Chapter Thirty-One
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
GEMMA
“Who is this?” I ask.
“It’s your new best friend,” the guy says. “I’m trying to find someone. Maybe we can work together.”
“What do you want?” I ask.
Bonnie takes a step back and braces her entwined hands behind her neck.
I want to hold her so fucking badly. I want to tell her it’s okay.
“I want Bonnie’s stalker, of course,” he answers.
My insides flip, puke rising in the back of my throat.
“What do you want from her?” I ask.
“She took some things from me, and if I don’t find her soon, I’ll be very inclined to return the favor,” he says. “This time, no one will interfere. Isn’t that right, Bonnie?”
“ Leave me the fuck alone ,” Bonnie spits at the phone.
“Ah, there you are.” He laughs. “I’ll see you onstage tomorrow, love. Maybe I’ll bring your wings.”
Bonnie snatches the phone from my hand, hits the end button, and hurls the device across the room before I can say another word. A gasp hiccups in her throat, and I can see her bottom lip begin to quiver as she says, “Like I said… it isn’t my stalker.”
“How many times has he called you?” I ask.
“Once,” she replies, fingers creasing on her hips. “The night before we went hiking.”
My brows lift. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask. “That was days ago.”
I feel like such a fucking hypocrite.
“Maybe if you’d been with me that night, you’d already know,” she snaps.
I stare at her for a beat, knowing she’s doing this to hurt me, knowing this isn’t a real fight with her.
Stop trying to protect me.
I’m not the person you think I am.
“Bonnie—”
“It doesn’t fucking matter anymore,” she hisses, throwing her clothes in the bag now. “It doesn’t matter—”
“Of course, it matters,” I argue. “I need to know these things. I’m your—”
“My what?” she asks. “My what , Gemma? My bodyguard? My girlfriend? My… friend? ” She scoffs. “Maybe I didn’t know how to tell you. Maybe I wasn’t ready to talk about it.”
“What do you mean you didn’t know how to tell me? Someone threatened you—”
“Oh, and what was I supposed to say to you, huh? ”
Her eyes are filled with tears, the pain and fear on her face enough to break me in half.
“What was I supposed to say to you? Was I supposed to say: hey, some guy called my phone and told me he had my fairy wings from the night I was drugged and gang raped on the dirty fucking floor of some club I don’t even remember the name of?! ”
The words leave her trembling lips so quickly and so painfully that I stop breathing.
She lets out a jagged exhale, her shoulders dropping.
“Was I supposed to say that?” she asks through tears. “Was I supposed to just be okay with admitting that out loud to someone I… Someone I didn’t want to look at me like just another fucking failure? ”
A tear slips down my cheek as I look at her.
And suddenly killing Lance the other night doesn’t seem so horrible.
If I’d known she felt like this while I was fucking his face with that gun, I might have gone in harder. I might have cut him as he went down, and tortured him a little more.
Because looking at her like this might be what kills me.
The emotion in her eyes turns from anger to pure sadness. I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to scare her. I wish I knew what she was thinking…
“There, I figured out who’s trying to get into my apartment for you,” she breathes. “I did your fucking job. Now, do yours and find out who they are because I. Can’t. Remember .”
She sniffs back a sob, her voice gasping when she goes on.
“I can’t remember. I can’t remember. I don’t know what they did to me. All I remember is the floor and their voices and… I don’t… Just find them. Please .”
I’m scared.
I’m scared.
I’m scared.
Her texts repeat in my head, and I wonder if she felt like this the other night when she texted me, if she was sitting in her room crying at the thought of them coming near her once more.
“Okay,” I whisper.
Bonnie blows out an audible breath as if relieved that I didn’t say anything else. Her gaze lifts to the ceiling, and when she looks at me again, seconds later, she nods.
“Thank you,” she breathes.
I sink my hip against the countertop and watch her pull a cat onesie out of her bag, her breaths slowly evening. Relief fills me that she finally said something, even if I wish to fuck it didn’t cause her so much pain to say it out loud.
Guilt pools in my abdomen, and I know it’ll fester there until I have Trevor and Rad’s dicks as trophies.
It’s another few minutes until she peers my way.
“I thought that confession would have you running for the hills,” she says softly. “Not to mention the phone call… But you already knew about me being attacked, didn’t you?”
My heart plummets for a beat.
“James,” she says. “He told you.”
I try not to show my relief on my face.
“James said you told him some men attacked you and that your stalker saved you,” I say. “He didn’t know the entire story, even if he had his suspicions.”
She nods. “If you’re not considering running, maybe you should,” she says. “I think the guys would understand if you quit. You shouldn’t have to put up with this.”
“Bonnie, I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. “I’m not going to abandon you.”
