Girl Trouble (2 page)

For a moment Bonita thought she was safe. Then Kat’s lush curves trapped her against the door. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed our games. You’ve always been my most responsive audience.”

“Kat,” Bonita began, her voice leaden with warning, but she couldn’t get another word out before Kat pushed away from her.

“Don’t.” Kat turned her back and walked to the wide stairway that seemed to extend to the heavens. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

Excitement burned in Kat’s eyes, but Bonita also sensed loneliness and a black weariness that broke her heart. She could ignore an insult and resist a dare, but she could never walk away when Kat truly needed her. At this moment, Kat could have been asking her to join her in hell, and Bonita would have said yes, just to keep her company.

Tough Kat. Beautiful Kat. Selfish Kat.

Bonita had watched her transformation from afar, driven back every so often, yes, just like that dumbass moth after the flame, to get the thrill that only Kat could give her. And every time Bonita had subsequently run like hell. She was as captivated by Kat’s unbelievable beauty as the rest of the world, but she had never been fooled into believing her harmless façade.

Bonita stepped forward and took the hand Kat offered. Desire juxtaposed with fear rushed through her. It was a heady mix, especially when it was followed by the sure knowledge that nothing short of nuclear war could stop them from making love.

Match lit.

The unique scent of jasmine and musk washed over her. She caught the edge of liquor on Kat’s breath, rising from her skin. Bonita’s eyelids dipped shut for a moment, instant memory heating her skin.

“What?” Kat’s voice was husky.

“You smell like booze, like you did the night of my parents’ funeral.”

“I raided your liquor cabinet while I was waiting for you. Took you forever to get home.”

Their progress up the stairs was slow, arms linked, hips bumping with every step, as if having made the physical connection they were afraid to stop touching each other.

“What made you wait for me at the house that night?” Bonita probed.

Kat stopped at the top of the stairs. Irritation made her eyes flash like black diamonds. “You were dead on your feet at the funeral home.” Kat shrugged off her poor choice of words. “You needed someone to come home to. I wanted it to be me. Your chaste little funeral suit was driving me crazy, anyway. I couldn’t go back to California without seeing what you had on under that boring black suit.”

“You might have considered wearing a little black yourself,” Bonita said.

“I did!”

“Underwear doesn’t count.”

“The red dress was too much? People expect that shit from a movie star. I can get away with it.”

“Kitty Kat—” the pet name had slipped out, “—I hate to remind you, but you were hardly a movie star back then. I had to make excuses to about fifty aunts for your flaming scarlet ensemble. My parents would have flipped.”

“Exactly.”

Bonita held up a hand. “Stop—I’m sorry I brought it up.”

Kat laughed and lazily tugged the band from Bonita’s hair. A bolt of pure liquid lust hit her in the knees as Kat’s fingers feathered over her cheek.

“Come on.” Kat dragged her down the hall into an enormous bedroom. She ignored the giant four-poster bed in the middle of the room and pulled Bonita over to the closet.

Kat unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Get in.”

“Is this a lesbian joke?” Bonita asked.

“Not even close, sweetie. I did warn you. Three years is a long time to make a girl wait.”

“Kat, I’m not going to let you lock me in a closet to get revenge for unreturned phone calls.”

“It isn’t a closet. Get in.” Kat hit the light switch on the wall.

Intrigued, Bonita walked forward. Beyond the double-hung rack of designer clothes, Bonita could see space and a dim light. “What have you got back here? Narnia?” She pushed the clothes aside. Kat crowded in behind her and pulled the door shut, urging Bonita through the tiers of clothes.

“Keep going,” Kat said.

The softly lit room behind the closet was approximately fifteen by twenty feet, modest dimensions for the walk-in closet of a clothes-hound movie star. However, it was far from a traditional closet. A wall-mounted rack held a variety of feathers, paddles and crops, and next to it, a wooden coat tree was strung with a rainbow of lingerie.

