Night Call (Night Fever Serial Book 2)

by Jessica Hawkins

  “Now the rest of my clothes,” he said. “My cock’s reaching for you like you’re food and it’s been starving for months.”

  She turned her head so her other cheek pressed into the mattress. She was getting uncomfortably warm. She squeezed her eyes shut behind the blindfold.

  He thumbed her cheeks apart, then her lips, opening her for him. Without her vision, she never knew where his fingers would probe her next, heightening her anticipation.

  “You weren’t lying about being ready.” His crown collected her wetness, sliding up and down. “God, Lola. I must’ve sold my soul at some point for something this good.”

  Unable to take what she wanted, she was stunted but growing feisty. All she had were her words. “You think even the devil would have you?”

  “He already does. He’s got me.”

  “And you have me,” Lola said. “You’re my devil.”

  He thrust inside her all at once. She made a noise between a yelp and a moan as whiskey sloshed onto her back. Beau removed the glass and lapped up the liquid, his tongue slick and slippery, leaving goose bumps along her spine. “Whiskey and Lola,” he said against her skin. “My new favorite flavor.”

  “You’re going too slow,” she said.

  He dropped all of his weight on her back, sinking her body into the mattress. “How do you want me? Faster?” he whispered in her ear, picking up his pace. “Harder?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes to everything.”

  He slid his hand under her neck and lifted her head backward as he gave her what she wanted. “Waiting for you to come back was torture,” he said while he fucked her. “Does that make you happy? Knowing how hard it’s been for me?”

  “No.”

  “Liar. You like to watch me suffer. Tell me I’ve owned you too.”

  He would never stop. He wanted more and more. She’d known this about him from the start—he was driven. Ambitious. Strong. She hadn’t realized how it might be to have him go after her with all of that. She hadn’t realized how much she’d want to give in. She bit her lip. “I’m the one who suffers.”

  “How?”

  “I can’t have what I want.”

  “What do—”

  “You.”

  “I’m here, Lola. Right here.”

  She grit her teeth. Nothing mattered outside that moment. She could take what she wanted, and nobody would ever know but them. “You’ve owned me. Not just my body.”

  “How else?”

  She was barely able to focus, but she still knew the things she could never say. I could love you. If you don’t stop, you’ll own my heart too. “I don’t want to leave you,” she said, her voice pitching.

  “If I never untie you, you’ll have no choice.” He stopped moving. “Is that what you want? Me to take away your choice so you feel no guilt?”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t know. Don’t stop. Please.”

  “Tell me how you belong to me.”

  “I can’t. You know what’s true. Don’t make me say it.”

  With one hard thrust, he was pounding into her again. “Then tell me what’s mine.”

  “My pussy is yours.”

  “Bon petit chatte,” he groaned. “Keep talking.”

  “I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to leave.”

  He pulled on her hair as she buried her head in the bed. The comforter muted her cries when her orgasm broke her apart from the inside, leaving her a shivering mess beneath him.

  He didn’t slow his rhythm. He took what he needed, hard, unrelenting, still pulling her hair, sucking on her earlobe, whispering almost inaudibly in her ear until he came too.

  He didn’t move off her for some time. Her breaths were soft whimpers. He removed the blindfold, but Lola’s eyes were closed anyway. She sighed, only lifting her head when Beau pulled out. The white bedspread was smeared red from her lipstick.

  Chapter Ten

  Lola lay comfortably on her stomach while Beau propped himself up on one elbow next to her. He caressed her everywhere, from the marks on her thighs the ties had left behind up to her neck and shoulders.

  She focused on Beau’s touch on her skin to avoid feeling him anywhere else. It was as if he was inside her now—for good. He’d been fighting his way in, prying her open with words and caresses. She had no defenses when his only goal was her submission.

  “You feel good,” she whispered.

  “You keep saying that. I’m afraid I’ll get used to it.”

  She smiled and turned her head on the bed so she faced him. They looked at each other a moment. “About what I said—”

  “Don’t.”

  She closed her eyes. “Obviously I can’t stay. I didn’t mean it.”

  He cleared the hair from her face and then resumed stroking her back. “I know. Just don’t leave me yet.”

  She shook her head. “I’m here. But if you don’t keep talking, I might fall asleep.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Anything. Whatever’s on your mind.”

  “All right. Do you worry about getting pregnant?”

  She made a startled noise. “Do you worry about killing the mood? Jesus. That’s what’s on your mind?”

  “I’m curious,” he said with a deep chuckle. “You don’t seem worried.”

  “We already discussed birth control.”

  “It isn’t a hundred percent effective.”

  She sighed. “I’d be worried if I thought of it, but I can’t. I just can’t. So I don’t. It would be devastating.”

  “Would it?”

  “To have the child of a man who bought me for a night? Yes.”

  “Funny how much tighter the knots in your back just got.”

  She couldn’t even picture Beau as a dad—terse, uptight, suit-wearing Beau, picking up his toddler daughter on his way out the door to work as Lola watched, her hip against the counter, coffee in one hand, clutching her robe closed with the other. All of them smiling.

