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It’s not the most inconspicuous, an idling gold Cadillac parked outside of the precinct, but Jack is the only one Izzy can trust with something like this.
“And you swear you got Eddie out of there?” she asks again, briefly glancing away from the precinct doors.
“I said I did, didn’t I?” Jack drawls, seat leaned back, left foot kicked up on the dashboard and cleaning the dirt from under her fingernails with a pocket knife. “Besides, if she gets herself locked up how is she supposed to pay back all the money she owes me?”
Izzy doesn’t answer that, just goes back to staring out the window. Jack, bored already, lets out a loud, predictable sigh and elbows her in the shoulder.
“Why are we parked outside this pig factory, again?”
Izzy sighs. “Because I need to see her get moved to Central Booking.”
She tells herself it’s because there’s no such thing as being too paranoid in this game, that there’s nothing wrong with double checking every step of the plan, but she knows the real reason she’s here. And what she needs is to see is Bonnet, handcuffed, mascara running all down her pretty face as she’s pushed roughly into a cop car. Bonnet, humiliated and powerless and afraid. That might be enough to satisfy Izzy.
There’s another few minutes of silence before Jack says, “They don’t usually bring them back out the front, do they?”
“It depends,” says Izzy, face pressed to the glass. “Haven’t you been arrested?”
“Never in this city, baby,” she says, walking two fingers up Izzy’s arm.
Ugh. “Don’t call me that, you fucking sleaze,” Izzy says, and slaps her away.
“Whatever,” Jack scoffs. “You’ve got 10 more minutes and then I’m finding something better to do. I hear Sam might be throwing a party.”
But Izzy doesn’t need 10 more minutes, because there’s Bonnet right there, walking out of the front door, hands free at her waist, makeup and hair and perfect pink outfit all perfectly in fucking place.
That can’t be right. This can’t be happening.
And then Izzy is choking on rage and opening the car door before she’s really thought about it and marching across the street and up the concrete steps of the local precinct just as Bonnet is waving her hands and smiling widely at the cops on either side of her.
“Oh no, officers, I certainly appreciate all you do for our community; I don’t begrudge you your due diligence. I don’t think there’s any need for my father to learn about this silly little mix up, do you?” She lets out that annoying posh laugh, exposing the long line of her neck as the cops hasten to assure her–
“No, Ms. Bonnet, of course not, and thank you for being so understanding. Can we offer you a ride?”
And that’s when Bonnet spots Izzy and sneers down at her like she’s something she found on the bottom of her shoe, just like she always does. Makes her feel less than, somehow, for standing there in her tank top and basketball shorts, just like she always does.
“No need, gentlemen,” Bonnet tells the police as she observes Izzy. “It looks as though my ride is already here.” Then she presses the back of her hand to her forehead, eyes going wide and distressed, a Victorian maiden succumbing to a fit of the vapors. Dramatic fucking bitch.
“Oh, Isabelle,” she warbles. “Thank god you’re here to take me home.”
This cannot be fucking happening. “That’s not what–”
“Of course it is,” Bonnet interrupts smoothly, digging her acrylics into Izzy’s arm and tugging them both toward the street even as she offers a wave over her shoulder at the cops. “I’ve just been through a terrible ordeal.”
Izzy goes, doesn’t respond to any of the increasingly confused faces CJ is flashing her from the driver’s seat. She tries to shrug Bonnet off as they’re crossing the street, but that only makes her claws grip tighter. Izzy shivers, despite the oppressive humidity.
Once the car is within reach she scrabbles for the front passenger door, anything to put some space between her and Bonnet, even opens it a few inches before Bonnet slams it closed. Izzy barely manages to yank her hand back in time.
“Hey!” CJ shouts. “Gentle with the ride!”
“No,” Bonnet tells Izzy, ignoring CJ entirely, and opens the back door instead, jerking her head toward the interior, snapping her fingers in Izzy’s face when she doesn’t move quickly enough. “We don’t have all night, Isabelle, so do us a favor, hon, and get in the fucking car.”
