Chapter 12 #2
"Yes," she says, hissing.
"To take care of yourself?"
"Yes."
Tightening my hand, I press against her.
I don't cut off her air or hurt her, but we both know that threat is there, that I could.
I need her to see that looking after herself isn't just character, it's physical, too. And the dynamics couldn't be clearer.
I'm bigger, meaner, stronger. And I'm on her side.
What the fuck is she going to do with someone bigger, meaner, stronger who is out to hurt her?
Nothing.
Because she would be stopped.
"You think you can do that, Lola?"
Her pulse thunders.
"Because right now I don't think you can. What's worse is you let a stranger fuck you."
"No, I—"
"You did. You let him fuck you, come into your home, blindfold you, and have his way. You met him at a construction site."
"That was you. Not a stranger, Enzo. You."
"But you didn't know that, Lola. Alex could have been a rapist, a murderer, and you let him in."
"I would have—"
"Would have what? Gotten the upper hand?" I almost laugh. "You couldn't have stopped him."
"You." She says this again like it can save her. "And you didn't—"
"Hurt you? No, I didn't. But you didn't know that I wouldn't." I back off a little, easing my hold and stroking her throat. "You let a goddamned stranger fuck you. You're lucky you're not buried in a ditch somewhere. Fuck, you've got no idea how lucky you are Alex turned out to be me."
"Oh, so I should be grateful you're a lying piece of shit?"
I tighten my grip on her neck once more, just enough to scare some sense into her.
But I'm not sure it works.
There's no fear there as she raises her chin. Just stubbornness and a dare.
And it makes my libido and fury kick up a gear.
We stare at each other, the tension rising.
"Fucking you as Alex is better than fucking you as you. Because I get to pretend. Why do you think I play the secretary game?"
Her words are barbed, and they hit, but I'm not sure they hit in the way she means.
Everything I've done with her, even the fucking games, is pure me at its core.
And she makes zero sense.
This is the verbal edition of no kissing. Anything and everything to push me away.
But she fucking wants me.
She's gripping my shirt, and I don't even think she notices.
I'm no longer pressing my body against hers. I'm fucking hard.
I didn't come in here with the intention to have her.
But she's rubbing against me. Against my cock.
A cat in heat.
"I think you play the games because you crave it. You want deprivation, the giving up of control. You think not kissing me is keeping you safe." I lean in close, bringing my mouth almost to hers. "But it's not. It's you denying yourself."
"I'm denying you."
"You're denying both of us."
And I kiss her.
It's combustion. A clash of hungry mouths.
Her lips are soft and part for me, and heat licks and curls inside me, just like her tongue does as it finds mine.
The kiss makes mockery of everything she's said.
And the dam in me is not just cracked, but crumbling. Everything is rushing out, thunderous, unstoppable, and she sinks her fingers in my hair.
I slam her into the wall, hoisting her in my arms. I couldn't end this even if I wanted to. And I don't want to.
The kisses grow deeper, wilder, and I kiss her like we're fucking, like I'm starving, like she's life and blood and air itself.
Lola wraps her legs around me, and I thrust my thighs between hers and free myself before reaching beneath her dress and ripping at her panties.
She's wet.
The kisses get more frantic, angrier, and the passion and emotions we're feeling pour into every caress.
I need to be in her now.
I thrust, my cock pushing past her folds, and I bury myself, balls deep.
She rips at my hair, breaking the kiss. "Fuck me, Enzo."
Enzo.
Not sir. Not Alex.
Enzo.
And the lust-fueled anger flares higher.
I bite her throat as I thrust into her hard and fast.
She's fucking hot, tight, and wet, and every fantasy a man could have in one.
Licking a path on her neck, I suck on her carotid artery, ignoring her whimper and pulling on my hair to kiss me again.
I want to. Fuck, do I want to.
But I want this more.
I want to feed on her and make her beg me like she's doing.
And I want that denial. I want to edge it higher.
She tilts her hips, and we slam together, over and over, until her body starts to tighten as my balls climb high.
My back is electric. I'm aching with the need to come.
She starts to clench, her body in the throes of coming, the spasms starting.
I claim her mouth then, and she explodes, shuddering, gasping, kissing me back, and unleashing my own pleasure.
I break the kiss, finally leaning into her against the wall, and then I let her down.
I need to say something, anything. Like how this could be the start of a new beginning.
"Lola—"
"This changes nothing." She drops her gaze as we part, her feet hitting the floor.
I tuck myself away. "Like hell."
"Nothing's changed, Enzo. I haven't forgiven you."
I nod, taking a chance. "Yet."
"Excuse me?" Her eyes lift to mine.
"Yet. Sure, you're still angry, but this..." I kiss her slow, soft, romantic, and she trembles. "This proves to me you'll cave and come to your senses."
"Get out."
I take a step back. "Come to your senses, and we'll be back to where we were."
And then I turn and leave.
"Where's that, exactly? A nothing relationship built on lies?"
Her words follow me through the door.
And they haunt.
I lean against the wall outside the suite.
Because no, I don't mean that. I mean her and me, and...I don't know.
A chance?