Bet Me Something (Something Series Book 3)

by Aubrey Bondurant

  My lips twitched. “No need to dwell on that because when you lose you’re coming with me next Saturday morning.”

  “To do what, exactly?” His tone was all sorts of skeptical.

  “To attend an orgy. It’s the new rage at ten o’clock in the morning. Bang and Brunch I believe they call it.”

  He laughed while shaking his head. “You’re a mess.”

  “You’re the one insinuating I’m trying to get you naked with your tone. It’s the volunteer gig at the hospital, the one I was telling you about.”

  “Okay, but you’re coming with me into a recording studio when you lose.”

  My eyes widened with surprise. “What? You know how I am—”

  He cut me off. “I do, however this is simply singing. No one in there but the producer and me. I’ll even bring the tequila if I need to. Do we still have a bet?”

  “Mm-hm, we do.” It occurred to me I was actually better off losing given his offer, but my desire to win wouldn’t be swayed. Not to mention, having him come with me on Saturday morning would be hilarious when he discovered what I had in store for him.

  “Do you want to go find Jordan? Chances are he won’t come back.”

  I lifted an indignant brow. “As if I’m going to chase him. But when he returns, do me a favor and excuse yourself.”

  He looked amused up until the point that Jordan Pratt, hot television actor and reputed player, strode back out onto the balcony with drinks in hand, appearing pleased to see I hadn’t left.

  “Hey, I brought you champagne, or I can get you something else if you prefer?”

  “Thanks. Champagne is great.” I turned towards Colby. “I’ll find you later.” I effectively dismissed him, turning my attention towards Jordan.

  “Fifteen minutes, Kenz,” Colby warned, moving towards the other side of the balcony to talk to someone.

  I noticed he kept me within his line of sight. Did he think I would leave with some stranger from a party? Annoyed with the distraction of him, I turned my attention back to the handsome man in front of me. “So, I hear you’re on a little show called Blood Lines.”

  He smiled. “Ah, you looked me up?”

  “No, I asked Colby. I’ve been in school, which means I haven’t seen much on television,” I said by way of an explanation.

  “It’s cool to have a girl not want to talk to me because of fame.” He winked, making my pulse flutter a little bit.

  He spent the next fifteen minutes talking about his show and then launched into a conversation about his upcoming movie, the one he’d been discussing with the director in the other room. Something told me most girls would’ve been giddy to hear all about him during this the entire time, but I found myself wondering if he ever bothered to talk about anything other than himself. He could’ve at least thrown out a question or two for me to answer, but he seemed content not to. Scanning the people milling about on the balcony for Colby, I was relieved when he started walking toward me.

  “Sorry, Jordan, looks like time is up, but I’m glad I met you tonight.”

  Disbelief was evident in the expression on his handsome, movie-star face. “You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah, Colby is my ride and heading towards us as we speak.”

  “Okay. Here. I’ll give you my personal number, so you can call me.” He gestured toward his security-type guy, who seemed to appear from nowhere and produced a card with a pen. He then wrote down what I assumed was Jordan’s number.

  Oh, boy, was it any wonder I didn’t have a boyfriend when I was instantly annoyed with the action? I made it a cardinal rule never to call a guy the first time, which is why I didn’t end up talking to Officer McHotstuff again. I maintained that if a man was interested enough, he’d want to contact me. Secondly, Jordan couldn’t even jot down his own number? He had ‘people’ for that? Colby didn’t help matters by coming up and smirking at the exchange when the younger man passed the card to me. I don’t know which of them was more shocked when I handed it back.

  “Appreciate the gesture, but I’m kind of old-fashioned and think if a guy likes a girl enough, he’ll call her.”

  Amusement danced in Jordan’s eyes as he flashed his movie-star smile. “I’m digging that, but one problem: you haven’t given me your number.”