This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. Bonnet is supposed to be in a cell, terrified, wondering if her estranged father will bother with bailing her out before morning, well on her way out of their lives for good. Instead she’s here, snapping at Izzy like a dog, like she calls the shots, and Izzy will not stand for it.
“Who the fuck are you to tell me–” Izzy snarls, and then her left cheek bursts into a shocking wave of heat, and it takes her longer than it should to process the fact that Bonnet has just slapped her clean across the face.
Izzy brings a shaking hand to the corner of her own mouth, tentatively touches the split skin, tongues at the salt and iron tang of her own blood welling there, and tries not to do anything embarrassing, like moan out loud.
“Jesus Christ,” she hears CJ say faintly.
Bonnet doesn’t look surprised or apologetic at having slapped Izzy. In fact, the street light is reflecting oddly in her dark eyes, making her look damn near deranged as she calmly waits to see if Izzy will retaliate. The time for her to do so comes and goes.
“Hands, get in the goddamn car before you let in all the fucking mosquitos,” CJ barks, startling Izzy out of staring into Bonnet’s eyes. Then, “You too, Ed’s girlfriend.”
“After you,” Bonnet gestures curtly. Izzy, for once, does as she’s told.
There’s a moment of heavy, awkward silence once they’re in and the door is closed behind them. Jack tries to meet Izzy’s eyes in the rearview mirror while Bonnet pulls something up on her phone.
A few seconds later, Jack’s phone dings with a notification.
“I’ve dropped you a pin, Jacqueline. Please drive us to that location.”
“This ain’t a fucking Lyft, sweet cheeks,” Jack growls, and it’s not easy, getting CJ’s hackles up, but somehow Bonnet always manages.
Bonnet leans forward, close enough that she’s almost right in Jack’s ear when she says, “I am trying to recover what I can of our losses this evening, and if you shut up and do as I say, perhaps Eddie can remain none the wiser about how those losses were accrued. Do you understand?”
She’s onto them. They are both so very fucked. Izzy watches Jack’s eyes flit rapidly back and forth, searching for any potential scrap of leverage, but there’s none to be found, and Izzy knows CJ knows it when she eventually shrugs and turns the engine over and says–
“Guess I didn’t really have any other plans anyway. Why not take a drive to–” she glances down at her phone “–an abandoned fucking parking lot? Buckle up, kids!” And maybe Bonnet can’t see the edge of unease at the corner of Jack’s grin, but Izzy can.
Their destination isn’t far, a few minutes northeast into a seedier part of town. Bonnet makes CJ circle the block when they arrive – once, twice, three times – before letting her pull into the back of the lot. They’re not there a full minute before another car pulls in and flashes their brights.
Bonnet leans bodily over CJ and flashes the lights of the Cadillac in return.
“Are you fucking …goddamn you’re annoying,” CJ grumbles as Bonnet clambers back over her, and thank you, Izzy can’t be the only one who sees it.
“Roll the passenger window down, Jacqueline, he’s going to come around,” Bonnet instructs while looking down at her phone.
That’s when the other car cuts his lights, revealing a goddamn police cruiser and oh, this is a set up, Izzy realizes, heart pounding. She is absolutely getting arrested or worse tonight, Jack too probably. They exchange a panicked look in the rearview. Fuck, why did she think this would work? Rich fucking assholes always win, and people like Izzy, pathetic and stupid and poor, always fucking lose.
A baby-faced cop gets out of the cruiser and makes his way around to them, his boots loud in the gravel of the lot. He’s getting closer.
“Jack, don’t–” Izzy says as Jack’s finger hovers over the button for the window, trying to think of a way out of this, but anything else she might have said is muffled when Bonnet roughly claps her hand over Izzy’s mouth.
Bonnet isn’t looking at her phone any more.
