She comes to my office on command. And I like this new arrangement of ours, ordering up Lola like an afternoon snack.

The man in me is struggling to be a gentleman. I want to do every filthy thing I can think of while I have the chance. I want to act out the twisted fantasies that have poisoned my brain for so long. I want to hate fuck her and degrade her and then do it all over again. Before she kicks me to the curb and runs off to find her prince.

She’s standing in the middle of my office, one foot poised to come closer and the other keeping her rooted to the spot. Her emotions are written all over her face. The torment, the want, the confusion. They reflect my own feelings right now, and somehow that makes it better.

What we’re doing is wrong, and we both know it. But I won’t let her run from it either. Not now. I’ve tasted her once, and it’s common knowledge that I never indulge in moderation.

Lola isn’t as innocent as she looks either. She picked out her clothing with a purpose today. A tight black pencil skirt and plain white blouse. It’s understated but sexy. An ensemble designed to lure me in and then keep me at bay by preventing easy access.

"You look hot, LB.”

She blushes and smooths her hands over the curve of her hips, which really isn't helping the situation in my pants.

"You don't have to say things like that," she murmurs. "I mean... you don't have to like... work at it. We already agreed. We both know what I'm here for."

My jaw twitches. She always assumes the worst of me. She always assumes that my words aren't genuine. "That's how you want to play it then?"

She looks at the floor. Swirls her heel around the carpet. "I think it's best not to complicate things. We should just be how we always are with each other."

"Right."

It doesn't feel right. It feels like I want to fuck her now but I'm pissed, and I shouldn't be fucking her when I'm pissed because Lola won't understand the awful things I want to do to her.

But again, there's that whole dilemma of being a gentleman. The gentleman in me isn't doing the thinking right now. My cock is, and my cock wants inside of Lola. Balls deep, over my desk, ass in the air....

"Lola." My tone speaks volumes. I’m in charge now, and she’s my plaything. She peeks up at me from beneath her lashes, face bowed in the softest show of submission. Interesting.

I'm testing the waters with her. I’m giving Lola the benefit of the doubt. I don’t know if what she said about her relationship with Ryan is true. Maybe it’s just what I’d like to believe, but I’ve never known Lola to be a liar either. One thing I’ll never have to question is the sex with Tom. Tom's a two-pump chump, guaranteed.

“Do you want to know what men like in bed?” I ask.

She nods, almost imperceptibly, but it’s there.

“They like it when you do whatever they tell you to.”

She looks up at me and bites her lip. “Seriously?”

"Put your hands on the desk and spread your legs."

She hesitates. Not a good sign. I think she's probably going to tell me to fuck off. But she doesn't. She puts her goddamn hands on my desk and spreads her legs. And the sight is too beautiful for words really.

I have to hold my breath. I have to pause for a minute just to appreciate this moment. To soak it in and burn the image into my brain. My chair creaks when I rise and push it away. Lola looks up at me, nervous. I walk around the desk and stand beside her.

Again, I don't touch. To admire her like this for the first time... it's something that should be appreciated. Pale blonde curls spill down over her shoulders, kissing the line of her bra strap. I fist a handful of her hair and pull just enough to test her reaction, and I am not disappointed.

Lola’s spine curves like a kitten learning to stretch, naturally pushing her apple shaped ass against my straining dick. Her skirt tapers at the knee, making her a prisoner to my every command in this position. It’s been less than five minutes since she walked in and already I’ve brought her to heel.

Patience is not in my repertoire when it comes to Lola, but today I will need every scrap I can muster. My leg is being a motherfucker today, and all morning I’ve been eating pain-killers like candy. I could do with another before we get started, but that would make me look weak. And if there’s one thing Lola needs to know, it’s that I’m not weak.

I kneel behind her and start there. Her heels are black. Tall. Hot. And she wore them for me. The skin of her ankles is softer than I ever imagined and right now I want to live between her legs. Lola shivers. My dick gnaws at the seam of my trousers. I slide my hands up her calves and under the material of her dress. Her thighs are milk, and her lace covered pussy is honey. I’m in heaven.

But heaven is hindered by her tight skirt, and she should know better to keep me from what I want. I reach for the closest sharp object I can find. Lola follows the movement of my arm, too stunned to protest when I slice the letter opener up between the seam, leaving a slit a hair’s breadth from her ass cheeks.

“Daire!”

I press my hand into her lower back to stop her whining. It’s a subtle gesture, and Lola reacts as though she’s been through this school of obedience before. Now all my brain wants to do is entertain that question, but I’ve got a willing toy to play with.

I pull her hair to the side and kiss the back of her neck, rubbing my hard-on against her ass. I can't be bothered to take off her skirt, so I utilize the newly acquired freedom to pull it loose and push it up over her hips.

