Chapter Twenty-Seven
LOLA
Everything is buzzing. Still. Hours after the kiss in Enzo's office.
Kiss?
It was so much more.
I don't really know if we almost had sex or if we were heading that way. Maybe men these days are into a weird abstinence and just pleasure women?
Even I, with my very limited experience, know that is just pure fantasy.
My erotic books might have a bunch of guys taking a woman and pleasuring her, but in the real world...
It doesn't feel right.
At least for me.
In the real world, I want that extra step, I want sex. I want a man who can't keep it in his pants and does everything he can to get the girl. The girl being me.
Of course, when I say real world, I might mean perfect world, and by that I might mean kink parameters. Not the rape or non-con thing in the traditional sense, but the guy I want who can't stop once he tastes me.
That sort of fantasy take is hot.
But so is someone like Enzo or Alex wanting me enough to drive themselves crazy. That I will take.
Enzo's fingers pushing in me were...invasive, unexpected, divine.
And his mouth... Oh. God. His mouth. The pillowy start of the kiss that made me float and then soar as I kissed him back, and pillowy turned right into dark and hard and passionate.
I know I would have done it on that desk, on the floor, against the wall, whatever and wherever he decided to have sex with me if we hadn't been interrupted.
I read over the texts with Alex, and my stomach swoops and twists.
He wants me to...what? Fuck Enzo? Explore whatever it is with Enzo?
Use Enzo as a jumping board into my fantasies that tangle with his?
He wants to fuck me and have Enzo fuck me, too?
I get two guys wanting the same girl. But one guy and then the next? Not even in the same room, one of them not knowing of the other?
Is that the part that turns him on?
I don't think Enzo is any kind of cuck. Then again, I don't think Enzo is boyfriend material.
Nothing in that report of Alex's PI said a word about women. I think there was something...
I go and pull my computer to me and skim through it.
There.
"Enzo dates a lot, but no one remotely steady."
That, to me, sure sounds like a fuckboy.
I suck in a breath.
If he is, and I end up sleeping with him and Alex, does that absolve me of anything like cheating?
I'm aware nowadays that fucking someone isn't automatically exclusive or even a relationship.
Alex... Oh, hell. I don't know what to think of any of this.
Alex is someone I know. He shares his innermost fantasies and thoughts with me. But while he has eaten me out and watched me, we haven't really spoken, and I don't know what he looks like.
But he is easier to read than Enzo, with his dark, mocking eyes that can either turn hard or smoldering at a moment's notice. And when they go through all those emotions, I can't see past the mask.
Alex isn't predictable, though. He constantly titillates and shocks me with his wants, his desires, the things he asks.
They both pull me to them in equal measure.
Thank goodness I'm not falling for either of them.
Because I'm not. Am I?
This is all meant to be fun.
And tomorrow...
The construction site...
Tomorrow is another day.
I'm on pins and needles all day, and it is like I have had too much coffee. During lunch with Ruby, she questioned me about Alex. I told her we hadn't met, which, since I was blindfolded, is true.
I raced back to the office after we had a bite, me literally, but it seems I didn't need to bother.
Enzo left a note on my desk, letting me know he was out the rest of the day. But of course, he left me extra work.
And now I'm done. It is ten to seven, and I guess I didn't have to sit around filling time. The work, menial though it was, consumed time.
Butterflies dance in my stomach.
"Now or never."
I gather my things and head down to the ground floor. I stand on the pavement outside, in the thinning river of people.
There is no law I have to go to the building. I could walk up to Fifty-third and Lex. Or I could go past the Forty-ninth Street stop and head down to Times Square and Forty-second Street.
No pressure. None at all.
The butterflies start to dance and flit, hardcore, as I turn down Forty-ninth Street. And I stop at the building.
There is a guard outside who sees the papers I'm carrying. "I have to drop these off."
"The crew's gone home."
"I'm supposed to leave them in the office."
And he just nods. "First floor, third door."
I enter, and the door creaks shut behind me, leaving me in a world of frames from deconstructed rooms, power tools, and pipes. It is all pooling shadows and strung lights that offer a path of light spots that do nothing to ease the gloom.
First floor is up the stairs, and my heart thumps wildly as I put my hand on the railing.
The stairs are old, and I can smell sanded wood. The building is one where I think they are keeping the shell and certain features, just modernizing and changing the insides.
It doesn't mean the place isn't creepy.