  I put a finger to my chin as if contemplating his dilemma. “That’s true, however you’re a resourceful man, Jordan. I mean, you have people who write down your number for you and everything, so I’m sure you can figure out a way to get it.” My eyes flicked toward Colby to drive my point home since they obviously knew one another.

  Jordan chuckled and leaned in, giving me a lingering kiss on the cheek. “You’re as intriguing as you are beautiful, Kenzie. You’ll be hearing from me soon.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Colby was quiet as we made our way through the mansion and then waited for the valet to bring the car around. Given it was my first time out since the accident, I was happy to call it a night.

  After we’d climbed into the car and were driving back to the house, he finally spoke. “Was that a strategic move, or do you truly feel that way about having to call a guy?”

  “It’s how I feel. I thought I told you on the night I was drunk in Vegas about my dating rules.”

  “You told me about the five date thing but not the calling stipulation.”

  “I don’t think it’s a bad thing to ask a guy to make some effort if he’s interested. Especially the first time.”

  “Agreed, yet you don’t seem to care if he does or not, do you?” he mused.

  “Of course I do. I want to win the bet,” I admitted, smiling.

  “Jordan Pratt having to work for it. I applaud your effort, but I still don’t think he’s going to bother.”

  “What would you have done if that had been you a few years ago? Would you have called?”

  He heaved a regretful sigh. “No, and if he’s anything like the way I was at his age, he’s probably taking some other girl back to his hotel room tonight.”

  “Although that would be somewhat disappointing, I did just meet the guy, so expecting exclusivity before a first date is a little much.”

  He shook his head. “It shouldn’t matter if you just met him tonight. If he was into you the way you deserve, then he wouldn’t so much as look at another woman after meeting you. All of his energy, all of his thoughts would be focused on you. He’d be smitten enough that no other woman could come close to what he gets by thinking about, talking, or being with you. And he’d already be consumed with getting your number and plotting how he could see you again.”

  Holy shit. How did a man who seemingly didn’t desire a relationship know about feelings like that?

  “I have a question for you.” He flicked his eyes over towards me.

  “What is it?”

  He hesitated before asking, “How many guys have achieved fifth date status?”

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if I should tell him the truth, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it for fear his barrier wall would go up permanently. At the same time I also wouldn’t lie, which left avoidance as the only option. “Do we really want to have a talk about numbers?”

  He looked mildly embarrassed. “Yours, yes; mine, absolutely not.”

  “I wouldn’t judge you for yours, so why would it matter if mine was two or forty for me?”

  He chuckled. “Well, it’s obviously not forty. That would be like forty times five dates and who has that kind of time?”

  I grinned. “Okay, it’s not forty.”

  “Knowing Jordan’s history with women, it doesn’t bother you?”

  I answered carefully, wondering if this question was more about him than Jordan. “Not if he wants to be with me and is willing to leave it in the past.”

  “Are you hoping he’ll ask you out?”

  “I’m not sure. It might be nice to go out with a guy who’s not in college, for a change.”

  “You’re truly into this whole five-dat
e rule thing, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not about the dates as much as it is about wanting to get to know someone and rule out douche bag status.”

  “Wine and dine with staged romance?” He rolled his eyes at the thought.

  “Come on, you know me. I’d rather it be something casual and fun.”

  “So if Jordan asks you out, you’ll say yes?”

  I shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

  “But if you’re not into him, why bother?”

  “Because I could be wrong, not to mention the one guy I wish would ask me out on a date won’t ever do so.” That’s right, I’d moved past the point of being able to sugarcoat it any longer. He didn’t get to throw mixed signals and have me not voice my frustration.

  He sighed a heavy breath at my admission and looked like he was about to say something.

  I held up a hand to cut him off, sensing he was only going to apologize yet again. “Please spare me the ‘Kenz, I didn’t mean to, blah, blah, fill in the blank.’ I’m a big girl who regrets nothing, but I’m being honest, and if you don’t like it, too bad.”

