21. Biting Bonnets
Biting Bonnets
Bianca
Hiss.
My ears perk up, but I keep my chin tipped toward the late morning sun.
Hiss.
The hell?
Hiss.
My sunglasses are off.
Either the snake JLo and Ice Cube battled in the is in the courtyard, or a sprinkler is about to piss me off.
Do you know the effort it took to squeeze myself and an inflatable lounger into this fountain?
The thing can’t bend corners and is thinner than the piece of wood Rose hogged, but I’m floating.
I’m barely moving, but it floats. I pretend the central water fixture is the Gulf of Naples, where I’m supposed to be.
The hiss slithers to a slow gurgle. Fountain water sloshes at my ankles, then at my knees.
“What is this?!”
The inflatable lounger tilts left, then right, before it wilts, sinking my ass with it. My arms splash and my legs scrape the concrete. Scissoring with no happy ending. Water drowns my pajamas and fills my bonnet.
Alfred picked up my pool accessory after a day of begging. I didn’t care if I used it as a blanket on the grass. I’m on vacation. It’s brand new and shouldn’t have any holes.
It—
Benny.
“That motherfucker.”
What kind of bastard kills a pool lounger?
Benny has been a special kind of petty this week, doing the most to get me to talk to him. Everything Alfred said about him being “reasonable” went out the window the second he took my snacks and the batteries from my remote.
Fuckery is afoot, and Salvatore Bennici will see me.
I storm down the hall, barefoot and soaking wet. If Benny wants to act childish? Baby, I’ll take it to recess.
The door to his study bounces off the wall.
Is it smart to poke a bear? No, but it’s warranted if Yogi has been fucking up your hard-earned vacation while stealing your good snacks.
Behind the black lacquered desk in this black-ass room is a smug crime boss in a maroon suit.
“You’ve got some nerve, dickhead,” I snap.
Did he get a haircut?
Doesn’t matter.
“I should rip your balls from your throat.”
His shoulder lifts. “Try it.”
Without an ounce of fear, I march around his desk to give him the business.
“I hate you.”
Benny sucks my ear. “Your pussy says otherwise.”
My cheek slides against his desk from the force of his hand around the back of my neck and his punishing thrusts. I would make a joke about hardwood, but I’m a little out of breath at the moment.
Giving him the business somehow turns into receiving every inch he pumps into me. There’s a lesson here, but it’s hard to learn when half of my body is bent over paperwork. Benny took one look at me before he pounced. His mouth was on every part of my body he could kiss and lick.
So that’s how I ended up in this predicament with soaked pajama shorts around my ankles.
Oh, and about that bear? Don’t poke it.
Smack.
Benny gives no warning when he sinks his teeth into my bonnet. Did this man just bite a hole through the fabric?
My breath sputters at the weight of his chest pressing into my back. Our fingers thread and he groans. Hieroglyphs spot my vision as his pace quickens.
“You miss me?”
Is he talking to me or my pussy?
“You and that fucking mouth come into my office after not speaking to me for days,” he grunts. His pace changes to long strokes. “But you know what?”
“Hmblfst,” I respond.
“Your defiance makes my dick hard.”
And hard it is.
A low laugh rattles his muscles, vibrating along my spine. His loafers nudge my legs apart.
Smack.
I’m on my tiptoes. Benny kneads my ass before pulling out to flip me over. His gaze threatens the air in my lungs as his hands splay over the desk. Soft pecks coat my lips as he sucks.
“The sooner you give in, the faster you’ll go home,” he says through slow body rolls, his forehead against mine. “Help me identify the rats among me. Whatever you want is yours.”
I shudder.
“You want adventure, Trouble? Let me give it to you.”
With a kiss on my forehead, he licks my mouth and grinds harder. “Say yes,” he commands, like negotiating a business deal during sex is normal. Maybe it is for him.
“Just say yes.” He cradles me to his chest and thrusts deeper, my arousal soaking his suit pants.
“I want,” I pant, clawing at his chest. “One million euros to fund the consultancy I want to start.”
“Is that a yes?” He teases my clit.
Oh, this bastard doesn’t play fair.
Against my better judgment, I shout, “Yes, I’ll help you!” through violent screams.
Benny growls as he spills into the condom. His arms tighten across my shirt. “I accept. You start tonight.”
What have I gotten myself into?