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There was this one day back in the fall, Jack remembers, back when the thing between Bonnet and Eddie was still new, when they were all hanging out and Izzy had glanced over to where Bonnet was braiding flowers into Ed’s hair and finally asked, spiteful and under her breath, “How long do you give that, then?”
And Jack had scoffed and said, “They won’t last the semester,” mostly so Hands would simmer down some, but also because three months is as long as any of Eddie’s little obsessions ever last and exactly enough time for her and Bonnet to realize just how sexually incom-fucking-patible they are.
Eddie is an incredible lay, Jack’s happy to admit that. The girl loves being fucked, makes the best goddamn sex noises Jack has ever heard—porn star noises but like, good porn star noises. She’s vocal, too, will say anything you want her to, will chant your name a bunch right as she’s about to come, and it’s so hot every single time that it’s almost worth how fucking lazy she is when she tops. Almost.
It’s part of the reason they don’t hook up any more. The rest of the reason is leggy and blonde and filthy fucking rich and good at monopolizing the rest of Ed’s time, too. Jack gets why Ed is so busy these days, she does. Dating a girl like Bonnet has to be time consuming. But it doesn’t stop her from mentally counting down toward the power couple’s inevitable implosion.
Because Jack has never seen a more obvious pillow princess in her life than Stede fucking Bonnet. Like, come on. Just fucking look at her.
Nothing against pillow princesses, by the way. Jack has mad respect for any gal unwilling to compromise on the difference between what she does and doesn’t want. Jack fucking gets it, okay? It can be hard, sometimes, knowing what you don’t want.
And Jack got her fill of unreciprocated sexual encounters back in high school, back when she’d only fuck straight girls, like it was less gay or something to have sex with people who didn’t want her back. She did it for years even though it made her feel like garbage. Or maybe that’s why she did it. Who knows? High school is hard.
She’s come a long way since then and she won’t do it anymore—give and not receive. She makes sure to negotiate that shit immediately with every new hookup. When Jack fucks now, it’s with the express purpose of getting off on somebody else’s hand or mouth or strap and giving them a chance to do the same.
Which is why she’s always considered Bonnet off the table. Sexual incompatibility and all that. But then pretty princess Stede Bonnet had taken Izzy fucking Hands for a ride in the back of Jack’s car after shoving her panties into Jack’s mouth like it was something she did every day, and okay, yeah, that’s enough to pique Jack’s interest.
(Jack hasn’t been obsessing over the memory of slick-tanged cotton and lace on her tongue. She didn’t hide the surprisingly modest lingerie under her mattress.)
But she can’t let herself forget that as bossy as Bonnet had been with her and Hands that night she hadn’t actually gotten either of them off, so Jack should probably stop daydreaming about it because she doesn’t have any real proof that Bonnet’s willing to get her manicured hands dirty.
Not until a week later, anyway, when Jack swings by Izzy’s dorm late one evening, unannounced, to see if she wouldn’t be down to play some video games or go grab some fast food or something, only to discover that someone else had gotten there first, if the breathy fucking moans from the other side of the wall are anything to go by.
This slut, she swears.
She presses her ear flush against the door to see if she can suss out which of Izzy’s regulars has the privilege of her mouth tonight, but the muffled whimpers aren’t ones she’s familiar with. Maybe Fang, the big girl from Ed’s engineering class? Or no, maybe that girl with the language she doesn’t speak for a name? Somebody is getting their shit rocked, anyway, and there’s no reason not to enjoy a free concert.
When she notices the glare and head shake from the RA at the other end of the hall Jack winks but doesn’t move from the door. When the RA makes a shoo-ing motion at her, Jack points at the door and graphically mimes cunnilingus at her until, scandalized, she disappears back into her room.
God, Jack hates nosy people.
But it goes pretty quiet inside Izzy’s room after that, and Jack’s about to give it up as a lost cause until a raspy, “Jesus fucking Christ,” followed by some heavy thumping and moaning makes it through the thin dorm room wall and holy shit, Jack realizes, flushing, it’s Izzy making all that goddamn noise.
Izzy might be a loud little carpet muncher—super fucking hot of her, by the way—but she’s notoriously quiet on the receiving end, and there’s no mistaking it now. Someone is absolutely railing Hands through the mattress and making her moan like a slut about it.
Well goddamn. Jack kind of wants to wait around and shake this woman’s hand, maybe get her number, so she parks herself in the common room, where anyone leaving Hands’ dorm will have to walk past to make it out of the building. It takes almost a whole hour for anyone to come down from that end of the hall, so either this chick is very fucking thorough or she’s managed to turn Izzy Hands into a cuddler, and either way Jack has a burning need to know who she is.