“Why?” she asks, coming around the bed. “Why stay? This isn’t what you signed up for.”
“What makes you think that?” I ask.
“No one wants this,” she says. “No one wants someone this fucked up. You should run.”
“Stop pushing me away,” I say breathlessly, my eyes closing.
“I’m not,” she says. “I’m just stating the facts—”
“Yes, you are,” I say, unwrapping my arms from my chest. “You think I actually believe that the argument you were trying to have with me before that call wasn’t some attempt to push me out? You think you’re not telling me to run right now in the hopes that I’ll believe what you want me to believe? That you actually think I only see you as a client?”
She stares at me, that same pain stretching over her features. “You should,” she whispers. “You shouldn’t want me.”
“That’s too fucking bad because I do,” I tell her. “The last week has been torture not talking to you. It hurts being near you and not smiling and laughing like we were just doing last week. Every time you walk into a fucking room and avoid looking at me, I want to hurl myself into a wall. When I wake up, all I’m thinking about is what I can do that day to help you let me in. When I go to bed, I’m reliving every second with you. I’m holding on to every touch you’ve allowed me to take. And as far as your stalker? God, any time you talk about her and how much she knows about you, how you share this connection—even hearing that bastard on the phone is looking for her—I want her to show herself so I can rip her fucking throat out because maybe if I get rid of her, you’ll see me.”
My chest is heaving. I barely feel like I’m making any sense.
And she’s staring at me as if she can’t take a breath either.
“Maybe if I get rid of every danger in your life, you’ll finally see me and not whatever it is that I remind you of, whatever past trauma that has you hesitating when I can feel you wanting to give in. Don’t mistake me respecting your needs as not being interested in you.”
I pause to swallow the dryness in my mouth, the emotion threatening to surface, and then hang my head as I try to cool down.
“If I’ve pushed too much on you, I get it,” I tell her softly. “I can step back. But don’t fucking lie to me about it. Don’t push me away because you think it’s what’s best for me. I can handle the truth. I can handle rejection and waiting however long you need because I’m willing to wait for this. I can wait for you… But I’m not letting you push me out because you think no one can love you.”
A muscle in her jaw feathers as she stares at me. I’m ready to surrender any way she wants me to, even leave this trailer and just do my job. Forget even being her stalker anymore because clearly, I’m hurting her more every time I show up.
I’m hurting her.
She should stay far away from me.
I’m just as bad as them.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that it takes her hand on my cheek to pull me out of the daze. My ears begin to ring when I look at her, my chest warming. Hardly any dark blue remains around her blown pupils. I brace my hand against hers on my face.
“Please don’t push me out,” I say softly.
“Pushing people away is a love language I learned early,” she whispers. “If I push you away, it’s because you mean enough that I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Hurt me,” I almost beg. “Pain is my love language.”
Her gaze moves to my lips as she wraps an arm around my neck and pulls me closer. My forehead hits hers, eyes closing…
“Bonnie…” I’m barely able to catch my breath.
“Don’t think,” she breathes, her lips brushing mine. She kisses me lightly, and my knees weaken at just the soft glimpse. She does it again. Again. Again. And by the fifth time, I’m so weak that I completely forget what we were just talking about.
And without a thought in my head, I kiss her the way I’ve always wanted to kiss her.
I kiss her as if I’m giving her my soul.
And Bonnie…
She kisses me back as if she’s giving me hers.
Kissing her with the mask was only ever a bonus.
Kissing her in that blindfold was only ever a thrill.
This…
Fucking hell, this …
I never want to come up for air.
She kisses as if she’s as distressed about our situation as I am, as if she craves me as much as I do her. A thousand things dare to threaten the escape her lips have given me, each thought determined to pull me out of this moment.
Even so, at the noise of her groaning into my mouth, my mind melts once again.
Bonnie fucking Miller is kissing… me .
Not the mask.
I don’t care that this is more than likely some poor attempt to tell herself that fucking her stalker again meant nothing, that she’s probably trying to disguise her guilt with more sabotage.
I don’t care.
I can’t get enough of her.
I never want to find my way out of this haze. Bury me in the fog of her lips on mine, imprint me in her shadow. I’m nothing without this, without her .
Every part of my body ignites as I pull her up and onto my waist, her legs securing around me. She arches into me and presses a hand to my cheek, her tongue languidly stroking against mine. Shit . I’m weak, spineless…
I wrap my hand around her throat, kissing her hard as I back her onto the nearby table. Her ass hits the top, and I move that hand down her neck, her collar, her chest, my other hand already on her stomach. I need to touch every inch of her, have her naked body against my own.
I need her so fucking badly right now. I need this. I’ve needed this.
