Objective (Bloodlines #2)(45)

“Get up,” Bentley commands.

“I have to go to work.”

“I called Brock when I heard the commotion, you’re sick,” he tells me.

“Bentley you can’t do that!” I crow.

“I did. Pack a bag, we’re staying at my place tonight,” he affirms, surveying the area.

“No, it’s safer here,” I complain.

“If they decide to cause a scene and shoot the place up, sure. Otherwise, no,” he snaps.

“You’re being ridiculous. I know they’re messing with me. I’ll be fine here,” I argue.

“Pack a goddamned bag, Princess,” he repeats, losing patience with me. We stare each other down for too long in silence, neither one willing to budge. I stretch my head, rolling it side to side, feeling very drained from the emotional afternoon. Bentley heaves a sigh and approaches me.

“I’m sorry for this,” he says, and tosses me over his shoulder without warning.

“Put me down!” I shriek as he treks through the trailer to the door.

“Nope.” He exits my place with ease despite me kicking, cursing and clawing at him. Two minutes later we’re through the threshold of his place and he sets me on the couch roughly.

“I don’t care if you’re a royal bitch for the next twenty-four hours, Mags, you’re staying here until I can figure out how to keep you safe.” He strides away down the short hall and the moment he’s out of view I dart to the door. I twist the knob and yank. Nothing. Glancing at the deadbolt I notice his lock is one of those that needs a key to unlock it from the inside as well as the outside. I growl with frustration.

“Looking for this?” he replies smartly. I turn to him holding a key out. Defeated. That’s the only thing I feel. I stomp past him and plant my rear on the couch, refusing to look at him.





Chapter 15





“Seduction is merely encouraging a man to do something he already wants to do.”- Lisa Kleypas


“Yes I have eyes on the subject.” “No, no sign of anyone.” “Yes, sir.” Bentley’s side of the conversation makes me want to vomit. Subject. That’s all I am. A pawn. How could I have ever been so naive to trust him? Everybody wants something. Nothing is free, not even friendships. I cross my arms around my midsection and block out the day’s events best I can. Before it was just me against one, but now I get the feeling that it’s two against me. My entire objective has been tossed in the air. I now need to escape Bentley and find Ezra. I need a new plan. One that keeps new enemies closer than even my mirror gets to me. It’s time to set the whole town on fire. I still have an advantage, one I never thought I’d have before last night. Me. My body. Bentley’s still a man. I’ve jumped over the hurdle of contact. I can use me against him. I live a lie and he thinks it’s done now that he’s outed himself to me. But my lie’s not quite done. All eyes on me everywhere I’ve gone for over a year yet no one gets close until now, because I let them. How stupid. I am not the meek girl I was. I’m more prepared for this than I’m giving myself credit for. It’s time to take control regardless of the collateral damage that may come.

I shift off the bed and stare long and hard at myself in the mirror over Bentley’s dresser. I smooth my hair with my fingers and wipe the black from under my eyes. I pull my tank off and adjust my breasts in their cups so they look just right. Bentley’s iPod sits in the speaker dock. I scroll through his playlist up until I find something I can work with. I push play and turn up the volume, loud. Closer filters through the speakers. I close my eyes and let myself hear nothing but the music. I move, swinging my hips, arms above my head, hair hanging lushly down my back. I feel it. I feel power. I don’t hear Bentley arrive, with the volume of the music being as it is, but I feel his stare. I rotate my hips in a circle left, pausing and then rotating right. I dance for me, but I know the show doesn't hurt the eyes. I spin around slowly moving to the beat and open my eyes. Bentley’s gaze is ferocious with desire, his pants already showing his bulge. I smirk coyly at him and wiggle my shorts down my thighs until I can step out of them. I dare him with my eyes to approach, and as if he’s a well-trained puppy he comes right over. His hands sear my hips as they grab me. I push into him firmly and slowly make circular motions. One hand wraps around his neck, the other hangs back behind me as I dance against him.

He moves one hand slowly up my back, under my hair, to the nape of my neck and threads his fingers in the silky strands. He pulls my face up to his and pummels me with a kiss. His eyes are glassy with desire. I did that. It’s dangerous and wild and I like it. This is my power; he thinks he’s in control but he’s not. I push away from him and slide my thumbs in the band of my panties, sliding them left then right before gripping them and slowly dragging them down my legs. He starts towards me but I stop him with a palm flat against his chest.

“Not yet,” I breathe. His eyes are stormy and clouded and it turns me on. Chet Faker begins his croony take on No Diggity and I realize I couldn't have picked a better song to follow the last. I reach one hand behind me and unclasp my bra, sending my breasts spilling out. I turn my back to him and crawl, on hands and knees, across his bed before lying down and crooking a finger at him. In seconds he’s naked as the day he was born, lean muscles twitching wherever I touch him. I let him explore my body hungrily with kisses and nips before pushing him from me and taking over. I let my tongue trail from his neck to the sweet spot where his hip meets his thigh and back up. I drag my nails across his chest and let my hair tickle his sides until he’s fidgeting restlessly under me. Reaching between us, I glare directly into his eyes and grip his cock. Without fanfare I position myself and guide him in. I ride him slowly, rolling my hips and letting my breasts brush against his chest while I keep his hands pinned under mine on either side of his head. My hair cascades around our faces, keeping us locked in an erotic cave of sorts. He never breaks eye contact as I grind and move on him. I feel it building inside of me. This is different than the rest. I’m different. I move faster and move my hands to his shoulders to brace myself better. His palms spread on my backside and push to keep me closer to him. I hook my feet under his knees and rollover, letting him do the work on top. He furiously pumps into me. I need more. “Faster,” I pant at him. He grins a crooked grin and pounds into me. His face drops to the crook of my neck and he bites lightly. It’s all I need to jump over the edge. I come fast and hard and he follows right behind me. He rolls off to the side and splays a hand on my stomach, spent.