So when Ed’s girlfriend comes around the corner, perfectly put together save for a few obviously well-tugged curls, Jack’s already halfway out of her seat, hand outstretched in congratulations, and it’s too late to sit back down and pretend like they don’t know each other. They stare at each other, wide eyed, and Jack wonders if she’s going to make up some excuse for being there or cop to sneaking around with Hands, but in the end she simply inclines her head toward Jack in acknowledgement, mutters a soft little, “Jacqueline,” on her way past and then rushes out the door.
So.
Not a pillow princess, then.
…
For the next week it’s all Jack can think about—the hushed Jesus fucking Christ from the other side of the wall, Bonnet’s shocked, caught out expression after running into Jack. About the bed hitting the wall hard enough that it meant Bonnet couldn’t have been just finger blasting her, she had to have been strapped up. About the idea that Bonnet might have still been wearing a harness under her short, loose flowing skirt that night in the hallway.
“Hey,” Jack whispers in class from the row behind Izzy, unable to let it go. “How did you get Bonnet to fuck you? Try to get her arrested again?”
Jack gets to watch heat creep up the back of Izzy’s neck, visible even in the low light of this film class she’d begged her to take together so they could polish off the last of their liberal arts credits. Winding Izzy up in public is an old game and its own kind of thrill, so she’s prepared to be hissed at or ignored or flicked off, like usual.
She isn’t prepared for the smug pull of Izzy’s mouth or the mean glint in her eye when she turns halfway around and whispers, “Not jealous, are we Rackham?”
Which. No, not exactly. But fuck. Everybody seems to be getting a piece of Bonnet except for CJ. It’s stupid that it hurts her feelings, that it makes her feel left out, but feelings are fucking stupid in the first place so it’s fine.
…
It’s lucky, Jack figures, that she’s on time to the meeting where Bonnet learns that a last minute snag on their supplier’s end means Ed won’t be able to take her shopping for her sorority formal, and that yes, Bonnet is still banned from both of the companies in town that let you hire a driver, because that makes it easy as pie to slip in under Bonnet’s rising hysteria and shoot her shot.
“I could take her, Eddie, no problem,” she says, all nonchalant and shit, nothing to see here, just your good friend CJ to the rescue.
Ed nods slowly and says, “Thanks mate, yeah,” into the ensuing silence, a suspicious little furrow between her brows because Eddie’s not stupid, unfortunately.
Bonnet, for once, is speechless, barely says another thing the entire meeting. Barely takes her eyes off Jack, either.
…
She gets a text the morning of the shopping trip from an unsaved number that says –
Be in front of Ed’s at 12PM.
Her immediate instinct is to be late. Fucking nobody tells Jack what to do.
But the ache of her jaw being wrenched open, mouth filled with cotton and lace and drool, Bonnet’s voice, low and amused— “Be a good girl and hold onto these for me” —has been stuck on an infinite loop in her mind for goddamn two weeks at this point, and if Bonnet likes good girls then Jack is willing to make an attempt.
She’s outside of Ed’s apartment five minutes early, and it’s worth it for the look on Bonnet’s face, surprised and then annoyed about it, like she had been looking forward to lecturing Jack about the importance of being on time.
“Where are we headed, princess?” Jack asks, adjusting her sunglasses as Bonnet slides stiffly into the front seat, her low cut sundress riding up past mid thigh. Bonnet gives her the address of some uptown boutique. Jack plugs it into her phone and then hands it to Bonnet, Spotify open. “Put on whatever,” she says, and then forces herself to shut up.
Bonnet likes her quiet.
She’s pleasantly surprised when Bonnet selects, after a minute of scrolling, one of Jack’s hookup playlists, some top 40 indie bullshit that Jack’s pretty sure she titled “Lit Major Pussy.” Not an inauspicious start to this whole endeavor, if she does say so herself.
The boutique is in a part of town Jack never goes to, and it’s one of those places where you have to have a reservation and be buzzed in the front door and have a valet park your car, which Jack grudgingly accepts with what she feels is an admirable lack of bitching. The whole thing is made immediately more tolerable by the flute of champagne that materializes in her hand the instant she crosses the threshold.
