Page 37 of Tap Left
Daire:
Are you thinking of my cock inside of you right now? If not, you should be.
I'm wearinga ridiculous smile when Mellie reaches across the table and swipes my phone out of my hand. "Please don't," I beg. But it's too late. She's seen the message, and she knows who it's from. Her face falls. A storm cloud moves in over us, and I’m not mentally prepared for this.
"Lola, please don't tell me this is what I think it is."
"What?" My response is hostile, and I can’t help it. I feel like I’m under attack.
Mellie looks at me the way she probably looks at all of her mental cases. "Please don't tell me you are doing this to yourself again. Tell me you didn’t sleep with him. "
"If I told you that, then it would be a lie,” I answer. “And what’s the point in lying when you just steal my phone anyway? What Daire and I have is casual. It’s nothing to get worked up about.”
"Casual? Since when have things ever been casual with Daire?"
"Will you just stop?" I plead. "I know what I'm doing. I'm all grown up now, and I may have made some questionable decisions in the past, but this isn’t one of them."
"Isn’t it?" she replies. "Because that’s exactly what someone in denial would say."
"It’s only for a couple of weeks,” I insist. “It's not a big deal."
"Are you even listening to yourself?" Mellie asks. "Lola, you know you can't do this. Not with him. It completely wrecked you the last time."
"That was when I cared." I swallow. "But now I don't. I'm being careful. There's nothing to worry about."
She’s quiet now. And I hate this. I hate this churning feeling of dread inside of my stomach, telling me she might be right. I hate that I still feel things for Daire when I know he isn't capable of feeling the same. Sure, he flirts with me. And he’s done some unexpectedly sweet things, like taking me to the drive-in and sending me gifts. But those things are second nature to him. A targeted marketing practice designed to win women over. He can't help himself.
"I just don't want to see you get hurt again," Mellie says. "That's all, Lola. I'm not trying to be a bitch. I'm trying to be your friend."
I fall further into the sinkhole of shame when I look at her and see nothing but genuine honesty in her eyes. I'm the one who's being a bitch. "I know, I'm sorry. I don't know why I get so defensive."
"Because you still care about him," she answers softly. "And I'm beginning to wonder if you always will."
13
Daire
Lola isdifferent when she comes to me tonight. The easy banter we had is gone, and she’s as rigid as a board when she walks into my office. If there’s one thing that grates on me, it’s false emotion. She tries to cover her wounds with a plastic smile, and it’s insulting that she thinks I can’t read her by now.
She brought me dinner, which she sets on the desk. When she moves to open the bag, I stop her. "That isn't what I asked for, LB."
"Right," she answers flatly.
She moves towards me and perches herself on the edge of the desk, clasping her hands together. Logic tells me that the gentlemanly thing to do in this situation is to talk to her. But again, there's that whole issue of not knowing what the fuck to say. Emotions are a sticky subject. One that’s best avoided, in my opinion. So, I will give Lola relief that’s more potent and less mind-numbing.
"Spread your legs,” I order. “I'm not going to ask you again."
She pulls up the hem of her dress and spreads her legs. It's awkward, and it shouldn’t be sexy but her fumbling around with the simplest of tasks gets me hot in a way that I can’t explain. It triggers the barbarian in me. The one who wants to take over and get shit done.
I scoot forward in my chair and gently push her back onto her elbows. Her eyes are a wild and windy sea of blue. Large and waifish, they are the loudest thing about her. Right now, they are glued to my face with more conflict than I’d like to see there. It occurs to me that not too long ago I wanted to destroy her and sentence her to a lifetime of misery. I must have been crazy, or I’ve been poisoned by feelings because now all I want to do is coax out any scrap of affection she might have for me.
The words I can’t seem to express pour out through the palms of my hands as I tour the winding curves of her figure. Her thighs are butter, and I want to spread them over every part of my body. Her hips are soft and full and belong in a gallery under lock and key. I would show her off to the world if she’d let me. I’d want everyone to know this magnificently awkward creature was mine and mine alone.
I dip my head between her legs and inhale the potency of her arousal. I’m nowhere near her panties, and already I can tell she is soaking wet for me. It doesn’t mean she’s not at war right now.
In the depths of my gut, I know it’s a war I’ll never win. Even if I had all the right things to say, our fate is already written in her eyes. She looks at me like goodbye is on the horizon. Her armor is fortifying every moment that I don’t spend with her. She doesn’t want to feel anything when she’s with me. It’s a foolish notion since I'm about to make her feel everything.
I press my nose against the lace fabric of her panties and lick her through the flimsy barrier, tasting her want for me. Lola gifts me with her soft and dirty sounds of pleasure.
