Page 17 of Whatever Lola Wants (Odyssey #2)

T wo hours later, they were having that drink.

Lola sat bundled in her oversized bathrobe in the middle of her bed, sipping a glass of single malt scotch. She was craving a margarita, but didn’t have the energy to fire up the blender. When she told him just that, he grunted.

“Buy good tequila and you won’t need that shit.”

“I like that shit,” she said and chuckled at his pained look. “ You’re such a guy.”

He shot her a look and sipped his own drink. “ Lucky you.”

“Yeah.” She smirked. “ Lucky me.”

He lounged back against her padded headboard, relaxed and amused. And naked, since she didn’t have a bathrobe big enough to fit him and he hadn’t wanted to climb into bed wrapped in a damp towel. Besides , as he’d pointed out, it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it all.

And it was just as fine as she’d hoped it would be.

“You’re staring, sweetheart.”

A lazy sort of heat joined the amusement in his face, and she felt an answering clench deep within. Round two in the shower had taken most of the edge off, but apparently, she still had some gas left in the tank. Huh .

“Sorry,” she told him, not sorry at all.

“I don’t mind,” he said, “but if you get to look, then so should I .” He leaned forward and fisted a hand over the lapel of her robe. “ Take this off.”

She thought briefly about making him take it off her, but figured that would just get them going again. And despite the low-grade of desire curling in her belly, her pussy was already a little sore. Big Dick Hastings had been a very accurate moniker.

She shrugged one shoulder, letting the thick terrycloth droop down over one arm before switching her drink to the other hand and doing the same on the other side. The robe slid down to pool around her waist, leaving her bare from the waist up.

She sipped her drink, warming to the appreciation in his gaze. “ Better ?”

“Mmm.” He reached out to trail his fingertips lightly over one breast. “ Marked you up there a bit.”

She glanced down, watching his fingers trace over the beard burn that reddened her pale skin. “ I don’t mind marks,” she told him, enjoying the way her nipple tightened at his touch.

“That’s good,” he said absently, his fingers skimming over the hardened nipple before moving to her other breast. “ I would’ve asked, but we didn’t get around to negotiating.”

She smothered the sigh that wanted to escape. His hand on her skin was…well, lovely. Much more and she wouldn’t care how sore she was. “ We did enough. Not like it was a scene.”

He lifted his eyes to hers, his hand still on her breast. “ Wasn’t it?”

She shrugged. “ A little, I guess. I was still pretty worked up from Saturday .”

“Ah.” He stretched out to set his drink on the bedside table before leaning forward and placing both hands on her breasts. “ Topping gets you going.”

She leaned into his touch. “ Well , yeah. It doesn’t work that way for you?”

“It does.” He turned his hands to cup her, lifting them slightly so her breasts plumped in his hands. “ I just usually take it out on the person I’m topping.”

She laughed. “ I don’t think Jamie was interested in me that way.”

“No,” he mused, brushing his thumbs over her nipples and smiling when they tightened even further. “ But I kind of get the feeling even if he had been, you wouldn’t have.”

She shrugged, the motion lifting her breasts in his hands. “ Topping ramps me up, but unfortunately, I’m not generally sexually attracted to bottoms.”

He frowned and lifted his gaze from her breasts. “ How does that work?”

“A lot like this, actually. Top someone, then find someone else to fuck.”

“Scratching an itch, were you?”

He was regarding her with amusement, not offense, so she didn’t think the idea bothered him. Still , it wasn’t quite that simple. “ Partly .”

“What was the other part?”

“I’m attracted to you. So , two birds, one stone.”

His eyebrows rose at her matter-of-fact tone. “ You’re attracted to me?”

“Do you think you’d be here if I wasn’t?”

He chuckled. “ Guess not.” He smoothed his thumbs over her nipples again before sliding his hands to her upper arms and squeezing. “ Strong . Answer a question for me.”

“Sure.”

“You knew I’d beat you.”

She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “ Yes .”

“So why’d you make the bet?” He slid his hands to her shoulders, kneading the muscles there. “ You don’t like winning?”

“Sure, I like winning,” she replied, her eyes drifting closed in pleasure as her muscles went loose under his hands. “ But I don’t mind losing.”

“Really.”

“Mmm.” She opened her eyes to smile at him. “ Especially under those circumstances.”

He continued to knead her shoulders while he studied her face. “ Michael says you’re filling out the submissive form for the club.”

“Yes.” She read the unspoken question in his eyes. “ I don’t mind bottoming in public.”

“You say topping or bottoming rather than dominating or submitting. Why is that?”

