Obsession (Explicitly Yours 4)

Lola hesitated. Beau was as stubborn as her, and he would walk away to teach her a lesson, even if it meant he wouldn’t get to fuck her. Lola reached back, still bent at the hip. She bared her soft, slippery lips, gingerly at first, and then wider as her need took over.

“It is perfection, ma petite chatte,” he said. “When you behave, all I want is to reward you.” He returned behind her, lining his cock up again. “Fuck me.”

Lola breathed in and out, her head swimming. She readjusted her grip, spread her pussy and pushed back onto him slowly. He had to help her, to work his head in to loosen her up. When her body gave way, Lola slid back, filling herself with him, her mouth becoming impossibly dry.

“Keep going,” he said. “And don’t look away from me.”

All she wanted to do was look away. He was playing dirty, making her break her own rules. Lola watched him as she urged her body forward, gliding up his cock, and then back down, slow and awkward. Beau’s expression remained smooth as he watched her face, mild amusement in his eyes.

Her bottom lip was between her teeth, her fingers digging into her skin. She was right where she’d wanted to be the last few days and right where she knew she should never have been again.

“You can let go now,” he said.

She released herself just as Beau put a hand on her upper back and pushed her down, her nipples hardening against the cool granite. He grabbed her by the hips and thrust all the way in. They both exhaled a sharp, “Fuck.”

He didn’t waste another second, suddenly insatiable. He took her fast, pushing her farther over the sink with each drive until she was on the balls of her feet. She held onto the faucet.

“I told you to look at me,” he said.

She raised her head, and they found each other in the reflection again. This was something she’d never seen—herself, getting fucked by him from behind. It was better than she’d fantasized. His bowtie was still around his neck. Except for his pants, pushed down around his ass, he was fully dressed. He held her hard, went at her hard, his eyes were hard—but none of it in a bad way.

He practically had her off her feet by the time she came, her climax so ready, it was both effortless and raw. He talked her through it—she was so beautiful, he’d needed this so much, had been dying for it.

With her last spasm, she loosened her grip on the faucet. His neck strained, her breasts swayed, his fingers dented her hips as he pulled her into each thrust. Her eyes darted between everything like she’d walked into the middle of a crime scene and couldn't decide where to look first.

Beau smacked her ass, groaned her name like a prayer and touched her everywhere as he came.

Her hand flew to her mouth, reality slapping her across the face. She’d fucked up—with the worst person possible. The enemy. In a matter of seconds, he’d shattered her carefully-constructed walls like they’d been made of porcelain.

“Christ, Lola.” Beau ran his hand up and down the silk of her back, admiring her. His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “You have no idea, the plans I have—”

“Get off me.”

His eyes jumped to hers. “What?”

They held each other’s stare, still except for the frantic, synced rise-and-fall of their chests.

“You promised,” she said, hating that her voice cracked. “Get off me.”

“Hey—come on.” He smiled a little, the smug fucking bastard. “You’re going to tell me that was one-sided?”

She looked up at the ceiling. She’d been stupid to think she could actually do this—be this close to him and not ever once let her guard down. She’d known if she did, he’d see that weakness and pounce. She’d been right.

“Fuck you,” she said. “You couldn’t even do this one simple thing you promised me.”

He slid out of her, stepping back. “This has been anything but simple,” he said, pulling his pants up quickly, tucking himself into them. “It’s goddamn torture following your rules. There’s nobody else I’d let get away with that bullshit.”

She turned to face him, her robe whispering around her hips. She pulled it closed around her with trembling fists. “Bullshit? It’s bullshit for me to ask for a little time to recover after what you put me through?”

He ran both hands over his hair. His smile was completely gone, at least, replaced with a solemn frown. “Jesus. I didn’t realize this was such a big deal. I thought you were—I don’t know. Playing around. Teasing me.”

Lola clenched her jaw against a wave of tears. She had to make a choice—break him or leave. Otherwise, she’d never be anything but a pawn to him, and their relationship would never be anything but a game. “I thought I could do this. I thought I could play, but I’m out of my league here.”

He shook his head, his drawn eyebrows wrinkling his forehead. “What are you talking about?”

“This isn’t working.” She took a step forward. “I’m leaving.”

He blocked her path. “Like fuck you are.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.” She looked up at him. “Why would I stay?”

He scoffed and held his arms open. “All of this. The last few days. I make one mistake, and you’re going to walk away? Like we didn’t fight like hell to get here?”

“I have to. If you don’t respect me by now, you never will. I came back for you. I swallowed my pride. Every day I stay despite my better judgment. I asked one thing of you—keep your hands to yourself. Just for a little while.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Lola flinched. It was unexpected—the sweet kind of desperation on his face she wasn’t used to seeing. Her plan might actually have been working the last few days, small and subtle changes right before her eyes.

“I didn’t understand why this meant so much to you,” he continued, “but I do now.”

She shifted on her bare feet. “How do I know you aren’t just saying that?”

He reached up and hesitated, his hands hovering over her cheeks. When she realized he was waiting for permission, she nodded slightly. He touched her face with his palms, as if committing it to memory, then took hold of her shoulders. “Don’t go.” He pulled her closer to him, and she went. He kissed her forehead and the bridge of her nose. “Be mad. Scream at me. Make me pay. But don’t go—that would be the worst. All right, Lola? I want you here. I really want you here.”

Her posture eased a little. He did love her, she knew it, clung to it. She’d screwed up huge, but it would have to be a lesson learned. Staying alert wasn’t enough. She had to be vigilant around him. She had to monitor every touch, every look, from somewhere outside herself.

“Let’s just go to bed,” she said quietly, looking to the side.