She sits and sips at her drink and doesn’t make a nuisance of herself, occasionally offering her inexpert opinion on different ensembles when the associate asks. She tries not to be offended when Bonnet sighs wistfully and says, “I wish Ed were here,” because Ed is good at colors and textures and necklines and shit, but she catches Bonnet’s smile when Jack says–
“I liked the green one best, really brings out your eyes.” And her tits, but Jack figures that’s not the kind of detail you focus on in a fancy place like this. Jack doesn’t see any money exchange hands or anything get bagged up but Bonnet and the associate share some words and then everything seems sorted even though they leave empty handed.
Bonnet treats her to lunch after, agreeing easily enough to the bar and grill Jack suggests, one of her favorite spots. “Ed says she can’t get you to come to places like this,” Jack can’t help but mention, but Bonnet only shrugs and says–
“You aren’t Ed.”
Jack continues to be on her best behavior all through lunch, ordering a water instead of a second beer after a look from Bonnet, but she can’t help but laugh at the other girl’s salad when it arrives, all iceberg lettuce and huge, wet chunks of tomato, drowning in the Ranch that Bonnet had requested on the side, clearly not what her highness was expecting.
“This is more of a burger joint, princess,” she tells her, grinning as she watches Bonnet poke at it cautiously with her fork before giving up and stealing half of Jack’s fries, which is normally a hard fucking no but she hasn’t come this far to turn back now and so she allows it.
Bonnet pays for lunch with a heavy black AmEx and Jack lets her, doesn’t even bother with the song and dance of pretending to look for her wallet. She has to admit, Bonnet hasn’t been half as annoying today as Jack usually finds her—no show tunes in the car, no being insufferable at waitstaff—right up until the Caddy gets a flat on the way back to Ed’s place and Jack has to wrestle Bonnet’s phone out of her hands to prevent her from calling Triple-A.
“It’s a flat, princess, I can have this taken care of in 15 minutes.” Christ. Jack already let someone else park her today. She doesn’t need help changing a tire.
The following 15 minutes are the day’s most excruciating by far, lots of huffing from Bonnet inside the car like, “ Isn’t this dangerous?” and “ Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” as CJ lugs the jack and the socket wrench and the spare out of the trunk and gets to work. Apparently Eddie hasn’t told her about the time they lifted a booted car together in Newark. Figures.
Eventually Bonnet stops complaining, only to start sighing so fucking morosely through the window that it’s obvious she wants Jack to ask what’s wrong, but no pussy in the world is worth inviting Bonnet to cry about her rich girl problems and Jack is fucking busy right now, besides, trying to get the car back on the fucking road.
Bonnet gives up eventually, and what follows is two minutes of beautiful silence until Bonnet has to go and ask in a small, sad voice, “Is Ed breaking up with me?”
Which. Wow. Not what she signed up for today.
She tightens the last bolt on the spare, checks the pressure with a tire gauge to make sure there’s enough air to get them home. She gets everything put away in the trunk and climbs back into the driver’s seat and then she looks over at Bonnet’s huge wet eyes and wobbling lips and says, “No, not that I know of.” She starts the car and eases it back onto the road. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because!” Bonnet wails. “Ed was so excited about this shopping trip and then she let you take me instead and I haven’t heard from her all day and you’re being so…so… nice to me!”
Jack’s face heats inexplicably at that. “Am not,” she mutters. She hasn’t been acting that different all day, just paying a little more mind to her p’s and q’s.
“Yes you are,” Bonnet insists. “You let me pick the music and didn’t embarrass me in the boutique and split your fries with me at the restaurant and you’ve just been so…quiet! All day. So. So I thought something must be wrong.”
Christ. If she’d known that being a little less obnoxious would send Bonnet spiraling she wouldn’t have bothered. Probably best to make her move now, before Bonnet can jump to any other, stupider conclusions.
“No, nothing wrong,” she says, resting her hand on the bare skin of Bonnet’s thigh. “Just thought you liked me better that way.” Carpe diem, bitch.
Bonnet startles, just a little, at the touch, but doesn’t pull away and then, if anything, she settles into it, pressing her thigh up a little into Jack’s hand as she hums consideringly. “Was everything today…was that you being good for me, Jacqueline?”
And she was, yes, explicitly trying to be good, but it still burns to hear it said out loud like that. “I don’t know,” she mumbles. “Maybe.”
“Hm,” says Bonnet, flipping Jack’s hand over on her thigh and running her nails over her palm in shiver inducing circles. “Why?”
Jack squirms, but doesn’t pull her hand back, flexes her other hand on the wheel before biting out, “So you’ll fucking finish what you started that night in the car.”
