Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
Bennett
T he ball has been in full swing for an hour, and I haven’t gotten within ten feet of Cat without Kindra running me off. She’s taking her job as a professional cock-blocker very seriously. Whoever’s paying her should give her a fucking raise.
Oh, that’s right. She’s doing this for free.
I grit my teeth and swirl the glass of amber liquid in my hand. Knowing she’s in the room and that I can’t touch her or talk to her is killing me. My skin is crawling. My clothes feel too tight.
To make matters so much worse, I’ve had to watch her dance with Maverick. Twice. Eve interrupted their moment and “stole” him away the second time, thank fuck. Probably because she saw the way I was gripping the second-floor banister as I watched from on high like some angry god.
Accurate, considering how much rage I have inside me right now.
There are a few murder stations scattered around, but not even violence can calm the calamitous storm inside me. The only thing that can soothe me is just out of reach. If I could just hold Cat in my arms, smell her hair, kiss her lips, then I’d find inner peace once more.
Maverick approaches my dark corner of the room and takes a seat across from me in a navy chair covered in crushed velvet. He glances around, then leans forward, keeping his voice to a low growl that I can barely hear over the thump of a fast dance song.
“We’re . . . so just . . .”
I shake my head and hold my hand to my ear.
“We’re trying . . . just . . . patient!” he says, speaking a little louder this time.
Not wanting him to shout it again—and risk the wrath of Kindra—I nod my head and wave him off. I’ve gotten the gist of things. They’re trying . . . something, and they want me to be patient.
Haven’t I already been patient? Haven’t I been sitting here or standing there, dying inside as Cat shines her light on everyone but me?
Eve appears on the dancefloor, her glistening gown anything but inconspicuous as she weaves through the crowd. I don’t know how she’s supposed to help me sneak around when she’s shining like a fucking lighthouse.
When she reaches my little grove of misery, she sits next to me on the couch and leans in, placing her hand around my ear. “Go to the corner we talked about. As soon as you step inside, you’ll have exactly thirty minutes. Set a timer on your watch, and don’t overstay your welcome. Past thirty minutes, you’re on your own. And take this.” She slides something into my hand, and I look down.
It's Maverick’s mask.
“Hang it on the door,” she adds.
Realizing her plan—or part of it, at least—I nod my thanks and hurry to the cubicle in the western corner of the room. Before stepping inside, however, I look around for Cat. She’s seated at a table beside Kindra. And there goes Eve, heading straight for them.
She catches my eye before stepping toward them. She plans to keep Kindra occupied while I tuck myself away from view. That has to be the scheme. The woman is a genius.
The moment Kindra’s head turns toward Eve, I hang Maverick’s mask from the cubicle door and slip inside.
When Cat and Eve said they were setting up little sex pens, they weren’t kidding. In the center of the box is a deep couch, covered in the same crushed velvet as the chair on the opposite side of the room. My heart goes out to whoever has to clean our remnants from this fabric, because despite the big bowl of condoms on a small table, I plan to go in raw and make a mess.
The thought of making Cat squirt while surrounded by all of our friends does something to me. This feeling is vile, filthy, and demanding. I love it.
Muffled voices filter through the music, and I recognize one of them as Cat. Another is Eve, and the third sounds an awful lot like Kindra. I duck behind the couch as the door swings open.
“Eve, he isn’t even in here,” Kindra says. “I told you I saw him leave the fucking ballroom! This is probably some diabolical plot Bennett cooked up to hurt her feelings.”
Her feet venture toward the couch. I see them as I peer through that thin strip of nothingness between the furniture’s bottom and the floor. And they’re getting a little too close for comfort. One more step?—
“He probably went to the bathroom!” Eve’s heels join Kindra’s flats, and they move away from the couch together.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Let’s just give Cat some privacy. If he hasn’t shown up in a few minutes, we’ll let her out of here.” Eve’s voice sounds further away. She must be pushing Kindra out of the cubicle. I’ll have to remember to send her a Christmas card this year.
The door clicks shut, muting their voices and deadening the music a bit. I don’t know what these little walls are made of, but they’re surprisingly soundproof. It would make for a nice little portable torture chamber. You know, for killers on the go.
Cat’s shimmering pink heels move closer to the couch, and the springs below the cushions squeak when she sits. Silently, I readjust my position so that I’m on my knees behind her.
I’m close enough that my breath disturbs the small hairs at the back of her neck. She raises her hand to pat them down as goosebumps race over her otherwise smooth skin. It’s an instinctual reaction; her body knows the beast is close.
I raise my hand to her neck and allow my fingers to trail over her skin in a gentle, romantic gesture. In my head, I pictured her turning and seeing me, then smiling. Instead, she doesn’t bother to turn and look for what has touched her. No. She goes straight to jumping three feet in the air and letting out a scream that could shatter glass.
As I try to stand to show her she has nothing to fear, my bowtie tangles in the ornate wooden carvings running along the top of the couch. I’m locked in place, unable to hide and save myself when the door flies open.
But as luck would have it, Kindra hasn’t rushed in to save the day. It’s . . . It’s my brother.
“Ezra, oh thank god,” Cat says as she rushes into his arms. “I came in here to wait for Be-Maverick, and?—”
She turns, and that’s when she finally sees me. I give her a sheepish wave.
