Mindfuck - A Bad Boy Romance With A Twist (Mind Games Book 1)

by Gabi Moore

  I squeezed the trigger and a hole pinged in the center of the target. The crowd stirred. I took aim again, and popped another shot, this one a little off center but still squarely in the black. I followed with another one. Perhaps I had a secret talent after all. Perhaps this is what I was meant to do with my life: run off into the sunset to be a sexy assassin with Dean.

  I had soon fired off four shots into the bull’s-eye and was aiming for the last. The thrill of this little competition had my cheeks warm and the smile still glued to my face. I took a deep breath.

  “You’ll never make it,” he whispered into my ear.

  “Stop trying to psyche me out!” I said, and wobbled on my aim.

  “You’ve missed it already, you can’t compete with a pro like me, you know,” he said, doing his best evil villain voice. I giggled but maintained my aim. Just as I squeezed the trigger, his hand went quickly to my waist, I gasped and pulled the barrel to the left, releasing the last pellet into a helium balloon to the side, which rapidly deflated before my eyes.

  “Dean!” I gasped, shooting him a dirty look. Angie was roaring with laughter. I looked down at the place he had touched me, just below my navel.

  “You cheated!” I said, placing the gun down as the crowd around us began to chatter again and wander off.

  “Cheat? Me? Never.”

  “Right at the moment I pulled the trigger, you distracted me…”

  “I think you distracted me by wearing that sexy little sundress,” he said without skipping a beat. I laughed and punched his arm.

  “I can’t believe you,” I said, and I couldn’t.

  “I should report you to the fairground police, actually, for foul play,” he said.

  We three walked off, laughing and goofing around.

  “This is so nice,” I said eventually, when Angie went off to pet a dog. “She’s really having such a good time.”

  What I meant was that I was having a good time. This is what people did, I guess, when they were living an ordinary life. This is what it felt like to be normal. And happy. We strolled around, ate some cotton candy and watched a street juggler.

  It was easy to imagine for a second that I belonged here, with these families and regular people. That I didn’t have a strange and embarrassing profession, that I could just walk in a crowd with good, ordinary civilians …and that this man wasn’t one of my clients but a friend. Maybe even a…

  Ugh. But can you imagine? Me? Miss Susie Homemaker out on the weekend at a fair being all good and proper? Laughable. That ship had sailed. I was a freak, and even if I wanted to quit my job forever, it’s not like I had a transferable skill set.

  Angie tugged on my sleeve and pointed to the long line for the Round Up ride.

  “No, baby, that’ll make you sick,” I said.

  “Please.”

  I looked over at the garish pink and yellow metal whizzing high above our heads. The last thing I needed was for her to puke all over everyone.

  “Are you sure, baby? Don’t you want to try another ride?”

  “I’ll go with her, and we’ll be just fine, won’t we Angie?” Dean said with a twinkle in his eye. I looked over at him and didn’t know whether to throttle him or kiss him.

  “Fine. But don’t come crying when you both feel sick later.”

  “Go and hold a place for us, Angie, we’ll be there soon,” he said to her, and she ran off happily to join the line.

  “What are you--”

  Before I knew it, he had taken my hand and was pulling me through the crowd, till we were both standing between two brightly painted trailers. He had a giddy smile on his face as we both hid away from the flow of people, tucked off into the tiny alley made between the trailer walls.

  “And just what are you doing?” I said giggling and trying to catch my breath. “You’re crazy,” I began to say but in an instant he had pressed his own smiling lips to mine and we tumbled into a long, juicy kiss that surprised us both. Soon he had pressed the full weight of his chest into me and pinned my body against the cool corrugated iron of the trailer wall, where it buckled a little under me. I yielded instantly, my legs buckling and the butterflies in my stomach bursting all the way through me.

  His hands went everywhere. Again to the curve of my waist. To the warm crook of my neck where he tilted and anchored my chin to bend me deeper into a kiss. His tongue was soft and sweet and moved urgently over mine in a caress so passionate it felt like he had been waiting all day for it.

