Girl Trouble (3 page)

She whimpered as Kat methodically worked her hand over her ass. The sharp, stinging slaps brought every nerve ending in her body to life. She arched her back, wiggling as much as the silk ropes would allow, trying to control where each slap would land. She was dying for one to hit her where she wanted to be hit, squarely between the legs. Her clit was ready, her pussy so wet she knew if Kat’s palm landed there, it would sound like she was slapping a puddle.

A glancing blow landed between her buttocks, and she screamed in frustration as Kat’s laugh rang out behind her.

The blows stopped.

A maddeningly gentle hand caressed the cleft between her cheeks. “Not enjoying it anymore? Tell me what you want, darling, and I’ll see if I’m in the mood to give it to you.”

Bonita’s breath came in rough pants, but she didn’t speak.

“Still won’t talk to me, huh? Well, that makes it easy. I know what
I
want. I want you to scream my name. I want to make you come so hard you never want to leave me again. You’re here, and you’re mine.” Kat whispered directly into her ear, “So tell me, darling, what
is
your safe word?” Her mocking laugh made Bonita shiver.

Kat reached between Bonita’s thighs and stroked her. She tensed as Kat slipped one finger inside, teasing her. Another finger joined the first, and Kat began to fuck her in a steady rhythm. Bonita teetered on the edge of orgasm, close, so close.

“Tell me your safe word,” Kat demanded.

“I can’t.” The words broke free from Bonita’s throat with a groan. Kat wouldn’t understand. She had to come up with a word, but she couldn’t think with Kat inside her. Kat’s fingers slowed, then stopped.

“Please,” Bonita begged.

“Tell me your safe word,” Kat said again. “Tell me—or I’ll leave you alone, just like this. For hours.”

Of course Kat wouldn’t leave her tied up, but Bonita struggled against the ropes anyway, afraid Kat would end their play. Bonita had come so far to be with her. They couldn’t stop now. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe Kat wouldn’t care. “Kat…” she whispered.

“I’m leaving, Beauty.”

“No! It’s
Kat
…my safe word is
Kat
. It’s you, but most people think I mean the animal. Cat.”

“Jesus Christ,” Kat breathed, and released her. Her shock hit Bonita like a shower of ice water. The playful, dominating tension Kat had been projecting disappeared, leaving Bonita feeling empty and cold.

“Oh, God, what are we going to do?” Kat’s hand rested gently on the top of Bonita’s back as she leaned to untie the wrist restraints. Bonita sagged against the bench while Kat bent to untie her ankles. “Are you telling me that with all your lovers, Mistresses, Dommes, whatever, when things get too rough for you, you invoke my name and call it quits? My name means
stop
to you?”

Bonita nodded.

“I don’t even want to think about the psychological implications of that. I wanted to please you. I thought you’d like the closet dungeon I created for you. I wanted it to bring you back to me.”

Bonita stood to face her. “I’m here, Kat. I’m sorry.” Even like this, naked and vulnerable, she could feel the fine hairs on her body strain to touch Kat’s skin. When their breasts touched, electric pinpoints of desire shot through her, and her pussy, temporarily dashed by shame, flamed again. She raised her hands, buried them in Kat’s wild, fragrant hair and pulled her close. Kat’s skin was smooth and buttery, so comfortable, silky and warm, full of memories.

Kat sighed. “I can’t resist you. You know I can’t, but you make me crazy. I don’t want to hurt you.”

The balance between them shifted, and the need that had carried Bonita to Los Angeles blossomed again. She dropped her head to Kat’s breasts and pushed them together, kneading the soft curves and caressing Kat’s nipples with her fingertips. They were arrogant, rosy peaks, daring her to suck them. She drew one into her mouth, loving the way it flipped back and forth under the firm strokes of her tongue. Kat’s low groan of delight sent bolts of pleasure to her pussy, sharp rockets of hot sensation.

Bonita slid her hand down Kat’s taut belly, enjoying the hard muscle under the silk of her tanned skin. Lower, she cupped Kat’s perfectly bare pussy. Bonita couldn’t imagine what it would take to get that smooth, but it felt like satin to her fingertips. She found Kat’s clit and rubbed, swirling her index finger around and around.

