Page 6 of Bait Me
“Men too?” I ask, surprised by that.
“Yes, Bonnie. I’m not fucking close-minded.”
“Sorry,” I say quietly, feeling a little foolish that my brain doesn’t seem to be engaging before my mouth speaks.
“I would never put anyone in danger, ever. And if there is even a slight risk of it, then I nip it in the bud. The background checks I run are more in depth than the fucking FBI, so when I tell you I have a trustworthy client, then I mean they are trustworthy.”
“I need time to think,” I say, needing him away from me so I can try and make sense of what the hell is happening.
“Think…” he mutters, and then, out of nowhere, he’s taking hold of me and turning me around, so I’m back facing the wall.
“What the—” I begin, but am cut off by his chest being flush against my back, his fingers running along the side of my leg, at the hem of my very short skirt.
“You need time to think?” he questions, his fingers tracing the hem, until they’re making circles on the front of my thigh. “I told you I was a persuasive man, Bonnie,” he continues, as he kicks my feet apart a little more, so his fingers can run up the inside of my thigh… and I’m not stopping him because?
Because it feels fucking good. Naughty. Forbidden. Taboo. And I can’t find it in me to tell him to stop.
His fingers are so close to my pussy, so very fucking close that I hitch a breath, my body betraying me when my arse pushes against him. His answering chuckle that rumbles deep in his chest makes my skin tingle, and then his finger swipes up the middle of my knickers, my lace knickers that are already wet. Damn.
“You won’t be expected to do anything you don’t want to do,” he says, another delicious swipe of his finger making me rest my cheek against the wall, the coldness of the brick doing nothing to cool the flush heating my face.
“You hold all the cards, Bonnie,” he whispers, his lips right by my ear as his finger dips beneath my knickers and he finds my sweet spot, an embarrassing moan leaving me as I close my eyes. He’s giving me an out, telling me I don’t have to do anything against my will, and for the life of me I don’t have it in me to stop this as his finger lightly circles my clit and all thoughts of how wrong this is leaving my mind. I don’t care about anything other than him getting me off… against this wall… in this side street. His body encases me, his finger working at the perfect speed, him upping the tempo when my breathing changes, like he can read my mind for what I need. And when he pushes his finger inside me, his thumb taking over the circling of my clit, my legs tremble, my orgasm rocking through me.
Fuck.
“You have twenty-four hours to make up your mind,” he says, removing his hands from my knickers before he pushes off the wall and turns to walk away from me, leaving me propped against the wall in the aftermath of what just happened.
“Is that it? You give me small bits of information and an orgasm, and I’m supposed to decide by tomorrow night?” I manage to say to his back, my inner annoyance trying to come to life but being sedated by the fact that I just came on this man’s hand.
“Correct. I’ll see you soon, Bonnie.” And with that, he walks away, leaving me feeling like I’ve landed in a bizarre dream that makes no sense.
Chapter Five
BONNIE
Laying on the sofa at Sadie’s, I replay what happened with Darius over in my head, again and again and again. In fact, I’ve not really been able to think about much else. The way he turned from a guy who used to date my sister into someone that exudes power, wealth and rocks a suit better than any man I’ve ever seen is messing with my mind, not to mention that he gave me the most intense and exciting orgasm I’ve ever had. And after replaying the whole bizarre scenario, I have deduced that Kelly really did have no idea what Darius did for a living, and I’m pretty sure she never saw past his handsome face and hunky bod, because she’d have eaten that shit up like breakfast. She’d have been flaunting his wealth and been pushing him to put a ring on it, because that’s who she is. Materialistic. Always has been, and I doubt she’ll ever change. Do I feel bad for thinking these things of my sister? Not at all. Not when it is the God’s honest truth. We’ll never be close, I’m nothing like her and my mother, and I wouldn’t want to be either. I have no desire to build my life around fancy things that mean nothing. I want to build a life where shit matters, and I don’t mean the price tag of a car or what a surgeon can do to keep my face young. I mean experiencing true love, being wanted, being valued, something my family have never given me.
A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts, and my eyes fly to the clock on the wall.
No, it can’t be him.
He wouldn’t know that I was here.
He has no idea about my life.
But those words… “Twenty-four hours…”
I shake my head and laugh at myself, feeling utterly ridiculous for believing Darius would show up here, like some kind of stalker man looking to seal the deal. Okay, stalker might be a bit overdramatic, but it’s the first comparison that comes to mind. And then I laugh again when I see that Sadie’s keys are hanging by the front door, so it will be her coming home from wherever she’s been. I didn’t want to ask where she was going after I made a tit of myself last night in the bar, and she didn’t divulge much. I know she’s a little pissed at me for causing a scene in front of her boss, but we’ll talk in the next day or two, hash it out, and then we’ll crack open a bottle of wine and toast to how funny we are… once we’re pissed, of course.
“Coming,” I shout as I get up and walk to the door, opening it with a smile on my face, one that is quickly wiped off when I see that it isn’t Sadie stood there, but it is, in fact, Darius. Fuck my life. Could this be more of a cliché moment? Me thinking it was him, only to tell myself how silly I was being, for it then to actually be him. Fucking ridiculous. You couldn’t write this shit.
“Good evening, Bonnie,” he rumbles, his deep voice already fucking rolling over me and making me feel a little light-headed. Jesus Christ, it can get more cliché than I originally thought. “Are you going to invite me in?” he asks, to which I quickly reply, “Uh, no.”
“Quite the hostess, I see,” he says with a chuckle. Smug, delicious bastard making my pussy wake up and throw a damn pre-party at the thought of him coming in here and having his wicked way with me. I need to stop with these thoughts. If my sister were to find out I was fantasising about her ex, she would throw the biggest bitch fit of all time, and with good reason, obviously. Because even as we dislike each other, there is still a code to follow… a code I’ve already broken… fuck.
“I’m not going anywhere, Bonnie, so you might as well let me in so we can move this along,” he tells me, seeming unfazed by my abrupt greeting.
I cross my arms over my chest, one eyebrow hooking up at his cockiness, but then I see his eyes shift down briefly, where my arms are pushing my boobs up, giving him a good eyeful of my cleavage poking out of my vest top. Shit. I quickly drop my arms and put them on my hips instead, and I don’t miss the smirk that graces his full lips.