There is something to be said for seeing her this way. Half dressed. Soaking wet and breathing hard for me. My fingers are within a breath of her pussy, and I can already feel the inferno waiting for me inside of her. "Does this turn you on?"

"Yes," she whispers.

I grab her by the throat and pull, forcing her to arch her back. "How about this?"

Her answer comes in the form of a whimper. And I don’t need her words because she’s needy and wet and I can smell the sweet depravity between her thighs. My dirty little LB wants my cock more than she’s ever wanted anything.

"Do you like having a man tell you what to do, Lola?"

She doesn't answer. Her body is a furnace. I'd barely have to touch her right now to make her come. I don't need to hear her say it, but I want to.

I slide my palm into the back of her lace panties, cupping her ass cheek. Soft. Round. Perfect. I peel the damp material down just beneath the fleshy cheeks, taking a minute to admire the work of art that she is.

"Only good girls get to come, LB."

"What?" she breathes.

My palm reverberates across her ass. Hard.

She yelps and jerks away on instinct, but my hand is still tangled in her hair, and she isn't going anywhere.

"Daire," she hisses.

"I asked you a question. You didn't answer me."

She's indignant now. Teetering on the edge of wanting me to fuck off and wanting to be fucked. "It's a stupid question," she says. "You're just trying to embarrass me."

I land another blow, this time on the other cheek.

"What the hell?" she yelps. "Stop doing that."

I slide my hand around her front. Over her hip and between her thighs. "You're soaking wet, you little liar."

Despite her best efforts, a soft moan escapes her when I graze the swollen flesh. She is plump with greed. Achy and uncomfortable and desperate for me. I want to give in, I do, but she won’t learn anything that way.

I dip my fingers inside of her. "Do you want to come, Lola?"

She whines and tries to move against me. "Yes."

She's soaked through. And I can't believe Tom ever let her go.

I shouldn't ask. I know I shouldn't ask. But I can't help it. "Did Tom ever make you this wet?"

"Oh god," she groans. "Please don't talk about Tom Right now."

"Did you ever come on his cock the way you came on mine last night?"

"Daire." She's squirming against me. I let go of her hair and slide my hand around to play with her tits. Her soft, pillowy, fuck me tits. I will fuck them before our time is up. I will douse them in honey and every other nectar of the gods I can find, and I will lick them clean.

I will fuck every part of her. She will be so thoroughly fucked that no other man will ever measure up.

"Daire, please," she begs again. "I'm... this... it's so intense."

"Just say the words, pet. I'll set you free."

Another groan. And then whispered words. Words that sound like angels singing. "I like it when you tell me what to do."

I finger fuck her like it’s an Olympic sport. It's rough and hard and exactly what she wants from me. Who knew little Lola Bell would turn into such a dirty girl for me? When she comes, I have to clap my hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming. As much as my employees already know about my sexual proclivities, this one is different. This one is private. And I don't want them to hear Lola. I don't want them to think of her that way.

Her body caves against my desk, and I unzip my pants and fetch my cock. I grab the cheeks of her ass and pull them apart so I can see all of her. She makes a noise of protest again, but it's buried beneath her exhaustion.

"Daire..."

Whatever she has to say can wait. Because if I don't get inside of her right now, I'm going to bust a nut all over her back. I squeeze the head of my cock into her pussy, and she wiggles again. I slap her sensitive clit and she yelps.

"Don't move."

And Lola is a good girl this time because she listens. At least until I'm balls deep inside of her and she decides to start talking again. "Shouldn't we be using a condom?"

No.

"Why?" I grunt. "Afraid of getting pregnant?"

She glances back over her shoulder at me. Eyes soft and sad. She thinks I'm teasing her. That it would be my worst nightmare if I got her pregnant. It should be. But all my dick wants is to cleanse her of anyone else who came before me. If I fill her with enough of me than it will like nobody else ever existed.

"I'm on the pill," she assures me.

It doesn’t reassure me. I'm a selfish bastard who wants selfish things. I want Lola. I want to own her so I can do this whenever I want. I want to take away my choice in the matter so I can make-believe that what I’m doing isn’t wrong. I want her any way I can get her.

I thrust inside of her. "Then I guess there's nothing to worry about."

I close my eyes and shudder at the feeling of her wrapped around me this way. It’s like warm silk. And she’s so good for me. So pliable and soft and sweet. If I had a bottle of champagne right now, I’d spray it all over her so I could lick it off. We’d get drunk and order dessert and eat until our bellies were full only so we could fuck all over again.

"Did you know that science has proven male DNA can stay inside of a woman after sex forever?"

What the fuck?

"Lola," I growl. "Stop fucking talking."

"I'm just... I'm thinking... or wondering about all the women you've been with, and..."

I stop thrusting. "Look at me."

She turns her head and looks back at me. "You are the only woman I've ever fucked raw. Got it?"

