Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
LOLA
Every now and then, when I'm least expecting it, the words "I'm pregnant" drift through my mind.
And it throws everything to hell and back again.
It makes being cooped up in the most luxurious prison even more unbearable.
It makes me itch and want to squirm, like time is pressing down on me.
Pregnancy just complicates everything. And there are times when I'm ready for bed that I can barely wrap my mind around it all.
Like when I've changed from my work clothes and after I've emailed in the finished work of the day through the limited access to the outside world—Enzo and the work computer server.
Pregnant.
It doesn't make sense.
Not the pressure to do something, anything, nor the wildness of my thoughts.
How do I know if this pregnancy will stick? I know the statistics, I've read books, and I've heard women talking about getting through the first trimester and how a high percentage of pregnancies self-terminate before anyone ever knows.
I'm just pregnant. As in barely so.
If someone can be that, it's where I am. Barely, newly, just pregnant.
Being a mother hasn't been on a bingo card for me. It's not one I don't want, but it's not one I thought about, either. Down the line. One day. Those were on a future bingo card.
And now...
Now I need to decide what to do.
Maybe the pressure in me to get out of here, stronger than ever, is because if I'm going to get any early help on this, I need to get a move on and fast.
I put my hand on my stomach.
But...
Can I?
Shit, being a single mom with all my problems is complicated and hard-going. But if I'm going to do it, then getting away is paramount.
I close my eyes for a moment.
Paramount, sure.
But do I want it?
That is the million-dollar question.
I turn on my side and will myself to sleep with the last thoughts going to Enzo.
Staying here's impossible, but leaving him?
That's impossible too...
The next morning, I put on sexy, deep purple underwear that's lace and satin and leaves nothing to the imagination. The lace is so delicate it showcases rather than hides.
And for the first time, I put on a sheer white shirt that buttons down and a pencil skirt that's more siren than work-friendly.
Then I slide on the sky-high red shoes.
And work.
In fact, I'm so into it I don't hear the door. Instead, I feel him spark and crack in the air. My hands still on the keyboard, heart thumping.
I look up. Slowly.
My mouth actually salivates at the sight of him.
He needs a shave.
With the dark stubble and tousled hair, the tie immaculate with his vest unbuttoned at the top, jacket off and probably downstairs somewhere, he looks divine.
Enzo, in his dark maroon, gray, and black plaid, is so hot, so much so that my mind's eye can barely imagine Alex looking like this in a sex dream. I can hardly think straight.
And Enzo's eyes burn with pure fire as he takes me in.
I get up. "What do you want, Sir?"
It's meant to be a joke, but it backfires and ignites heat in the room.
"Be a good secretary and come here."
As if common sense and reality cease to exist, something clicks in me, and it's like a light has been turned on. My lungs can barely get oxygen in.
I totter on the stupid heels, and he sucks in an audible breath.
"Fuck, you're damn hot. You'd be hotter on your knees. Taking dick-tation."
I should laugh in his face, but I don't. I can't.
His words make my pussy clench and drip, and I go to him, stopping right in front of him as his gaze drops to my breasts.
"Dick-tation?"
"For some very eyes-only letters."
"I see." I trail a hand over his chest.
The thump of his heart thunders against my palm, and I drop it lower.
"Your work clothes need adjustment." He grips the sheer shirt and rips it in two so it hangs open, exposing my lace-clad breasts, my nipples hard. "Better. Show me what a good little secretary you are."
Flame burns in my cheeks as I squeeze his hard cock, and then I lower myself down.
He slides a hand into my hair as I undo his pants.
Somewhere in the back of my head, a voice screams at me, "What are you fucking doing?"
But I don't know. I don't care.
This isn't real, not really. It's a game. A feast in the desert.
And as long as I don't kiss him, everything will be fine.
We continue to break every office law about power dynamics in the book, but what can I do? I'm under his control. He owns me while I work here. He pays my check, and he could stop. I don't have a choice...
The thoughts delight me.
They turn the temperature in me up higher.
I'm not really thinking as the game immerses me whole. It's like this is the way I can sneak a taste.
And who could blame me? There's nowhere for me to go.
Easing his cock from his pants, I stroke along the steel and satin of his hot skin.
I trace a vein all the way up the curve, run it along the underside of the head, and then I lick the tip, taking his precum onto my tongue like it's an amuse-bouche.
