Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
Sully
I was up first.
In more ways than one.
Bonnie was still beside me, her breathing deep and even in sleep, her lips parted just slightly.
But I was wide awake.
And hard as a fucking rock.
She’d scooted closer in her sleep, her little body plastered up against me, her breath warm on my arm.
I needed to get out of the bed.
Then I needed to go deal with this problem. Again. I’d already taken matters into my own hands in the shower the night before.
It was a miracle I’d lasted that long after the whole coloring my back thing.
But now, it was a new day. And I had the same problem. Only now I was kind of trapped. If I moved at all, there was a good chance I would wake her. Then there would be no way to hide my little situation.
I took a few deep breaths, tried doing some fucking math problems in my head, anything to distract myself from all that pretty just inches from me.
I was busy trying to remember if I carried a two or not when Bonnie let out a little sigh, then shifted.
Closer.
Her arm snaked across my chest, fingers resting softly on my shoulder. Then, even more alarmingly, her leg cocked up over my hip, her knee damn near brushing my hard cock even as I got completely distracted by the heat of her against my hip.
It could be so easy.
I could just turn on my side, slide down my pants, pull off hers, then just slip right inside of her, rocking into her as soft and sweet—or hard and fast—as she wanted.
Fuck.
That certainly wasn’t helping the matter.
Hell, I didn’t even need to be inside of her then. I could just rub against her and I’d be coming.
I couldn’t think of the last time I was so damn needy so fast, so close to losing control. If anything, I prided myself on my control with women, my ability to hold myself back so things could go as long as we wanted.
This was some bizarre shit.
I was about to just roll onto my other side, face and cock smushed up against the wall, when Bonnie’s phone blared from the nightstand, making her body jerk violently.
Her leg totally slid across the side of my cock in her movement, but she was so out of it that I was pretty sure she didn’t even notice as she flipped to her other side and grabbed her phone.
“Court?” she said, answering the question I had as I slid to the end of the bed, curling forward over my lap to hide my problem from view. “What time is it?” Bonnie asked, voice thick from sleep. “Five? Is everything… okay,” she said, then stopped to listen to whatever her boss was saying.
I took the opportunity to move off the bed and into the bathroom.
It was probably creepy as fuck to do it with her on the other side of the door, but I yanked down my pants and wrapped my hand around my length, stroking hard and fast, knowing there would be no rationalizing with my hard-on right then. I just had to rub one out so I could get on with my day. Hopefully without my body getting ideas about Bonnie again.
That was the last fucking thing she needed when she’d begun to see me as a safe person, someone she could let in.
I leaned back against the door, annoyed by my own need to hear her soft voice as she spoke on the phone while I drove myself up, then right to the edge in no time at all.
I came hard enough that the door became necessary to hold myself up at how weak my damn legs got.
I was aware then that Bonnie was quiet in the other room, so I cleaned up, washed my hands, and brushed my teeth before making my way back out.
“Everything alright?” I asked.
“I am on forced leave,” Bonnie said with a little eye roll. But the looseness in her shoulders told me that she was actually relieved.
That maybe she wanted to stay here.
With me.
Christ.
That was ridiculous.
Pure wishful thinking.
She’d told me herself that work was her happy place, that she loved being there.
If there was any relief on her part, it was likely because she was playing down her head injury. Or she was simply terrified to be outside the walls of the compound, given what happened to her.
It damn sure wasn’t about me.
“Oh, yeah? For how long?”
“Courtney said a week. But it could be longer if she decides I’m not ready to be back.”
“It’s probably good to take it easy for a few days with your bumped noggin,” I told her. “And I’m sure your boss can handle things. It is her business, after all.”
“Yeah,” Bonnie agreed. “I just feel bad, I guess.”
“Nothing to feel bad about. This happened to you. I should be the one feeling guilty.” And I did. But I had a feeling Bonnie would overthink that if I told her. “I did have an idea for getting out of the clubhouse today, though,” I told her, watching the tension return to her shoulders.
“Why?”
“To go get some stuff from your place,” I told her, watching the conflicting emotions play out across her face. Because she wanted to stay holed up here. But she was clearly very attached to her things. “Just a quick trip. But we’re gonna bring a few of the guys to hang out in the car and hallway, just for extra precaution.”
“Okay,” she agreed, nodding. “I can be really quick.”
“Or take as long as you need,” I said. “I’m gonna go get some coffee. Want something?”
“Coffee sounds good?”
“Cream and sugar? Maybe a little extra?” I asked because, from my experience, everyone wanted their coffee a little sweeter and lighter than they would openly admit.
“Yes, please,” she said, eyes warm.
“And if I’m not mistaken, that is Dezi’s voice,” I said as I got closer to the door. “Which means there’s gonna be some sort of sweets out there.”
“At this hour?” she asked, glancing at the clock.
“Bakery opens at five. I’m pretty sure Dezi stands there waiting, drooling like a dog.”