  “Fuck, you’re all I think about, you know that?” he growled into my ear as he traced his kiss greedily over my cheek and down my neck.

  I could still hear the sounds of the fair but they were happening somewhere far, far away now, somewhere away from this little hideaway he had pulled me into. His words were molten, and just hearing them burnt holes right through me. I loved the desperate edge to his voice, loved from how deep in his throat that sound seemed to come.

  I could do nothing but whimper and kiss back, turning to jelly in his arms, a shock of pleasure zapping all through me and collecting in one gooey, tight spot right between my thighs.

  “All I can think of is what I want to do this perfect little body of yours,” he said to my collarbone. His breath was hot against my skin. Far away, some kids screamed with glee as a ride spun them around and over.

  “Dean…”

  “I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off you all day,” he continued and his broad hands were instantly squeezing the top of my thigh. It felt so good that a moan escaped my lips before I could stop it. I could feel all of him, pressed firm against me, and then he started to kiss me again…

  I pushed him away.

  “Dean, what are we doing?” I gasped.

  He blinked at me.

  “What are we doing? I was kissing you and trying to get you to make that sound again. And you were enjoying it,” he said with a little sideways smile so naughty it should have been illegal.

  “Dean, I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  My head spun.

  “Is this… are we …Dean are we dating?”

  He cocked his head to the side.

  “I don’t know. Do you want to be?” he said, easy as can be. I couldn’t believe how calmly he was speaking, like he hadn’t just had his delicious tongue all over me. Like he hadn’t been turning my world upside down for two weeks now.

  “But …where do you see any of this going? What happens now?” I suddenly became aware of the fact that we weren’t all that well hidden from the crowd.

  “Now? Well, when I was done kissing you, I thought we should probably go line up for the Round Up ride before Angie notices we’re missing.”

  I sighed and squirmed out of his grasp.

  “Dean, I’m being serious…”

  He took a step back, looked over his shoulder at the stream of people walking past the trailers and then back at me, with that look that lets you know there’s more going on than meets the eye.

  “Ok, fine. Let’s be serious. You’re right. You wanna get married? Wanna have a few kids with me? Hell, if you wanted to carry on with your work, that’s cool too, I’ll help you. I didn’t get on the Fortune 500 list for nothing, you know, if you’ve got a business, then I’ve got some pointers. You wanna get a dog?”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. All I knew was that again, he was saying something I completely, utterly didn’t expect, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Are you making fun of me? This is serious. I’m a sex worker, in case you haven’t noticed. I’m not a regular woman. Don’t be stupid. You could basically round me up to a prostitute.”

  “Nah, that’s where you’re wrong.”

  “Oh? Then why did you pay me $3000 for the pleasure of coming with me and my sister to the fair today?”

  He cocked his head over to the side again.

  “Ok, so you want me to stop paying you? Got it. Done,” he said and gave me a big goofy smile. But I was losing my temp
er.

  “Oh my god, Dean, stop trying to give me what I want, dammit!” I snapped.

  It was his turn to go serious. He didn’t have a witty comeback this time, or a silly smile.

  “Dean, I just think at some point we’re going to have to be realistic and stop seeing each other like this…”

  “So you don’t want to see me anymore,” he said quietly.

  “I think so.”

  My skin felt cold now on the place where he had been touching me only moments before. He was staring at the ground. I could tell he was thinking intently.

  “What do you need? What can I do to change your mind? Tell me, anything…”

  “I already told you, Dean, this is so weird…”

  “But hear me out,” he said, and took my shoulders in his hands. “My job is to keep paying you, and your job is to keep giving me orders. Any orders. That’s it. No pressure. What happens here is purely up to you and you alone. Whatever you want. Let’s say if you tell me to do something and I truly can’t do it, then I’ll say goodbye and you’ll never hear from me again. Deal? If not, I get to keep seeing you. Call it a game,” he said quickly, his voice hushed and urgent.

