I pick up speed, following the same pattern, over and over. She mirrors the movements until her body shudders so hard against mine, she drops the guitar and pushes it away from her, letting it fall on the couch.
My fingers get wetter and wetter as she comes in waves, and I keep strumming long after she’s abandoned her lesson.
“Karl!” she cries out when I don’t ease up on her clit—when it becomes too much for her. “Karl! Please,” she begs. Her hand snakes behind her back to wrap around my shaft through my sweats. “I need you inside me.Please.”
I stop playing with her flesh and sober back down to reality.
“Lola!” I snap, pushing her off me and stand up, creating as much space as I can. “Stop this. Just fucking stop it.” I shake my head.
Her eyes grow wide, and her nose turns red like she might cry. “I’m sorry,” she whimpers. “I wasn’t trying to . . .” She shakes her head, startled by my response.
I run my hand through my hair with frustration. Fuck. I know I’m giving her mixed signals, but I can’t help it. She looks edible, all flushed from her orgasm, and all I want is to bury myself balls-deep in her body.
I’m just that far gone into my desire for her. I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone, but if she made one thing clear on our date last night, it’s that this relationship is still fake to her. I thought it was to me too, but after our date, I’m not so sure that’s all I want anymore. But she does.
And thank god she does. She deserves better than me.
And she sure as hell deserves to love the man she ends up with. I pull at the roots of my hair. At the bottom of it all, I understand it’s too soon for her to be over Ethan yet. Giving in to her vulnerability after her breakup would be a dick move. I wouldn’t take advantage of her like that.
In the meantime, I need to find a way to make her stop prancing around naked, testing my determination like she does.
“We’re done for today. Tomorrow we keep going where we stopped,” I snap and head to my room. I need to not fucking see her right now.
When I’m alone, I text Roger.
Me: Send me a girl tonight.
Roger: What happened to Lola?
Me: Fuck off. I don’t owe you explanations. Send me a call-girl tonight.
Roger: To the penthouse?
Me: Yes. At ten.
Roger: You got it.
19
LOLA
Karl hasn’t left his room since he stormed off this afternoon. I’m worried he didn’t even come out to have dinner. I’ve been tempted to knock on his door and apologize, but I didn’t do anything wrong. I wasn’t trying to come on to him during our lesson, but I know that’s what he thought. And yeah, maybe once I realized how turned on he was, I may have pushed his buttons a little.
So I took Pixel on a short walk after dinner. We’re listening to music on the couch, Pixel curled up next to my thigh, and me leafing through magazines when we hear Karl’s door finally open.
“You okay?” I ask him.
“Yeah. Took a nap.”
All evening?I want to ask but don’t. He goes to the elevator and waits in front of it.
“We expecting someone?” I ask him.
“None of your fucking business,” he snaps.
Pixel’s ears pin back at his tone, and I pet her to soothe her, but if I had ears like that, they’d be pinned back just like hers.
The elevator doors open, and a beautiful woman walks into our home. She’s wearing a trench coat, sky-high clear heels—hooker high heels if I ever saw any—a fiery red wig, and obnoxious makeup with full red lips. What the fuck is this?