A flat-screen TV took up most of another wall, and the room was furnished with bondage equipment. A freestanding sex swing dominated one corner. In the opposite corner a huge vinyl cushion, roughly the size of a twin mattress, called to Bonita like the surface of a shiny black lake. It was one of the most expensive, and most popular, items sold at Come Again. Just seeing it made her want to lie down on its double-curved surface, spread her legs, and fit her wrists and ankles into the cuffs. But the thing that really held her attention was the padded black leather table in the center of the room.

“You have a dungeon in your closet.”

“Uh-huh.”

Bonita bit her lower lip, crossed her arms and pressed her legs together to staunch the rising flood between her thighs. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You can save the good-girl act, Beauty. A couple months ago, I got to thinking…when was the last time we saw each other? After Dr. Freud—
not
—put his hand on your thigh, right? The year before that you called me after that fake Tantra guru made a move on you, too, right? And what kick were you on before Tantric sex?”

“Yoga.”

“Right, yoga. I learned a lot when I was home at the beginning of the summer. I was planning to force you to see me, but I guess you knew that since you left town. It seemed a little strange that after nine years of pretty regular hookups, you’d refuse to see me three years in a row. Luckily, I found your haunting ground…with a little help from your friends. If you think it’s fun to play at Johnny’s club, just wait until you see what I have in store for you. I’ve done a ton of research. I can give you what you want, darling.” Kat moved toward her, forcing her into the dimly lit space.

It was ironic that Kat had latched on to kink as a way to entice her when Bonita had been using BDSM to stifle her craving for Kat. It had almost worked, too. Of all the demanding practices she had adopted after Kat had started getting really famous, submission had kept her satisfied the longest. With an experienced Domme, Bonita could feel a shadow of what she felt with Kat.

“Beauty? Are you game or not?” Kat asked.

Kat stood in front of her, a breath away, black eyes snapping, warm flesh beckoning, secret heart begging for her answer.
So easy to give.

She nodded.

“Good.” Kat raised her hand to Bonita’s cheek. Her thumb caressed Bonita’s lower lip, pulling her mouth slightly open. “I built this room for you because I know how you feel about keeping our secret. I knew you would want me to be discreet. Otherwise, I’d have put all this stuff in the middle of the living room.” She winked. “I guess you got my message when the room was ready?”
A husky whisper, a lighthearted challenge.
Kat brought her other hand to rest on Bonita’s collarbone, exposed above the scooped neck of her shirt, and pushed her gently toward the table.

Bonita’s knees felt weak, and for a moment she considered sinking straight to the floor. She had craved Kat for so long it was painful to be near her.

“Are you ready? It’s only fair to warn you I won’t be gentle. You’ve made me wait too long, and I’m a little pissed off.” Kat’s smile was full of anticipation. “If my sources are correct, you like it rough. You’ll get it.”

Kat in full-on Domme mode was awesome. She radiated control and leashed sexuality, standing with her shoulders pulled back and her breasts thrust forward, the proud beads of her nipples visible through her thin tank.

“Take off your shirt,” Kat commanded.

Nervousness clashed with anticipation. “I thought you wanted to play our game.”

“I don’t feel like playing a childish game right now. Take off your shirt, Beauty. If you make me take it off you, it won’t be wearable anymore.”

Bonita crossed her arms and drew her shirt over her head.

“Now your jeans. Keep your underwear on.” She felt Kat’s gaze on her breasts as she unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them over her hips. When her ankles were free of the denim, Bonita stood up straight, meeting Kat’s eyes. She had worn white, as was befitting her role as peacemaker—a white flag of truce, taking the form of a very elegant silk bra-and-panty set. It was innocent-looking, almost girlish in style, but the fabric was nearly transparent.

“Very nice.” Amusement broke Kat’s arrogant pose.

Bonita wondered if she was thinking of their first time together, when Bonita had been wearing a similarly simple ensemble made of plain white cotton. Kat reached out and rubbed one finger over the rosy outline of Bonita’s nipple, pressing hard against the silk. Bonita caught her breath as Kat used both hands to cup her breasts, roughly flicking her thumbs over the tight peaks.

