Page 24 of Whatever Lola Wants

Lola smiled at Jamie as she settled herself onto his muscled abdomen. She kept most of her weight on her knees, but she wanted the connection to his body. She could feel him tense up, just as she could feel the way he relaxed when he glanced at Richard. She waited until his eyes were back on hers before she spoke.

“I’m going to get started, Jamie. You’ve had blood drawn before, yes?”

He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

She held up a needle stripped of its packaging so it glinted in the strong overhead lights. “This is a twenty-one gauge needle, the size commonly used for blood draws.”

She waited until she was sure he’d seen it, then dropped it into the sharps container on the tray. “I’m not going to use anything larger than that on you today. I might go smaller, but that’s the largest needle I’ll use. Understand?”

He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“One more thing before we get started.” She smiled into his eyes, the trepidation swimming in their depths going to her head like the finest of wines. “Your Daddy tells me you’re normally not allowed to speak during a scene, unless it’s to use your safeword. For this scene, you can make as much noise as you like.”

“Okay.”

She let her smile sharpen. “If you’re too quiet, I might think you’re bored. If you’re bored, I’m going to get your attention.” The delight swimming through her as his eyes went wide with fear was delicious, and better than any drug. “Do you understand?”

His collar flexed when he swallowed. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good. Let’s get started.”

She glanced at Richard and reached for a needle. He met her gaze and gave a brief nod as she stripped the paper away from the plastic enclosed needle. She drew a slow, deep breath to center herself, twisted off the plastic cap, and leaned forward.

The way Jamie’s eyes followed the little spear of steel in her hand made her smile. “Take a deep breath for me, Jamie,” she murmured, laying her gloved hand on the skin over his right pectoral muscle as he obeyed. “Hold it for just a moment. Good boy. Now let it out slowly.” As his breath sighed out, she pinched up a bit of skin and quickly, smoothly, slid the needle under and out the other side.

She felt the jolt run through him, a slight jerk of his body under hers, and sat back slightly to assess. His breathing had hitched when the needle went in, but was smoothing out again. The flesh where the needle protruded was slightly red from the pinch of her fingers. The plastic hub of the needle pointed to his sternum, the sharp point on the other pointing to his arm, with the bulk of the inch and a half needle under his skin.

“How’re you doing, Jamie?”

His eyes were clearing, the sharp sting already fading, she knew, leaving behind a lovely throbbing warmth. “Fine, Ma’am.”

“Then we’ll continue,” she said and reached for another needle.

The mood in the gallery was electric. Simon could feel the buzz in the air, almost a sting on the skin, as the scene continued in the medical room below. By his count Lola had put half a dozen needles into Jamie’s chest, a neat row of three that rode the rise of the boy’s pectoral muscles on each side, the last just above his nipple.

Lola bent to speak to Jamie, her voice too low and indistinct for him to catch the words. Checking in, he assumed. Assessing his pain and energy levels, his headspace. He didn’t know enough about needle play to judge her technique, but he couldn’t find fault with her process.

She reached for another needle, and his eyes narrowed as her gloved hands reached for the last one she’d placed, just above the nipple. She pinched the skin already pierced, and slid the new needle under the first so they formed a cross under Jamie’s skin.

Jamie arched under her, his larger body nearly lifting hers off the table, and a garbled groan burst free. Simon watched her lean down, murmuring to him, stroking his face while he fought through the pain.

He watched as Jamie struggled, his breathing harsh, and gradually settle. Then his eyes went right back to Lola.

He’d always found her attractive. The first time he’d met her had been in Anna’s apartment, when he’d been helping Grant look for his missing submissive. She’d strode in, a tiny elf in four-inch heels, and planted her foot square on Grant’s balls. He liked attitude and confidence, and she had both to spare. He’d thought her pretty, even beautiful, always so well put together whether it was a work suit or casual clothes, but she wasn’t cute now.

Her skin was damp with a fine sheen of perspiration, gleaming under the bright lights of the room. Her eyes were dark, her lips slicked the same red as the catsuit that molded to every inch of her slight frame. When she twisted slightly to reach for another needle, he had a clear view of the smooth, pale skin of her torso, exposed by the lowered zipper of the catsuit.

The zipper that went all the way down, between her legs, up the crease of her ass to end at the base of her spine.

Easy access. For damn near anything.

Fucking Christ, she was hot.

She was pretty before. Cute. Attractive. But encased in shiny red vinyl, with the gleam in her eye as she literally drove spikes into tender flesh? She was fucking magnificent.

He watched her slide another needle in, making another cross. The boy arched up again, panting through the pain, nearly lifting her clear off the table, and her low laugh of sheer delight made his dick hard.

Well. Harder.

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