Chapter Twenty-Nine
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
BONNIE
Ring. Ring. Ring.
Voicemail.
Again .
I sigh as I tap the red button on my phone and pace around my disheveled bedroom. Gemma hasn’t answered any of my phone calls over the last hour, and something about that feels like a punch to the gut.
I tap her name once more, and this time, when it goes to voicemail, I actually leave a message.
“Hey, it’s me… again … Um. I… Fuck, I don’t know what I want, or why exactly I’m calling. I guess I just wanted to hear your voice. That sounds weird, doesn’t it?” I laugh nervously. “Okay. Um. Just call me, I guess? Or I’ll see you in the morning, too. Nothing is wrong. Don’t think that I’m calling because something is wrong because it isn’t. I just… I wanted to talk to you. Okay, I’m hanging up now before I keep rambling. Bye.”
I press the end button and brace my forehead against the wall, eyes shut tight. That sounded so fucking stupid and desperate. I need to get a grip. I can’t put myself out there like this. I’m coming on too strong. I might make her run, and for once, I don’t want her to go.
I take my shower and relax on the bed, eyes still wide as I stare at the ceiling. I should get over this. It’s just a stupid crush—one that will more than likely end in disaster.
Though, I’m hoping not.
That is, if I ever find the strength to say yes to her.
Yesterday, the fire wasn’t as horrible. It didn’t threaten me at every turn of her head, and maybe that’s enough to help me realize it’s okay.
Ugh. This is annoying.
My phone rings the moment I pick it up to doomscroll. My heart skips at the possibilities of who it could be. Still, the name that comes across the screen makes me squint.
“Kade?” I answer.
“Hey, Bonnie,” Kade replies. “Gemma said you’ve been calling her. She’s caught up with something with work. Are you okay?”
Now I really feel like someone hit me.
“Um… yeah,” I say. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to talk to her.”
“Oh. I’ll tell her. If you need me, call, okay?”
I want her.
“Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
I hang up and lie back again, eyes closing when my head hits the pillow. Shit. For Kade to call me, that message had to sound pitiful.
I don’t know how long I stay up watching ASMR packaging videos on my phone. At some point, my eyes droop.
I’m dreaming of the stage, of laughing with my friends and family. Gemma is there, and at some point, we sneak off. She pins my arms above me when she kisses me against the wall. I feel like I’m drowning in this mirage, like if I ever wake up, I’ll take something to pull me back under just so I can live this without having to worry about any consequences later.
Lips on my neck make me groan. Gemma… Fuck, I want her lips all over me. This feels so good—the sleepy haze mystifying and exaggerating each grab and kiss. I arch into her touch, compliant to her demands. Her fingers slip beneath my underwear and pull them off as her tongue traces the tattoos on my stomach, mouth moving along the vee of my pelvis.
An incomprehensible noise leaves me when her fingers part my labia, when her tongue flicks my clit. Right there. I roll my hips against her tongue, her tease. All I want to do is sink my fingers into her hair, except she still has them pinned above me.
The bed shifts as she moves up my stomach again, fingers replacing her tongue, and I shudder when I feel her bare pussy on my thigh. Oh my god, she’s soaked . I want to touch her, want to taste the wetness taunting me right now.
“Please,” I hear myself beg, tongue sticking out.
“Already so eager for me, rockstar. Did you know I was coming?”
My eyes snap open.
Because that isn’t Gemma.
The room is dark, every light turned off— wait .
No, that’s a blindfold around my head.
I can feel someone moving atop me, hands on my exposed sides, pressure on my thighs. I try to move my feet, yet all I can do is bend my knees up as something pulls around my ankles when I try to lift them off the mattress. I tug my arms, yet they don’t move either.
My heart plummets, body on high alert.
Shit.
SHIT.
Please be my stalker.
Please be my stalker.
“Tell me it’s you,” I plead. “Please, please, please fucking tell me it’s you—”
“Shh… It’s just me, rockstar.” She presses her hand to my cheek, and I whimper pathetically, on the verge of panic from not knowing.
She bends over me and plants a few kisses on my face. “It’s just me. You’re safe. I have you.”
I relax back and sigh, head leaning into each kiss, mouth following her as if I can catch her if I try hard enough. She shifts up and pushes her thigh under one of mine, aligning our pussies together, and I groan when I feel her soaking cunt against mine.
