“I can’t help that, Mouse. I’m attracted to you. You're beautiful, sitting in my lap, and giving me the sweetest kisses. That part of my body is always going to respond, but I’m not.” His concerned look became stern. “I’m in control of my actions, and I would die before any harm came to you, from me or any other fucker who thinks he can take something that doesn’t belong to him.”
His words made sense, and the longer we sat there, Drew’s finger twirling around a long strand of my hair like he didn’t have a care in the world, the further my panic receded. Eventually, it was gone; my heart beat a regular cadence, and my breathing normal. I could still feel his hardness beneath my leg, but I didn’t move. Instead, I took a moment to feel it, accept it, and truly realize that Drew and his hard-on were not a threat to me. Once that notion took hold and sunk in, I was curious and filled with questions. Did it cause him pain to be so hard? It was, after all, a rather large, and apparently unrelenting erection. Sex was not something I was well acquainted with. I knew the basics, and thanks to my quote a day calendar, I knew it was something that could burn off as many calories as a five-mile run, but I didn’t know stuff. Like whether an insistent hard-on could do permanent damage.
“Does it hurt?” I whispered, barely managing to squeeze out the probing question.
The corner of Drew’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t laugh.
“Not exactly. It's a little uncomfortable, but not painful.”
“Oh . . . will it go away on its own?”
Another twitch from the corner of his mouth, then Drew leaned back so he could see my face better.
“Sometimes a cold shower helps, and other times . . .”
I could tell he was hesitating, and I didn’t want that. I’d never felt so comfortable around a man in my life, and I wasn’t about to start letting Drew hold back for my sake. Curiosity killed the cat, and in this instance, might truly kill the mouse. I was curious by nature, and I needed to know things before I could ever consider moving forward sexually. I also figured it would be easier to get the right answers from Drew rather than the overly opinionated Google.
“Tell me,” I encouraged him, turning to face him, my leg finally sliding away from his hardness. Drew’s cheeks filled with a ruddy color which had me completely and utterly fascinated. Now I desperately needed to know.
“Other times it helps if I finish myself off.”
“Finish off, like masturbate?” I gasped, not quite believing he blurted that out. Now I understood the blush.
This time Drew did smile. “Have you ever tried it?”
Holy crap! Floor, please swallow me now. This was so freaking embarrassing. Had I tried it? Of course I had. It wasn’t exactly an experience that filled me with the need to go out and buy those miraculous vibrators women gossiped about.
“I’ve tried, but it was pretty lame,” I quietly confessed, glancing at the floor and waiting for it to open.
“Lame?” Drew said with a sound that seemed pretty damn close to a bark of laughter. “Mouse, maybe you weren’t doing it right.”
Pressing my shoulders back, I found the courage to raise my head and look him in the eye. “I’m not stupid, Drew. It's masturbation, not rocket science.”
Drew laughed out loud, and the sound was captivatingly beautiful. “Sweetheart, I would never mistake you for stupid, but it can be a pretty damn enjoyable experience if done right. Not as good as sex, mind you, but a vivid imagination and the right amount of lubrication can go a long way.”
“Really?” I asked, honestly intrigued. I’d definitely been doing it wrong. Lubrication? I’d never even thought to add it to my own failed attempt.
“Enough sex-ed. I really need a cold shower, now,” Drew grumbled, standing with me caught in his strong embrace. He lowered me to the couch, and I couldn’t help but drop my gaze to the hardness that had been prodding me.
“Will you show me?” I hadn’t even realized the words had tumbled out until a finger under my chin lifted my gaze.
“Show you what, sweetheart?”
“Will you . . .” There went my eyes again, down his magnificent body and settling on that hard ridge. “Will you let me watch you touch yourself?’
A quickly drawn in breath was Drew’s only response. Perhaps I had crossed some sort of invisible line. Damn my unfiltered mouth and twisted curiosity. Before I had a chance to tuck my head and run, Drew took my hand and pulled me to stand in front of him.
“It would be better if we did this in the bedroom. That way I can lie down and get comfortable.”
