Page 28 of Whatever Lola Wants

Simon scowled at Michael’s back as his friend walked away.

Jamie and Richard were standing now, both of them smiling as they chatted with Lola. The two men turned toward the door, Richard supporting his young partner with a strong arm; the boy was still slightly wobbly on his feet, no doubt riding an endorphin high.

Lola started to follow them out of the room, her bag hitched over her shoulder, then turned to glance around one more time. Checking to make sure nothing got missed, nothing got left behind. As she turned to leave, her gaze lifted to the gallery. They locked eyes, and she stilled.

Her pupils were dilated, her cheeks pink with the rush of blood under the skin. The narrow strip of torso exposed by the lowered zipper was dewy with sweat, and her nipples were hard, poking against the slick vinyl of her catsuit.

She was aroused, pumped on the energy from the scene. He knew that feeling, the rush of having taken someone on a journey of pain and pleasure. It was the ultimate power trip, and for most tops, there was nothing more arousing.

Her lips curved into a slow smile, then she pursed them into a kiss. Then she slipped out the door. And he knew, submissive or not, there was no way he was going to walk away.

CHAPTER FIVE

Three days later, she was still buzzing.

She’d forgotten how much energy a scene like that could take out of her, so she’d left the club almost as soon as she’d assured herself that Jamie was getting the aftercare he needed from Richard. They’d traded phone numbers so she could check in on him the next day, then she’d made her way to the bar. She’d left a message with Skip for Grant and Anna—she assumed with Anna’s aversion to needles, they hadn’t watched her scene, though it appeared nearly everyone else had. She’d been stopped so many times on the way to the locker room it was almost a full hour before she’d been able to change and head home.

Where she’d promptly crashed for six straight hours.

But the buzz she’d gotten from topping was still with her, like a mild electric current crackling under her skin. She felt as though she were standing on the cliff waiting to jump, eager anticipation coiled in her belly. Her skin felt too tight, too sensitive; the slightest brush of her clothing brought on a tingling awareness that was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

In short, she was horny.

It didn’t help that she was on her way to see Simon.

Anna and Grant had decided to speed up the wedding planning, so they’d asked the best man and maid of honor to join them for a brainstorming session. Which meant that once again she found herself getting in a car and heading to their home.

This time she checked the sidewalk for men waiting to knock her down, and finding the coast clear, strode up the walk. Anna answered the door with a tired smile.

“You’re early.”

Lola shrugged and followed her friend through the house. “I left work early. Couldn’t concentrate. I figured I’d come over and give you a hand with dinner prep.”

“Normally I’d take it, but we ordered pizza.”

Lola’s brows shot up. It was rare for Anna to order in. “Really? Tired of your awesome new kitchen already?”

“Hardly.” Anna led the way through the kitchen—now mostly unpacked—to the back patio. “Grant didn’t want me to spend any time cooking tonight with so much to talk about.”

Lola gave her friend a considering look. “Is he freaked about the wedding planning?”

“No, I’m freaked about the wedding planning.” Anna stepped around a snoring Henry. “Because he’s only giving me six weeks to do it.”

“What?”

Anna nodded at Lola’s look of shock. “That’s what I said.”

“What…I mean…” Lola shook her head as though to clear it. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah. Do that for about six hours, and you’ll be where I’m at right now.” Anna sank into a patio chair. “I told him we needed to pick a date, so he did. The last Saturday in June.”

Lola lowered herself to the chair beside Anna’s. “This June?”

“Yep.”

“Can I assume you’re going to Vegas, then?”

“Absolutely the fuck not. We are not getting married in Las Vegas. I want a wedding, not a weekend of booze and boobs.”

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