Night Call (Night Fever Serial Book 2)

by Jessica Hawkins

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you this passionate,” Lola said, her eyes still shut.

  Beau snorted. “Do I have to tell you you’re wrong about that?”

  Her cheeks warmed. “You might be right.”

  He moved hair off her face. “You must’ve been a cute little Lola.”

  “That’s what you got from the picture I painted earlier?”

  “No. I got that from the way you just scrunched up your nose when you smiled.” He fell quiet again, raking his fingers through her hair. “I want to know what that girl thought her future looked like. Maybe it’s something I could give you.”

  He’d already afforded her one future. With two million dollars, she and Johnny could do anything. She parted her lips to ask him what more he could possibly give her, but she closed her mouth. It was a question that could lead them down many dangerous paths—what could he offer her that she didn’t already have with Johnny?

  She opened her eyes, blinking several times to adjust to the light. In the dark, it’d almost been as if she’d dreamed the past few hours. “We’re just supposed to be having sex,” she said. “All these questions about my past—my future? I hope you aren’t falling in love with me.”

  “I can’t tell if you’re joking. But what if I were?”

  Her heart pulsed, even though she knew that was impossible—impossible for anyone, but even more so for people like them, who’d had to grow an extra layer around their hearts. “You can’t fall in love with someone in a night.”

  “Just like you can’t buy a person?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Never mind.”

  Lola stared at his naked pecs. Whenever he worked out a kink in her back, there was obvious strength in his hands. Now she watched the muscles in his arm and chest tighten.

  She’d told Johnny she loved him on a weekday. It wasn’t anything worth remembering, like during an expensive dinner or an especially gripping orgasm. She’d just worked a shift at Cat Shoppe, and it’d been late. Her body had dragged like it was made of lead. He’d been in the parking lot, waiting to give her a ride. She’d been so grateful for not having to take the bus home that it just came out. She’d had no idea back then whether she really loved him, only that it felt right to say it.

  “It’s not possible,” Lola murmured out loud. “Not in one night.”

  Beau bent to peck her cheek. She tilted her head up and met him with her mouth. He pulled her closer by her nape. Their tongues were slow, gradual, tasting. Probing. Then consuming.

  Lola thrummed, partly from listening to Beau talk about his work. It added a dimension to him she hadn’t known much about. His drive was sexy, the way he commanded all of her in the bedroom was.

  Just as she was about to climb on top of him, he pulled away and put a hand on her back to keep her on her stomach. The mattress sank as he straddled her. He grabbed lotion she hadn’t noticed before from the bedside table. Next to it was a bottle of lube. He squeezed the lotion onto her back and tossed the bottle aside. His hands became even more powerful over her skin. She tried to tell him how good it was, but she could barely make noise. He kneaded his fingers up her neck, into her hair, then down to her shoulders, her lower back. He dipped them between her legs. He squeezed and separated her ass cheeks, letting his thumbs run along the insides.

  “Beau,” she murmured. With a shock of cold on her lower back, she opened her eyes. The lube was also gone from the nightstand.

  “Relax,” he said. He dropped his hand lower, spread the lube around and added more.

  “I can’t,” she said.

  His throat sounded raw. “Can’t what?”

  She bit her lip when he circled around her clit. “I know where you’re going with this.” She swallowed and exhaled against the bed. He took his hand away. He hovered over her back as he kissed his way from one shoulder blade to the other. Her attention struggled between following his lips and the insistent hardness against her thigh.

  “The way you melt into the mattress like this,” he said quietly, brushing his mouth down her spine to the center of her back, “it gets me insane. Turns me on like crazy.”

  His hand returned between her lubed cheeks, and he pressed a finger against the one place it couldn’t be. Her reflex was to blush furiously. She considered herself adventurous in the bedroom except when it came to this. She hadn’t let Johnny anywhere near her ass until years after they’d started dating. Everything in her body coiled into a tight spring with a mixture of fear and anticipation.