“Harder.” Kat widened her stance and began to rock her hips into Bonita’s hand.

She dropped to her knees and buried her face between Kat’s open thighs, reaching out with her tongue, searching through her soft, wet folds for the tight pearl she had just been teasing with her finger. Bonita found it, trapped it, sucked it into her mouth and began a teasing flutter with her tongue.

“I said harder,” Kat demanded. She held Bonita’s head in her hands, grasping her tightly by the roots of her hair. “Make me come.”

She bathed Kat’s clit in a series of hard strokes and swirls, and Kat surrendered as she did everything else: completely, gorgeously and just a little selfishly. She rode Bonita’s face, pulling her mouth into her pussy, thrusting against her tongue.

Kat began to moan louder, and Bonita responded to the signal by braiding three fingers together and thrusting them into her. “Yes…God, yes.” Kat’s body gripped her fingers as she cried out her pleasure.

Finally, the spasms that pulsed against her fingers stopped, and Kat stilled on her tongue. She pulled Bonita to her feet, kissing her deeply. Heat pooled in her belly as Kat licked her lips and drew a deep breath, let it go and drew another one, shaking her head back and forth as if to clear it. Slowly her eyes opened, and a wicked smile stole across her lips. “Your turn.”

The scent of Kat was around her, on her. She was so aroused, she was afraid she might come from a single touch. None of her Mistresses had ever been able to affect Bonita like this, but Kat did it effortlessly, without even trying. She didn’t even know she was doing it.

Kat grabbed her hips and walked her back to the edge of the leather table. She trapped her there, one hand cupping her mound while the other pulled her into a kiss. Bonita convulsed, climaxing in quick, fierce spasms. She wrapped her arms around Kat’s tan, smooth shoulders, holding on for dear life. Frantically, she caressed Kat’s back, grabbing handfuls of tight curves, massaging, squeezing, desperate to calm the monster inside her that was begging for more, begging to give more.

“You’re holding out on me.” Kat slipped several fingers inside her, stretching her. At the same time, she rubbed her thumb against Bonita’s clit, causing tiny, concentrated bursts of fire to shoot through her limbs. Her orgasm, barely subsided, began to build again.

Kat hooked a hand under her arm and grabbed Bonita’s hair, forcing her head back. “My name is no longer your safe word. Got it? I don’t want you to say my name when you’ve had enough. I want you to say my name when you want more.”

She released Bonita’s hair and reached between their bodies to grasp Bonita’s nipple with her fingers, sharp nails digging into the flesh of her areola. Slowly Kat increased the pressure until Bonita gasped. She pulled Bonita’s nipple, lifting her breast away from her body, and the pressure, the pain and the edge of uncertainty held her on the brink of orgasm.

“Come on, Beauty, say my name,” Kat coaxed.

Kat began to move her fingers in and out of Bonita’s body in short, sharp thrusts. The friction was unbearably arousing, bringing her closer and closer to climax. Kat’s thumb flicked harder, faster. “Say it!”

Exquisite pain fired her nipples and shot through clit, making her bite her lip and whimper as Kat continued to thrust into her. She stopped breathing, hypnotized by the concentration in Kat’s black eyes as she stroked her G-spot. A hot waterfall of pleasure built, forcing her higher on a steep wave that would surely send her crashing.

“Now.” Kat’s voice was implacable. “Say it.”

Three years of training were hard to break, but Kat had owned her for longer than that.

“Kat,” Bonita whispered from the back of her throat as her world imploded.

Chapter Two

Kat felt weightless, as if she were drifting in the eye of a hurricane, anchored only by Bonita’s fingers, tangled with hers as they lay side by side on the plush carpet.

“I need a shower,” Bonita said.

“Sure. As soon as I can move, I’ll fill the tub for us.”

“Um, I think your staff might have a few questions about that. Why don’t you show me where my room is, and I’ll meet you downstairs later?”

