He was carrying her now, as easily as if she weighed nothing at all, carrying her across the room, and she closed her eyes again and hid her face in his shoulder, overwhelmed by what was happening. Then she felt a hard cool surface under her bottom, and realised that she had wrapped her legs around him, twined her arms around his neck.
God, this was awful. She had given in to him completely without even realising what he was doing. One touch of his hot arrogant mouth and she had parted her legs for him and let him pick her up and carry her around, a man she had absolutely loathed and despised till this very moment; actually, someone she still loathed and despised, it was just that he was kissing her so hard he wasn’t giving her any opportunity to tell him so. And he had put her down on the desk, and was standing between her legs, pressed up against her, so that she could feel his entire cock, rubbing exactly where she wanted it, and how was she supposed to tell him what she thought of him when he was getting her so damp between her legs, without even having touched her there with any part of his body – unclothed, that was – so that she could barely breathe with desire for him—
He pulled away, and Lola’s eyes snapped fully open in horror, scared that he was going to shake his head and run a hand through his disordered hair and walk away from her, spreadeagled on the desk, making her look like an utter fool. But then she saw that he was tugging at his belt buckle, and the relief was like a surge of hot liquid through her veins. She wanted to help him, but it was all she could do, gripping the edges of the desk, not to fall over, she was so dazed and wet with lust. It seemed to take forever. But finally he had his belt unbuckled and his trousers unzipped and he’d shoved his boxers down, and Lola’s eyes had never gone quite so wide, because it was one thing feeling it against you and quite another seeing how large it was when it sprang free, and even another thing altogether – oh God, oh God – feeling it drive up inside you, as Niels’s big powerful hands closed around her buttocks again and pulled her relentlessly onto it until she couldn’t think in words any more.
Just sensation. Just Niels, sweating against her – she could feel his heat through his shirt and his jacket, and she could smell his hot strong scent, so good that she buried her face in his armpit, wanting it all around her, to have him in her nostrils as much as she had him between her legs, driving into her, hurting her, because she wasn’t used to sex like this, not at all. But it was so relentlessly good that all she could do was cling to him and moan and listen to him swearing above her head as he fucked her so hard she thought she would die and go to heaven from it.
Her dressing gown seemed to have come off completely. Her negligee was bunched around her waist, and Niels was ripping down the straps so he could kiss her breasts. His teeth closed around one nipple, and she screamed in pleasure and pulled him even closer, which made him buck inside her still harder, still further, so much that he actually pulled back and stared down at her with what looked like sheer amazement on his face.
By now Lola was transported, gone. No man had ever fucked her like this: they had always been hugely respectful, treated her like the porcelain doll she resembled, clothes exquisite, make-up perfect, not a flaw on her smooth pale golden skin. No one had ever bruised her and ripped her clothes and shoved himself up inside her so hard and fast that he hadn’t given her time to catch her breath. And if anyone else had tried, she would have slapped their face and made them apologise profusely. She caught sight of their straining bodies in the mirror behind Niels – his back bunching with muscle under his shirt and jacket, his strong thighs bare and pounding, almost comically naked, and her equally bare legs wrapped round him, her head thrown back. Lola didn’t remotely recognise herself in this girl so overwhelmed with passion that she would let an almost-complete stranger, who had manhandled her appallingly the last time they had met, basically pick her up and fuck her senseless on the closest level surface they had to hand.
Niels van der Veer was crying out something in a language Lola didn’t know. His hands tightened still further on her buttocks. She could feel his pubic hair scratching against her newly waxed skin. It hurt, but deliciously. She would be so sore after this she would be barely able to walk. And the thought, so scandalously filthy, so alien to her, was so exciting that she rammed herself down on his cock and, to her enormous surprise, had the first-ever orgasm she had ever had with a man.
She screamed in pleasure and amazement, a long, exquisite scream that was caught by Niels as he took one hand off her buttocks and twisted it instead into her hair, pulling her head towards him so he could grind his mouth down on hers. Lola saw stars. Her entire body was overloading with sensation. Niels gasped, reared, and pulled out just in time to shower her upper thigh with a hot stream of come.