“You shut your stupid traitor mouth until I say otherwise,” she hisses. “Nod if you understand.”
Izzy nods, and Bonnet’s hand falls. Izzy waits until she looks away before giving in and squeezing her thighs together, relieving some of the pressure from her aching cunt.
“The window, please, Jack,” Bonnet repeats.
“I don’t like this, Ed’s girlfriend,” CJ says warily, but without so much as a glance back at Izzy she rolls the window down for the cop, who’s standing outside shifting his weight from foot to foot. He drops a small rectangular package onto the passenger seat, heavy enough that it bounces a little under its own heft.
“Thank you, Olu,” Bonnet says sweetly. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Don’t mention it, Ms. Bonnet,” he says. Then, “Please. Don’t.”
And then the cop, Olu, gets back in his car and drives away and Izzy and CJ are alone with Bonnet in CJ’s Cadillac in an abandoned parking lot. Not arrested.
Bonnet lets out a shaky sigh and runs a hand through her curls in a show of nerves Izzy’s never seen from her before.
CJ’s hands are tight on the wheel, knuckles white. “Is that what I think it is?” she asks, glancing at the package in the passenger seat.
“Oh,” Bonnet says acerbically, “you mean, is that the $10,000 investment I managed to recover from a locked evidence room?”
Jack blinks. “That’s not what 10k of wholesale weed looks like, Princess,” she says, slowly.
Bonnet’s eyes narrow. “Oh, well sussed, Jacqueline, you’re clearly the brains of the operation, here.”
The thing about their operation, though, is that it only sells weed. Shrooms, sometimes, when they’re available. Small time, under the radar, slow and steady and stable and safe, that’s the way they’ve always done it. Just enough to build up a nest egg, so Ed can go to grad school and not have to work full time, so Izzy can start her own business.
“Ed wanted to expand into something more exciting and I have a couple of relevant contacts and well–” Bonnet gestures at the half brick of cocaine on the passenger seat “–here we are.” And what a way to learn that Ed is making plans without Izzy, now. Big, dangerous, life changing plans.
“Well,” CJ echoes, killing the engine and pulling the key from the ignition. “I don’t know about you ladies–” she opens the glove box and shoves the coke in, uses the car key to lock it “–but I’ve had about all the excitement I can stand for one evening, so how about we–”
“Not quite,” Bonnet says, voice cold and dangerous and Izzy feels stupid, now, for having been afraid of the cop. “I believe we still have a few things to discuss,” she continues. “Namely, what happened today, how we plan to address it, and what our endeavors will look like moving forward.”
Jack lets out a large gust of air. “Fuck,” she says, then slams her open palm against the steering wheel. “Fuck!”
“Would you like to start, Jacqueline?”
“I don’t have shit to say to you,” she scowls, crossing her arms.
“Very well. Izzy?”
And there’s only one thing Izzy cares about right now.
“Are you going to tell Ed?” Bonnet doesn’t answer right away, just stares at her with that odd little gleam in her eye. Anxiety starts to pluck at the tightly wound strings of Izzy’s guts. She’s not above begging. “If you are, then at least wait until after finals, her advisor is being a dick and she’s so stressed about that stupid sociology paper and–”
“I don’t want to tell her,” Bonnet interrupts, holding out a hand to stop Izzy’s pathetic pleading. “But I will, if we can’t settle this between ourselves.”
And that’s an easy enough choice. “Name your terms,” Izzy says.
“How about,” says Bonnet, tapping her lips with an index finger, “we start with a confession, hm? Clear the air, make sure we’re all on the same page. Tell me, Isabelle, why I ended up in police custody this evening.”
And fuck, sure, why not? Bonnet seems to have pieced all the important bits together herself already.
“Don’t you fucking dare, Hands,” says Jack, but Izzy’s made up her mind.
“I called in an anonymous tip. Gave them the time and location of the deal.”
Bonnet hums. “Did you, by any chance, happen to mention me by name?”
“I did,” Izzy confirms.