"Fuck..."
I look up at him and suck the tip into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it, running my tongue along the slit, and then I pop off. "Like this? Sir?"
"Yes, just like this. A deep, dick-tation."
It should be funny.
It's not.
It makes me shiver, and I lick him from tip to base, stroking him as I go.
When he makes a small, strangled sound as his fingers tighten in my hair, I suck him all the way in, tongue swirling as I take him to the back of my throat.
Each plunge on him stokes the flames higher, and I take him deeper, gagging on him, the saliva the blowjob causes drooling down my face.
He starts to push me further onto him, holding me to make me cough and splutter, and I blindly massage his balls.
My body's throbbing, clit aching like I need to come, but before I can take him down my throat, he drags me off him and turns me, pushing me into the desk.
I grab it because, otherwise, I could fall.
My breath comes hard as my shirt sticks to the sides of my breasts.
He pushes up my skirt, running his hands from my shoes all the way up to my ass, where he strokes between my thighs and groans, clearly feeling the wetness there.
He bites me hard on the ass, and I squeal.
"Because you didn't finish your job."
He spins me, and my ass lands hard on the desk.
"Because you stopped me."
"A good secretary knows when to start and stop and give me what I need."
He's making no sense, but I don't care as he runs a hand down between my breasts and starts to move in, his mouth coming close.
Panic wells up, beating with sharp-tipped wings, but it doesn't douse the need.
If he kisses me, the game is over, and this becomes too real.
I tear free of his touch and bend over the desk, reaching back to pull my panties aside.
I can't let it be real.
"Punish me."
He pushes my thighs apart and comes down over me, his cock sliding thick between my thighs, and I almost cry out.
"You fight it, Lola, but you want my mouth on yours. I can taste it in the air."
"Don't ruin this," I hiss.
"Next time, you'll do all my bidding." And then he grabs my hips and plunges balls deep into me.
His invasion is made slick from my wetness, and I clamp down on him immediately.
Like this, he grinds my clit against the desk, his cock filling me and leaving me empty in his retreat before he plunges in again.
Enzo fucks me hard and fast, the strokes are borderline pleasure and pain, that dull thud of almost too deep that turns glorious as my body grows used to his powerful invasion.
The pleasure spears upward, bursting into a wild storm.
I shake and shudder, pushing out moans as I clamp down on him.
But he doesn't come. He grips my hips and starts to slam into me harder, shaking me, making me hit my clit harder on the desk.
He fucks me so hard the desk scrapes on the floor, and the intensity of too much on my clit starts to waver into something else.
I start trying to push back so I can get hit harder, and he just doesn't stop.
He fucks with everything he is, and I don't even know if we're playing secretary and boss or if this is just our control kink, and I just let go, coming again.
This time, he shoves in hard and grunts, his cock twitching in me as his hot cum floods me.
He stays like that for long moments.
"Lola..."
And I push out the words I need to say. "Anything else? Sir?"
He doesn't answer for long, long beats.
Then he pulls free and leaves me folded over the desk, ass up, pussy exposed, legs parted.
And I don't think I could straighten, even if I wanted to.
"I want you always dressed like this during office hours."
"In torn, drool-covered clothes?"
"Tempting," he says, amusement warming his voice. "But no. One of your business outfits. And you and I will be talking soon. Count to fifty. Then you can straighten and...stay like that, get changed, up to you."
"Yes. Sir."
"And, Lola?"
I squeeze my eyes shut. "Yes?"
"Stay like that even if someone comes to the door, even if they come in. Count slow to fifty."
Asshole.
Sex like we had is both freeing and leaves a thin layer of what feels like muck over me. Like I betrayed myself somehow.
I guess I did.
Because giving in and playing a game with him where it's a power play of him ordering his secretary around, wanting a blow job, fucking me to orgasm, is a major turn-on, but is still sex when I'm furious at him, hurt. Not sure if I can trust him.
And the trust isn't about him being a creep or a stalker, it's all the control he has, the one I don't like, where he can follow me, take over my life.
It doesn't matter I started it. It doesn't matter the game stopped being a game and changed into something else, a different type of game, like the essence of what we've been doing.
And I did that. I did it. I played with power by not letting his mouth touch mine. I let him exert his on me by remaining as he told me.
It was a game within a game, I guess.
A fantasy.