Lola had thought she never wanted it to end; but now, as Niels’s cock pumped over her leg, she realised she was in a state of utter, perfect bliss. There was something so sexy, so powerful, at having made this bossy, bullying, autocratic man so overcome with lust for her that he had ripped her clothes, fucked her, and then come over her in absolute surrender. Her entire body fizzed with release and triumph.
Besides, she had come herself. She had ground herself down on him and made herself come. She was in awe of what she had achieved. Lola had always thought she needed to be the perfect girlfriend, beautiful and elegant at all times: which meant absolutely not letting out, in the company of a man, that raw sexual energy that made you groan and pant and look needy, let alone mess up your hair, in front of a man.
Well, that idea had disappeared forever. And she certainly didn’t miss it.
Niels’s eyes were closed. She watched him for a few moments, as the aftershock of his orgasm still flooded through him. Then, slowly, his eyelids lifted, and he looked at her.
He was the sexiest man she’d ever seen in her life. He was pure, raw sex in a big, muscular package. It was quite extraordinary that she hadn’t realised that before.
He looked down at their bodies, Lola’s pale thighs still wrapped around his waist, his cock, dwindling now, but still very impressive, rosy and swollen from its exertions. And he blushed.
Lola did her absolute best to keep a straight face.
He reached down for his cock and wrestled it impatiently back into place, ducking to pull up his boxers and his suit trousers, swearing again in what she assumed was Danish when the zip and the belt resisted his clumsy fingers. Lola closed her legs together, not wanting to look too whorish, and flicked the skirt of her negligee down to cover her to the knee, though avoiding the part of her thigh that was covered with come, because she didn’t want to stain the nightdress if she could manage not to; but she still sat there, on the edge of the desk, her bottom pulled forward where Niels had dragged her, to get her at the best angle for him to fuck her hard. Partly, she didn’t move because she was in such a state of absolute physical satisfaction that moving was near impossible; partly because she knew, somehow, without quite sensing why, that to look at her still sitting there like that would embarrass Niels almost beyond measure.
He was all tucked in now, all put away. Only the burning light in his eyes, the flush on his cheeks, indicated what had just happened between them.
‘I—’ he started. ‘I – I’m . . .’
He looked at her helplessly. It was how, Lola imagined with great satisfaction, a hugely powerful wounded boar would stare at the person who, though much more fragile than itself, had somehow managed to make a dent in its hide.
One of his hands rose up, and grabbed a hunk of his dirty-blond hair, pulling at it, as if he wanted to punish himself by causing himself pain.
‘I—’ he tried again.
And then he turned – his powerful back, his strong shoulders, bunched with strain – as he strode to the door of the suite, pulled it open and dashed through it, slamming it shut behind him.
Lola looked down at herself. In the old days – which was, suddenly, how she seemed to be referring to her sex life, pre-Niels – she would have been revolted by a
man doing anything so vulgar as come over her. And now, the sight of his come on her slender thigh, a white, thick pool of liquid, was the most erotic thing she’d ever seen in her life. If, of course, you excepted the sight of Niels’s erect penis. She ran a finger through the residue on her thigh and tasted it, savouring the sweet-sour flavour of almonds and lemon. Then, holding up the skirt of her negligee to her waist, she slipped, wincing, off the desk, and crossed the room to the toilet in the foyer, where she washed down her leg and dried it with a hand towel.
Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she barely recognised the girl who was looking back at her. Golden and glowing, eyes dark and starry, a gorgeous flush of colour on her cheeks, her hair tumbled on her shoulders. She couldn’t help giggling: it was the perfect bedroom hair, the style girls had in Victoria’s Secret catalogues, carefully arranged and teased out to look as if they’d just been fucked. It was very rare that Lola looked at herself without vanity, but now she did, and she knew that she had never looked so beautiful in her life.