Bonnet shakes her head and lets out a soft, tinkling laugh. “Oh, you stupid, stupid girl. Aren’t you the one always going on about how privileged I am? What did you think was going to happen to Edward Bonnet’s daughter? In this town?”
And, well, she thought she knew what was going to happen to Edward Bonnet’s daughter. Bonnet would lawyer up, make bail, and more than likely get the charges thrown out all together, but maybe, just maybe, she would get kicked out of school and be out of their lives for good. She hadn’t thought Bonnet would walk out the front door of the police station before even making it to Central Booking, graciously accepting cop apologies for any inconvenience they may have caused her.
She is un-fucking-touchable, Izzy realizes, and the black, ugly truth of it sits rancid in her guts.
“And how does Jack fit into this?” Bonnet asks.
Jack isn’t really the one in trouble here so she doesn’t feel bad saying–“Eddie was supposed to be with you on this deal, right?”–and flicking her eyes to Jack, who offers Bonnet a lazy salute.
“Ah. You were the emergency call. I see.” Bonnet makes a little moue of distaste. “Well then, I suppose thanks are in order. It’s not that I couldn’t have taken care of it myself, you see, but it would have involved a few phone calls I’d rather not make.” She clears her throat. “So thank you, Jacqueline, for keeping Ed out of harm’s way tonight.”
Jack’s grinning visage leers at Bonnet from the rearview mirror; she swipes her tongue across her top teeth lewdly before drawling, “I accept gratitude in the form of ass or cash, sweetheart, take your pick.”
Bonnet makes a show of pretending to consider it, then says, “How about I don’t tell Eddie about the extra two and half percent you’ve been skimming since last semester instead?”
And if Bonnet’s figured that out there’s no way Ed doesn’t already know, but Jack blanches.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Also you can’t prove it.” She crosses her arms and slouches low in her seat. “And also you’re welcome, I guess.”
“Quite,” says Bonnet, dry. “As for you–” she turns to Izzy, whose heart stammers under Bonnet’s gaze, gone predator focused in the low-light. “I want you to tell me why you decided to pull this little stunt.”
And is she fucking stupid? “Because I hate you, Bonnet.”
“You hate a lot of people,” she points out.
Izzy shakes her head. “Not like you.”
Bonnet smiles, slow and satisfied and unnerving. “Yes, and why is that, I wonder?”
“Do you want a fucking list?”
“No, I’ve got your number, Isabelle Hands, and you–”
“That’s not even her fucking name, man,” Jack snaps from the front seat, and shut the fuck up, CJ.
“What?” asks Bonnet, startled out of her death glare by the non sequitur.
“Izzy isn’t short for Isabelle, or Isabella, or any of the regular shit. You wanna go all scary mob boss on her in my car, fine, be my fucking guest, but at least get her fucking name right.”
And then Bonnet’s eyes are back on her, annoyed, like it’s Izzy’s fault she’s been calling her the wrong name this whole time.
“What is Izzy short for?” she asks.
“Like I’d tell you–”
“What is it short for?”
“It’s none of your fucking business, Bonnet–”
“Tell me what it’s short for.”
“You are so goddamn annoy–”
“Tell me what it’s short–”
“It’s Israel!” she shouts. “Izzy is short for Israel, you obnoxious fucking cunt.”
Their breaths are loud in the silence that follows; they are much closer together now.
Bonnet’s grin is wide and victorious. “Israel,” she sighs, closing her eyes and tilting her head back the way someone might after tasting something divine. “You’ve been very good about giving me what I want so far,” Bonnet says.
“Fuck you, Bonnet,” Izzy says, words catching in her bone dry throat.
Bonnet frowns and clicks her tongue disapprovingly. “And this is what it always comes back to. Your raging animosity toward me. Well I, for one, am determined to get to the bottom of it. Tell me why you hate me, Izzy. The real reason, please.”