“Oh no,” Bonnet croons, comprehension dawning with a light laugh. “Have you been hard done by, darling? Have I been terribly unfair to poor CJ?”
“Yeah,” Jack says, her mouth a desert. “Yeah, you’ve been really fucking unfair.”
“Well,” says Bonnet. “Let’s see what we can do to remedy that.” She takes Jack’s phone from the dash and turns off the navigation to Ed’s apartment. “Take this next exit,” she instructs. “I’m taking you back to my place.”
…
Bonnet’s penthouse is next fucking level. Jack’s never been inside a home this nice, and Bonnet silently watches her take it in until she says, frowning, “If you’re going to tell me about how the one percent are single handedly responsible for worldwide wealth inequality and the destruction of our planet, don’t bother. I’ve already heard it from Izzy.”
“You brought that little communist here?” is all Jack can think to say.
“Once or twice,” Bonnet admits. And Jesus Christ, how many times have they hooked up since that night in the car? And how good must the pussy be if it can get Izzy to spend time in a place like this?
Jack literally cannot wait to find out.
Bonnet looks so fucking good, has all day, really, and Jack is ready to move this to the bedroom already. A bedroom, anyway, Jack’s not picky. This place looks like it has at least four.
First things first, though, and she probably should have done this in the car, but, “This is going to be a mutual thing, right Bonnet?” she asks, gesturing between them. “You scratch my back, I scratch yours?”
“I don’t think that’s going to work for me,” Bonnet says thoughtfully, and Jack has to quickly pretend like that didn’t just sink her heart all the way to her feet because fuck, what was even the point of today, when girls like Bonnet only want one thing out of Jack, but then Bonnet continues, “I’m not much in the mood to be fucked, if that’s all right with you.”
So Jack would be the only one who would …
Something foreign surges in her at that, something prickly and hot and embarrassed that makes her heartbeat pound in her fucking cunt, so Jack has to assume it’s more than all right. She’s just never done it like that before.
She tries to recover, tries not to look as bowled over as she feels. “Fine with me, princess,” she says, grinning, and moves to take Bonnet by the waist, pull her in for a kiss, but she grabs both of Jack’s wrists before she can, gentle but insistent. She turns Jack’s hands palm up.
“Look at these,” Bonnet murmurs. “Absolutely filthy.” And they are, Jack realizes, looking down, her hands are covered in car grease from changing the tire, but Bonnet’s voice is warm, not scolding. “You tomboys are all the same,” she smiles, indulgent, running her thumbs over Jack’s knuckles.
Something unbearably fucking tender unfurls in her chest at that word. No one’s called her a tomboy since she was about 11 years old — flat as a board with scabby knees and unaware that as soon as she sprouted tits people would take one look at her and call her a dyke instead. The corners of her eyes sting.
“And you’re probably all sweaty as well. Come with me, you can get washed up in the ensuite.”
She doesn’t drop Jack’s right wrist, and Jack trails behind her like a puppy, down the hall and through a darkened bedroom, all the way to the bathroom, where Bonnet gathers a washcloth and towel, shows Jack how the hot water works, and then kisses the inside of Jack’s wrist and leaves her to it.
Jack expects her shower to be perfunctory, close as she is to the finish line here. Get the grease off her hands, hit the bits and pits, get back out there and get it on, but she finds herself stalling.
First of all, the water pressure here is phenomenal. The profits raked in by their operation are sizable enough that Jack is hardly slumming it in her little one-bedroom near campus, but still. The difference is palpable. Jack feels fucking exfoliated just from standing under the spray.
Secondly, there’s an overwhelming number of products, none of them labeled in English. Jack sniffs several bottles before finding something that smells enough like a salon for her to be reasonably sure it’s shampoo. She hadn’t planned on washing her fucking hair but it got wet almost immediately and so now she has to or it’ll dry unbearably greasy.
Third, she’s fucking nervous. But she’s also clean now and wrapped in a towel while the ends of her hair drip water onto the bathroom floor, and she can’t stay here forever so she opens the door back into the bedroom.
The light is on now, revealing decor that Jack is sure is tasteful to upper echelon types. It looks bright and busy to her, too many jewel tones, and the entire effect is undeniably Bonnet. The girl herself is on her knees in the open door of her closet, digging through an honest to god trunk of some kind. She looks up when Jack comes in.
“Much better,” she smiles, standing gracefully and striding over to Jack. She stops a few feet from her and holds her hands out expectantly, going so far as to make little grabby motions with them, and sighs when Jack doesn’t move. “The towel, CJ,” she says. “Give it to me.”