“No way.” Kat wasn’t in the mood to be alone. “I don’t give a crap what my staff thinks. I don’t pay them to think. I pay them to do their jobs. Don’t you worry ’bout a thing.” She stood and reached down to pull Bonita to her feet. “Wait until you see my bathroom. You could drown three people in the tub and never touch the sides.”

“Sounds great, but not a chance, Kitty Kat. I’ve spent half of my life protecting your career. I am not going to take a bath with you and start rumors about your sexuality.”

“There are already rumors about my sexuality,” she drawled, caressing the side of Bonita’s soft breast with her palm.

“Not this kind.”

“Fine. Have it your way.” Kat knew how to pick her fights. She was hungry anyway, and she knew from experience that the harder she pushed Bonita, the harder Bonita would push back. “But I plan to sneak into your bed every night.”

Bonita gave her a tiny smile. “Just like the old days.”

Kat covered her lips with a swift kiss. “Just like the old days. Come on.” She handed Bonita her clothes. “I’ll show you to your room, and you can meet me downstairs. I’ll open a bottle of wine and find us something to eat. And Beauty?”

Bonita looked up.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.” They finished dressing in silence, and Kat led Bonita out of the closet and down the hall to the blue bedroom, her favorite guest room, before continuing downstairs to the kitchen. As she uncorked and poured the wine and pulled every appealing sandwich item out of the fridge, she wondered what Bonita would think of
Proprietors.
It was her first gay role and her best work so far. It had been murder to get them to film it properly, but the end result was worth it. If it got the reviews she was expecting, she could finally score more serious dramatic roles.

Mrs. Clarke ghosted into the kitchen, eyebrows knit so firmly together that they looked like one long, black caterpillar. “Mr. Benson is here.”

“Herbie? What’s he doing here this late?”

“I’m sure I don’t know. Shall I have him sent through?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“And will you require anything else, Ms. St. James?” Implicit in the question was another:
Where have you been for the last two hours?

“No, thanks. Unless you want a sandwich?”
None of your business.

“I never eat pepperoni after ten o’clock.” An indulgent smile curved her lips, and she patted Kat’s hand.

Kat stared at her, bemused. “Why don’t you sleep in tomorrow to make up for your extra time tonight?”

“Thank you. I will.” Mrs. Clarke left the kitchen.

A few minutes later, Kat heard the front door open and close. Herb stomped into the kitchen, and Kat supposed Mrs. Clarke had let him in on her way to her suite at the back of the house—as usual, without saying a word. Mrs. Clarke treated Herb with disdain, and he returned the favor by ignoring her, uncharacteristically classy of him.

He threw a supermarket tabloid in front of her, heedless of the array of sandwich makings littering the counter.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked, hands on his hips, beefy fingers making fat fists. His bald spot gleamed in the overhead light of the kitchen.

“A magazine.” She picked up her sandwich and took a bite, then put it down and surveyed the condiments. She added fat globs of spicy mustard to both sandwiches.

“The picture, Kat. Look at the picture.”

She picked it up. The photo was grainy but recognizably her.

Holy shit, that was quick.
The paper must have gone to press at midnight to get that pic onto the grocery-store stand. She tossed the newspaper back onto the table. “Not me.”

“Gimme a break.”

“Herb.” Her tone was a warning.

He sighed loudly and picked up the other sandwich.

“That’s not for you,” she said sharply, taking it out of his hand and putting it on a plate. “Make your own.”

They both looked up as Bonita arrived in the kitchen doorway, her skin flushed and luminous from her shower. Her hair was gathered into a wet, loose knot on top of her head, and she was wearing pajamas. And slippers. There was no way to disguise the fact she was staying here. Kat crossed the kitchen, took Bonita’s hand and pulled her to the table.

“Herb, meet an old friend of mine. Bonita Pritchard, meet Herb Benson, my manager.”

Herb raised his eyebrows. “Old friend, huh? Having a pajama party?”

“Something like that.”

“We need to talk about this, Kat.”

“My pajama party?”

“No, your public threesomes. You’re getting out of hand.”

“Herb, I told you. That’s not me in the picture.”