band.
My muscles turned to lead at the idea. Inhaling deeply, I thought I could still smell her in my nose—and I wanted that. I longed for more of her, every single inch she had to give me.
I was selfish.
And I knew it.
Tracing my stomach, the crevices of abdominals, I cupped the shape of my raging hard-on. Fine, I'm selfish. I'm greedy and terrible and all I want is to taste Lola's sweet pussy. To hear her gasp and fucking scream because my cock is stretching her to the brink.
Squeezing the head of my cock through my boxers, I moaned. It was true. All of it was true.
But if I gave in to my desire for this blue-eyed woman, everything would crumble. Not just the band, though that was a real issue. Not just my relationship with Lola; but my ability to hold back.
Once I went after Lola, there was no stopping. I didn't do things in half-measures. When I wanted something, I took it. It became mine.
If I'd just kept things professional, it would have been fine. I could have controlled myself. Then she'd yanked me down into the tub, and everything had changed.
A thick growl rose in my throat. Dipping my hand under my boxers, I traced the hot skin of my prick. It was painfully erect, as tense and strained as my mind was.
Lola was all I could see in my head. Her stunned face, her exquisite fingers. My ears flooded with the memory of the music she played. I was desperate to make her create a new song for me. A song made from the notes of her breathing, punctuated by her sobs and passionate moans.
I wanted to make Lola Cooper into a part of me. And I could have fucking resisted that, if I hadn't landed on her in that bathroom tub. If she hadn't caressed my head in worry.
If she hadn't cared.
Panting softly, I pumped my fist over my cock. The strokes weren't slow, they lacked the control I felt represented me. Lola was seeping into everything I was. Even now, in private, my composure was wrecked due to her.
My teeth barely bit off a grunt. If I'd just stayed away, not saved her, not helped or touched or seen or smelled or... or... or... A quiver of electric delight danced in my lower belly. It mixed with the last bit of my resolve.
If I had just never met Lola Cooper...
I wouldn't need to have her so badly.
Shuddering, the pressure built in my balls. My tight fist coerced me, demanding I crash over the edge of release. My muscles twitched, a spasm so strong it left me dazzled. As I sprawled there, sweat coating my flesh and sin tainting my thoughts, I had one final burst of clarity before toppling over into the tingling realm of orgasm.
I'm such a fucking idiot.
Crying out, muffling the sound with my pillow, I came all over my pumping fingers. The explosion was so violent I had to use my other palm to keep my sheets clean. Hot flashes thumped in my temples. The release was glorious, but it was missing something important.
Her.
In the backs of my eyelids, colors danced. Among the dots, I saw Lola's perfect face. She might not know what was in store for her, but I didn't care. Not anymore. All I wanted was her.
And I knew she wanted me.
I would do everything I could to make her mine. As long as she was in my band, there was security in knowing I had plenty of time to make it all happen.
Opening my eyes, I looked at the ceiling again. I imagined Lola, and I wondered if she was doing the same. Was I haunting her tonight, too?
When I fell asleep, I dreamed of sapphire eyes, bandaged elbows, and the first notes of No More Stars when played by someone who understood what the song really meant.
It was a song that began with a warning. If I'd done anything to Lola, any favor at all... I'd tried to warn her away from me. In every glare, in every brisk word, I'd shown her what was under my surface. What I was.
But it hadn't been enough. She'd gotten close to me whether she'd planned it or not.
Lola Cooper was going to be mine.
I just hoped she was ready.
- Chapter Eight -
Lola
I didn't remember falling asleep.
I
My muscles turned to lead at the idea. Inhaling deeply, I thought I could still smell her in my nose—and I wanted that. I longed for more of her, every single inch she had to give me.
I was selfish.
And I knew it.
Tracing my stomach, the crevices of abdominals, I cupped the shape of my raging hard-on. Fine, I'm selfish. I'm greedy and terrible and all I want is to taste Lola's sweet pussy. To hear her gasp and fucking scream because my cock is stretching her to the brink.
Squeezing the head of my cock through my boxers, I moaned. It was true. All of it was true.
But if I gave in to my desire for this blue-eyed woman, everything would crumble. Not just the band, though that was a real issue. Not just my relationship with Lola; but my ability to hold back.
Once I went after Lola, there was no stopping. I didn't do things in half-measures. When I wanted something, I took it. It became mine.
If I'd just kept things professional, it would have been fine. I could have controlled myself. Then she'd yanked me down into the tub, and everything had changed.
A thick growl rose in my throat. Dipping my hand under my boxers, I traced the hot skin of my prick. It was painfully erect, as tense and strained as my mind was.
Lola was all I could see in my head. Her stunned face, her exquisite fingers. My ears flooded with the memory of the music she played. I was desperate to make her create a new song for me. A song made from the notes of her breathing, punctuated by her sobs and passionate moans.
I wanted to make Lola Cooper into a part of me. And I could have fucking resisted that, if I hadn't landed on her in that bathroom tub. If she hadn't caressed my head in worry.
If she hadn't cared.
Panting softly, I pumped my fist over my cock. The strokes weren't slow, they lacked the control I felt represented me. Lola was seeping into everything I was. Even now, in private, my composure was wrecked due to her.
My teeth barely bit off a grunt. If I'd just stayed away, not saved her, not helped or touched or seen or smelled or... or... or... A quiver of electric delight danced in my lower belly. It mixed with the last bit of my resolve.
If I had just never met Lola Cooper...
I wouldn't need to have her so badly.
Shuddering, the pressure built in my balls. My tight fist coerced me, demanding I crash over the edge of release. My muscles twitched, a spasm so strong it left me dazzled. As I sprawled there, sweat coating my flesh and sin tainting my thoughts, I had one final burst of clarity before toppling over into the tingling realm of orgasm.
I'm such a fucking idiot.
Crying out, muffling the sound with my pillow, I came all over my pumping fingers. The explosion was so violent I had to use my other palm to keep my sheets clean. Hot flashes thumped in my temples. The release was glorious, but it was missing something important.
Her.
In the backs of my eyelids, colors danced. Among the dots, I saw Lola's perfect face. She might not know what was in store for her, but I didn't care. Not anymore. All I wanted was her.
And I knew she wanted me.
I would do everything I could to make her mine. As long as she was in my band, there was security in knowing I had plenty of time to make it all happen.
Opening my eyes, I looked at the ceiling again. I imagined Lola, and I wondered if she was doing the same. Was I haunting her tonight, too?
When I fell asleep, I dreamed of sapphire eyes, bandaged elbows, and the first notes of No More Stars when played by someone who understood what the song really meant.
It was a song that began with a warning. If I'd done anything to Lola, any favor at all... I'd tried to warn her away from me. In every glare, in every brisk word, I'd shown her what was under my surface. What I was.
But it hadn't been enough. She'd gotten close to me whether she'd planned it or not.
Lola Cooper was going to be mine.
I just hoped she was ready.
- Chapter Eight -
Lola
I didn't remember falling asleep.
I
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