I’m pretty sure my eyes had bugged out, and the corner of Drew’s mouth was twitching, again.
“Didn’t expect me to say yes, Mouse?”
I shook my head mutely.
“You want to watch? Because I’m telling you now, I want you to watch. I think this will be good for you, for us. Kind of like a no touching safe version of sex.”
I paused and considered his words. They certainly had merit; no touching sex sounded like bliss to me. “No touching, just watching.”
With a nod, I stood a little taller and pushed my shoulders back. I didn’t have a fear in the bucket with ‘watch Drew choke his chicken’ on it, but I did have one about a fear of intimacy, and surely this ticked that box. I trusted Drew, and if anyone could help me overcome my insecurities about sexual exploration, it was this man. Dammit, we were definitely doing this. I was taking back my hot fucking mess of a life.
With a tug on my hand, I followed Drew down the short hallway.
“My bedroom or yours?” he asked, pausing to glance over his shoulder at the doorway to my bedroom.
“Mine,” I whispered, knowing the safety of a familiar room around me was important.
Drew nodded. “Go on in. I’ll be there in a minute.”
CHAPTER 23
DREW
I shook my head in disbelief and leaned forward to open the bedside drawer. Obviously, I was unable to make appropriate choices because all the blood from my brain was currently pulsing through my dick. Pulling out a tube of lube, I nudged the drawer closed and ducked into the bathroom to grab a towel. Pausing a few feet from Lola’s bedroom, I shook my head again. While my mind hesitated, my cock strained against my zipper, almost as if it were trying to drag me into the bedroom and get this deal done. What the fuck was I thinking? I needed to come, that’s what I was thinking. What was going to be a quick and lonely sprint to the finish line under the hot shower was now a center stage performance with an audience. Like any healthy, red blooded male, I’d jerked off at least a billion times in my life, but never in front of anyone. While I wasn’t a shy man and was more than comfortable in my own skin, scars and all, I couldn’t help the nervous tension that threatened to draw the blood away from my dick and back to my upper extremities. Lola needed this, though; her curiosity over sex and the need to feel sexually confident was clearly evident in her shy touches and awkward questions. I wasn’t going to let her down. If she needed to explore, if she needed to see, I wasn’t going to stop her.
Stepping into her room, I found her standing by the closed blinds looking a combination of nervous and embarrassed. Wanting her to feel comfortable, I pushed my shoulders back and threw the lube and towel on the bed.
“What’s the towel for?” she immediately asked.
I knew Lola had been a virgin before the rape, but I had no idea the extent of her inexperience. It filled me with a sense of pride to be the one who guided her through this discovery of sexuality.
“For men, masturbation has a messy finale,” I murmured, standing by her bed. I watched her nod, but otherwise remain frozen by the windows. “I’d usually do this naked, but would you prefer I keep the clothes on? I can just push my jeans over my hips.”
She hesitated for only a moment. “You should be comfortable.”
“No,” I was quick to reply. “In this, in here, you are the one who should be comfortable. Tell me what you want, Mouse.”
Her gaze traveled over
my body before settling on my eyes.
“Naked.” The word was whispered with nothing more than a breath of air.
With a nod, I reached over my shoulders and tugged my shirt up and over my head. A quick look in her direction assured me she was okay, her undivided attention now on my chest. Sitting on the side of the bed, I was quick to remove my boots and socks, then stood and turned to face Lola while I unbuckled my jeans and pulled down the zipper, careful not to catch my dick which was trying to spring free like a Spartan warrior charging into battle. I watched her face, making sure she wasn’t going into a panic attack as I pushed the denim off my hips. Her eyes were glued to my cock, which made the proud fucker jump with excitement. Shock was the dominant emotion playing across her face.
“You okay, Mouse? We still good here?”
Her gaze was having a hard time finding my eyes. “Ummm, yeah, okay, I’m okay. I just . . . I mean, I’ve never . . . you know? Seen one . . . I mean, I don’t remember . . .”