  Or maybe she could.

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Do you make all your partners sign a pregnancy waiver?”

  “No, and it’s not called a ‘pregnancy waiver.’”

  “You should be careful who you sleep with, you know. A lot of women would see an opportunity there and take advantage.”

  “I think you think I sleep around more than I do. And I use condoms always. It’s not like those encounters are…”

  “Prearranged?”

  “Precisely.”

  There was certainly more to think about when you had money. Lola figured she might have to start looking over her shoulder as well. “Do you trust me?” she asked.

  “I do, but I have to protect myself.”

  “Do you really trust me, or are you just saying that?”

  He kneaded her shoulder hard. “That’s a big one,” he said after a few seconds.

  “Happens when you work on your feet.”

  He kept working the knot. “Have you ever considered doing anything else?”

  She didn’t mind the topic change. He didn’t have any reason to trust her, but she didn’t want to know how it’d feel to hear him say it. “Once I applied as an office manager for a place in Century City.”

  “Did you get the job?” he asked.

  “Yes. I turned it down. I couldn’t bring myself to wear a suit to work.”

  “It’s hard to pretend to be something else day after day.”

  “Most people just become what they’re pretending to be.”

  “I suppose,” he said. “Is it still your dream to become an office manager or did the wardrobe kill it for you?”

  Her laugh sounded as contented as she was. “I told you, I don’t dream. I didn’t grow up with choices. Just options. Waitress. Cashier. That kind of thing.”

  “Says who?”

  “It’s just the truth about the life Johnny and I lead. Neither of us went to school or had opportunities. Johnny’s parents get by, but not enough to h
elp us out.”

  “You’re a smart girl. Seems like you could’ve figured it out if you wanted.”

  “I guess it’s possible that,” she hesitated, “I got a little too comfortable at Hey Joe. But things will be different now.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll be on the business end of things. Making decisions, coming up with ideas.”

  “You won’t continue bartending?” he asked in a way that sounded as if he already knew the answer.

  “Well, I will in the beginning.” She inhaled when he hit a sore spot in her lower back. “I’ll keep doing that until things are running smoothly. Hopefully not more than a few years.”

  “Do you think things will change because of the money?” he asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I were Johnny, things wouldn’t be fine for me. I couldn’t live with myself after this. Then again, I wouldn’t have allowed it in the first place.”

  “You keep saying that,” Lola said, “but you don’t know. You made it nearly impossible for us to turn it down.”

  “That’s true. I wouldn’t have offered it if I hadn’t known you’d accept.”

  “There’s no way you could’ve known,” she said. “I almost said no.”

  He was quiet a moment. “But you didn’t.”

  No, she hadn’t. And apparently he’d known all along what her answer would be. She pursed her lips. “You have issues, Beau. Anyone ever told you that?”

  “Maybe an ex-girlfriend here or there.”

  If she could’ve rolled her eyes without opening them, she would have. “Is that why you don’t have a girlfriend? Nobody can handle you?”

  “No.” He sounded offended, like a small boy. It made Lola smile, picturing him that way. “It’s because nobody interests me at the moment.”

  “Not even me?” There was definite flirtatiousness in her question, but it was natural to be flirting in bed with the man who’d just done what he had to her.

  “People or things that defy my expectations get my attention,” Beau said. “So, to answer your question, yes, you do.”

  “Oh, I see. I get it,” she said. “The trashy girl from the slums who doesn’t put up with your shit. The one who tells you ‘no’ when you’re constantly surrounded by yes men.”

  He grunted. “You’ve been watching too many movies.”

  “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t attracted to that side of you, but it isn’t all you are, is it? You really should stop referring to yourself as trash.”

  “I was being facetious.”

  “But you believe it, even if you pretend not to be bothered by it.”

  She grew up in a poor neighborhood without a father. She’d been a teenage stripper. Lola had no disillusions about what people probably thought of her. If that was their conclusion, better that she beat them to it. That didn’t mean she believed it. “Admit it. You must’ve thought that, even a little, when you first met me.”

  “I didn’t. And I don’t want to hear it again. It’s beginning to irk me.”

  “Well,” she said, sighing, “I wouldn’t want to irk you.”

  “Not sure I believe that.”

  He continued to rub her back, occasionally massaging her shoulders or ass. “Are you sleeping?” he asked after a while.

  “Yes.”

  “So you never pretended to be a singer or a teacher or President like other kids?”

  “We’re still discussing this?”

  “I’m just trying to understand you better.”

  “I didn’t play like that,” she said. “I had my one Barbie, and we were just fine.”

  “What a shame.”

  She agreed—it was a shame. She didn’t remember where she’d even gotten a Barbie. Her mom hadn’t been much for typically girly things like dolls or Disney princess movies. Lola blinked out of her haze a little as the memory came to her. “Wait. Actually, she wasn’t even a real Barbie. She was a knock-off Barbie I found at a daycare and named Nadia after the babysitter. My neighbor made her have simulated sex with her authentic Ken doll, and then she threw Nadia on the ground after.”

