Night Call (Night Fever Serial Book 2) (11 page)

He laughed. “If you could see how beautiful you look right now, you’d understand how much I’m enjoying this.”

“I doubt it.”

He hummed. “Lose the attitude for a minute, Lola. Listen to what I see—possibly the most entrancing woman I’ve ever encountered, folded over my bed with her sweet pussy displayed. Just for me.”

Her body thrilled with his words. Even blindfolded, Lola had to shut her eyes. Her heels propped her ass in the air, and her black hair would be messy from Beau’s tie. Without stockings, her legs would be long and white. Her body rose and fell faster on the mattress with each breath.

“The burn of quality alcohol in my throat,” he continued, “while I think of what I want to do to you next. I didn’t plan this part. If I’d let myself think of having you in this room again, I would’ve shown up at your front door and dragged you back here.”

Beau’s deep voice pushed its way into her. She gyrated her hips a little against the lip of the bed, trying to hit the right spot. He had that kind of control over her, even without touching her.

“I’m hard for you. I want to be inside you. But right now I need a moment to memorize the way your hands are clenching the sheets. Your red lips parting with each gasp. So fucking sue me. If this is my last night with you, I’m going to appreciate it.”

She practically writhed on the mattress. “You’re screwing with me, and it’s working,” she said. “I don’t care. Am I supposed to admit I want you? I do. I’m ready.”

His footsteps made little noise on the carpet, but she knew he was coming. There was a sudden, wet heaviness on her lower back. “Do not spill my drink,” he said. “I’m taking off my belt.”

She forced herself to keep from squirming.

“Now the rest of my clothes,” he said. “My cock’s reaching for you like you’re food and it’s been starving for months.”

She turned her head so her other cheek pressed into the mattress. She was getting uncomfortably warm. She squeezed her eyes shut behind the blindfold.

He thumbed her cheeks apart, then her lips, opening her for him. Without her vision, she never knew where his fingers would probe her next, heightening her anticipation.

“You weren’t lying about being ready.” His crown collected her wetness, sliding up and down. “God, Lola. I must’ve sold my soul at some point for something this good.”

Unable to take what she wanted, she was stunted but growing feisty. All she had were her words. “You think even the devil would have you?”

“He already does. He’s got me.”

“And you have me,” Lola said. “You’re my devil.”

He thrust inside her all at once. She made a noise between a yelp and a moan as whiskey sloshed onto her back. Beau removed the glass and lapped up the liquid, his tongue slick and slippery, leaving goose bumps along her spine. “Whiskey and Lola,” he said against her skin. “My new favorite flavor.”

“You’re going too slow,” she said.

He dropped all of his weight on her back, sinking her body into the mattress. “How do you want me? Faster?” he whispered in her ear, picking up his pace. “Harder?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes to everything.”

He slid his hand under her neck and lifted her head backward as he gave her what she wanted. “Waiting for you to come back was torture,” he said while he fucked her. “Does that make you happy? Knowing how hard it’s been for me?”

“No.”

“Liar. You like to watch me suffer. Tell me I’ve owned you too.”

He would never stop. He wanted more and more. She’d known this about him from the start—he was driven. Ambitious. Strong. She hadn’t realized how it might be to have him go after her with all of that. She hadn’t realized how much she’d want to give in. She bit her lip. “I’m the one who suffers.”

“How?”

“I can’t have what I want.”

“What do—”

“You.”

“I’m here, Lola. Right here.”

She grit her teeth. Nothing mattered outside that moment. She could take what she wanted, and nobody would ever know but them. “You’ve owned me. Not just my body.”

“How else?”

She was barely able to focus, but she still knew the things she could never say.
I could love you. If you don’t stop, you’ll own my heart too.
“I don’t want to leave you,” she said, her voice pitching.

“If I never untie you, you’ll have no choice.” He stopped moving. “Is that what you want? Me to take away your choice so you feel no guilt?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t know. Don’t stop. Please.”

“Tell me how you belong to me.”

“I can’t. You know what’s true. Don’t make me say it.”