  “But Dean, maybe I’m tired of games. Maybe I don’t want to even do this line of work anyway…”

  “Then don’t. Cancel all your clients, tomorrow. You don’t have to see another one ever again.”

  “Oh yeah? And how am I supposed to pay my bills?”

  “I’ll pay them for you. Done. All you have to do is tell me to do it, and I will, right?”

  His hands were still wrapped firmly on my shoulders, his grey-green gaze staring straight through me. He was relentless. No matter what I said, he seemed to always know exactly the response that would disarm me.

  “That’s crazy. In any case, don’t be dumb, you can’t possibly do everything I want.”

  “Of course I can.”

  “What if I make you do really crazy things, huh? What if--”

  “Try me.”

  The cool air between us seemed electrified. His hands against my skin felt cool and a little dangerous. Why the fuck was he doing any of this? What on earth could be in it for him? But I could still taste him on my lips. Still felt that magnetic pull between my tongue and his, and had to fight that dizzying temptation back in towards another kiss. Wasn’t this my actual job? Why was I so petrified about agreeing to what seemed like a setup so perfectly in my favor? I had nothing to lose. So why did I feel like I was about to embark on the most dangerous ‘game’ I’d ever played with a client?

  “Anything I want?”

  “If you really want it, then yes.”

  “And if you can’t do it, then we call everything off?”

  “No questions asked.”

  “Fine,” I whispered. “I’ll play along. For now. But you’re crazy, and you’re going to see what a stupid idea this is.”

  He smiled softly and leaned in a little closer to me, wrapping all of his tall, imposing figure around mine, reaching down to take my chin in his hand and trace a faint line with his thumb against my lower lip.

  “I wasn’t expecting that, by the way,” he said.

  “Expecting what?”

  “For you to be such a good kisser.”

  Just like every other day this week that I had spent semi-flirting with him, I was already so completely, desperately wet it was almost distracting. My body sure as hell didn’t seem conflicted about what was happening here. In fact, if he were to grab my wrists right now, turn me around, lift my sundress and fuck me right here, I’d be more than ready for it. The thought alone seemed to make the situation worse.

  Did he know what effect he was having on me?

  Is it what he wanted?

  Is that what I wanted?

  I was just about to tell him once more how crazy he was when he moistened his lips, smoothed down his shirt and stepped out of our little makeshift alley, holding his hand out behind him to invite me to follow.

  I did.

  We went back out into the light and noise and chaos of the crowd, towards the line to find Angie. I walked in silence behind him, my hand in his as he led us through the crowd with me trailing behind. I felt shaken. Like parts of me were still vibrating from being pushed up against that corrugated iron and kissed like that.

  But I didn’t know how to do any of this. I didn’t know what to do with this wiggly, aching feeling inside me. With how wildly exposing it felt to want him this much. But fine. He said I could tell him to do anything I wanted? Then I would. But, oh, he’d see.

  When we had found Angie in the queue again, she had sat herself down on the floor and was rocking a little, in her own world bobbing the balloons on their strings. I leaned over casually to him and spoke under my breath.

  “The first thing you’re going to do for me is be 100% honest.”

  “Ok.”

  “Do I turn you on?” I said. I had meant it to sound seductive. Inviting. But it came out sounding like an insecure schoolgirl looking for validation.

  “Immensely.”

  “Do you want to fuck me?” My heart pounded furiously in my chest. He took a little longer to answer this time.

  “So much it’s driving me crazy.”

  The knot below tightened a little more.

  “Ok, well, good. Now on to the next thing I want. I don’t want us to have sex yet.”

  He turned to look at me.

  Of course, now he’d try to rewrite the rules. Try to convince me, or seduce me. He’d backpedal, of course. Fucking men. Maybe that’s all he wanted out of me, and the ruse of a ‘game’ was just to get us where he wanted: sex. But to my surprise, he was smiling.