Izzy thinks about it. There are several very real reasons to hate Bonnet. She’s a privileged bitch whose father owns half the town. She’s sickeningly optimistic and has a tendency to break into show tunes. She doesn’t understand the first thing about computer science but that hasn’t stopped her from being in most of Izzy’s classes. Izzy doesn’t think any of those are the reason Bonnet is looking for.
“I’ll tell you what I think, shall I?” Bonnet offers after Izzy remains silent. “I think I take up an awful lot of Ed’s time and energy these days. I think poor Izzy is feeling a little neglected, a little left out in the cold. A little lonely, perhaps?”
“Shut up,” Izzy says, face burning.
“And you resent me for all the time and energy Eddie spends on me, because you are…” She trails off, raising her eyebrows, inviting Izzy to fill in the blank. Like hell.
“We’re not going to make it through this, Izzy, if you can’t admit to the root of the problem,” Bonnet chides. “Let’s try again. You resent me for being such a prominent figure in Ed’s life because you…are…?”
Izzy squeezes her eyes shut tightly enough that pinpricks of light burst behind her lids. She can’t say it out loud, can’t admit it to Bonnet’s face, can’t give voice to it in front of Jack, this thing that everyone already knows.
Bonnet sighs. “Then I suppose we aren’t going to be able to settle this. You know, I really didn’t–”
“Jealous,” Izzy whispers, low and wretched and afraid. “It’s because I’m jealous.”
“That’s exactly right,” Bonnet praises, laying a hand on her knee. “Good girl, Israel.”
Izzy’s hips make an aborted little rut into the leather seat at that, and Izzy’s face goes up in flames because there’s no way Bonnet didn’t feel it. When she risks a glance up Bonnet is smirking, one eyebrow raised.
“Really?” she asks, trailing her hand around to the underside of Izzy’s leg. She strokes a little at the soft skin behind her knee, and then in a surprisingly athletic move she jerks Izzy forward and sideways until she’s laid out flat on the backseat, one leg on the floor, the other draped over Bonnet’s lap, ass flush with her thigh. It’s so fast she barely has time to react, letting out nothing more than a high pitched little oomph before she’s blinking up at the ceiling.
“Hey, no roughhousing in the car,” Jack says, whipping around, then, incredulously, “Wait, are you fucking serious right now?”
“Turn around please, Jacqueline.”
“No. You don’t get to make moves on Hands in my car and then tell me I can’t watch, Ed’s girlfriend, that’s not how this works.”
Bonnet sighs. “Then keep the editorializing to a minimum, at least.”
“No promises,” Jack grins.
Bonnet rolls her eyes and turns back to Izzy. One hand starts to slide slowly up the inside of Izzy’s thigh, exerting a gentle outward pressure until Izzy swallows hard and spreads her legs of her own accord. Bonnet’s smile slashes violently across her face at the concession; she grabs the leg laying in her lap, pushes it up and over her head so that it’s wedged between her and the back of the seat, forcing Izzy’s knees apart.
It forces the lips of her cunt to spread as well, and the still-cool air of the Cadillac is a shock against the wetness there. The outside heat is beginning to creep in, though, and more than one mosquito whines in Izzy’s ear; she can hardly hear them over the sound of her own heartbeat.
Bonnet’s hand resumes climbing up the inside of Izzy’s thigh, under her basketball shorts, toward where she’s wet and open and aching. Izzy squirms in place, canting her hips up with a small huff, and Bonnet laughs softly under her breath, her hand inching just past the hem of her boxers. Izzy’s whimper is loud in the silence of the backseat.
A single fingertip traces firmly up Izzy’s slit, dragging over where she’s already spread, gliding easily across the wetness there. She bucks up hard into the fleeting pressure against her clit.
“Oh, Israel,” Bonnet murmurs, both fond and scolding. “All this because I was a little rough with you earlier?”
Izzy throws her arm over her eyes, groaning even as her cunt pulses at that.
