Chapter Twenty-Nine
LOLA
I'm worried my nerves just might chew a hole through my stomach, I'm that worked up. "What were you thinking, Lola?"
There are eight messages from Ruby, who is demanding to know how and why I'm sick when I was more than fine at work today—so much so that I agreed to go to her favorite dive bar with her.
"If I got through all the things I needed to do at work." It was meant to be my get-out-of-jail-free card.
I would just stay and hopefully catch Enzo when he came in and then...and then decide if I was going for drinks or...
Or what?
Sex?
Did I actually think I would be having sex with Enzo right now in his office?
Well...in my head, yes. But being in my head, the other option of drowning my sorrows seemed good, too.
Still, I should respond.
Me
I'm sorry.
Ruby
You should be.
Me
Just...by the time I finished the rest of the work Enzo left me, I wasn't feeling the best.
Ruby
Ha! It's Enzo now!
I grit my teeth.
Me
That's his name.
Ruby
And he's hot. If you tell me you're having a tryst, I will forgive you more.
Me
I'm not.
Ruby
Your loss. Okay, if you feel better, come join us. Bye...
Ruby is not alone, so that is good. It does nothing to settle the wildness inside, knowing some of the others from work went with her, but...
But nothing. I have a heaping pile of lies to my friend, and I'm nothing but a heel.
Thing is I didn't mean to lie.
I waited and waited at work, hoping he would come in. He didn't, so I still waited until...until I lost my mind and texted him.
And now...
I pass the building where I went into the hot tub, but then I turn my face away.
Me
What have you done to me?
Alex
Me?
Me
You. I had a meltdown and texted him. I'm going to see him. And I just passed that place...
Alex
Where we fucked or where you went into the pool?
Me
I still don't know who owns that house!
Alex
Does it matter? It's more fun not knowing.
So, what are you going to do? Maybe shock him and get to your knees and give him a blow job.
If your mouth is anything like your pussy, he's in for a treat.
Two treats. Blow him and fuck him. If it was me, I'd have you the moment you walked in, against the wall.
I'd fuck you hard, blow my load, and not let you come. Deprivation of orgasm. For you.
Shit. I cross my legs as we cross the bridge into Brooklyn.
He is turning me on.
Me
And what else would you do?
Alex
Touch yourself.
Me
What?
Alex
If you want more, touch yourself, but don't come. I'm betting he sent a car, right?
Me
How did you know?
Alex
Rich dudes like him always do. I would. It's control.
Are you good with giving the driver a show?
Me
No. I don't...I don't know if I'm into that.
Alex
Then your job will be harder. Touch yourself now.
I move my bag and my light coat onto my lap and edge my skirt up. And then I part my legs.
After making sure I'm covered, I start to stroke my clit, just inside my panties.
With my free hand, I text.
Me
Doing it.
Alex
Good.
After I have come, you have got work to do. You will slide down onto your knees and offer me your mouth. Maybe I will slap you with my dick, just for fun. A soft thwack against your pretty lips, but then I will tell you to put your hands behind your back and lick me all over, and suck on my balls.
Open your mouth, Lola, I'd say, and then I'd feed you my dick, making you suck as you swirl your tongue over me, along the edge of the tip, and make you bob up and down, taking me to the back of your throat, then up until just the tip is in your mouth.
We'd do this a while, as I thrust, growing thicker, stiffer with each suck from you.
When I'm hard like steel, I will grab your head and start to fuck you hard, plunging past your gag reflex and into your throat. And then...
Me
Wah?
I can barely type, my body is on fire, and I'm trying not to come, but it is building in me as his words flash onto my screen.
Alex
That turned you on, huh? I will cum down your throat, making you drink every last drop.
Next time, Lola, I will fist my dick and hit you with the money shot.
But I'm so fucking hot for you that my boner lasts, and I will grab your hair and push you down, ass up, so I can get to that sweet starfish.