“Oh, shit.” She hurries to close the door behind Ezra. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Yeah, shit is about right,” Ezra says. “Kindra wanted to come over here and make sure you were okay. I practically had to beat her away from the door as Eve tried to distract her. How many people are in on this now?”
Cat covers her face and groans.
“Damn near the entire retreat, at this point,” I say. I motion toward my bowtie. “Little help?”
“She can help you.” He points to Cat. “I’m off to forget I ever saw you in here. At this rate, I’ll be divorced before I’m even married.” With a shake of his head, he exits the booth.
Cat hurries over to begin the Rubik’s cube that is my bowtie. After a few seconds, she groans and sits back. “You’ll have to take it off. It’ll be easier that way.”
“We only have twenty-three minutes left. Maybe we should both strip and save ourselves the trouble.”
“Why only twenty-three minutes?”
I raise my watch to my face. “Twenty-two now, and fuck if I know. Eve didn’t exactly give me the rundown. She just said to start a timer for thirty minutes, then be out of here before it’s up.”
“She’s come up with something, but what?” Her thumbnail goes into her mouth, and as she nibbles, I imagine pushing something else past her lips.
I grip the bowtie and pull at both sides until something rips. Free of my chains, I stand and go to her. “What does it matter, kitten? For the next twenty minutes, you’re mine.”
Her worries melt away when my lips press against her neck. A soft moan slides out of her, and her hand moves toward my dick. She grips it through the dress pants.
“Did you already get started without me?” she asks.
The song fades, and each movement of my tongue sounds like a firework crackling in a silent sky. Why is it so fucking quiet?
“We had a special song request tonight,” a voice says through the speakers, and I’m almost certain it’s Ice Pick.
“No, not now,” Cat whispers.
The song starts, and I know exactly what it is by the first note.
“This song goes out to Bennett, wherever he is,” Ice Pick says. “From your friends Kindra, Ezra, and Cat.”
As Ice Pick lowers the mic, Tom Jones’ buttery vocals caress my brain as he reiterates how unusual this situation is not. It’s such a good song that I’m not even mad at Kindra’s little joke.
“I’m sorry, Bennett. She thought it would be funny,” Cat says.
I pull down one of the slender straps holding her dress upright. Leaning down, I kiss her skin and revel in the bite of salt against my tongue. “No need to apologize. It is funny.”
I lower the other strap and kiss her shoulder.
“Really?” she asks. “You aren’t mad?”
“Not even a little bit.”
I pull her closer, reach behind her to drag down the dainty zipper, then lower her dress to her hips. My mouth waters at the sight of her full breasts. She didn’t bother with a bra, and her pale pink nipples beg for my mouth.
Unable to stop myself, I move her to the couch and get on my knees in front of her. She’s delicious perfection, and I am so hungry. I raise her dress to her hips and kiss her inner thighs.
“Wait a second,” Cat says. “You’re always going down on me and making me come my brains out. Let me have a turn.”
“Kitten, as much as I would love to feel your mouth on me, we don’t have a lot of time.”
“Bullshit. We don’t have a lot of time right now, but when we get back home, you can eat me for every meal of the day for all I care. We’ll have lots of time then.”
I want to ask if she’s serious, if I can live inside her for the rest of my life, but there will be time for talking later. Right now, I’m about to get my dick sucked.
Needing no further encouragement, I climb onto the couch and begin unfastening my pants. Cat swaps places with me, getting on her knees and taking my cock in her hands as soon as it’s free.
She starts by stroking me to the beat of the song, which is pretty fucking fast-paced. I can only hope Tom Jones stops crooning before she puts her mouth on me. I won’t last longer than the chorus at that speed.
But as the song gears up for its final thirty-second push, she lowers her mouth to my cock, and I grip the cushions for dear life. The woman is sucking the very soul from my body, and to top it off, she stays on beat. When her fingernails curve around the base of my cock and brush against the piercings running through my tightening balls, a pleasure-laced groan comes out of me like a growl.
The song ends, and another replaces it, but Cat keeps going. She matches the beat once more, and I’m thankful it’s a slow R&B number. I was two eight-counts away from filling her throat.
With a final, long lick up my shaft, Cat looks at me. “How much time do we have left?”
I pull my watch around to my face and squint into the screen. “Seventeen minutes.”
It’s a lie. At this point, I’m just guessing about the time. When she was busy giving me the best sloppy toppy I’ve ever had, I must have bumped my watch. The timer stopped at eighteen minutes and some seconds, and I don’t want to tell her. She’ll probably panic for no reason and put an early end to our fun.
“Will I have time to put my dress on if we stop with five minutes to spare?” she asks.
“Better not risk it. Leave it on.” I stand and raise her straps, covering her chest. As much as it pains me to do so, I’m simply trying to ensure she isn’t placed in a compromising position if someone comes knocking.
Which they certainly will.
“Bend over the arm of the couch and raise your dress for me,” I command.
“Wait,” she says. “We’ve been doing what you want all this time, and now I have a fantasy I’d like to fulfill.”
I glance at my watch. Another minute has passed.
“Tell me, but be quick,” I say.
She smirks up at me with a devilish gleam in her eyes.