I want the memory of my lips all over her skin. I want to savor her in the way I don’t get to at night when everything feels hectic, rushed, and secret. This isn’t the same. This is so fucking new, so much more than anything I could ever give her without her knowing it’s me.
Her knees bend high when I slide my hand beneath the waistband of her shorts and grab her ass. She angles her hips and rolls her body, arching into me and groaning so fucking deliciously. I can feel her fingers working under my shirt, her nails dragging up my stomach. I flinch when she grazes the underside of my breasts, and while a smile lifts her lips, she only moans a sound of approval.
She reaches for the hand I have on her tit and pulls it down to her shorts, her foot shifting onto the table so that she’s completely open to me. One slip of my fingers, and I could have everything. I could have her coming in this trailer, feel her wetness for hours on my digits as we head out to the party.
“Wrap your arms around my neck and lift your ass for me,” I whisper as I move to kiss her throat.
She does as I ask, and I lift her off the table a fraction so that I can get my thumbs beneath her shorts and tights. She’s wearing a pretty little neon green thong that I leave on her to play with. Her lips meet mine as she sits back on the table and lifts her foot again. I find her clit with ease, having touched this beautiful little bundle of nerves so many times before that it’s like coming home.
Her mouth opens against mine, a quiet whimper evacuating it as I begin to play.
And as I slide a finger inside her perfect, soaking cunt, I kiss her jaw and whisper, “The next time your stalker texts you, you can tell her you don’t need her anymore.”
Her chest caves. “ Shit —Oh?” she says, rolling her body against my hand.
She’s so open for me, so fucking aroused and ready for everything I have for her. I slide another finger inside her, deliberately thrusting in and out when I speak.
“She’s a blip resurfacing from your past, and one I plan on helping you leave back there.”
She groans, nails digging into my neck, and I curve my fingers, desperate to find her spot—
A gasp leaves her that makes her knees hike, and I can’t help my smirk on her neck.
“You’re mine now, Bonnie Miller.”
“Oh, fuck —”
I’m holding her by the throat, one of her hands on my wrist, the other on the lip of the table, and I fuck her the way she deserves. Unhurried. Relentlessly. Taken to the edge of tears and given a shallow breath. Each time I feel her pussy tightening around me, I slow just to toy with her. She’s trembling, her cunt making the most beautiful noises. Shit, she’s so wet. I add a third finger and bite along her jaw to her throat.
“ Gemma . Oh my god—I need to—Shit, right there— ”
It’s barely a whimper—perfectly pleading and desperate.
“What do you need?” I ask her.
“I need to come,” she says, her head hanging back. “Please. Keep… right there .”
“Here?” I ask, stroking her again.
She shudders. “Fuck yes,” she begs.
I bring her head back up, kiss her hard, and then wrap my arm around her waist to hold her steady as I quicken my pace, not letting up this time. She sinks her arms around my neck and grips me hard, her mouth open on my neck, teeth imprinting into my skin. Her pussy tightens, her body jerking, and as she comes—tears hitting my shoulder—she screams into the crook of my neck.
Feeling her come around my fingers heals me on a spiritual level.
It’s more than any other time I’ve fucked her with the mask. This is so much different, so much more intimate. I’m exposed in the light with nothing to hide behind, and the response from her is so much more sweet.
She jerks and pushes me as she releases, her body weak and resisting, yet pulling me back all at once. She comes in a gush over my hand, yelping as if she didn’t expect to orgasm so hard.
“Shh. Shh. Shh… I have you,” I tell her. “I have you.”
Her heavy breaths hit my neck. She holds onto me, and I leave my fingers inside her until I feel her pussy slow, then bring them out to drag her release on her thighs. I massage the one, kissing her neck softly, reassuring her that she’s okay.
Eventually, I pull back and push her hair away so I can see her face. Her cheeks are flushed, mascara pressed under her eyes. She’s crying so hard that she has to sniff.
And all I can do is stare and hold her, softly pressing my lips to her face so I can kiss away each tear still lingering behind.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” I whisper.
She exhales an open mouth breath, her cheek rubbing against mine, eyes still closed. “I… Words,” she manages, and I smirk.
Steadying her in front of me, I lean in and kiss her cheek again. “Don’t take this as me pressuring you. Take your time. I can wait for you. But don’t ever fucking push me away again,” I say sternly.
It comes out more threatening than I meant it to, but at the feel of her lips curving, I know it’s the tone she needed to hear.
“That sounds like a threat I want to tempt,” she says.
I straighten and swipe my thumb over her cheek, heart fluttering at her devious smile. “It isn’t,” I say. “You’ve never cried the way I’ll make you cry.”
“I like crying,” she says. “Everyone says I’m pretty when I cry.”