She looks skeptical. "Really?"

"Yes, really."

I might be a lot of things, man whore included. But I’m always careful. The last thing I ever intended to do was bring a child into my fucked-up life. Now I can’t stop thinking about it. I want to impregnate her. I want to ruin her. It’s so fucked up, and it’s wrong, but my dick doesn’t care.

This is Lola. The Antichrist. The woman who can fuck me up with just a single glance. I can’t think straight when I’m in her presence, and I certainly can’t think straight when I’m inside of her.

"That's really... I don't even know what to say."

I shouldn't care. My cock is buried in her honey pot right now, and the only thing I should be thinking about is her pussy and her tits and maybe what she’d look like in a lesbian threesome. But now that she's brought it up...

"Did Tom fuck you like this?"

She glares at me. "Stop talking about Tom."

"Don’t be a hypocrite,” I snipe. "I’ll stop talking about him when I’m good and ready. Now answer the question.”

"No," she says. "He didn't. You're the only one for me... too."

Fuck. Yes.

I've got my mojo back.

I curl my fingers into her hips and squeeze her as I thrust deep. It's hard. It's probably rougher than it should be. But she’ll adapt. The pain in my leg is making me erratic and short-sighted. All I can think about is the relief. All I want to do is drain my aching dick inside of her and make her take all of it. I need to claim her this way. I need to make her mine until I believe her.

My balls slap against her pussy. My hips bounce off of her ass. My desk rattles with every impact. And Lola is winded, making garbled and unintelligible sounds. She’s not used to it, but she will be.

I lean forward and push my thumb against her lips. "Suck."

She does. She laps at me like a puppy who adores its master. And it's so fucking hot, I almost can't finish what I've started. But I do.

I pull away and circle the rim of her ass. She tenses, and I hold her in place.

"Daire…"

I push inside, just a little, and Lola squeals. "That's—"

"That's mine," I tell her. "I'm going to fuck you there too, LB. I'm going to fuck every part of you. Get used to it."

"Oh god, I don't think I..." She stops talking when I slide my whole thumb inside of her. Now... now she's moaning for me.

Dirty little girl.

"Oh my god..." she gasps. "Oh god, oh god... Daire."

I could listen to her try to summon a greater power to save her from my cock all day long. But she comes too soon. She comes like she’s having a seizure. Squeezing my dick in a vice grip as tremors rip through her body. It ricochets through me and set off a chain reaction. I bury myself deep and shudder, my come barreling inside of her like molten lava. Sweet, sweet relief.

I'm thinking about how long is polite to wait before I fuck her again. She's thinking about how fast she can get away, apparently.

"Thank you," she tells me. "Thank you so much, Daire. This was nice, but I have to get back to the shop."

Nice?

Motherfucking nice?

I've been called a lot of things in the bedroom. Nice isn't one of them. My dick is still inside of her. And she's trying to get away.

Asshole. Don't be an asshole. I'm trying. I'm really trying. But she turns around and looks at me, and there is nothing on her face. No semblance of emotion.

"It was nice, right?" she repeats, and she's only asking because she wants me off of her.

I pull out and tuck my wet dick back into my pants, zipping myself up. "It was fine. You still have a lot to learn."

The asshole wins, I guess.

Now she looks hurt. Now she has the decency to express something. And fuck, do I even care? She tries to fix her clothes in a hurry. She's reverted to her awkward self. She won't look at me. "Okay then, well I guess I'll see you later."

"Lola." I reach out and grab her.

She still won’t look at me. I close the distance between us and tip her chin up. I haven't kissed her today, and that's not right. Nothing about this is right. She shouldn't be leaving my office like this. Like all of the other women before her who I forgot the moment they left.

I want to tell her to stay. I toy with offering an apology, but it doesn’t seem like she deserves it right now. I want a lot of things that don't really make any fucking sense. So I just kiss her.

It’s soft first, and then deep. I’ll leave her with something that should linger with her for the rest of the day. We break apart, and she takes a breath. Flushed and beautiful and messy and mine. I try to find some nice, pretty words for her, but she doesn't give me a chance.

"I think we should have a set time limit," she says. "Before things get too complicated."

"A time limit?"

"Yes."

She's already decided for the both of us. And I don't like it. I don't fucking like it at all. Because even now, as my come drips down her thighs, she's talking about the end. We've barely even started. And she wants an out?

"I think three weeks is a good time frame, don't you?" Her voice is too soft, and she’s acting like she needs to protect herself from me. I hate it when she’s like this. She couldn’t have let me have five minutes to feel like a champ. Pain shoots through my leg, and I grimace.

Three weeks. Three goddamn weeks. My lips crave a drink. But all I can do is nod.

"Sure, LB." I laugh, and it's cold. Casual. Like it doesn't fucking matter at all. "Three weeks is more than enough."