“Jesus Christ,” Jack breathes. “Izzy, baby, you should have told me you were into this kind of shit. I could show you such a good time.”
“Hush, Jacqueline,” Bonnet admonishes. “And go ahead and start the car. I know how we’re going to settle the matter of Israel’s betrayal.” And then she’s reaching under her skirt and shimmying out of a pair of pink cotton-and-lace panties and shifting until she’s kneeling, as best she can, over Izzy’s chest, her flushed, perfectly smooth pussy directly in Izzy’s face.
Izzy’s mouth waters.
“I’m sure it’s not news to you, Izzy,” Bonnet says mildly, “but rumor has it you’re a bit of a cunt-hungry slut.”
Izzy just barely manages not to moan at that.
“It’s 20 minutes to Ed’s place from here,” Bonnet continues. “I’m going to sit on your face until we arrive, and if I feel you’ve put in a good enough effort I’ll consider the matter behind us,” she says primly.
“And what do I get out of it?” asks Jack petulantly, ever pushing. “Doesn’t really seem like a fair deal to me.”
Bonnet narrows her eyes, considering. “Jack, look at me, please,” she says, and Jack scoffs but turns her head to meet her gaze.
“What?” Jack scowls, and Bonnet hooks an index finger behind Jack’s bottom teeth as soon as she opens her mouth, holds her jaw open and shoves the panties inside with her other hand, ignoring the rough, startled noise punched out of Jack.
“Be a good girl and hold onto those for me, quietly, until we get to Ed’s, and you can keep them. Is that fair enough for you?”
Jack blinks twice at her, slow and stupid, then dazedly mumbles, “Yesh ma’am,” through the wet cotton. Bonnet smiles indulgently, pats her cheek twice and raises her finger to her lips as a reminder. Shh.
Jack starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot without a word.
“Do we have a deal, Israel?” Bonnet asks, peering down at her face, and it would be easier, Izzy thinks, if she didn’t ask, so that Izzy wouldn’t have to say yes, or, more embarrassingly, please.
“This is fucking extortion, Bonnet,” she says instead.
“Is it?” asks Bonnet, tilting her head. “Perhaps someone should inform the police.” And then she smiles, knife-sharp, and waits.
Eventually, Izzy nods.
“Perfect,” Bonnet smiles, and slides forward up Izzy’s body until her bare cunt touches the flat of Izzy’s waiting tongue. Izzy strains upward for more of a taste, tongue barely breaching Bonnet’s folds, growling when Bonnet continues to hover a few critical inches over her mouth.
“You have to actually sit on my face, for this to work,” Izzy rasps, then reaches up around Bonnet’s thighs to tug her the rest of the way down, and that’s more like it, she thinks, as her entire world shrinks to nothing more than the weight and heat and scent of Bonnet’s cunt on her face.
She licks a short, wide stripe directly over her hole, does it again when Bonnet gasps above her. She’s never gone down on a waxed-clean cunt before, and so far it is an experience. The skin of Bonnet’s labia is butter soft on her tongue, and the spit and slick and smoothness of everything is making the whole situation rather more…slippery, than she’s used to. She finds herself gripping Bonnet by the hips to keep her in place.
“Fuck, Israel,” Bonnet gasps as Izzy draws one of her plump folds into her mouth, teeth barely grazing the hot skin there. “Your mouth.” And it’s no surprise that Bonnet is singing her praises already. Ed has always been kind of shit at eating pussy .
She licks gently up the seam of her, her tongue flicking the tip of Bonnet’s clit on each slow pass, savoring the sounds from Bonnet’s throat ratcheting higher and higher. Izzy waits until she groans and grinds down against her, seeking more pressure, before dropping her jaw and sealing her lips around Bonnet’s hole and sucking. Izzy moans as Bonnet’s slick gushes into her mouth, coating her teeth and tongue with the sweet, sharp tang of it.