She got herself cleaned up just in time. She was just picking up and slipping on her dressing gown when a key turned in the door and Jean-Marc and David tumbled through it, babbling excitedly about the encounter they had just had in the corridor with Niels.
‘Did you see him, Lo? Did you tell him anything?’ asked Jean-Marc, who had sent his brother a cryptic email, saying that he had left rehab and hinting that he had also come out of the closet, without quite being brave enough to tell him directly. He had hoped that Niels would understand.
‘And by the way he looked at me, I’m sure he knew, ’ David added rather nervously. ‘I thought he was going to hit me – he had this look in his eyes, so scary—’
‘He just growled at us and kept walking!’ Jean-Marc said. ‘I haven’t seen Niels that angry ever!’
‘He’s so butch, isn’t he?’ David murmured. ‘I mean, terrifying, but thrilling too. I bet he’s fabulous in bed.’
‘David! Stop that!’ Jean-Marc elbowed his boyfriend. ‘You are so naughty – that’s my brother—’
‘Well, but I bet he is, though, ’ David muttered rebelliously. ‘Those shoulders! God!’
He closed his eyes and shivered theatrically.
‘Did you have a fight with him, Lo?’ Jean-Marc insisted.
‘Um, he was cross that I was here, ’ Lola said cautiously, having no wish to reveal to two excitable gays that she had just had wild sex on the desk with her ex-fiancé’s brother. She was barely able to process what had just happened, and she knew instinctively that if she talked about it to anyone, it would spiral away from her and turn into something different, a piece of fantastic gossip rather than the intensely personal encounter between her, Niels and their respective private parts.
Besides, she was also aware that Niels would absolutely loathe it if anyone else knew what had taken place between them. She hardly knew him, but she sensed very strongly that having lost control of himself like that was probably the worst thing that could have happened to a man so used to being in charge of everything around him, including his own emotions. It was ridiculous, after the way he had just manhandled her, but she felt an inexplicable urge to protect him.
‘Ugh, I hate that he’s so horrible to you, ’ Jean-Marc complained, flopping onto the sofa. ‘I’m going to talk to him about it. As if you had anything to do with me having that breakdown! It’s ludicrous!’
David was staring at Lola so intently that she found herself blushing under his scrutiny.
‘Well, ’ he commented, and for a moment Lola held her breath, terrified he’d realised what had just happened, almost where they were standing. ‘I must say, that hairdresser has done the most fabulous job! And the facialist! You’re glowing! But the hair is just amazing.’ He reached out and played with a strand that was curling round her face. ‘Before, I saw you as really china-doll, you know? Pretty-pretty. But now – darling, you look so womanly!’
‘Really?’ Lola managed.
‘Oh God yes. Positively sensual. Promise me you’ll only use this hairdresser from now on, OK? You’re just transformed.’
Lola had a stabbing memory of Niels’s hands buried in her hair, pulling her head up, and it was so powerful that the throb between her legs was like a mini-orgasm.
‘I’ll try, ’ she assured David. ‘ I really will try.’
Chapter 17
The infusion of Jean-Marc’s unlimited funds into Lola’s legal war chest had had near-instant results. In a visit to George Goldman’s office just the next day, Lola received fantastic news: George had taken a second opinion on the matter of Carin’s usurpation of control of Lola’s trust fund, and was now convinced that Lola’s case was very strong indeed. Chubby, cheerful George smiled broadly as he told her how good her situation was.
‘Plus, ’ George added, ‘Carin’s prejudiced the case by doing everything so abruptly. It looks very bad for her. Throwing you out of your house, changing the locks, while giving you the news of Ben’s illness—’ He sucked in his breath and shook his head. ‘You know, every case is judged on individual circumstance. That’s how the law works. It’s very subjective. And this – well, it sure as hell gives the appearance of vindictiveness, and that won’t look good for her. I’m actually hoping we might get this matter settled in a few days. We’re applying for an order to show cause why a temporary restraining order shouldn’t be applied to enjoin her from acting as trustee, and I’d say we’re almost definitely going to get it.’
