8. Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
Lola
F or the first time in months, I have a job.
I start in only a few short days when Fiona’s next stock shipment is dropped off; that way, she can show me ‘everything all at once.’ Her words, not mine. But that’s ok because I actually feel like things are going... right .
I have a purpose again. Granted, the small paycheck from the bookstore is nothing compared to what I was making at the pharmaceutical company, but it makes my heart happy, and I am trying to focus on things like that this time. I am trying so hard to reclaim my life and make it what I want it to be. This is the year of me, and I am snagging everything I can by the balls.
Maybe those balls are metaphorical.
Maybe they are dangling from the sexy as fuck Beckett Langford.
Either way is fine with me.
Oh, who am I kidding?
A job isn’t the only thing I have for the first time in months.
Sex drive. In other words... I am so fucking horny. And there is only one thing I want.
Beckett Langford’s juicy cock.
Sigh ...
Yesterday was magical. As corny as it sounds, there really is no other word to properly describe it. From the make-out sessions in the library to Beckett helping me get a fucking phenomenal job, then dinner—that I may still be in a food coma from—with lots of flirting and subtle touches, and finally him bringing me back and kissing me good night.
I was shocked by the level of attraction he returned with equal enthusiasm. The sexual tension between us was visible all day. I half expected him to come into the house and maybe start in on make-out session number three.
Instead, he walked me to the door and kissed me in a way that woke a strange feeling inside me. The kiss was so much more than a kiss. It was a promise. For what? I’m not sure yet.
I’m also not sure how I feel about the emotions I seem to be experiencing throughout the encounter, especially after that kiss.
It was soft and sweet. A lingering caress that made you melt. A promise for so much more to come.
What was I supposed to do with that?
And if there truly was something more than just a shared physical attraction between Beckett and me, what then? Or was that what I really wanted?
I honestly don’t know.
Part of me balks at the idea of another relationship. Wanting nothing to do with anything even remotely resembling a commitment. Not after him. Not after two and a half years of hell.
He stole so much of my time. So much of me .
No, that’s not fair. The truth is, I am just as much to blame for the length of that feigned romance. I will never ignore my heart again. Not when it screams that loudly. Not when my brain joins in with a chant of run .
I close my eyes and take a few steadying breaths.
That’s why this is supposed to be the year of me. So why is the other half of me ready to go all in with whatever Beckett has to offer?
Ugh...
I scrub my hands down my face.
It’s kinda hard to listen to your heart when it has no fucking clue what it wants. Now my vagina, on the other hand, knows exactly what she wants.
Beckett’s dick.
All night, every night, until I can’t stand.
Just imagining his hands on my body has my mind reeling with excitement.
I wonder if he is a sensual and attentive lover. Or maybe he is more of a wild and feral sex machine.
I mean, I am down for either, depending on the day. Or even multiple times a day. Or multiple Beckett’s?
Oh hell, my mind is just running away with itself now.
Multiple men? At once? There are a lot of ladies who get so lucky. Who knows? Maybe I could be one of them. If that is something Beckett would want to explore, of course.
And since when did I start dictating my sexual adventures on what Beckett would be comfortable with?
That can’t be a good sign.
Or maybe it is? Who the fuck knows. I sure as hell don’t.
All I do know is how badly I want to climb that man and ride him into oblivion.
Thoughts of riding him drag my memory into the lovely little toy I have upstairs. Well, not so little, but supposedly quite comparable to the cock I am daydreaming about.
Cramps hit me in another wave, dragging me down into pain and causing me to curl into a ball. Ok, so maybe I can think about riding his dick after I am done dying from this fucking period. Thankfully, if it follows suit, my first day at my new job will be the last and lightest day of my period. Then I will think about Beckett’s dick.
I groan and roll around a bit. The pain subsides after a few more minutes, and I pick up my book.
Becky Lovegood. She sure writes like a woman. But something familiar in the words on the pages keeps pulling me in.
When Fiona called him ‘Beckie’... she didn’t mean Becky, right?