Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
BONNIE
I can’t believe I’m doing this. Going for a weekend with my sister’s ex. For money. I must be nuts.
But even as I push down the guilt I’m feeling, I can’t help the excitement I feel, the curiosity, the want to spend more time with him, a man who is a total mindfuck.
When he told me that the client was him, I nearly fainted, the shock rendering me speechless as he then outlined what I had already read in the contract. A car would pick me up, take me to the destination, drop me off, where I would be met by a doorman and then taken to the relevant room to stay in for two nights.
And here I am, standing outside the penthouse door, with a keycard in my hand, working up the courage to put the keycard in the door and walk in like I know what the hell I’m doing. I don’t why I need to try and act like I know, because I don’t, and this is all new to me, which Darius is aware of, but fuck, I want to feel like I have some kind of power in this scenario.
“One hundred thousand, no expectations,” I whisper to myself, and with that thought in mind, I push the keycard in the door and open it, walking in and then whispering, “No turning back now.”
The penthouse is exactly as you would imagine—plush, unnecessary elegance that probably cost more than my paycheck for this weekend. But it’s his money, so who am I to question how much he spends.
I place my bag down and walk over to a side table that has a glass of champagne sat on it. I down the thing in one, moving my neck from side to side to loosen up a bit. The champagne will help, I’m sure, after a couple more.
Walking over to the other side of the room, I admire the view, taking in the city buildings below. This penthouse is fucking high, so high that as I walk out onto the balcony and look down, the people look like little dots moving about. Jesus. I’m in a whole other world.
“Good evening.”
I whirl around, his voice running over me like silk, and my eyes take in the fact that he’s wearing grey trousers and a black shirt, which is open at the collar, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. And I already know that I am so fucking screwed.
“Hi,” is my feeble reply. I stop myself from rolling my eyes, but internally I cringe. Fucking hi?
“Have you eaten?” Darius asks, and I shake my head. “Come, we’ll order some food.” I follow him back inside, reluctant to leave the balcony as the sun beams down, the last rays of the day getting ready to disappear as night starts to draw in.
“Pick anything you want,” he says as he hands me a menu that he seemed to produce from thin air. “Or I can order a few things if you prefer, and we can share?”
“Sounds good,” I say, because I have no idea what to pick, what to do, how to act, and I feel so out of my depth here.
“Relax, Bonnie. This isn’t a death sentence,” he says, and I can’t help but scoff. “It’s not meant to be a form of torture, you know?”
I blow out a puff of air and close my eyes briefly before opening them again to see him watching me.
“Sorry, I know this isn’t very professional of me,” I say, because it isn’t, but at least I’m acknowledging it.
“I don’t want professional.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Just you.”
“But why?”
“Because.”
“Because? Is that it?” I ask, brows furrowed.
“You’ll see, Bonnie, but all in good time.”
All in good time.
I have no idea what that means, but somewhere in the last hour, I have relaxed, eaten some food, drank a little more champagne, and now I sit on the balcony, the ping of my phone five minutes ago making me very fucking happy, because half of the one hundred thousand just hit my bank account, like the contract said it would.
We’ve actually talked, nothing deep, just small talk really, but it’s been nice, and I’m sure it’s helped to put me at ease somewhat—that and the alcohol, which is creating a very pleasant buzz, but not too much.
As I sit here, on the balcony, spread out on one of the luxurious lounge chairs, a blanket draped around my shoulders to keep the chill of the night air setting in at bay, I actually feel like I’m a million miles away from my shitty life and shitty family. And Darius was right earlier on when we were eating and he said, “Learn to enjoy and let go. What’s the point of any of it if it causes unwanted stress, unnecessary worry.”
So, that’s what I’m doing, letting go of the stress, the worry of doing something wrong, the guilt of being here, the hate that has run through me for so long for a family that has never shown me love but expects me to be there to keep up appearances, and I’m just doing me. Being me. A ‘me’ I’ve never really allowed myself to be.
Reflection is not something I’ve done much of, because it irks me that my life seems so fucking sad at such a young age, but here, with not much else to do, I make a promise to myself to do things for me and to forget how my family perceive me when they don’t know the real me anyway. They’ve never taken the time, and there’s only so many years you can give a damn for. Maybe this job is like an epiphany, opening my eyes for the first time, truly. Whatever it is, I’ll take it, and I’d quite happily stay here forever.
“Need a top up?” Darius asks as I turn my head to watch him walk out onto the balcony, his whole persona commanding the space instantly.