Jesus fucking Christ
She draws on a lifetime of bravado she doesn’t exactly feel in the moment and whips off her towel with a flourish, makes a show of handing it over to Bonnet. Bonnet takes her time looking her up and down, and Jack forces her body language to stay loose, open, and not curl up under the scrutiny.
“Pretty girl,” Bonnet says with a smile, and that’s not fair, Jack’s not pretty, she knows—bones too strong in her frame, tits wide-set and too small, not to mention all the facial hair she refuses to wax—and she feels herself heat up under Bonnet’s regard.
“One more thing before we get started, come sit over here for me, there’s a girl,” Bonnet says, leading her over to a large vanity in the corner of the room and plugging in a hair dryer as Jack sits down on the bench. “I can’t think of anything worse than wet pillow cases, so I hope you’ll indulge me.”
She’s already toweling down Jack’s hair without waiting for an answer, but it’s fine, really. “You don’t do this with Hands,” Jack says from under the towel, because there’s no fucking way.
Bonnet laughs softly. “No, somehow I don’t quite think she’d let me. But you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you CJ?”
Jack nods. She doesn’t trust herself to speak.
Bonnet sprays something sweet-smelling into Jack’s hair. “Detangler,” she explains at Jack’s scrunched up face, then pulls a wide-toothed comb through Jack’s wet locks, slow and gentle enough that it never snags or snarls, not like when Jack brushes her own hair. She really should just cut it, doesn’t know why she keeps it long like this when she hardly takes care of it.
“The fuck is that?” Jack asks when Bonnet sprays something else into her hair, only this smells like men’s cologne.
“A protectant. Heat is very damaging to hair.”
And then there’s nothing to do really but let Bonnet blow dry her hair as she sits naked at the vanity and Bonnet stands behind her fully clothed. Super normal stuff.
Jack doesn’t know where to look, settles for watching Bonnet in the mirror, not quite sure she wants to see the expression on her own face right now. The few times Bonnet meets her eyes she smiles warmly at Jack. Soon the heat of the blow dryer is uncomfortably close to the skin of her face and she uses it as an excuse to close her eyes.
“There now, all done,” Bonnet says eventually, setting the blow dryer down and resting her hands heavily on Jack’s shoulders.
Jack dares to look in the mirror then, and it’s her all right, hair a smooth, silky curtain tucked neatly behind her ears, blushing like a fucking virgin. Fuck.
“Go lay down on the bed,” Bonnet tells her. “I’ll be right over.”
Jack makes her way over to the bed and lets herself fall backwards onto the plush mattress, bouncing a little. She turns her head to watch Bonnet, once again kneeling in front of the trunk in the closet.
“Got yourself a little treasure chest there, princess?” she asks, curious. “Big ol’ box of toys?”
“Of incredible variety,” Bonnet confirms. “Just picking a few pieces I think you might enjoy.” She looks over her shoulder at Jack and winks. “No peeking,” she says.
Jack closes her eyes before she’s really thought about it. Bonnet laughs.
Eventually Jack feels the edge of the bed dip under another person’s weight, feels two fingers tap impersonally at her hip. “On your belly, Jack, turn over,” says Bonnet, and fuck, okay, they’re doing this.
Once Jack is on her front, pillow tucked under her hips courtesy of Bonnet, the other girl doesn’t do anything for a while other than absently trail her nails up and down Jack’s back. Jack struggles with it for a few minutes, fighting the urge to squirm away, too anxious for a touch this soft, but she doesn’t tell Bonnet to stop, and eventually her body chooses to interpret the ministrations as soothing. Her heartbeat slows down, her muscles relax. She all but melts into the bed.
“There you go,” murmurs Bonnet. “So tense. That was never going to work.” She scratches at Jack’s scalp, and Jack can’t help but turn into it like a cat. Bonnet makes a fond, pleased noise. “Would you like to see what I picked out?”
Jack would. She isn’t much for toys on her own, would rather spend her money on other things, but if Bonnet wants to share then Jack isn’t going to complain.
She sets a powder blue harness down on the bedspread within Jack’s field of vision, and okay, no hesitation in pulling out the big guns, apparently. A matching powder blue dildo follows, far from the largest Jack has taken but still a serious piece of hardware with an outrageous degree of curve. She takes a moment to wonder if all of Bonnet’s strap-wear is color coordinated and decides yes, it probably is.
“One more thing,” says Bonnet, and Jack figures it’s going to be like, a bullet vibe or a blindfold or something. She is not prepared at all for what Bonnet lays out next.