  I put my chin in my hand as I turned toward the window, refusing to talk about it any longer. Truth was that over the last three weeks I’d been waiting for something more to happen, but now that it hadn’t, I wasn’t sure I was willing to be the girl who waited any longer. I wanted more.

  “Did you wear those granny panties tonight?”

  Okay, this was definitely not what I had expected him to say. I whipped my head in his direction. “What?”

  “Your panties. I told you to wear granny style. Did you?”

  “I always wear the same kind, unless it’s that time of month—never mind—total TMI.” I blushed with the inadvertent over-share.

  He laughed. “It was, but I like that about us. Would you wear special panties for a first date?”

  I shook my head, wondering where this was going. “A first date doesn’t rate special panties so I’d most likely wear the same kind I have on tonight.”

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “And what kind is that?”

  The power of being able to turn him on with the course of this conversation emboldened me. Reaching under my dress, I fingered the lace of my thong.

  “What are you doing?” He rapidly looked back and forth between the road and my lap.

  I moved my other hand under my dress, hooking my thumbs on either side of my panties, and then made a show out of pulling them down and off from around my ankles. Holding them up, I smirked. “See? A regular lacy black thong. Nothing special.”

  He exhaled harshly. “Christ, I can smell your pussy.”

  “Uh, I’m going to ask a dumb, potentially mood-killing question. Is that a good or bad thing?”

  He grinned. “It makes me want to put my face in it and not come up for days.”

  “I thought you said you weren’t doing that again.” I desired him more than anything, however my pride wasn’t letting him off the hook easily this time around.

  He closed his eyes, looking conflicted. “We shouldn’t.”

  “Mm, okay. Then you won’t mind if I take care of myself.” I put my hand under my dress, noting he wasn’t exactly begging for me to put my panties back on.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” His voice sounded pained while his gaze darted from the road back to me.

  “What do you think?”

  “You’re torturing me here,” he muttered.

  “Mm, I think if I truly wished to torture you, I’d flip my dress up and allow you to watch.”

  “Show me,” he demanded.

  “Nope. I think you’ll have to use your imagination until you can make up your damn mind about what it is that you want.” Closing my eyes, I trailed a finger through my arousal up to my clit, imagining it was him.

  “Are you wet?” his throaty voice rasped out.

  Moving my fingers, I created slick sounds, making it obvious in the silence of the car that I was. “I’d say so.”

  “Jesus. What are you thinking about?”

  “Your tongue.” Was it my imagination, or had he sped up?

  “Tell me what I’m doing. In detail.”

  I shifted to get a better angle. “You inhale my scent as I feel your face rubbing up my thighs. Then you put the first finger inside of me, shuddering with the fact that I’m already drenched. Your finger curls up inside of me where you hit the spot that made my eyes roll back like the last time. Your lips are around my clit, sucking, and when you press your tongue flat, it makes me want to ride your face.” I was rewarded with his sharp intake of breath.

  “Does it turn you on when I lick you lower? When I lift your hips up and put my tongue inside of you?”

  I shivered in response, rubbing my engorged clit faster, enjoying the erotic thought of masturbating to his seductive words. An orgasm might be achievable without battery assistance, after all. I could feel it building, almost there.

  “Yes, God, I’m going to—” I didn’t get a chance to finish as the brakes slammed, and I realized we were at his gate with him frantically punching in the code. I had every intention of resuming when his voice stopped me cold.

  “Don’t you dare come. You’ll wait for me.” His expression looked fierce even in the darkness of the car while he drove into the garage.

  “Did you just hijack my orgasm?” I watched him get out of the car, stalk towards my side, and yank open the door.

  “Damn right I did.”

  And with that, he flipped up my dress, diving directly between my thighs.

  Holy hell. I had no choice but to lie back, barely registering the discomfort of having my neck on the gearshift when he inhaled my scent. My back arched with the first touch of his tongue.

  “Is this what you were imagining when you were touching yourself?” His mouth suckled on my clit, the sensation causing my hips to buck in response. He inserted one finger, then two.