  “Don’t brace yourself.” His other hand rubbed her lower back firmly, coaxing her. When he was demanding, she was powerless to him—when he was gentle, like he was now, she lost all control over herself.

  He worked a finger inside her, and her awareness of anything other than its snug fit vanished. He slid it out slowly then back in, massaging her at an easy, relaxed pace. Her embarrassment waned, but her face burned hotter with a mix of emotions. She liked what he was doing, but she worried anything more would hurt.

  She’d only let Johnny get as far as this, but he hadn’t been as calm as Beau about it. She hadn’t enjoyed it. It was almost as if Beau were touching a different spot than Johnny had. Beau did this for her, not for himself. She was no longer bracing herself.

  “Good,” he said, grit in his voice. “You’re doing good.”

  Pride swelled in her. She wanted to prove to him she could enjoy it, elicit more praise. As he added a second finger, she focused on her breathing through the initial bite of pain. Soon, as his probing became deeper, quicker, she not only accepted him inside her but wanted him there.

  “God,” she exhaled, “damn.”

  His only response was a low grunt and to stretch her even more with another finger. She’d warmed to him and deep in her belly, gradually, a knot of pleasure began to form. She curled her hands in and out of balls around the comforter. He withdrew his fingers without warning and in their place came a much heavier pressure.

  “Wait,” she said.

  He rubbed the head of his dick against her puckered opening. “I’ll stay gentle,” Beau said, coating them both in more lube. Though the pain worried her, it wasn’t enough to stop her. She was too turned on to tell him no for that reason alone. It was that this was something she’d never given Johnny—something he wouldn’t forgive if he found out.

  “I can’t let you have this,” she said.

  He slid the length of his shaft between her cheeks. “Why not?”

  “I’ve never…” Sharing her and Johnny’s sex life with Beau seemed wrong. Everything was wrong—him pressing against such an intimate place, her not only allowing it, but wanting it, when she never had before. But those things were also spurring on her arousal. “I just can’t…shouldn’t.”

  “It’s part of the deal.” He sounded frayed, edgy with impatience as one of his hands kneaded her ass cheek. “When and how I want.” He blew out an exhale. “Where.”

  “Johnny’s tried, and I’ve told him no every time. He’s begged me, Beau. You don’t understand what this means.”

  He put one elbow by her head and closed his body over her back. “Yes, I do,” he said into her hair, “and it only makes me want it more.” The tip of his cock intruded on her, begging to enter. “Remember how good it felt to submit to me?” His hot breath warmed her ear. “That’s all this is. Yielding. Taking everything I give you, because that is our arrangement. Because you like it that way.”

  She’d been determined not to let Beau have this. He had the power to turn her body against her, though—her mind too. He would never be satisfied. This was her last defense against him, but he’d reduced her to a quivering mess and set her on a fragile, tenuous edge that might give any moment and plunge her into absolute vulnerability.

  “I want this part as mine.” His insistent pressing gave way to short, slick strokes as he entered her. It stung and throbbed, and her instinct was to reject the invasion, to recoil, to push him out, but whenever she te
nsed, he released a shh into her hair then kissed her in the same spot, waiting until she calmed. Her blood seemed to simultaneously rush and drain through and from her body. He was big, unfairly big it seemed in that moment, so much that she almost wished Johnny, not quite as big, had broken her in first.

  “You’re so tight. Let me fuck your ass, Lola, your tight virgin ass—not because I want it. Do it because you want me to have it.”

  He inched in. Didn’t he know he could have whatever he wanted? Not because they’d agreed to it, but because she was utterly consumed with him, irrevocably owned by him? The pain was nothing to give him this—one more thing to link them together long after they’d said goodbye. He’d always be the first to feel her this way, to break down her every last barrier.

  He pulled out and edged in deeper. She felt a little more of him and hurt a little less with each push. “That’s it,” he said. “Just relax. Let me do all the work.”