“Oh my god,” laughs Jack around the giant, nervous lump in her throat. “No fucking way.”
Bonnet scritches Jack behind the ear, her smile obvious in her voice. “Oh absolutely. What is it you’ve been calling me all day?”
Jack buries her flaming face in her hands. Bonnet coos sympathetically.
“Tell me what this little toy is called, Jack, and I’ll use it on you. You don’t even have to say yes, you just have to tell me what it is.”
Oh fuck. Jack peeks from between her fingers at the toy lying innocently in front of her, takes in the short, tapered bulb of metal, stainless steel most likely, and more damningly its base, inset with a faceted, light blue gem. On any other toy it would be plastic. Considering that this is Bonnet, Jack might be looking at an actual aquamarine.
“It’s a–” And she’s fighting not to laugh, knows it would come out hysterical if she did. “It’s a goddamn princess plug,” she forces out.
“Just so,” says Bonnet, smug. “And fitting for today, I think. Knees under your chest, hon, it’ll be easier to open you up that way.”
Jack shuffles her knees forward, spreads them farther apart and arches her back with just a few more of those impersonal, two-finger taps from Bonnet. She’s hyper-aware of her own asshole, exposed as she is to the cool air of the room and Bonnet’s eyes, and it’s not that she’s never done butt-stuff before, but it’s kind of a fucking lot for the first time with a new person.
“You’re fucking wild, you know that?” Jack says.
Bonnet teases two fingers up her slit, and then with no ceremony or warning, slides them into her aching cunt.
“You don’t seem to mind,” says Bonnet, curling her fingers. “Dripping as you are.”
“Nngh,” says Jack, and pushes back onto Bonnet’s hand before she can stop herself. Bonnet gives her a few more pointed thrusts, then pulls her fingers out entirely. Jack hears the cap of something snap open: lube, her mind supplies.
Sure enough Bonnet’s fingers return, slick and cold, to rub firmly around the rim of her asshole. Jack’s body tries to clench down involuntarily against the unfamiliar sensation, but the position makes it almost impossible. Bonnet swipes her thumb across the tense furl of muscle, over and over, pressing a little harder with each pass but never slipping in.
Jack doesn’t know how long those particular nerve endings have been connected to the ones in her clit (always, maybe, she didn’t pass anatomy) but the attention there is making her clit throb something fierce. She cants her hips up into it, wanting more, wanting Bonnet to just do it already.
That seems to be what Bonnet was waiting for. The tip of her finger finally fucks into Jack’s hole, no farther than the first knuckle, rolling in a shallow little circle, stretching her the tiniest bit, encouraging those muscles to relax. God, why does it feel so good? Jack doesn’t remember anal feeling this good, doesn’t remember wanting more like this.
“Fuck,” Jack says. “I’m not gonna fucking break, just give it to me already.”
“If you insist,” says Bonnet, and slides in to the last knuckle with zero hesitation. Jesus fuck. “I was trying to be nice.”
Jack lets out a wet sounding laugh. “Don’t think I like you nice.”
“Well in that case,” says Bonnet, and then her finger is gone and there’s cold metal pressed against her asshole instead, and her heart beats just that much faster in her chest. Jack doesn’t remember the plug being super thick, but this is still going to be a stretch.
Bonnet goes slow with it, pausing to rock the plug back and forth whenever she meets any real resistance, but it still fucking burns in a way that Jack isn’t going to forget any time soon. And then enough of it must be in because Jack feels her hole swallow the rest of the toy, hears Bonnet murmur, “There we go,” and tap at the base settled snugly now against Jack’s rim, sending little shockwaves through her.
“Stay there, pretty, I’ll be right back,” says Bonnet, patting her proprietarily on the ass. “Just going to wash my hands.” And yeah, that tracks, Bonnet would care about cross contamination. Jack’s not the biggest stickler for it, but she appreciates the concern.
Alone on the bed she can focus on how full she feels, now that she’s gotten used to the stretch and weight of the plug, and how the fullness in her ass only intensifies the hollow ache of her empty cunt. Her eyes drift over to the dildo still on the bedspread, and she takes a second to imagine it inside her. She clenches down on nothing, feels a fresh pulse of slick dribble out of her and down her thigh.
“Gorgeous,” admires Bonnet, back from the bathroom. “Look at me for a moment?”
Jack turns to give Bonnet her eyes, only to see her pointing Jack’s phone toward her, which opens obligingly when it sees Jack’s face. Thanks Apple. Bonnet turns the phone back toward her and swipes left several times, looking for who knows what. “Perfect darling, thank you.”