“Because they’re different,” she replied. “ I’m not a submissive, and I’m not a dominant. Not in the traditional D /s sense of those words, so it feels disingenuous to use them. I like to dominate, but I’m not a Dominant . Likewise , my submission is confined to a scene.”

“Hmmm.” His strong fingers moved up to her neck. “ Did you finish them?”

“Yes.”

“Would you mind if I read them?”

“I’ll send you a copy.” She arched into his touch. His thumbs were sweeping up the sides of her neck, strong enough to make her moan as he worked the tired muscles. “ But you got the hands-on version already. What we did tonight? That’s pretty much how I bottom.”

“You mean the fight.”

It wasn’t a question. “ I like to fight.”

“And you don’t mind if you lose.”

“In these circumstances, I want to lose.”

He tilted his head, studying her. “ Why not lose on purpose?”

“That would be cheating.” Seeing his frown, she elaborated. “ If I have to lose on purpose, then you haven’t earned it. If you haven’t earned it, you don’t get it.”

“That simple, is it?”

“Pretty much. I don’t do a lot of bottoming. Most tops—most Doms —don’t want a combative play partner.”

He chuckled. “ Combative ?”

“A fight has to start somehow. Tonight , with you, it was the bet.”

“Simple and straightforward,” he said, and she nodded.

“But in a negotiated scene, I have to do something to start it. Like escape from someone’s bondage, undo the cuffs. Verbal sparring works as a catalyst sometimes.”

Surprise sharpened his voice. “ You’ve tried to escape someone’s bondage as they were tying you up?”

She huffed out a laugh at his incredulous tone. “ Pre -negotiated, of course. I don’t just spring it on people. Tops get testy otherwise.”

He chuckled, imagining the shock on some poor Dom’s face when he suddenly found himself with an escape artist instead of a compliant submissive. “ I can imagine.”

“Anyway.” She sighed as his hands moved into her hair, massaging her scalp. “ It seems to work best when it’s a capture game—you know, ‘chase me, catch me’. That way, everyone knows what to expect.”

“And what comes after ‘chase me, catch me’?” he asked.

She smiled with eyes gone dreamy with pleasure. “ Well , for that you probably will need to check my forms.”

“Don’t think I won’t,” he told her, clearly a warning, and she laughed.

“Watching me top Jamie turned you on.”

His eyes darkened. “ Oh , yeah.”

The rough growl in his voice sent a shiver racing over her skin, and the low-grade desire, soothed by the gentle massage, sparked back to life. “ That surprised me.”

“Surprised me too,” he told her. His hand slipped from her head to her chin and tilted her face up. “ I’m not attracted to tops. I want a nice, sweet, soft submissive. One who will do what I say, when I say, no questions asked.”

Her eyes laughed at him. “ She sounds boring.”

He smirked. “ You realize I’m describing Anna .”

Now she laughed out loud. “ If you think that description fits Anna , then Grant doesn’t tell you much.”

He snorted. “ Yeah , she’s the wrong example to use. Regardless , I am looking for a submissive.”

“Guess you’d better go, then. You okay to drive, or should I have Chet call you a cab?”

He narrowed his eyes on her laughing face. “ Fuck it. I’ll look for her tomorrow,” he said and tumbled her onto her back.

* * *

Lola woke to the insistent beeping of her alarm and the sound of her shower running. She pushed up from her face-down sprawl to slap at the alarm, groaning as her entire body protested the movement. Everything was sore—in the best way.

She lay there for a moment with a smile on her face.

Simon Hastings had proved himself an energetic—and inventive—lover.

She listened to the shower running in the adjoining bath, picturing him standing under the spray.

Naked , wet, muscles bunching and stretching as he soaped himself up.

That head of chestnut hair would be plastered to his skull, water beading on his lashes, those predator’s eyes lit with appreciation as she stepped in to join him.

Except, she remembered, he wanted a submissive. Which wasn’t exactly a surprise, she noted with a sigh. He was a Dom through and through; that he was looking for a meek little woman to be at his beck and call wasn’t a shock.

She winced at the direction of her thoughts.

She’d known plenty of women—and men, for that matter—who would qualify as the sweet submissive type Simon claimed to be seeking.

Some of them had been good friends, all of them had been good people, and the snarky direction of her thoughts brought a shamed flush to her cheeks.

Her best friend was a submissive, after all, and one of the best people she knew.

Hell , most of the submissives she’d known had been lovely, generous people with humor, grace, and no lack of spine.

She just wasn’t one of them. Which meant that a relationship with Simon wasn’t an option.