Her taste continues to linger on my tongue, imprinted forever at the forefront of my mind. I can still hear the sound of her perfect little moans… god, those moans, so different from the whines that come from her when she’s playing with those toys of hers. I thought I was devoted before… Now, I’ve dug myself into a miserable hole with no intention of taking any rope, ladder, or climbing apparatus out of it.
I’ll die a slow death beneath the dark, moist soil raked crumb by crumb over me and sprout daisies and clover from my decaying body as I whither away waiting on her to climb in this coffin of a daydream with me.
It’s dangerous, the way my craving for her has grown. All I’ve wanted to do these last few days when watching her at night is crawl under the sheets just to lick that perfect cunt again, to slip my ungloved fingers into her and truly feel her wetness around them this time.
Because I’m curious if she’ll be as wet knowing it’s me as she was thinking I was some random stranger.
The thought has my mind running on a continuous wheel, the possibilities now endless. The way she responded to me in the mask… the way she’s stared at me in real life…
I want her to crave both.
I slump back in the driver’s seat of my SUV and slap the steering wheel out of frustration. I’m just getting back to her apartment after driving her and Zeb to Reed and Mads’ studio this morning. It’s a two week sleepover—per orders from Avie, who wants them eating, sleeping, and breathing the new music between festivals to ensure they make their recording deadline.
I introduced them to my partners, Kade and Liam, this morning, then left Liam in charge.
The stay has put a kink in my original plans for Bonnie. Still, at least now I have time to scope out her new neighbors and manage a few things in her apartment without having to look over my shoulder.
The moving van parked out front of the Twin Stars Luxury Apartments caught me off guard this morning. The space one door down from her has been vacant for about a month now, and I’m surprised it’s taken this long to get someone in there—especially as the previous tenant was rarely there because of business travel.
I glance down at the dossier Kade made me on the new neighbors. It’s such little information that something about it doesn’t sit right. Even so, it wouldn’t be the first time someone used an alias for an apartment here in LA. Even Bonnie uses an alias—Dolly Daydream.
The first time I saw it, I almost laughed. She loved the name Dolly in high school.
The picture of the man renting the place was pulled from social media. I’ve never been one to judge a person simply based on appearances of whether they’re harmless or not. In my experience, more than half of the worst ones looked whollyinnocent, especially the ones I once tracked down for more powerful people.
Still, this guy doesn’t even have a parking ticket on his record.
It irks me, and I make a mental note to ask Kade if there’s any way to see into the guy’s apartment. I’d break in if it meant keeping Bonnie safe; however, I’ve walked into enough situations in the past to know going in blind is never a good idea.
Maybe I can catch him outside just to make sure his picture matches.
As the movers lift out a large white sofa, my phone rings. I let it ring for a few moments, too preoccupied with trying to figure out if any of the movers or men on the sidewalk are the neighbor.
I need to get closer.
“Go for Gem,” I answer my phone, not bothering to check who’s calling.
“—no, I’m telling her—Hey, Gemma,” the deep-voiced person on the other side says. “It’s Zeb. I need a favor.”
“Do not—it’s fine!She hasn’t been back—” I hear Bonnie saying in the background.
I shift in my seat. “Hey, Zeb. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything is good here. We’re locked away and only opening the door for takeout,” he says.
I snicker at the annoyance in his tone. “Yeah, I know it’s frustrating. Is Liam still outside?”
“He’s the bear, right?” Zeb asks.
A snort leaves me at the description. “I believe that is what his husband calls him, yes. That’s Liam.”
“Yeah, he’s out there,” he replies. “You don’t have to leave us with a babysitter all the time.”
“Your manager is on my ass,” I say. “And yours. Probably in both our best interests not to piss him off.”
“Yeah, I’m sure Mads did that when he called to tell him we were changing directions for the cover,” he mutters. “Hey, listen—”
“Make sure you tell her to check windows, too,” I hear Reed say.