With that, I made my way out of the room.
“I brought donuts,” Dezi declared as I walked into the kitchen, dragging a little laugh out of me. “They’re still warm,” he added, holding one in each hand.
There were four boxes on the counter.
“Leave any for anyone else?” Nave asked as he walked in, unzipping his hoodie. Judging by his heavy eyes, he’d been on guard duty.
“The bakery knows to expect me,” Dezi said, shrugging.
“How’s the girl?” Nave asked, going straight to the coffee maker, pouring the contents into a carafe, then starting a new pot.
“She’s good. We’re gonna go to her place to get some of her shit. Her boss called to give her off while she recovers from her ‘accident.’”
“That’s good,” Nave decided. “The next shift is on their way in now. So, you can take me if you want.”
“You need some sleep.”
“Eh,” Nave said, shrugging. “I’ll get there eventually. Perish will be game too. Be good to make sure nothing looks amiss at her place sooner rather than later.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Just gonna caffeinate her and feed her sugar,” I said, grabbing a few donuts and sticking them on a plate. “Then we will probably get going. Get it over with.”
I finished making the coffees and then brought everything back into my room, finding Bonnie coming back out of the bathroom. Behind her, a new toothbrush was in the holder with one of the little caps on it. Next to mine. And for some reason, that sight alone had a strange tight sensation moving across my chest.
“I played it safe on the donuts,” I told her. “Who doesn’t like glazed and chocolate frosted?”
“My favorites. And the occasional jelly. But only sugared, not powdered.”
“That works out then. Because Dezi prefers the powdered. And, trust me, you stand no chance getting a jelly donut from him if he wants it.”
We drank our coffee and ate our donuts while talking about where she lived, and how the whole heading there thing would look. I got the impression that she was someone who felt a lot more comfortable about a situation when she knew all the details about it.
Sometime around six-thirty, I had her dressed in one of my hoodies, and we were all piling into the SUV in the garage before heading out.
Nave and Perish were silent company from the front seat on the short drive across town.
Bonnie’s place was in one of the older apartment complexes in the area. All tan bricks straight out of the seventies with dubiously secure wrought iron balconies and windows that all looked in need of replacing.
“This is me,” Bonnie said as Nave navigated the labyrinthine complex to get to the center of all the identical buildings.
“I’m gonna linger right here,” Nave said as he parked illegally right at the end of the sidewalk. “You got what you need?” he asked Perish. And we all knew that he was asking about a gun.
“Always,” Perish agreed.
“Come on, honey,” I said, sliding out of the SUV, wanting her to come across the seat with me instead of walking around the car.
I didn’t genuinely believe the sick fuck who’d strapped a bomb to her chest was going to be lying in wait in a room with a sniper rifle. But I wasn’t going to take the chance that he wasn’t, either.
It was an eventless trip into her building, though, then up to her second-floor apartment—down a long hall with hideous, filthy gray carpet and chipped paint on the walls. Not an ounce of charm in the place.
That is, until she unlocked her door and we moved inside with Perish standing sentry in the hall.
Bonnie’s place was a testament to how much time she spent there, how much she saw the place as her safe space, her refuge from a world that often felt too big, loud, and overwhelming.
Her living room had one wall lined with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves painted a barely-there blush pink and filled with books, some shelves two deep.
The wall directly across from it featured a long desk and tons of shelving containing what seemed to be an endless amount of crafting supplies.
The only seating in the room was one of those super plush oversized chairs with a matching ottoman. It felt telling that there wasn’t a single space for a guest to sit. The chair itself had no fewer than four pillows and three blankets. Plus a pair of those super-soft socks sitting on the edge of the ottoman.
The kitchen was a cramped and dated space featuring orange-tinted faux wood cabinets and tiled countertops.
Still, Bonnie tried to add some cute to it. All of her small appliances were from some line that made them look kind of vintage. There was some stained glass hanging in the window over the sink. And a stack of recipe books on the end of a counter next to some questionably brown bananas.
“Wait a second,” I said, shooting her small eyes. “You didn’t mention that you know how to cook.”
“I like baking more than cooking,” she admitted. “Oh, that reminds me,” she said, rushing to her fridge to pull out a big glass container of some sort of thick, tan, bubbly goo. “I have to feed this,” she explained.
“You need to feed the bowl of goo?” I asked. “Is this some sort of Little Shop of Horrors thing, but with goo? Is that thing going to start killing people?”
To that, she let out a little tinkling laugh. “It’s sourdough starter. It’s ‘live,’ so you have to feed it or it dies, and I can’t use it to bake with anymore.” At my blank look as she added flour to the mix, she said, “It’s a replacement for the little packets of yeast that you use to make dough rise. And it’s good for the gut,” she added as she tucked the container back in the fridge. “It will be good for another week or so now,” she told me. “Hey, do you think I could maybe take a quick shower while we’re here?”