Bonnet shouts, slaps her hands onto the window to keep her balance, and Izzy waits for Jack to say something about fingerprints on the glass before remembering that she’s currently gagged with a pair of Bonnet’s panties. Izzy spares a moment to hope that CJ isn’t trying to do something stupid like jack off and drive at the same time before getting back to work.
She finds Bonnet’s clit again and laps firmly at the underside of it, swirls the tip of her tongue up under the hood to directly stimulate the swollen, twitching bundle of nerves there. Bonnet’s hips jerk forward, pressing more of her weight down on Izzy’s face, smearing more of her slick across Izzy’s nose and cheeks. It’s getting a little harder to breathe, but Izzy can hold her breath for well over a minute.
She knows. She’s timed herself.
She’s starting to get lost in it, a little, time going soft around her as she eats Bonnet out, clinging to the little sighs and gasps Bonnet makes, muffled slightly by Bonnet’s thighs around her ears. There’s a good chance she’s being loud as well, whining into the slick heat of Bonnet’s cunt. It happens. Not really something she can help.
“Israel,” Bonnet pants out, voice gone high and reedy. “Fuck, don’t stop. Just like that.” And Izzy could keep up the steady, moderate flick of her tongue against Bonnet’s clit all fucking night, but Bonnet, contrary as always, starts rutting against her face to her own tempo, totally fucking the rhythm Izzy has set up, so she lets her tongue spread out broad and flat, lets Bonnet take what she needs, and it’s almost better, like this, out of control, merely a conduit for someone else’s pleasure.
It doesn’t take Bonnet long to come after that, thighs squeezing tight around Izzy’s skull as Izzy licks her through her orgasm, jaw and neck and lungs burning with effort. She wonders how many times she’ll have to get Bonnet off for her effort to be considered “good enough.”
But then Bonnet is lifting herself off of Izzy’s face, core and thigh muscles shaky, and Izzy doesn’t understand. She’d been promised at least 20 minutes with Bonnet’s cunt.
“We’re not at Ed’s,” she croaks, lifting her head slightly to look at Bonnet, who is once again seated and now attempting to smooth ruffles out of her skirt.
“Now, now,” Bonnet chides, smiling. “Don’t be greedy.” She tilts her head at Izzy, taking in her ruined state, the mess all over her face, and hums in a satisfied sort of way. “Not feeling quite so neglected now, are we Israel?” she purrs.
And what can she say to that?
“I’d offer to lend you a hand, as it were,” Bonnet continues, glancing down at Izzy’s lap,“but I don’t think you should be allowed to come. That would just be rewarding bad behavior, and it wouldn’t be fair to you to send mixed messages like that.”
And Izzy’s arousal, which had been fully sublimated by pleasing Bonnet, flares back to life. “Please,” she whimpers, boxers soaked, cunt aching, hating herself.
“No,” Bonnet says. “But keep up those sorts of manners and maybe one day!” And then she fishes her phone out from where it was wedged between the seats and starts to scroll.
Fucking bitch.
Izzy bites her lip and clenches her thighs and pouts the rest of the short drive to Ed’s, sparing the occasional glance toward Jack, who, in all honesty, should probably not be driving given how glazed over her eyes are. Izzy doesn’t remember the car stopping at any point on the journey, and there’s no way they were lucky enough to make every light.
Jack double parks when they arrive, then spits Bonnet’s panties out of her mouth and blatantly pockets them. “All right,” she says slowly. “Time for everyone who grew up in the top tax bracket to get the fuck out of my car.” She makes a show of looking around. “Looks like that’s just you, Ed’s girlfriend.”
“My things?”
Oh yeah. There’s half a brick of cocaine in the glove box.
CJ unlocks the glove box and passes the package back to Bonnet. “You’re a fucking lunatic,” Jack tells her. “Tell Eddie I say hey.”
And then they watch Bonnet leave up the stairs to Ed’s building.
“So,” Jack says eventually. “My place?”
Izzy hates that she’s going to say yes.