  “That’s,” Beau blew out a short laugh, “the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Then I’ll stop there.”

  “Why, what happened next? Skipper kicked her into the street and she was run over by a semi?”

  “Probably something like that.” She couldn’t help laughing but then got quiet. She was awake again, Beau touching her, make her warm. What time was it? How long had they been talking? “Why are we talking about this? Really, you’re not very good at paying for sex.”

  “For what it’s worth, Nadia sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than Barbie.”

  “She can certainly take more.”

  “I like a woman who doesn’t break when you bend her.”

  “Nadia wouldn’t,” Lola said.

  “What really happened to her?”

  “No idea,” Lola said. “One day I went to look for her, and she was just gone.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Just as well. I was looking for her to throw her out.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Someone at school said dolls were for babies. I hadn’t played with her in years, but I still wanted to get rid of her. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was a baby.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone accusing you of that.”

  “They didn’t. I may not have had much growing up, but I had the respect of my peers.” Respect had never been a problem for her, no matter her age, even with those who’d known how she was making her money. “If only they could see me now.”

  Beau kissed her hair above her ear. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  “Right. That’s your job.”

  “A job any other man would envy.”

  She pressed her lips together, smiling a little. “What about you, Beau? Do you have any regrets about what do you for a living?”

  “None.”

  “Why? What specifically about it makes you happy?”

  “It’s the perfect setup. I use my money to make more money. That’s something I can see and understand. Of course, there are no guarantees when it comes to these things, but we’re very thorough in our research and projections. Generally the companies we choose are poised for success. So far, thanks to that and a little luck, the returns have been incomparable.”

  “Not buying it,” Lola said immediately. “What is it that drives you every day? What makes you smile?”

  Beau was silent as if deciding how to respond. Finally, he said, “I guess it would be giving someone a chance at his dream. Not many people in this world have that gift to give. Some of these people are kids still—twenty-two, twenty-three—they work so fucking hard just on the belief they have what it takes. Like I did.”

  “You like helping them,” she said. “You give them more than just money.”

  “Before I make any decisions, I have to get to know the founders. Really know them, their values and how they do business. That’s why I brought those two guys to your bar with me. If I’d taken them to an expensive restaurant, they would’ve clammed right up. They needed a place like Hey Joe, where they were comfortable and could be themselves so I could see what I was investing in.”

  “You do that with all your potential ventures?” It was clear to Lola she wasn’t just a deal Beau had made, but an actual person he took interest in. Beau had led those guys down a path of his design in order to understand them. The way he’d mapped out his dates with Lola. Did that make her like them, though? If so, she wasn’t much of an investment at all. She produced no returns.

  “I do,” he said. “Intuition is a driving factor in many of my decisions.”

  “So if Mayor Churchill meets with you one on one, he’ll understand your intentions. And then tax breaks for you and your friends means more investment money and more opportunities to give.”

/>   He laughed. “I don’t know about calling all the rich people in Los Angeles my friends, but otherwise yes. And that’s just the start. I’d love to get more incentives for startups here so they’ll consider L.A.”

  “What else?” Lola asked. Ideas excited her. Acting on them. It was what Hey Joe needed to turn around. Passion, ambition, motivation. Someone to take the lead and bump them past the level of talking about what they should do next. For a fleeting, shameful moment, feeding off Beau’s enthusiasm, Lola wished Johnny were more like Beau in that sense.

  “Coding needs to be mandatory in high schools,” Beau said, “but offered as early as elementary level. If I’d taken it in school, I’d be light years ahead of where I am, and I’m already pretty advanced. Girls need to be educated that technology’s not just for boys. I put on this yearly conference free for aspiring or existing entrepreneurs, and there are a few sessions for those under eighteen who’re interested.”

  “Back up. A conference for entrepreneurs?” she asked. “You put it on?”

  “My company, Bolt Ventures, does. But it’s really a personal project for me. It’s one weekend in Los Angeles with workshops, panels, free legal advice, things like that. And entrepreneurs with a business plan get to pitch their ideas to investors with five-minute, rapid-fire presentations. There’s also opportunities for one-on-one time with people who’ve been in their shoes and succeeded.”

  “Wow,” Lola said. “I admit—I’m a little shocked. What do you get out of it?”

  “Nothing, really.”

  “That can’t be. Exposure maybe?”

  “I got screwed over with my first company, and I didn’t even realize it at first.”

  “Didn’t you make millions off that deal?”

  “Yes, but once they had my company, they didn’t value the work I’d put into it. I guess this conference is a way of providing the tools I didn’t have so others don’t have to make decisions they shouldn’t be making without all the information.”

  Lola struggled to envision a world where a ravenous, bulldozing businessman like Beau Olivier did something so selfless.

  “There’s some exposure for Bolt. People in the industry know I’m behind it. They have to. I need my contacts to make it successful. But it’s maybe the one business venture I do that’s not for financial gain. It’s for them.”