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?” She starts to sit up. There is shit on that phone that isn’t for anyone’s eyes but Jack’s.
“ Don’t move,” says Bonnet, voice sharp, and that shouldn’t be enough to still her but it is, apparently, and Jack stays on her knees. “I wanted a few photos and thought you might appreciate them more on your phone than mine.”
This bitch. “Would it kill you to fucking ask?” Jack says, annoyed but relieved.
“Not really in the habit,” Bonnet quips, still snapping pics. She must have turned the shutter sound on, Jesus Christ. “Arch your back a bit more for me, there, that’s perfect.” She puts the phone down on the nightstand, within Jack’s line of sight. “That’s all for now, you can relax.”
And then Bonnet is pulling her sundress over her head and stepping into the powder blue harness in what has to be the cutest matching bra and panties set Jack has ever seen on a real human. Pink again, covered in ruffles and bows and fuck but Jack wants to get her mouth on her. Maybe that’s something that might be on the table next time. If there is a next time.
Ed is so fucking lucky.
(Bonnet is kind of fucking Ed’s two best friends behind her back, though, so maybe not).
In front of her Bonnet has the harness secure, the well-maintained leather lightly indenting the meat of her thighs, the soft curve of her belly. She attaches the dildo with practiced ease, leaves her delicate fingers wrapped casually around the blue cock between her legs.
“I know you said–” Jack starts, staring. “But can I–” She trails off. She doesn’t know how to ask for what she wants without sounding like a needy fucking slut. She runs her tongue over her lips, wetting them, then catches the bottom one between her teeth. Bonnet tenderly rubs her thumb there, back and forth, until Jack releases it.
“Need something in your mouth, pretty?” she asks, looking at Jack like she sees her.
“Fuck,” Jack whines. “Please.”
“Off the bed,” Bonnet instructs. “On your knees.”
Jack scrambles to obey, sinking down to her knees in front of Bonnet and staring her cock dead in the face. She looks up for permission. Bonnet grins down at her.
“Oh, very good, CJ. Good girl. Open wide for me now.”
Jack opens her mouth as wide as it’ll go. “Fuck,” Bonnet says under her breath. “Look at you.” And then she seizes Jack by the back of hair, not fucking gentle in the slightest, and pulls her forward and down onto her cock hard enough that Jack has to grab her by the hips so as to not upset her own balance.
The heft of the silicone sliding back across her tongue is smooth and cool and heavy—a perfect mouthful. The sharp pin pricks on her scalp where Bonnet still has her by the hair only heighten the experience. Jack’s not big into pain, but a little can go a long way.
She bobs her head forward, takes the toy down to the root, and breathes in heavily through her nose when she’s near enough to Bonnet’s cunt to smell and yeah, Jack isn’t the only one getting off on this. Bonnet is definitely enjoying herself. Jack just isn’t allowed to touch, and fuck but why is that so hot?
Time goes a little hazy as she continues to suckle at the toy and Bonnet continues to let her, petting her hair every now and then, telling her how good she’s being, and sure, it’s still embarrassing to hear out loud, but it’s also gratifying. She is being good, and it’s being noticed. There’s nothing much worse than trying and no one recognizing all the hard work you’re putting in.
Eventually Bonnet gently pushes her away, and like a real pal doesn’t even say anything about the sad little whine Jack lets out when she does, which means Jack gets to pretend she didn’t just make that noise. She encourages Jack to stand until she’s off the floor and then shoves her back on her hands and knees on the bed, pulling her close enough to the edge that her feet dangle off the side, and then her spit-slick cock slides into Jack in one smooth thrust.
There’s no getting around the noise she makes at that, high in her throat and luridly feminine.
“That’s right, let me hear you,” Bonnet says, pulling out slowly and then punching back in, letting Jack feel the curve of her cock dragging along her back walls, juddering up against the plug through the thin skin of her taint. And then—slowly, slowly—she does it again. And again. And again, with no sign of picking up the damn pace.
“Fu-uck,” Jack moans, drawing the word out into several syllables, panting harshly around it. “Fucking…more, Bonnet, I can take it.”
“You’ll take what I give you,” Bonnet huffs, sounding annoyed, but then she grabs her by the hips and the next few thrusts fucking jack-rabbit in, and Jack wants to bite off the pathetic, porn-y chorus of ah-ah-ah-ah falling out of her mouth but there’s nothing she can do, just fucking lost to it.
