incredible works too.”
He moves just enough to pinch my side, eliciting a yelp from me, followed by a giggle. I wiggle to get away from his tickling and teasing, but there’s not much room to move.
We shift uncomfortably on the sofa, trying to make room for each other. Elliott sits up. “I’ll unfold the sofa bed, so we’re not squished on top of each other. I’m a gentleman like that.” He places a kiss to my forehead, and that small piece of affection makes me want to start round two, but it’s not a good idea.
I sigh deeply. “I should go home. We need to keep this as low key as possible for now, for a number of reasons.”
“Embarrassed about me?” Elliott makes a pouty-face.
“Damn. You saw right through me.” I slide off the couch and pull my panties on. “You’ve got an investors’ meeting in two days, right? Wednesday morning? The company is at a delicate stage, and if our relationship becomes official, it’s going to be a whole big thing and not what you want people to focus on.”
“So this is a relationship?” He smirks, and I want to wipe it off his face.
I cross my arms over my chest and level him with a challenging stare. “What would you call it?”
He reaches out and trails his fingers down my leg. I stifle a shiver of desire. “As soon as things calm down, I want us to be public,” he says firmly. “Absolutely.”
“I will take that into consideration.” But I soften it with a smile.
“Will you really, now?” He sits up, and I can’t help but notice that he’s already hard again. I mean, it’s impossible not to notice. He’s huge, erect, pointing right at the ceiling.
“I don’t suppose I could convince you to stay for the night and just sneak out really early? I’ll set my alarm, I promise. I’d love to fall asleep with you in my arms.” His words twang at my heartstrings. Damn him. Why must he be so adorable?
“I wish I could. I really can’t.” His smile is so sweet, so hopeful, that I plop down next to him on the couch. “But you could convince me to tell you all about the new park ride I’m designing in my head. It’s X-rated, and it’s easier to demonstrate than describe it.”