Turning real life into fantasy isn't as much fun as it might seem.
I laugh bitterly.
Even denying kisses is a lie.
I tell myself, deep down, it's to stop him from getting the most enjoyment, from having all the control. But it's for me. To protect myself.
"You're a mess..."
The soft tapping at my door doesn't need an answer, and sure enough, Lyndall opens the door and comes in, this time with two containers of ice cream. "Fig and caramel."
"And you're how old?" I ask.
She rolls her eyes. "Not everyone wants chocolate or vanilla. I like them both, obviously, but a girl needs choices. It's from this new place, and they make all kinds of exotic flavors. Nothing gross, but really good. I made one of Uncle Gino's men get it. Here."
I take it, and it's good. Like...dangerously so, and I have the sudden urge to eat the entire container.
Lyndall tells me about her music and the lessons, and the boring-ass homework waiting for her downstairs. "Homework, I mean..."
"It's got to be done."
"Why?"
"So you can get into your school."
"For music." But there's no anger in her tone. "Not math."
"Music is math," I say, parroting something I've heard.
"Don't you start. My music tutor also says schoolwork is important, so...what do they know?"
I try not to laugh.
She goes to grab the TV remote. "There's an episode of Snake on."
"What's that?"
"It's this detective show where this down-and-out detective falls for this gangbanger, Snake, and they team up together. It's sooo good."
We watch the show. It's complete trash, but it's the kind of trash that sucks you in. When we're done, I ask her about Luke.
"Have you heard anything about him? Last I heard was your dad thought you guys had sex—"
"Which we didn't." She looks at her empty container.
"And no, not a word. I did ask, but Dad yelled, and then I came here, and I'm not talking to him.
Him being Dad. I don't know where Luke is.
I asked Con, but he shut down and said nothing.
For a change from him being shut down and saying nothing. "
"What about Enzo?"
She breathes out, then shakes her head. "I haven't asked Enzo anything about Luke. I'm just...I don't know. If I don't think about it, then nothing happened. And if I do, I have to get into it with Enzo."
"But wouldn't you prefer to know?"
"Of course. And have you told Enzo?" She mimes being gigantically pregnant.
"No. And it's not the same thing."
She gets up. "I'm fifteen, and sixteen is soon but not soon enough. I need to get this homework done. Let me know if you need moral support when you tell Enzo."
Her eyes are big when she says that, like she's scared I won't, like she thinks I'll run away or get rid of the baby, and it strikes me she wants to have another sibling.
"I'll let you know."
She nods, leaving.
After the door shuts and locks, I tidy up. Then I use the phone she left me and call Silas.
"Lyndall?"
"No, you ass, it's not. It's Lola."
I wait for some kind of smartass comment, but he doesn't. "How did you get her phone?"
"I need you to look into Lyndall's boyfriend...friend...Luke."
"No fucking way."
"As far as I see it, you owe me a favor. All I want is for you to find that out. And not let Enzo know. Not ask him or anything. Can you do that? If so, we'll call it even."
Finally, Silas sighs. "All right, but you know I didn't do anything wrong. I don't even know you."
I almost ask if he's Simon, but now that I'm thinking about it, that fact's clear. Besides, he says that like a guilty person. Like Dad sounded when he was pretending he wasn't guilty of a harmless crime.
But this isn't harmless. And this guilt is something I can use.
"Sure. But you've been lying and pretending, just like Enzo."
"He made me."
"But you'll help?"
"I said I would."
"No." I press my lips together, sorting my words. "What I mean is, you'll help and not let Enzo know? This is between us."
"This is between us."
"If you get me everything I want, I might forgive you."
"Great," he says, deadpan laced with sarcasm. "And for the record, I was kind of backed into helping Enzo out."
"Uh huh." I scoff. "You could've told me the truth."
"He's my colleague and friend."
That makes the hairs on my skin bristle. "So? You had numerous opportunities to tell me the truth, and you didn't. You're an asshole."
"Fine. I'm an asshole. But how is it always me that gets in trouble and not Enzo?"
"Trust me, Enzo is in plenty of trouble."
And if he doesn't watch it, he'll find out.
One way or the other.
Either I'll be gone or...
He'll be the recipient of the news that he's going to be a daddy.
And with that, I know exactly what I'll be doing.
With or without him.
I'm keeping this baby.