  She swallowed and swallowed, her throat impossibly dry. He moved off her body, and she realized she was sweating—or he was, or they both were. He put both hands on her ass and leaned into her, spreading her, thrusting, splitting her apart, holding her together. All she could do was groan, unable to process so much happening at once.

  “All right?” he asked. He was gritting his teeth.

  Every part of her that touched the bed was sweating now. “Yes,” she exhaled.

  “I won’t last long. Just watching you is enough.” When she’d think he was all the way in, he’d pull out a little and go deeper still. “Give me your hand,” he said.

  She bent her arm around to her lower back, and he laced his fingers with hers. He picked up speed, became less gentle. She couldn’t tell who was grasping whose hand.

  Any shame she’d been clinging to dissolved as he fucked her most intimate spot. He filled her, all of her, discovering her, claiming her—from the inside. She had to know he was feeling this too. “What’s it like for you?” she asked.

  “I just feel you, baby, like fucking heaven.” He panted over her, squeezing the life out of her ass and her hand. He stopped moving, still squeezing, still panting. “I want you to feel me back,” he said. “Move on me. Make yourself come.”

  She was hesitant at first, even though she would’ve done anything he asked at that moment. It was counterintuitive, but she pushed back onto him, then forward into the mattress. She did it again—back and forth, her hips up and down, riding him slowly, taking every inch. When her need surpassed her timidity, she gyrated harder, faster, grinding against the bed, feeling his cock so fat inside her that there wasn’t room for anything else in her body. She became fueled by an insane need to get off, by Beau’s primal grunts she’d never heard before—not even the times he’d fucked her to the hilt, every muscle in his body strained. Her backing onto him was doing something to them both. Her fist was a vise around the comforter as she pulled and pushed. She opened her mouth, but her screams were silent, that was how hard she came—so intense and blinding, so unlike anything she’d felt before.

  “I’m going to come already,” he said, cutting right through her haze. “I can’t watch you come apart like that. I need to go fast. Relax everything except your grip around my hand.”

  She held him tightly, biting her lip as he pulled out of her slowly. She was immediately empty without him.

  He took her arm. “Come. Up. Hurry.”

  He couldn’t get her off the bed and into the bathroom fast enough. He ran one hand over his cock as he flipped on the shower and tested the water with his hand.

  “In,” he commanded.

  She got under the water before him. He hugged her from behind, grasping her breasts and sucking a spot under her ear. Her hair slickened. He was insistently hard against her backside. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you, Lola.”

  She fumbled with the hotel soap and threw the plastic wrapper on the ground. After lathering it, she turned around and took him in her hand.

  “Ah,” he gasped up at the ceiling. “Lola.”

  She cleaned him, rubbed him, worked him with two hands and still couldn’t feel all of him at once. When she looked up, he was also watching. Water dripped from his hair, down his nose.

  “You’re sexy,” she whispered.

  His eyes jumped to hers.

  “I don’t think I ever told you because I’m supposed to hate you,” she said, “but you’re so handsome it hurts. And so sexy.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “You—”

  “No,” she said. “This is about you.”

  She climbed his cock with both her hands, one after the other, faster and faster. He made an expression she’d never seen on a person, something almost pained. But neither of them looked away. He leaned in, took her mouth with his and lifted her by her ass. He pressed her back up against the shower wall with the force of his kiss.

  “Ma lumiére,” he said hotly in her ear as he searched for her with his hand. He found her slick and teased her opening with his cock before entering her. “It means my light. So sweet, so soft, you are the light in my world tonight.”

  Her fingertips did everything but consume his textured jaw, his pliant hair, his wide, hard back and tensed shoulder blades. She was forced to stop touching to hang around his neck when his thrusts came too fast and out of control. The shower steamed over as hot water rained against his back and her limbs around him. She was warm everywhere except for her back, which slipped and slid over the cold marble.

  “I’m going to come,” he said, a hint of a growl in his voice. “Kiss me.”