With one hard thrust, he was pounding into her again. “Then tell me what’s mine.”

“My pussy is yours.”

“
Bon petit chatte
,” he groaned. “Keep talking.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to leave.”

He pulled on her hair as she buried her head in the bed. The comforter muted her cries when her orgasm broke her apart from the inside, leaving her a shivering mess beneath him.

He didn’t slow his rhythm. He took what he needed, hard, unrelenting, still pulling her hair, sucking on her earlobe, whispering almost inaudibly in her ear until he came too.

He didn’t move off her for some time. Her breaths were soft whimpers. He removed the blindfold, but Lola’s eyes were closed anyway. She sighed, only lifting her head when Beau pulled out. The white bedspread was smeared red from her lipstick.

Chapter Ten

Lola lay comfortably on her stomach while Beau propped himself up on one elbow next to her. He caressed her everywhere, from the marks on her thighs the ties had left behind up to her neck and shoulders.

She focused on Beau’s touch on her skin to avoid feeling him anywhere else. It was as if he was inside her now—for good. He’d been fighting his way in, prying her open with words and caresses. She had no defenses when his only goal was her submission.

“You feel good,” she whispered.

“You keep saying that. I’m afraid I’ll get used to it.”

She smiled and turned her head on the bed so she faced him. They looked at each other a moment. “About what I said—”

“Don’t.”

She closed her eyes. “Obviously I can’t stay. I didn’t mean it.”

He cleared the hair from her face and then resumed stroking her back. “I know. Just don’t leave me yet.”

She shook her head. “I’m here. But if you don’t keep talking, I might fall asleep.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Anything. Whatever’s on your mind.”

“All right. Do you worry about getting pregnant?”

She made a startled noise. “Do you worry about killing the mood? Jesus.
That’s
what’s on your mind?”

“I’m curious,” he said with a deep chuckle. “You don’t seem worried.”

“We already discussed birth control.”

“It isn’t a hundred percent effective.”

She sighed. “I’d be worried if I thought of it, but I can’t. I just can’t. So I don’t. It would be devastating.”

“Would it?”

“To have the child of a man who bought me for a night? Yes.”

“Funny how much tighter the knots in your back just got.”

She couldn’t even picture Beau as a dad—terse, uptight, suit-wearing Beau, picking up his toddler daughter on his way out the door to work as Lola watched, her hip against the counter, coffee in one hand, clutching her robe closed with the other. All of them smiling.

Or maybe she could.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Do you make all your partners sign a pregnancy waiver?”

“No, and it’s not called a ‘pregnancy waiver.’”

“You should be careful who you sleep with, you know. A lot of women would see an opportunity there and take advantage.”

“I think you think I sleep around more than I do. And I use condoms always. It’s not like those encounters are…”

“Prearranged?”

“Precisely.”

There was certainly more to think about when you had money. Lola figured she might have to start looking over her shoulder as well. “Do you trust me?” she asked.

“I do, but I have to protect myself.”

“Do you really trust me, or are you just saying that?”

He kneaded her shoulder hard. “That’s a big one,” he said after a few seconds.

“Happens when you work on your feet.”

He kept working the knot. “Have you ever considered doing anything else?”

She didn’t mind the topic change. He didn’t have any reason to trust her, but she didn’t want to know how it’d feel to hear him say it. “Once I applied as an office manager for a place in Century City.”

“Did you get the job?” he asked.

“Yes. I turned it down. I couldn’t bring myself to wear a suit to work.”

“It’s hard to pretend to be something else day after day.”

“Most people just become what they’re pretending to be.”

“I suppose,” he said. “Is it still your dream to become an office manager or did the wardrobe kill it for you?”

Her laugh sounded as contented as she was. “I told you, I don’t dream. I didn’t grow up with choices. Just options. Waitress. Cashier. That kind of thing.”

“Says who?”

“It’s just the truth about the life Johnny and I lead. Neither of us went to school or had opportunities. Johnny’s parents get by, but not enough to help us out.”

“You’re a smart girl. Seems like you could’ve figured it out if you wanted.”