  I could no longer form words, so I nodded; feeling his finger curl up, finding the magic spot while his tongue flattened and then licked me further down. My hand fisted his hair, pulling him tighter into me. Moaning shamelessly as he ground his entire face into my heat, I let the sensation overwhelm me, loving how crazy I’d made him for the taste of me. When his mouth latched onto my over-sensitive nub, I was done for. My stomach clenched, my body quaked, and I threw back my head in ecstasy, trying not to scream as waves of pleasure lanced through me.

  Kissing down the inside of my thigh, his fingers worked my wetness as I came down from my high. “This is what it would be like if you were properly prepped for me.”

  A shudder ran through me. “You can’t say shit like that to me,” I muttered, stealing his line.

  While he grinned down at me, I took advantage, sitting up on the passenger seat to unzip his slacks as he stood in the car door. Looking up at his smoldering gaze, I had the satisfaction of his groan when my hands gripped his thick erection. Sliding his tip between my lips, I darted my tongue out to taste the droplet on the end, enjoying the salty taste. Mouthing the head, I flicked my tongue down his length, teasing, testing and tasting him. His primal growl rumbled from his chest, fueling a craving to pleasure him the way he had me.

  I coated him with my saliva, drawing him deep into my mouth, remembering to use my fingers on the base of him. At this angle I had unlimited access and took advantage of having my other hand available this time. Cradling his balls, I moved lower, lavishing attention on each of them, noting the way his cock swelled with the attention. While his hand rested on top of my head, he was careful not to push. Taking my mouth off of him, I looked up. “Grip my hair, and show me you want it.”

  His gaze flickered disbelief right before his fingers weaved in my hair and pushed me into him. The first thrust almost caused me to gag, however once I relaxed my throat, I was able to keep up with a rhythm, twirling my tongue and hollowing my cheeks. His length thickened, impossibly large in my mouth right before his climax hit the back of my throat. I
swallowed it down, greedy for the taste, feeling his body weight when he leaned into me.

  “Jesus, woman, you’re dangerous.”

  I smiled, letting him help me out of the car and onto my feet. “So, I’m getting better at it?”

  “There’s no such thing. You’ve graduated. Anything more, and you’ll kill a man.”

  “Mm, there’s a thought. Do you kiss after?”

  His eyes widened. “I’ve never, no.”

  “Oh.”

  Looking indecisive for a moment, he let his mouth close the inches between us. His lips were tentative at first, as though he was evaluating the taste.

  I took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, meeting his tongue and tangling my hands in his hair.

  The taste of us together was obviously a turn-on for him as his arms snaked my hips closer, moving so that I was pinned against the car. “I’m so tired of fighting this,” he panted out.

  “So don’t.” I could feel his erection, hardly softened despite his orgasm and gasped when he lifted me up. The heat from being skin on skin enflamed my senses, instantly making me long for more.

  “Wrap your sexy legs around me.”

  I shifted to do as he asked, nestling him within the apex of my thighs, feeling my back against the car door while squeezing the span of his waist with my thighs. The tip of his cock was only inches from my entrance.

  “Shit, the condoms are in my bathroom.”

  Obviously, times had changed from when he’d had sex at parties if he didn’t have one in his wallet. He carried me into the house like a man on a mission.

  Once in his room, he set me on my feet at the side of the bed, trailing kisses down my neck. “Turn around,” he commanded gruffly.

  I obliged, feeling him unzip my dress from the back, peeling it from my shoulders. His mouth left a trail where the straps had been as the material pooled at my feet. Once my bra was off, I stood there completely naked anticipating his touch. A hand splayed my waist from behind while his fingers from the other one dipped down to my sex. I could feel his erection behind me and then was suddenly spun around. His lips took mine greedily, while he urged me back onto the bed. Then he was kneeling down, gently taking off my boot and shoe. “You tell me if anything hurts your ankle.”