  She drew back and let herself be devoured as he took her in every way. He thrust deep and came with his mouth on hers and his fingers denting her ass cheeks.

  He removed one hand and ran it between them, gliding it over her wet skin and taking her breast in his hand. He released her to touch her clit.

  “I can’t, not again,” she whimpered. She was raw, sore, used, but his deft fingers relentlessly rubbed her. She put her head back against the wall and gasped up at the ceiling.

  He kissed along her neck and the underside of her jaw, running a course up to her ear and finding his way back to her mouth.

  She could, and she did—she constricted her arms around him with all her strength as her orgasm roiled through her.

  They breathed hard, he into her shoulder, she into his damp hair. Even when she became aware she was still clinging to him, she didn’t loosen her grip. From start to finish, it had been too good to be true. She was afraid if she let go, he’d disappear.

  “Lola,” he whispered eventually. “Are you all right? Did I hurt you?”

  She shook her head against his neck.

  “Say something. Anything.”

  “I can’t,” she said. “I just gave you everything.”

  He stroked her hair with his hand, pressed his lips to the same spot, to her temple then her cheek until they were mouth to mouth again. He let the wall take her weight and kissed her like he did everything else—unforgiving, firm, but with attention to every detail.

  She’d thought he couldn’t possibly possess her any more after their first night, but each time he was inside her, they became even closer. Her chest stuttered, and her eyes welled. She didn’t want to stop the kiss—she wouldn’t let him see her cry. She was overwhelmed, and it clouded her mind. Whatever was making her feel this way wouldn’t be fought off. Was it love? It wasn’t the same thing she had with Johnny, so she couldn’t be sure.

  She pulled back anyway, needing to see his eyes.

  “What is it?” he asked, blinking his wet lashes.

  She hated to lose his green even for that second. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “How do you do it?” She ran her thumb over the corner of his eye. “Are you like this with everyone?”

  “No,” he said, all his severity in that one word.

  “Why me?”

  “Why you, Lola? When I see inside you, it always feels like the first time.”

 
; “You can see inside me?” she asked.

  “Can’t you feel me there?”

  She knew she should look away. Immediately. When had they crossed into this territory? He was gaining traction where he never should’ve been in the first place. If she didn’t stop him now, he’d only sink his claws in deeper. She had to give in or fight back. Beau wouldn’t allow anything in between. She could no longer stand anything in between.

  Her heart pounded as if magnetized to the thumping organ directly across from it. Her teeth fretted against her bottom lip.

  Could she feel him there? Like a thunderstorm.

  She pulled him back into the kiss and gave him anything she had left. She told him with her kiss what she couldn’t with her words—Beau had her. Body, heart and soul.

  Chapter Eleven

  The city still stood, even though Lola’s world had shifted. She was thankful for the bedroom balcony that gave her what she needed in that moment—fresh air. Fresh perspective. Whatever was in that room, it was getting to her.

  How could she have let herself get so wrapped up in Beau? Johnny had said since she’d already done this once, a second time wouldn’t be a big deal. How foolish they had been. This time was an even bigger deal—this time, Beau demanded more from her and she was hardly putting up a fight. Because she no longer had the desire to. What had she bitingly told Beau in the beginning?

  “I’m sorry if you thought any amount of money would get you my heart.”

  She should’ve known if Beau decided that was what he wanted, that was what he’d get. The money no longer even registered for Lola—it was something else entirely. She and Johnny now had bigger problems.

  Beau enfolded her from behind with his arms and rested his chin on her robed shoulder. “So you didn’t run out on me,” he said.

  “I just needed a minute.”

  “I want to give you lots of things,” he said, “but minutes aren’t one of them.”

  “There’s still half the night left.” With her own words, she brightened. She and Johnny needed to have a conversation when she got home, but for now, she wanted to forget anything but being with Beau. “You should’ve taken me to dinner or something. What are we supposed to do until sunrise?”