“I guess it’s possible that,” she hesitated, “I got a little too comfortable at Hey Joe. But things will be different now.”

“How?”

“I’ll be on the business end of things. Making decisions, coming up with ideas.”

“You won’t continue bartending?” he asked in a way that sounded as if he already knew the answer.

“Well, I will in the beginning.” She inhaled when he hit a sore spot in her lower back. “I’ll keep doing that until things are running smoothly. Hopefully not more than a few years.”

“Do you think things will change because of the money?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If I were Johnny, things wouldn’t be fine for me. I couldn’t live with myself after this. Then again, I wouldn’t have allowed it in the first place.”

“You keep saying that,” Lola said, “but you don’t know. You made it nearly impossible for us to turn it down.”

“That’s true. I wouldn’t have offered it if I hadn’t known you’d accept.”

“There’s no way you could’ve known,” she said. “I almost said no.”

He was quiet a moment. “But you didn’t.”

No, she hadn’t. And apparently he’d known all along what her answer would be. She pursed her lips. “You have issues, Beau. Anyone ever told you that?”

“Maybe an ex-girlfriend here or there.”

If she could’ve rolled her eyes without opening them, she would have. “Is that why you don’t have a girlfriend? Nobody can handle you?”

“No.” He sounded offended, like a small boy. It made Lola smile, picturing him that way. “It’s because nobody interests me at the moment.”

“Not even me?” There was definite flirtatiousness in her question, but it was natural to be flirting in bed with the man who’d just done what he had to her.

“People or things that defy my expectations get my attention,” Beau said. “So, to answer your question, yes, you do.”

“Oh, I see. I get it,” she said. “The trashy girl from the slums who doesn’t put up with your shit. The one who tells you ‘no’ when you’re constantly surrounded by yes men.”

He grunted. “You’ve been watching too many movies.”

“It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to that side of you, but it isn’t all you are, is it? You really should stop referring to yourself as trash.”

“I was being facetious.”

“But you believe it, even if you pretend not to be bothered by it.”

She grew up in a poor neighborhood without a father. She’d been a teenage stripper. Lola had no disillusions about what people probably thought of her. If that was their conclusion, better that she beat them to it. That didn’t mean she believed it. “Admit it. You must’ve thought that, even a little, when you first met me.”

“I didn’t. And I don’t want to hear it again. It’s beginning to irk me.”

“Well,” she said, sighing, “I wouldn’t want to irk you.”

“Not sure I believe that.”

He continued to rub her back, occasionally massaging her shoulders or ass. “Are you sleeping?” he asked after a while.

“Yes.”

“So you never pretended to be a singer or a teacher or President like other kids?”

“We’re still discussing this?”

“I’m just trying to understand you better.”

“I didn’t play like that,” she said. “I had my one Barbie, and we were just fine.”

“What a shame.”

She agreed—it was a shame. She didn’t remember where she’d even gotten a Barbie. Her mom hadn’t been much for typically girly things like dolls or Disney princess movies. Lola blinked out of her haze a little as the memory came to her. “Wait. Actually, she wasn’t even a real Barbie. She was a knock-off Barbie I found at a daycare and named Nadia after the babysitter. My neighbor made her have simulated sex with her authentic Ken doll, and then she threw Nadia on the ground after.”

“That’s,” Beau blew out a short laugh, “the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Then I’ll stop there.”

“Why, what happened next? Skipper kicked her into the street and she was run over by a semi?”

“Probably something like that.” She couldn’t help laughing but then got quiet. She was awake again, Beau touching her, make her warm. What time was it? How long had they been talking? “Why are we talking about this? Really, you’re not very good at paying for sex.”

“For what it’s worth, Nadia sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than Barbie.”

“She can certainly take more.”

“I like a woman who doesn’t break when you bend her.”

“Nadia wouldn’t,” Lola said.

“What really happened to her?”

“No idea,” Lola said. “One day I went to look for her, and she was just gone.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Just as well. I was looking for her to throw her out.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Someone at school said dolls were for babies. I hadn’t played with her in years, but I still wanted to get rid of her. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was a baby.”