“I’m right here, asshole,” Gemma says, taking the phone from my hand. “She’s done giving you these five seconds of attention that you jerk off to every few days. We are done. If you come near us, don’t think either of us will hesitate to put you where you belong.”
“And where’s that?”
“Pushing fucking daisies,” she sneers.
He laughs.
The noise curdles my blood, rage-filled tears lining my eyes.
“See you soon, ladies,” he taunts.
“You can fucking bet on it,” Gemma says.
The phone call ends, and as I start to crash, scream, and writhe, Gemma wraps her arms around me so tightly that every twist and jostle is stifled. She’s saying something, but the noise is distant in my ears. I feel sand beneath my knees. I sink my head into the crook of her neck, thinking I’m about to start sobbing from the anger in my bones; however, her arms and embrace help even out my breaths. She doesn’t let me go, doesn’t let up the pressure, and only when I can hear the ocean again do I notice her whispering in my ear, “I have you. I have you,”over and over.
But now, I have her, too.
And nothing is going to jeopardize that.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
BONNIE
My dad allowedus to order pizza from the Italian place down the street. I chuckled and hugged him tightly when he started talking about processed foods. Eventually, Zeb offered him a smoke on the balcony, and they retired there for much of the evening to chat about our political hellscape.
Gemma and I eventually withdraw from the living room where Mads, Andi, Wren, and Reed are curled up watching a horror movie—well, halfway watching it. The only one actively awake is Mads.
I tug a strand of his wavy hair when I pass him by, affectionately telling him goodnight, and he manages to pinch my wrist in response.
I’m trying not to think about the phone call. The entire afternoon has been one big distraction, and I don’t want it to stop.
I flop face-first onto the bed the second the door clicks behind us. The mattress swallows my groans. “So tired,” I grunt.
Gemma slides her hands up my back, gently squeezing my muscles. Another defeated noise leaves me, and she bends down to kiss my shoulder.
“I’m going to fuck you on your throne, rockstar,” she says, the words a vibration in my ear.
I close my eyes as she slides her hands down my sides, lifts my shirt, and begins kissing my spine.
“Watching you work there today… Every time I see you sitting behind that kit onstage... It does something to me,” she breathes.
She pulls my shorts up by the waist, wedging the seam between my ass cheeks. Her hips drive into my bare ass, and an elongated groan leaves me.
“Shh…” she reminds me.
“They’ve heard me before, trust me,” I grunt.
Because,god, the things we used to do in front of one another during that first tour would terrify any regular person.
“They’ve never heard you like this,” she seems to promise.
She’s probably right.
I practically melt into the mattress as she continues kissing down my back. I feel her warmth shift as she lowers herself, fingers grasping the bottom of my shorts. Another pitiful noise leaves me. She curls her fingers into my ass cheeks and pulls them up and apart. I flinch as her tongue slides over the thin fabric.
“Fuck, Gemma,” I mumble into the sheets.
She presses her thumb to my center and drags it up and down my pussy as she concentrates her mouth on the material covering my hole. I can’t help wiggling my ass a fraction, and the motion garnishes me a hard slap in response.