As much as the horny part of my brain would have preferred her showering in my bathroom, there was no reason to deny the comfort of familiarity.
“Sure. Just don’t scrub around the cut on your head,” I told her. “I’ll plant my ass in that comfy-as-fuck chair in the living room,” I said, gesturing toward it.
“Careful, it swallows you up and doesn’t want to let go,” she said as she made her way down the hall to her bedroom.
I didn’t snoop when I was alone. I mean, nothing about this woman said she had any grand secrets. Instead, I got into the chair that did, indeed, swallow me up, and reached for the book on the little drink table right beside it.
“Oh, you do have secrets,” I said with a grin as I opened to the bookmarked page. To find an explicit-as-fuck sex scene going on. “Really fucking good secrets,” I concluded as one sex scene damn near melted into another with hardly any plot in between.
“Sorry, I lost track of time in the—oh,” Bonnie said, making my gaze lift to find her standing a few feet away in a pair of black leggings and a red sweatshirt under a chunky striped cardigan I bet she’d made herself. Her hair was darker when it was wet, hanging heavy down her chest. “Oh, that’s…” she tried to speak again. The heat was high on her cheeks.
“Some really good, smutty fun?” I asked, watching her somehow go even redder. “Yes, yes it is.”
“It was, um, recommended to me,” she said, shifting her feet.
“Yeah, well, you owe whoever recommended it a thank you. Or a bill for the batteries you would need to keep up with these two’s escapades without getting carpal tunnel.”
Sure, she could be mistaken for a tomato right about then, but she let out a shocked little laugh, too.
“The cover was very deceptive,” she said as I flipped to look at it in all its cartoon character glory.
“You can say that again. Feel better after that?” I asked. I meant the shower. But the way her fading blush spread once again across her cheeks had me thinking she did things in that shower that I really didn’t need to know about. It was feat enough to keep my cock down while reading her steamy book. I couldn’t add the idea of her rubbing one out in the shower to the mix. Least of all if she was doing so because of me. “The shower,” I clarified.
“Oh, right. Yeah. I, uh, still felt kind of grimy from the basement and the stress sweat and… everything,” she said. “I will wash your sheets when we get back to the clubhouse.”
“It’s probably already being done as it is. The perks to prospects,” I said to her blank look. “They’re prospective—“
“I know,” she said. “I’ve read biker romance books before.”
“Have you? Any characters with my name, that I may or may not be real-life inspiration for?”
“Not that I know of,” she said, smile soft. “I’m just gonna pack some stuff up. Then we can get going. Nave and Perish look like they need sleep. Oh, I wanted to ask…”
“Ask me what?”
“Perish.”
“Yeah, that’s his real name,” I said, shaking my head. “Wonder what kind of parents he had,” I added, getting up. “I’ll help you pack,” I offered. “Including this. Because you bookmarked it just before some of the best parts,” I told her.
I expected her to brush me off, say she could do it herself, but she just let me follow her into her bedroom, where she grabbed a large duffle, then a weekender bag, and, finally, an extra-large purse.
“For crafts,” she said as I eyed it.
“Of course,” I agreed. Even if I’d been secretly hoping we could have a repeat of the whole coloring my back thing. Hell, I wasn’t above getting another tattoo or two for her to use as a canvas. Maybe even places more erotic…
No.
Jesus.
I needed to get a grip.
Bonnie’s bedroom was somehow even cozier than her living room. Lots of plush drapes on the windows, a corner recliner, and a bed covered in a borderline absurd number of blankets, pillows, and those big squishy animal pillows. Though it didn’t escape my notice that the bed itself was a full. Sure, you could sleep on a full with a partner. But it would be cramped.
Everything about Bonnie’s life said she didn’t share it with men. Or, at least, not real ones. She had the fictional ones on lock.
Lord knew it had nothing to do with looks. She was a fucking smoke show. She just… didn’t put herself out there. And I found that both a little sweet—because there was something endearing about her cozy, quiet life—but also a little sad. Because she was missing out on a lot of fun and happiness and connection.
I didn’t think, as I dropped onto her bed and pulled a plush to my chest to watch her shove clothes in her biggest bag, that she genuinely wanted to be as isolated as she clearly was. She was just… shy and fearful. And worried that people would judge her for her anxiety.
Well, I had the girl for a solid week, if not more. And if there was one thing I was good at, it was fun.
And if there was one thing she could find in the club and the family surrounding it, it was community, inclusion, friendship, and people who would accept her just as she was.
Sure, it was fucked up how she came to arrive at the club. But we sure as hell could make it up to her. Me more than anyone else.
Though, I reminded myself as I followed her into the living room, watching as she shoved a ton of shit into the large purse—and a few more books into her clothes bag, actually discarding a sweater to fit them—that the fun I was about to show her was not going to include the naked kind I was having a hard time not obsessing over.