“Mouse, it’s okay. You can look. You are in control here. You want me to stop, just say the word. If you’ve got questions, ask away, but I have to warn you, once we get started,” I pointed to my dick, “my brain tends to malfunction, and you might not get a coherent reply.” I grinned and gave her a wink. “If you just want to sit there and watch, go ahead.” I climbed on the bed, pulled a couple of pillows behind my head and stretched out. “Do you want to sit down?”
As if she only just now realized she was standing, Lola took two steps to the bed and dropped like a lead weight, her eyes moving from my cock to my face, struggling to make the decision over which she’d prefer to watch.
She was beautiful sitting there before me, her hair tucked behind her ears, her eyes full of curiosity, and something subtler . . . desire. She was never a more beautiful muse for the occasion.
Reaching for the lubricant, I hesitated when she sprang from the bed and moved away. With quick and efficient movements, she switched on the lamp that sat beside the bed, and flicked out the overhead light, resuming her spot on the end of the bed.
“Sorry, this feels better.”
I nodded, admitting to myself that jerking off under the harsh bedroom lights with her watching had done a slight number on my head. This was better.
After squirting some lube into my hand, I tossed the tube aside. My cock was still hard, but nerves were quickly beginning to give me performance anxiety. Dirty talk. This kind of situation needed it. I needed it. A little dirty talk would break through my nerves. Leaning back, I watched Lola through hooded lids.
“I’ve lost count of how many times of jerked off with thoughts of you in my mind, Mouse.” Her startled gaze found mind. “Does that scare you?” She shook her head, no. “I’d watch you in Bouquets, working. You’d be completely oblivious to me while I sat there and wondered what it would be like to hold you, to kiss you . . . and more.”
“More what?” she whispered as my hand found my cock.
“Fuck you. I’ve got this image etched into my mind of how you might look coming on my cock or hand or tongue.”
“Tongue?” she breathed in a curious tone.
“Oh yeah, baby. I’ve thought about my tongue in your pussy, and my lips tugging on your clit a-fucking-lot.”
My hips canted forward at the thought, my hand tightening around my rigid length. I began to stroke, up, down, up, down, pulling and pushing on the velvet skin. The pace was slow, but tight.
“Oh,” was all Lola managed to squeak out as she watched with rapt attention.
“Fucking ‘o’ alright, orgasm after orgasm. I wouldn’t let you up until your legs were noodles, baby.”
Her cheeks filled with red, but I wasn’t sure if it was with embarrassment or desire.
“Do you want me to shut up?” I asked, secretly hoping she didn’t. The dirty talk was helping break through any inhibitions I might have had.
“No!” she quickly responded. “I mean, only if you want to. It doesn’t bother me.”
“You like me talkin’ dirty to you?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I like it.”
“Good, sweetheart, because I have at least a hundred fantasies I’ve been playing out in my mind for at least two years.”
“Like what?” she asked bravely, watching my hand move.
I twisted my grip a little then reached down to cup my balls which had her gasp an audible breath.
“I think of you riding me, sitting on my hips, bouncing up and down, your breasts swaying.”
I tightened my grip a little more and quickened the pace as the mental image spurred me on. Lola’s startled, yet lustful gaze definitely helped.
“My hands on your hips, helping you move, my cock buried inside you.” Fuck, my hand became faster, my movements quickly becoming a furious race to the finish line. “That's what I fantasize about when I jerk off to thoughts of you.”
With that, I gripped my balls a little tighter, gave a few more strong stokes, and I came. Ropes of the fucking stuff laced my abs before I was finally empty. Closing my eyes, I took a moment to steady my breathing and just rest in post-hand-job bliss before I finally looked up at her.
She was watching me, too, her breathing surprisingly fast, but it wasn’t the uncontrolled gasping that accompanied a panic attack. It was desire.
”Wow,” she finally said after a long drawn out breath.
I couldn’t help but laugh at that understatement of the century.
“I think I need a cold shower.” Her murmured words made me laugh even harder. It was something few people could make me do, but Lola did and with little effort. Reaching for the towel I wiped my stomach clean. “Messy,” she noted.