And I will use two fingers to stretch you, and then I will plunge in, right to my balls.
"We're here, Miss," the driver says as I yank my hand free and grab my things.
I'm sure I'm bright red.
I'm breathing hard, and my phone is still lighting up.
But I manage to write back.
Me
I'm here.
Alex
Full report. That's an order. Suck some cock, that's also an order.
He is so twisted...
I look out the window.
We are in Park Slope, I think, or Prospect Park, I always get the two mixed up since I don't tend to venture into this green-leafed part of Brooklyn.
I look out the window at the tall rows of beautiful brownstones.
I don't know what I was expecting... some expansive estate?
But that is hard to do in New York. Oh, I know they exist without heading to Long Island, the Rockaways, Jamaica, or Canarsie, and so on. Even here, there are properties.
But this close to Manhattan, most people like the convenience and use terraces, small yards in the back, and decks and balconies as outdoor space and live upwards with floors of living space.
I'm sure there are multi-million-dollar homes here, old renovated mansions. I bet the brownstones here are worth millions, even with their small yards that are little more than some bushes and a place for bins and access to the basement levels.
"Is this...?" I half-ask the driver.
Did Enzo even tell me which number?
"Yes. Forty-two."
"The answer to life, the universe, everything," I say, and the driver totally fails to laugh.
I get out, my legs shaky, and I push open the black-painted wrought iron gate.
And it is like he has been waiting for me.
Except this is the Enzo I used to know. All grown up, but in a black T-shirt and expensive denim jeans.
His feet are bare, and his dark hair is tousled, like his hand has been raking through it.
Those dark eyes are locked on me, like he knows what I was doing in the car. Like he wants me.
I grab the gate as my legs threaten to give way, and his expression is hungry, intense, but not unfriendly.
"Lola."
There are only nine stone steps, but it feels like I'm climbing up Everest. And at the top, the air is thin, oxygen scarce, and I'm lightheaded.
Or maybe it is his close proximity to me.
"Hi, Enzo. Sorry to interrupt whatever you were doing."
His mouth turns into a half-smile. "I wasn't on a date if that's what you're thinking."
My cheeks burn. "No."
He pushes open the door and ushers me in, and it smells clean and fresh, like lemon and a hint of leather.
From somewhere below is the aroma of coffee.
"Is everything okay?" he asks.
I force myself to nod. "Nice brownstone."
"What do you think about saunas?"
I stare at him. "Excuse me? I don't... except that one in Burger King in Scandinavia. But on the whole, no."
"I have one. Was thinking about getting a hot tub for the terrace in the back. What do you think? Do you like hot tubs? Or maybe you're more of a pool girl?" His voice is silky soft and suggestive.
I take a step back.
He rubs his chin as he takes a step forward. "I dropped by my father's townhouse he sometimes uses in Manhattan. It is often for guests, but I was thinking of talking Dad into letting my sister use it. Get her a nanny-type person when I'm not around next year."
My pulse is leaping. "Nanny? How old is she?"
"Fifteen. It is more a bodyguard. A spy, you know what I mean."
Why is he telling me this?
Everything buzzes in me, like I will get shocked if I touch anything.
I can't breathe, even as my senses scream at me to run.
But I'm facing him.
I need to get away.
"What?" My voice scratches out, and I—
"See, when I was there..." he says, like his mouth is made of butter. Enzo clamps a hand on my wrist. "There was some very interesting footage from the security cameras. I can tell you I was very surprised. It was... Quite. The. Show."
Oh. God. Oh no. Please tell me this is a nightmare...
"Tell me, Lola. Do you often do that? Are you some kind of serial anti-thief who just strips down and climbs in swimming pools, taking filthy pictures of herself? No wonder you didn't want me to see your phone. Naughty girl." He leans in, lips touching my ear. "I think I will get a pool."
"Let me go. I have to go. I—"
"Lola." He straightens and lets me go but moves so he blocks my exit.
