There it is, the hesitation with his friend’s name.
But I bypass it. I don’t care, not really, and even if I did, there are lots of reasons, like he calls the guy something else most of the time, an inside joke among friends. Which I’m not.
Besides, I want the truth about the wild things he said to me about this whole scenario.
That someone is after me.
That my father what? Sold me as a prize?
“Please explain about this being about me and my dad causing someone to, what? Collect?”
“Lola.” Enzo puts the mug down and pulls me into his arms, kissing me.
I melt against him, I can’t help it.
He tastes dark and faintly sweet, the sugar in the coffee deepening that delicious taste of him, the one that promises pleasure and sex and heat.
I moan as I kiss him back, and his hand slides down my body, unbuttoning the top of the jeans, his hand slipping in, and my blood pressure leaps as he slips over my clit with his fingers.
I’m not wearing panties because mine are air drying in the guest bathroom attached to the room I chose.
It means he has an open playing field of wet, sensitive flesh, and every touch is like the sweetest fire that makes me want more. Makes me crave him.
Enzo keeps kissing me, his fingers parting my folds and thrusting slowly inside me, his thumb on my clit.
It is a slow burn of a finger fuck, as he pushes into me, curling his fingers to rub my G-spot.
I want him to hurry, but he doesn’t.
He shifts, pinning me between him and the kitchen island as he stokes the flames of my desire into an inferno.
I can’t even think beyond what is happening now, a tingle of expectation of what is next skitters down my spine. I’m locked in on his hand, his fingers, and what they are doing to my pussy.
Enzo bites and sucks on my lower lip, and then he kisses atrail to my ear, his breath hot in my ear, his tongue licking, mouth sucking on my lobe.
I start to rock against him.
This is my reality right now. It begins and ends with him.
And my pussy throbs. The pleasure builds until I try to fight him.
He holds me there, the relentless slow onslaught of his fingers almost too much.
And then something breaks, and I want more. I need more.
He picks up the pressure but not the pace. He goes harder, and I explode.
My body clenches down on his fingers, and I shake and shudder as the waves of bliss consume me.
As the waves gentle, slow and stop, he kisses me again.
“Enzo…” I breathe his name.
“Lola?”
“Enzo.” This time, I push him, and he takes the hint, stepping back, pulling his fingers from me.
He licks them, making me heat, my face a haze of embarrassment.