“No thanks, I’m good,” I reply with a smile, feeling kind of thankful about this whole proposition now. “It’s stunning here.” The sunset glows across the distance, the feeling of being in a whole other world like something out of a dream. Like I’m on cloud nine and I never want to get off.
Darius takes the seat next to me, and I feel a little twitchy, but in a good way, as my mind casts back to the other night when he had his fingers on me, inside me, his breath by my ear… I bite my lip and shake my head, coming back to the here and now and realising my eyes were looking at his crotch… and he’s staring at me, so he totally knows. Damn.
And now I’m staring at him, the look his eyes doing nothing to kill the heat building inside of me. Seconds tick by, turning into minutes, the tension reaching heights I never knew possible.
And as my mouth goes dry, my tongue darting out to lick my lips, my thighs squeezing together to dull the ache that’s settled there, a deep growl rumbles in his chest before he’s moving off the seat and towering over me, his legs straddling my seat, his hands bracing him as they rest on the arms of my chair, either side of me.
My heart races, my breath caught in my throat as he says, “I’m still hungry.” I furrow my brows in confusion as he pushes off the chair and stands at the end, his fingers hooking around my ankles as he pulls me down the seat, until my legs dangle off the edge as he crouches and then spreads my legs to either side.
O—kay. What the…
I don’t have to wonder what’s going on for long as his hands trails up my thighs, pushing my skirt up around my waist, exposing my white lace knickers. Time seems to stop as his eyes look at my pussy, which is pulsing, desperate for him to do something, anything to relieve the ache.
His head dips down, my arse flush with the end of the seat as his tongue darts out and licks over the lace covering where I want him the most, and I let out a whimper at the contact.
He brings my knees up, my heels digging into the end of the chair as he says, “Your choice, Bonnie,” and just waits for me to give the go ahead, give him the permission he seeks.
Do I?
Don’t I?
Do I cross the line even more than I have already?
Do I throw all girl codes out of the window and just have this for myself?
Can I live with this? With letting my sister’s ex eat me out on a balcony of the plushest penthouse I’m ever likely to step foot in as he pays me one hundred thousand pounds to spend the weekend with me?
Will the pleasure outweigh the risk?
He waits. He watches. He holds my ankles gently, his fingers wrapped around them, his touch fucking sizzling.
“Learn to enjoy and let go. What’s the point of any of it if it causes unwanted stress, unnecessary worry.”
“Do it. Eat me and make me scream your name,” I tell him, having no idea where that came from but knowing I want it more than I want to fucking breathe.
“My pleasure,” he replies before his head dips down and licks again, his hands pushing my knees to the sides, so I’m spread wide for him. “Don’t move,” he commands, before he pulls my knickers to the side and dips his tongue in my folds, swiping it up and over my clit, making my back arch off the chair.
I grip the cushion beneath me as he pulls me apart with his fingers, blowing air across my pulsating clit before his tongue moves in circles, slowly, torturously.
Moaning out loud, my hands have a mind of their own as they reach for him, delving into his hair as I push my pussy in his face. And when he growls, it’s like a ticking time bomb has gone off, Darius seeming to go feral as he rips my knickers in half, pushes my legs wider, holding my knees in the air as he devours me, biting, licking, sucking. I keep my knees up as he pulls me down a little more on the chair, so my arse is slightly hanging off the end, his fingers digging into my flesh as he assaults my clit in the most delicious way.
And then his finger plunges inside me, moving in and out punishingly as I tell him, “More. Give me more.” And he does, another finger added, going harder, faster, his mouth… oh his mouth… it’s bliss, pure fucking bliss as my own juices coat his lips, his cheeks, his chin. I can’t even feel ashamed about it, because this is what he’s done to me, turned me into someone I never knew existed—a woman who knows what she wants him to do.
I’m building, right on the cusp as he removes his fingers and brushes them over my arse, a place that has never been touched.
I hold my breath, waiting for the awkwardness to kick in, but I find there is none as my pussy throbs harder, wanting him to push me, take me to another level.
Before I can think about anything else, his mouth is back on my clit, his finger stroking up and down my back passage, and dear lord, I tremble so fucking hard as I rock my hips back and forward.
“Darius…” I say, breathless, and he pulls his mouth away for a second, and my head whips up to look at him as he sinks his finger in slowly, his gaze holding mine, heat working up my body when his finger is fully inside me, stretching me. This might be the hottest fucking moment of my life as he tells me, “Scream for me, Bonnie, let them hear you as you come.” His mouth returns to my clit, his other hand reaching up to pinch my nipple, and as his finger moves out and back in, my thighs clench, my body jerks, and I orgasm harder than ever before, doing just as he asked and screaming out his name for all to hear.