The stairs take me further into the gloom, and I clutch the folders of blank papers to me, trying to adjust to the light that seems to get dimmer with every step I take.
When I hit the landing, I look around.
It is strange shapes and one light up ahead, the rest of the light filters in from boarded windows, and the result is a subtle crisscross of a nightmarish landscape I don't recognize.
Post-apocalypse, I think, and nerves ripple through me, cutting up the butterflies and the lining of my stomach.
I head to the one light.
It snaps out, and I stop. Frozen. In the dark.
Alex didn't tell me what would happen, just to get in here.
I want to curse him and this sudden need for the element of surprise, but I can't. Because there is something addictive about it.
Besides, I don't know if he is always like this or just like this with me.
I'm not sure what to do, so I force myself to take another step to where the light was, where the guard told me the office is.
And behind me, something crunches.
A foot on the bare concrete of this floor.
I freeze, my eyes squeezing shut as a flurry of ice and heat blows through me.
Something skitters on the floor behind me like someone kicked a tool and it rolled, bounced.
A murder weapon?
What am I thinking? I open my eyes.
It is Alex, right? But I'm here right at seven, not before. It would have taken me ten minutes to reach the ground floor, walk to Forty-ninth Street, enter, and end up here.
He said after.
After.
Is he playing a rape game?
I swallow hard, the words "blue banana" bouncing in my head.
I don't think I want to play at rape.
"A-Alex?" I ask, my voice thin. "Is that you?"
No one moves, no one speaks, and I almost turn.
Almost.
But instead, I gulp in air and keep walking, one foot in front of the other to the now dark office.
I reach the door, and as my eyes grow accustomed, I notice a steel desk, a lamp, and above, the ever-present construction light in a cage. Very much off.
My heart thumps as the footsteps start, and I say his name once more. "Alex?"
He doesn't answer.
Hell, maybe I'm in over my head. I don't want this...do I? What if it isn't him? What if he changed his mind and texted me and I never checked and—
A hand comes down on my shoulder, and there is a rose and smoke scent about him. It is almost like Enzo.
It smells expensive. And...how does he know what perfume Enzo wears?
I shut my eyes for a moment. The report from Silas.
And my fear bottoms out and levels, excitement rising in its stead.
"You know your safe word?"
"Y-yes," I answer, barely more than the whisper he uses.
I'm pressed against him, and it is not for intimacy, it is so I don't turn and look at him, and I know, in the sane part of me, I should run.
"Use it anytime, even if I'm inside you, and I will stop. Got it?"
I nod, and the sane part of me is drowned out by my wants, needs, the impulses driving me hard. "Yes."
"Good girl. Don't turn around."
He steps back, and even if I wanted to disobey, he wraps a blindfold over my eyes and ties it in place, blinding me in the dark.
A burst of hysterical laughter breaks free.
"Good, now imagine I'm Enzo, your boss who wants to fuck you desperately. So desperately I fingered you in my office. I kissed you. I want to taste you all over, especially your pussy, just like the asshole Alex did."
My head spins at the mind-bending words.
They twist around me.
The roleplaying is wild, and though it confuses me that he wants to be my boss instead of, say, a movie star or someone objectively fuckable but unattainable, it's something I don't get. But I'm here, ready, and going with the flow.
He slides his hands down my sides, a little too close to my breasts and nowhere near enough.
Last night, I handwashed the lingerie, and I'm wearing it under the black shirt and the A-line skirt. The stupid heels are in my bag, but he will have to deal with my Mary Janes.
He deftly undoes the top button and continues as he whispers.
"I have just called you into my office for a performance review. I have just locked the door, Lola, and I'm walking toward you. The thing is, I have seen how you look at me. You, with your boyfriend at home."
The words are close enough to Enzo's from the night we had dinner that my pussy contracts. "I'm sorry."
"You should be. So, I figured it is time for the review." He slides the shirt from my shoulders. "I will be very thorough. But I need to make sure you're ready for all duties. All of them."
He pulls the shirt from me and closes his mouth over one of my nipples, sucking on it.
Spears of pleasure shoot down to my clit.
Then he shifts to the other, and I'm almost writhing and begging for more.
"It seems you're all perky and ready." He nudges my throat with his mouth as his soft lips close on my skin, and he sucks hard, sinking in his teeth.
The unexpected bite makes me yelp, and the orgasmic sucking sets off tremors deep in my pussy. I want more.