It takes a little adjusting, and between every motion, she kisses my throat, my exposed tits. And once it’s right… fuck .
I didn’t realize I was just as soaked until right now… Because the noise of us together is by far the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. Her motions are slow and deliberate. I should be telling her no. I shouldn’t be fucking her and thinking about how much I want to do this with Gemma, wondering how her cunt would speak to mine.
My stalker leans over and kisses my throat again, and I wonder if she’s just leaving her voice changer mask hanging around her throat as she alternates between kissing me and speaking.
“I needed you,” she whispers. “I needed to feel this.”
Fuck, I didn’t know I needed to feel this, too.
My hips arch toward hers, meeting her pussy with every stroke.
I hear a buzzing noise after a couple of minutes, and my chest sinks at the idea of her putting a vibrator between us. I jerk when she drags it over my nipples, my mouth sagging. Hell yes.
“Harder,” I breathe, needing this reality to completely take me out. “Please.”
The vibrator trails down my stomach. She pauses her hip motions when she places the vibrator between us, and when I feel her begin to rock once more, the bullet buzzing perfectly against my clit, I shudder.
“Fuck yes—right there—don’t stop,” I whimper.
She grabs my tit and rides me hard. I’m practically salivating at the sounds, the squelching wetness being exchanged with every thrust.
And yet, behind the blindfold, behind my closed eyes, all I can see is Gemma riding me like this.
Heat pools at my aching cunt more than before.
God, if it was Gemma on top of me like this, I’d already be gone. The fantasy fills me—blindfold off, being able to see the expression on her pretty face as she feels my cunt throbbing for hers. My tits in her mouth, her tongue in my pussy, her body sitting atop my face…
She changes the setting on the vibrator. I pull and yank on the bindings on my wrists and ankles, aching to be free so I can touch her, hold onto something as I come crashing down and down, stars exploding behind my eyes—
“Oh my god, Gemma! ”
My mouth snaps closed the moment it slips out.
Gemma.
Shit.
Oh fucking hell.
Did I seriously just say Gemma’s name? To my stalker?!
I just signed her death warrant.
SHIT.
My stalker freezes. A whimper leaves me. The vibrator is tossed across the room.
“Wait, I didn’t mean—”
She thrusts her hand under my jaw and shoves me harshly into the mattress. Her fingernails dig so hard into my cheeks that I swear they’re going to bruise.
“What… the fuck … did you just call me?” she hisses.
I swallow and shake my head. “Nothing,” I manage. “I didn’t. I didn’t say anything.”
She jerks my head back, making me gasp when the heel of her palm presses into my throat.
“We’ll see about that, rockstar.”
Her weight alleviates from my legs, and I immediately begin to panic.
“Wait—no—don’t. She hasn’t… I mean, you can’t—”
However my front door closes without another word, and I wish I could scream into a pillow.
Fucking hell.
I can’t see shit. Can’t move my arms. My legs.
“Ugh—stupid Bonnie!” I curse myself. I groan and slam my head against the mattress.
“Fuck. Sally, call Zeb,” I say out loud, hoping to fuck my phone is still beside the bed like I think it is.
“Calling Zeb,” it says back.
Oh thank fuck.
“Bon? You okay?” Zeb answers on the fourth ring, his voice sleepy.
“I need a favor,” I reply.
God, this is embarrassing.
“At… two AM?”
“Yep.”
He chuckles. “Okay. What’s up?”
“Do you still have the spare key I gave you last week?”
“Yeah.”
“I need you to come over,” I tell him. “I need you to come over, and when you get here, I don’t want to hear a single word about… what you see. And you can’t tell anyone.”
“Kinda scaring me,” he says. “What exactly am I walking into? Rogue foam party? You take a dump on someone? Murder scene?”
“What—No, dude. You think I’m into defecating on people?” I ask, bewildered.
“I don’t judge,” he says. “So, it’s a body then?”
“No. No bodies. I had a hook-up tonight,” I finally admit. “And she kind of left me… a little tied up.”
Zeb snorts.
I huff. “Go ahead. Get it out,” I say.
He bursts out laughing, and I shake my head.
“I also can’t see anything, so can you please come untie me,” I almost beg.
He laughs again. “Okay, okay. I’ll be there soon.”