‘That means she wouldn’t control my trust fund any longer?’ Lola was amazed. ‘Fantastic!’
‘We’ll certainly be successful in applying for a healthy sum for you for temporary maintenance, ’ George assured her, nodding happily. ‘We’ll ask for $200, 000 and maybe get $100, 000. And I don’t think there’ll be any problem getting the court to agree to pay all the attorneys’ fees directly from your trust fund.’
‘Wonderful! And Jean-Marc’s guaranteeing all that till the trust fund kicks in, ’ Lola said with huge relief.
George steepled his pudgy fingers together and rested his chin on the top of them.
‘But that’s not even the best news!’ he said, a huge smile creasing his face. ‘You know I passed your visitation rights case over to the absolute best lawyer in this field? Well, he’s applied for a temporary access order, and informed Carin’s lawyers, and they just rang an hour ago to say you can go see Ben this afternoon!’
Lola felt a warm surge of happiness flooding through her. She was going to see her father! Today!
‘I can’t believe it, ’ she breathed.
George looked at her closely.
‘So you’ll be at the Plaza now for a while?’ he asked. ‘With your fiancé?’
‘He’s not my fiancé any more, George, ’ Lola informed him. ‘He’s gay. He came out in rehab.’
‘Oh Lola, honey. You poor thing.’
George’s smile faded, his face a pantomime of embarrassment and confusion. Lola did her best to put him out of his misery.
‘I’m completely fine with it, ’ she said. ‘We’ve realised we’re much better off as friends. Actually, we’re all sharing this big suite at the Plaza together – Jean-Marc, me and his new boyfriend David. And we’re so cosy and happy together it’s not true.’
George didn’t look wholly convinced, but he made the best of it.
‘Well, that’s great, ’ he said, rubbing his hands together. ‘Great. And, honestly, honey, I wasn’t so enthused at the idea of you getting back together with a junkie. So maybe it’s all for the best. I saw in the business section today that the brother was in town, ’ George added, getting up from behind his desk and pulling down his jacket over his plump tummy. ‘That’s a tough nut. Niels, isn’t it? He’s the business brains of the new generation. Your young man was always more the playboy type.’
Lola felt a blush enveloping her entire body. She hoped it was not visible to George: a tremendous sensation of burning heat, its centre firmly situated
between her legs. Every time Jean-Marc or David mentioned Niels, this happened. She would get a flash of memory, like a flare gun going off inside her: this time, it was Niels dragging down her negligee to bare her breast, his mouth closing over her nipple . . . She couldn’t believe she didn’t go bright red every time this happened, but George wasn’t mentioning anything, so hopefully she was getting away with it.
‘Um, what time can I visit my father this afternoon?’ she asked George, swiftly changing the subject. She couldn’t talk about Niels with anyone; she was too frightened of the physical consequences if his name were mentioned repeatedly.
‘Three-thirty!’ George beamed. ‘And we’re talking to them about setting up regular visits for you. At least once a week.’
He ushered her out of his office, patting her shoulder.
‘It’s all going to be OK now, Lola, ’ he said happily. ‘Don’t you worry your pretty head any more. Benny would have hated that. We got it all under control from this point on.’
Lola rang the doorbell of number twenty-four 53rd Street precisely at three-thirty by her Breguet watch. The door was thrown open by Panio. He was as groomed as before, and showed no sign at all in his demeanour that he had any memory at all of the last time Lola had been here.
‘I’ll just take you upstairs, Miss Fitzgerald, ’ he said as deferentially as if that awful scene had never happened.
Panio led her up the stairs and through her father’s sitting-room, which, Lola was surprised to see, had been left untouched by Carin’s redecorations. The huge leather Chesterfield sofas, the thick Persian rugs, the Tuscan carved bookcases with all his first editions of classic spy novels, the marble fireplace, the gigantic purring cherry-wood humidor in the corner, the faint smell of cigar smoke . . . it was so familiar, like the essence of her father, all his favourite things collected here. And the enormous bedroom that lay beyond it was equally unaltered.
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