“Turn around and put your hands on the table.”

Bonita obeyed quickly this time, glad of the chance to hide her expression. Kat was starting to get to her. She could smell fear, mixed with her own scent heating the air around her. She felt Kat touch her knees, push them apart, then run her hand up the inside of her thigh to clasp the crotch of her panties.

“Mmm…fabulous.” Kat rubbed, pressing her middle finger firmly into the soaked material.

“I’ve been traveling all day,” Bonita said weakly. “I haven’t showered.”

Kat pressed harder. “Don’t be silly. I want to taste your whole day. Your whole week. I want to feast on every fucking year that has passed since I felt you like this, wet from wanting me.”

Her hand dipped to the side and slipped under Bonita’s panties, fingers moving through her swollen heat, stoking the fire, rubbing hard. Bonita was already mindless. Only Kat could do that to her, take her up high and fast, make her come so suddenly it was like being pulled down a river by a merciless current and then falling over a high waterfall. She began to whimper low in her throat as she rode Kat’s hand, rocking her pelvis back and forth as her head pressed against the leather table between her hands.

She moaned as Kat tugged on her clit and held it.

“No. Not that fast, Beauty. You need some punishment first. I’m still annoyed about last summer. And the summer before that. And before that.” Kat withdrew her hand, making Bonita whimper. “I’m looking forward to watching my handprints spread across your ass.” Kat’s hands skated over her back, unfastening her bra and pulling it out from under her. She felt warm skin touch her buttocks, her thighs and the length of her back as Kat leaned over her, pressing her to the bench. “Mmm. You feel great.”

The restraint closed over Bonita’s right wrist before she could process what was happening. She had been focused on Kat’s smooth, hard belly pressed against her lower back, Kat’s breasts against her shoulder blades, registering the fact that Kat was now naked too.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was rough.

“Getting creative. Be quiet. You have been very bad, and I am going to use these handy Velcro cuffs to spread you facedown across this wicked little table. It’s amazing what you can find on the Internet these days.”

Now that Bonita was paying attention, she recognized the portable bondage bench to which she was now secured. It wasn’t a model sold at Come Again, too extreme for most of her customers, but Bonita had considered purchasing it for personal use. It was a sturdy model, fully adjustable to a variety of deviant sexual activities.

Kat dealt with her left wrist with equal efficiency. Each cuff was attached to a soft rope. As Kat pulled the ropes taut, Bonita craned her neck to see them. Japanese silk. Of course. Only the best for Kat.

“Shift your weight forward and spread your legs.” Kat pulled Bonita’s panties down to her ankles and lifted her feet out of them. Bonita felt more restraints tighten around her ankles until she was tied, bent over, buck naked and immobilized, at the mercy of the only person on the planet who could hurt her.

But would Kat dare?

Yes.

The first crack caught her right buttock, hard enough to make her eyes water. Naturally Kat would be good at this. She was good at everything.

“That was for screening my calls.” Kat’s voice was laced with dark satisfaction.

The second sharp blow hit Bonita’s left buttock, and she gritted her teeth, bracing herself against the ropes attached to her ankles.

“And that one was for hanging up every time I answered my cell. You could have at least said hello and let me hear your voice. I’m tempted to stop here, with your lovely ass marked by two perfect handprints—my signature, if you will—but I’m not feeling any better yet. I think I’ll feel better when I start to hear you.”

Bonita heard the sound of curtain rings reeling across a rod.

“There we go. We’re soundproofed now. Let me hear your sweet voice.”

Bonita couldn’t see her, but she could feel Kat standing behind her. Kat’s hand fell again, and Bonita cried out. This role suited Kat to a tee. She played it so well, it was hard to believe that she hadn’t been practicing for years, projecting anger and enjoyment in equal measure, danger at war with strength and control.
Pleasure. Pain. Desire.
This was their game. Kat the actress, Bonita the audience, but she had never been this helplessly enthralled.