My tongue swipes over my lips, and I huff amusedly. “You’re fucking stunning when you cry,” I manage. “That makes it even harder not to hurt you.”
“What if I want to be hurt?” she asks, her eyes finally opening. “What if I want you to hurt me?”
Shit, her eyes are pretty.
A trembling breath leaves me, and my heart sinks as I think about how betrayed she’s going to feel once I tell her who I really am.
“You don’t have to beg for that,” I say. “I already am.”
Smiling, Bonnie leans in again and nudges my nose with hers, then kisses me once more.
“Does this mean we have to go back to being just friends?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say.
She kisses the corner of my lips, and I turn my face away.
“Why does it have to be all or nothing?” she whispers.
“Because I won’t survive watching you with anyone else,” I rasp.
I tip her chin back when she looks at me, and I can see it in her eyes—the desire for more, the hesitation at giving in entirely.
I kiss her cheek. “It’s okay, Bonnie,” I tell her. “I want to wait for this. I want all of you.”
“No one wants all of me,” she says. “I’m a disaster.”
“You’re my disaster, and I want everything.”
I take a step back then and take her hands to help her off the table. Bonnie slides off, and before she turns to get dressed, she takes off the green thong.
I eye her as she stuffs the soaked, lacy fabric into one of the pockets of my pants.
“What’s this?” I ask, smirking at her.
She shrugs. “I like the idea of you walking around with my underwear in your pocket.”
If only you knew how many times I’ve done that already.
Though, none of the previous pairs had her cum on them.
She grabs her cat onesie from the couch and puts it on without bothering to get another pair of underwear, and the sight makes me shift.
“You can think about this, too,” she says, slapping her own ass.
I feel my eyes flutter, a groan leaving my throat as my tongue darts over my lips. I have to stuff my hands in my pockets just to keep myself from touching her again.
“Flirt,” I tease her.
I push off the wall as she grabs her crossbody bag and make my way to the door.
“Are you going to play tonight?” Bonnie asks. “You can. You can have the night off and just hang out. Foster’s parties are usually dry just because so many of us are recovering assholes,” she says.
I chuckle. “Recovering assholes?” I repeat.
“Ah, yeah. Yeah, that’s the correct term, for sure— Jesus, fucking hell! ”
Bonnie stumbles backward as I open her door, and one glance up lets me know why.
There’s a tall, hot pink, emo bunny standing just at the edge of the steps.
“Motherfucker—” I snap, my heart jumping into my throat when I catch Bonnie.
Reed steps into the light coming from inside the trailer. Bonnie snorts—presumably at his outfit: half hot pink, half black bunny onesie with long ears, paws, and fuzzy slippers, yet I’m too busy catching my breath to do the same.
Reed swoops his shaggy black hair out of his eyes and grins at Bonnie. “Hey kitty cat,” he says slyly.
“Fuck me with a chainsaw— Reed! ” She clutches her chest, straightens out of my grasp, then shoves him. “What the hell, dude? You know you’re too tall to sneak up on people like that.”
“I still don’t understand how everyone doesn’t see me coming,” he says. “My sister says the same thing.” He glances my way, and I swear a twinge of pink rises on his cheeks.
My lips flatten into a thin line. “Have you been listening this entire time? ”
“Ah… Well. You see—” He scratches his head and stares at the ground.
“Really?” Bonnie asks tiredly, hands on her hips. “Reed…”
“Well, I was going to wait by the front, but then I thought you might head over to Foster’s without me, so I figured I would just come here. Then I got here, and you two sounded really fucking intense, and I didn’t know whether to interfere or not, but also things got really steamy, and I knew I should leave, but… so, I just…” He finally looks between us, hands in his pockets. “Sorry. Wren’s been gone for weeks, and I’m really fucking lonely.”
I close the trailer door and sigh. “You’re like a puppy chasing his tail,” I say, and Bonnie snorts.
Reed chuckles sheepishly. “That is what my wife would say,” he agrees.
“Where the hell did you find that onesie?” Bonnie asks as they walk ahead of me.
“Oh, Wren got it for me,” he replies.
“That’s like the most you outfit ever worn. Please fucking tell me you’re wearing it onstage tomorrow,” she says.
“Definitely thinking about it,” he replies. “I have a fishnet top that she brought back from NYC the other week, but I don’t know. This one feels cozy.”
“You look cozy,” Bonnie says.
“I’ll wear mine if you wear yours,” he says, smirking.
She laughs. “Deal.”
I’m fumbling with the thong in my pocket when she peers back at me over her shoulder, that damn smile spread wide over her lips, brightening her eyes in a way that I haven’t seen in a few weeks, and the sight makes me sigh.
I need to wrap this night into a bubble we never have to leave.