  “Did you say ‘yet’? Well I certainly wasn’t expecting it, but I have to say, I like the way you think,” he said and smiled that naughty smile at me. I couldn’t resist a laugh.

  “Do you think we’ll ever get to the front of this line, though?” he said, quickly changing the topic.

  “You have somewhere to be?”

  “Well, I had an important meeting this afternoon at around 4…” he said, gazing out over the endless queue snaking to the front of the ride.

  “Cancel it,” I said.

  He looked at me again.

  “Cancel it?”

  “Yeah. Call them to cancel and come home with me and Angie. I’ll drop her off and then we’ll spend the night together at your place.” I said the words quickly, before I lost my nerve.

  “Home with you, huh? To not have sex?”

  “Exactly. We can not have sex all night long. Deal?”

  “Deal,” he said quickly.

  I eyed him over to see what else he would say, to see how he’d wriggle out of it so I could catch him breaking the rules of our ‘game’ already and get to say I told him so. But he just stood there, smiling.

  “You’re nuts,” I said, and reached down to grab his hand in mine. He took it and held it tight, and let me lean against him as we waited quietly in the line.

  I like the color white because it’s clean. Because it’s empty and pure and easy. White is like opting out of a color, it’s safe and sane and yes, a little cold. My life was crisp and clean and neat at the edges. I had become an expert at bleaching everything out so that only the bare minimum remained. I had known Dean for only two weeks, and already he was like a bright, multicolored stain spreading right across the neutral, safe white of my life. Dean was like electric hot pink and neon green and bight, acid yellow blaring all over my tasteful minimalism. He was like paint splatters on my mind that I couldn’t clean up fast enough.

  And yet, I couldn’t resist. Part of me was curious. More than curious.

  I wanted to see just how far he would go…

  Chapter 11

  Myth: Proper kinky sex is about trust, safety, respectful boundaries and comfortable, mature exploration of the desires of mutually consenting adults

  Reality: The most raw, bone-shatteringly good fucking always happens right at the edg
e of what you’re most afraid of. Good sex is dangerous. You SHOULD be a little uncomfortable.

  “Your house is so… I expected it to be--”

  “Bigger?” he said.

  I smiled.

  “I’m sorry, I’m being impolite, I just imagined you’d live in some kind of castle, I don’t know,” I said and followed him as we walked into his humble studio apartment.

  “Oh, sure, I do. I just like to keep all my castles in Europe,” he laughed and gestured for me to sit down.

  There was no denying it now. What little scrap of professional relationship we ever had was well and truly demolished.

  I was at his house.

  We had kissed.

  And now… I had told him in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t sleep with him. Which of course meant it was all I could think of. Though I was sitting on his sofa, though I was so turned on it felt like I would burst if he looked at me funny, though he kept piercing me with those green eyes of his and that devilish smile, over and over… I had told him it wouldn’t happen. And now, the only way it would happen is if I told him it’s actually what I wanted.

  Suddenly, the warbling sounds of a soprano’s voice burst into the room and snapped me from my daydreaming. I looked up at him walking towards me, a bottle of champagne in his hands.

  “Il Trittico,” I whispered. “I haven’t heard this in ages.”

  “I knew you’d appreciate that,” he said, smiling with satisfaction.

  “Appreciate it? No question it’s Pucini’s most underrated--”

  “Most underrated opera. I couldn’t agree more.”

  “You… you know about opera?” I asked, taking the fluted glass he offered me and forcing myself to drag my ears away from the hypnotizing sounds and back to his voice, equally hypnotizing.

  “No, I don’t know a damn thing about it, to be honest. I’m an uncultured buffoon, it’s part of my charm, you see. But I knew you’d like it,” he said, easily popped the champagne cork and began pouring frothy golden liquid into our glasses. The house may have been on the modest side, but the champagne must have cost the earth and the glassware looked like it belonged in a museum.

  “So how did you know I liked it?” I asked.