Bouncer by Kim Jones Page 0,23
me what’s wrong or am I going to have to spank it out of you?” His voice is playful, but I don’t find it funny.
“You l-left. Cause you have other shit to do. S-so go d-do it,” I stutter, in between hiccups.
“I did leave because I had something to do. I did it, now I’m back. Would you like to know what it was?” I swear I think he’s laughing at me. All it does is piss me off.
“N-no. I don’t.”
“Someone’s grumpy,” he mutters, tilting my head back to rinse my hair.
My hands fall from my face, but I keep my eyes squeezed shut.
“Lean back.”
Before I can, he moves me until I’m lying back. He runs a soapy rag over my arms and neck. When he drags it across my chest, my nipples harden further.
“So pretty.”
“Shut up,” I snap, cracking one eye open to catch him smiling. I swipe away the blur, but I just can’t. Stop. Crying.
He washes my stomach, my hips. Down my legs to my feet. Between every toe and back up. “Spread your legs.”
“You wish.”
He slaps a wet palm against my thigh. “Watch it, girl.”
My eyes fly open and I gasp. “That hurt!”
“If you don’t spread your legs, the next one really will hurt.”
With damp eyes and a trembling lip, I look to the ceiling and spread my legs.
“Good girl. See? That wasn’t so hard.” He washes me slow, dragging the rag over my mound, between my thighs, then lower.
I don’t move. Or clench. If he’s so insistent on cleaning my ass, then by damn he can clean it. It’s not like I have any self-esteem or humility left anyway.
“Keep them open.”
I mock him in my head. I don’t want to look, but curiosity has me glancing at him. He soaps his fingers, meets my gaze, then lowers his hand back to my pussy. When his long, middle digit slides between my lips, I have to bite my cheek to keep from moaning.
“You’re wet.”
I stare at the ceiling. “I’m in a bathtub, genius.”
His finger trails lower and presses against that tight ring of muscle in warning. I stiffen, but he doesn’t go any further.
“What was that you told me? That I was looking at you like I wanted to…put it in—”
“I know what I said.” With a sudden burst of energy, I grab the sides of the tub and haul myself to sitting. I tighten my grip and breathe through the sudden rush of dizziness.
He pulls his hand from the water and grabs a towel. “I shouldn’t tease you. I know you don’t feel well.” His voice continues but fades.
At first, I think he’s left the room. Then I realize it’s not him who’s fading. It’s me. “Bouncer…I really don’t feel good.”
There’s a flurry of movement, then I’m grabbed under my arms and lifted. My feet find the floor a moment before he swings my legs up in his arms. I see his cut lying next to the tub. He must’ve removed it to keep from getting it wet.
“Gonna dry you off, but you have to help me. Can you stand?”
“I think so.”
He lowers my legs but keeps his arm around my waist. “Hold onto the bed post, baby. I’ll be quick.”
After wrapping a towel around my hair, he pats my skin dry. This time when I’m told to spread my legs, I don’t hesitate. There’s nothing more uncomfortable than not being completely dry in…certain places.
He leaves me sitting up in bed with a mound of pillows propping me up. The shirt he slips over my head is my own. I can’t help but frown.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I need to do laundry.” He thrusts a bottle of Gatorade in my hand. “Drink that. I’m going to reheat your soup.”
I watch as he lifts the bowl from the bedside table. “You made that?”
“If made is pouring it out of a can and microwaving it, then yeah. I made it.”
“When?”
He winks. “When I told you I had other shit to do.”
He closes the door behind him and I melt against the mattress.
Well I’ll be damned…
Maybe I’m worthy of something after all.
Fourteen
APPLE
I’m miserable.
It’s been seven days since Bouncer broke into my tent and forced me back to the clubhouse. The first three days I don’t really remember. The following two days were kind of…nice. I’d told Bouncer I was bored. So he’d went out and bought a T.V.. In between a lot of sleeping and chicken noodle soup, we spent our days binge watching forensic shows.
But on day number six,