You could never hurt me.
“How do you know I won’t hurt you?” I ask.
Her throat bobs when our eyes meet, and I straighten, mirroring her.
“Do you want to?” she asks hoarsely. “Hurt me, I mean.”
I know exactly what she means.
My eyes drift to her throat, to the shoulder that I know has my teeth print on it. She’s never been more alluring than right now—sitting vulnerably in my hoodie, her legs crossed over one another, eyes boring into mine like she can read my thoughts.
It makes me weak because the answer to that question is a resounding yes. I want to hurt her. I want to ride the line between pleasure and pain with her. I want her to feel me crawling my way into her bones. I need to feel her heartbeat slow beneath my fingertips, just to be the reason it thrives once again.
I clear my throat. “As my client, it’s my job to make sure youdon’tget hurt,” I say.
“And if I wasn’t your client?” she asks.
Our eyes lock for a beat. I can’t seem to breathe as the blue in her eyes all but disappears.
“Yes,” I breathe. “If you’re into that kind of thing.”
She blinks, and I swear the breath she takes in is just as jagged as my own.
“I guess that means you’re fired,” she tells me.
I huff, the corners of my lips curving upward. “You wouldn’t find better than me.”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” she says.
Goddamnit.
Bonnie fucking Miller.
My insides are fluttering as if someone let a thousand moths loose in my veins. Her eyes wander over me in such a way that it feels like she’s already imagining me naked beneath her. I resist shifting in my seat, resist moving even though I’m desperate for some kind of friction on my aching pussy.
“Is this the part when the predator becomes the prey?” I ask her.
It’s her turn to smile, and it’s the most sultry, devious smile I’ve ever seen on anyone.
“Is that how you’re feeling right now?” she asks.
“A little, yeah,” I admit.
She laughs, and god, I want to fucking bathe in that laugh.
“If you were just another prey, I’d already be straddling your lap,” she tells me. “I’d already be kissing you… touching you… you’d have your hands on me beneath this very warm hoodie, and we wouldn’t last five minutes before moving to that couch.”
I’m heated at the fantasy. “What does that make this, then?” I manage.
She draws her bottom lip behind her teeth and looks me over again. “Well, you keep playing the ‘client’ card, so I guess that makes this the long game.”
I smile softly. “Dinner,” I say, remembering her request.
Bonnie chuckles. “Dinner.”
A ding sounds on my watch, and I realize I completely forgot about what’s going on just a floor below us.
“Oh, shit,” Bonnie says as if she’s just remembering it, too. “Fuck, I bet they’re likewhere the hell did you go?”