“Uh-huh,” I agreed.
“Do you want the shower first?”
“No, babe. I honestly don’t think my legs will work just yet. I’m gonna lie here for a bit longer and imagine you getting soapy and wet.”
“You might end up messy again.”
I shrugged. “I don’t mind being messy, especially when you’re the cause of it.”
Lola stood, and I laced my fingers behind my head and watched her move around her room, collecting her pajamas and underwear. She blushed, noting my relaxed nudity, but I didn’t care. I wanted her to be comfortable with me, like this, and the more time we spent like this, the more likely she’d get there. Her nerves were clearly evident as she stepped to the side of the bed close enough to touch. Ever so slowly, she leaned forward, watching me until she became so close that I could see her eye lashes flutter shut as her lips touched mine. The kiss was sweet and gentle. I had never been a man to do sweet and gentle, until Lola broke through my rock-hard walls with her vulnerability. For her, I could do sweet. With her, I was gentle.
“Try to keep the mess off my sheets,” she whispered as she pulled away, and I grinned.
“Yes, ma’am.”
***
“It’s ‘J’,” Lola murmured reverently, her hand hovering over the hood.
It was an older model Jeep Wrangler, two door, soft top in a pale grey. It was a sturdy looking Jeep, with big off-road tires. With only a few light scratches, it looked like a vehicle that had been taken care of, and the way Lola hovered over it with glistening eyes, I’d say there was a lot of love between her and this car.
“Jay?” I asked, as she opened the driver’s side door and peered inside.
“’J’, it’s short for Jeep . . . and Jackie.” Her gaze caught mine for the briefest of moments, before dropping to check every inch of her beloved Jackie.
“Jackie?” I whispered, trying to suppress my smile.
“Like Jackie Onassis,” Lola continued, popping down the glove compartment before pushing it shut. “She was a strong woman, smart, too.”
While most people would laugh at someone who named their car, I didn’t. I couldn’t. After all, I had a rifle at home named Trigger.
“When I left home and ran, this was my first purchase. She’s been with me ever since. She’s looked after m
e, housed me more times than I can remember, and has gotten me over a lot of miles of asphalt.” She glanced at me. “But he was in here. It feels like another violation.”
I knew who she meant. Bomber had found the vehicle parked in an industrial area on the outskirts of town, the door open, key still in the ignition. Lola hadn’t driven it there, so it was reasonable to assume Ben had, even though no prints had been found.
“It’s been cleaned, inside and out. We didn’t find any evidence in here. He was careful to cover his tracks.” I looked her in the eye. “He’s a ghost, sweetheart, a dead man walking.”
Lola nodded.
“I heard we’re going on a road trip!” shouted Gabbie.
Pushing back, I watched her strut through the garage like she owned it, a duffle bag thrown over one shoulder.
“Are we taking Jackie?”
“You knew Lola’s Jeep is called Jackie?” I wondered out loud.
“Of course. I admired ‘J’ on several occasions when Lola parked her out back of Bouquets. While I’d prefer something a bit bigger, I must admit, your girl has good taste.” Gabbie came to stand beside the open driver’s door, smiling at Lola who smiled back.
“Can we take her?” Lola asked with hope in her eyes.
I shook my head, hating that I’d be the one to swallow that hope.
“Sorry, Mouse, Jackie is too recognizable. He knows her and no doubt has his men on the lookout for her.”
Lola simply nodded. Her smile had dimmed, but she didn’t argue. Climbing from the front seat, she slammed the door shut.
“We taking Hank?” Gabbie asked, shifting excitedly from one foot to another. I nodded, and a squeal escaped her lips.
“Who’s Hank?” Lola’s brow furrowed with confusion.
“You’re not the only one who gives her car a name,” Gabbie said with a wink as she pointed to the black Hummer parked in the largest bay toward the back of the garage. “Hank, like Dr. Henry Philip ‘Hank’ McCoy from X-Men,” Gabbie explained as we made our way closer. “Otherwise known as . . . Beast.”
Losing Lola (Mercy's Angels Book 5) Page 16