“Can you come from this?” Bonnet asks her, barely out of breath, and Jack is going to have to ask about her fucking cardio routine after all this is over, if she remembers. And no, she can’t, usually, come from penetration alone, but it’s been known to happen. This might be one of those times.
“Fucking…maybe,” she grits out. “Might take a minute.”
“Oh, we’ve got plenty of time,” says Bonnet breezily, circling her hips, her cock buried deep in Jack’s cunt before fucking into her in these quick little bunny thrusts and then burying herself once more.
Jack’s elbows give out at that, and then she’s chest down, ass up on Bonnet’s bed getting fucking pounded into next week and Jack would be a rich fucking woman if all her plans panned out half as well as this one has.
And then Bonnet starts playing with the plug in her ass, twisting it harshly, pulling it out just far enough and then letting Jack’s body suck it back in. It’s fucking electric, the stretch of her rim around the widest part of the toy paired with the thick cock in her cunt and this is maybe not going to take as long as Jack thought, orgasm building behind her pelvic floor.
“Fucking, Bonnet– Stede, please, I need–” She pulls in a giant lungful of air. “I’m close I just need–”
And then Bonnet plants her foot on the bed to the outside of Jack’s knee and fucking slams into her with her newfound leverage and at the same time reaches around and pinches her clit between the blunt ends of her acrylics, jacking it like a tiny dick and fuck, she’s coming, shuddering through it, clamping down on the cock that’s still bullying its way into her, fucking her clean through to the other side of it.
And then Bonnet’s fucking phone rings.
She yanks herself free from Jack’s body with zero fanfare and lunges for her bag, rifling through it until she’s located her phone. When she answers, nothing in her voice gives away what she’s been up to with Jack, chipper and not out of breath in the slightest.
“Yes, darling, hello! Did everything go well?”
Ed, then.
“No, I’m home, Jack dropped me off about an hour ago.”
Jack stretches her arms over her head and rolls over onto her back, lets her feet drop down to the floor as she spreads her legs and carefully works the plug out of herself, wincing at the loose, empty feeling. She sets it on the bed so it doesn’t get lost or forgotten on the floor. She’s considerate like that.
“Of course you can. I’ve missed you all day; I’d love to see you,” Bonnet says into the phone as she snaps her fingers to get Jack’s attention. Jack raises her head slowly to look at her. Bonnet widens her eyes and taps her wrist, communicating urgency.
Time to go, she mouths at Jack.
And it’s a shame to not get a chance to bask in the afterglow, really it is, but the last thing Jack wants is to get caught by Eddie here in her girlfriend’s penthouse and so she gets with the program, bouncing off of the bed and hot-footing it to the bathroom for her clothes.
She dresses in near record time, starts for the door and then at the last second she remembers her phone on the nightstand so she swings back around and throws herself across the bed to grab it, letting the momentum roll her off the other side and then she springs to her feet, moving fast around the bed and toward the door again.
“See you soon. Love you too.” Bonnet hangs up the phone and shoots Jack a wry grin. “Rude of me, I know, but you really do need to leave now. Ed is just around the corner.”
Jack grins back at her and in a flash of inspiration takes her by the elbow and pulls her in for a kiss, the first they’ve shared.
“Mmph!” Bonnet squeals, high pitched and indignant into Jack’s mouth, but Jack just licks at her bottom lip until Bonnet relaxes and opens up and Jack takes 30 seconds that she doesn’t have to indulge herself, tipping Bonnet’s head back and deepening the kiss until Bonnet swats at her shoulder.
“Go!” she says, “Or we’re going to get caught.”
She has a point.
“Later, Ed’s girlfriend,” Jack says with a two-fingered salute as she steps through the door.
“Until next time, princess,” Bonnet returns, all sly and shit, and Jack doesn’t turn around because her face is on fire but she does flick her off with both hands.
Bonnet’s laugh follows her down the hall.
…
The pictures Bonnet snuck are fucking sexy as hell, Jack decides from the comfort of her own apartment. She hardly recognizes herself from the angle, but she appreciates the lighting, how it makes the lines of her body read as sleek and strong instead of bulky—how she usually sees herself. The plug is a nice touch, Jack thinks as she notices for the first time how it matches the accent color in Bonnet’s bedspread.
These are the most artistic nudes in Jack’s camera roll by far. Before she can second guess herself she sends the one with the most visible details of Bonnet’s room to Izzy with the caption–
Dont be jelly bb! xoxo
–and waits for the inevitable shitstorm.
She’s been good enough for one day.