And I would run, if I could move, I would run.
"I don't give a fuck. You do you. It was hot. Like that kiss."
My eyes blur, and I blink hard. "Oh, God, you're going to fire me. I'm sorry..."
He captures my chin. "Hey, Lola, sorry for what? Giving me a hard-on? And I'm not firing you. Like I said, you do you. Now, come on. Sit. I will pour you a whiskey."
Enzo lets me go and leads the way into another room, the living room.
And I collapse onto the sofa.
He goes to a bar and pours two drinks, pushing one into my hand and then sitting on the arm of the chair opposite. "Take a sip. It will help, I promise."
I do as he asks.
"Good. Now, what did you want to talk about?"
I gulp half my drink down. "Us."
"There's an us?" He smiles slowly at me, his amusement sliding over me like oil.
"No, there's no us." I finish the drink.
Suddenly, fire breaks out in my stomach, and that warmth radiates outward.
I just hold the empty glass. "It was a stupid idea, all in my head, and I should go. Forget I was ever here. Forget it all. I quit."
He laughs and shakes his head. "Lola. Resignation not accepted." Then the laughter dies. "It's not in your head, and the idea of an us isn't stupid. We have chemistry. I have tried to avoid it because I'm your boss, and that's some kind of clear power imbalance."
"HR would not be pleased."
"I'm not telling them. Fuck, they're not also into psychoanalysis, are they?"
"This is serious, Enzo." I force myself to breathe, to calm. But it is hard with over six feet of hotness so close. "And your father—"
"Can we leave him out of this?"
I cross my arms. "He wouldn't approve."
"We're not declaring love or marriage, and I'm not fourteen, Lola. I do what I want."
"Well, he's not going to approve of you seeing me."
He laughs and shakes his head. "Like I just said, we shared some kisses and a little hanky and a touch of panky, so sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm not proposing."
"Good," I snap. "I don't even like you. I don't want to marry you."
How the hell did we get onto marriage?
"You do like me."
"Sometimes."
He rises and takes a step closer to me, pouring half his drink into my glass. "You know, I do go out of my way to annoy my asshole father, so his disapproval isn't going to stop me from doing a fucking thing."
Personally, I'm not too sure. It might. Anyone who protests that much wants their father's approval. When he was young, I remember how proud he was to be a Marino, so I bet—
"What is it you want, Lola? Was there something you wanted to get from coming here tonight and talking to me?"
Yes. Your cock in my mouth.
I remember how big he was pressed against me, and his package in the jeans is looking all sorts of delicious.
It's not like I have had many guys, and including Alex, it would be...three? But right now, I think I could do wicked things to him. In fact, Alex gave me an instruction text that is burned into my head.
"You do know I can read you like a book, right?
Your face is so expressive. Are you thinking.
..what? Filthy things you want to do with me?
Last time, I remember I had my fingers in your holes, my tongue down your throat, and you were writhing, grinding.
If S—Simon hadn't come in, who knows what we would have done. "
I stare up at him, dragging my gaze from his crotch. "I don't know."
"Really? You came here to say you don't know?"
I empty the contents of the glass once more. I wish there were more in the glass. The way I'm feeling right now, I could use the numbing effect.
He makes me lose my mind.
"Did you want to kiss me? Let me eat you? I licked my fingers, and you were fucking tasty, Lola. Delicious is a word for it, I guess." He starts walking toward me.
I get up.
Sit.
Get up again, and he is right there.
"Do you want all that, Lola? Want me to eat you out, fuck you in every hole?" His mouth is just a breath away from mine. "Do you want to suck my cock?"
"I..."
"Or just talk?"
"I like all the first lot of things." I can't believe that awkward sentence just came out of me, but I'm making soft little sounds like I'm trying not to moan.
"So, you want to kiss me, touch me, fuck me, suck me?"
Somehow, I nod.
“I think that can be arranged…”