Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jordy

I knew Lola would do as I asked because she seems to like being told what to do. Popping open her top button and then unzipping the denim, she urgently pushes her hand inside her jeans to get herself off.

She’s so willing and eager—submissive—and it only makes me want her more.

“Put your finger inside of yourself. Then use the juices from your wet cunt to play with your clit, baby.” My cock throbs with need as she fumbles beneath the denim and shuffles down the seat to give herself better access.

When she lets out a soft whimper I swerve the truck and quickly have to check my mirrors to make sure no one noticed my momentary lapse in concentration.

Thank fuck there is no one behind me.

“Are you doing it?”

“Yes.” She moans.

I lay my hand over the fabric between her legs to help, knowing it’s so wrong of me to be doing this while driving.

I bounce my attention between her flushed cheeks, the road, and her hand inside of her jeans. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m playing with my clit,” she says, sounding frustrated. “But I need a finger inside of me at the same time.”

“Finger yourself,” I command.

She shifts her position as I remove my hand from the outside of her jeans and push my fingers into my mouth to wet them, before reaching over the center console and slide my hands inside her jeans to rub her clit.

“Jordy.” She bucks her hips at my touch, and I love the way she moans my name like a plea.

“Come for me, baby.” Her hand moves against mine in the tight space.

“Oh, God.” She fucks herself, and when I pinch her clit and rub it faster, it doesn’t take long before she’s coming.

Grabbing my hand, she rubs out the last of her pleasure and goes limp, as if she’s boneless, moaning in protest when I eventually pull my hand away.

“Why do I come so fast with you, Jordy?”

I want to ask her the same question too.

Fuck knows, but it’s the same for me. Our bodies just seem to work together, like they’re in harmony or some fucking universal shit I don’t understand myself.

I give her a shrug and turn my attention back on the road while she buttons then zips up her jeans.

Dopey-eyed with that just fucked look, she watches me suck my fingers. “Delicious.” I throw her a wink and I know her mind is working overtime when she goes quiet.

“What are you doing after the game tonight?” She shocks me with her question.

I reel off my aftergame ritual. “Postgame debrief, stretching, workout on the stationary bike, ice bath, shower, interviews if required, then I’m going out for food with some of the guys.”

“Instead of going out for dinner with them,” she clears her throat, “could I interest you in postgame sex with me instead?”

I’m too stunned to reply and let out a shuttered cough.

Hell, yeah, she’s as addicted to me as I am to her.

I’m so up for that because I’m so fucking hard for her again and need to jerk off before the game after watching her make herself come in my truck.

More importantly, I want to spend more time with her, and when I thought all she wanted was one night, her telling me she wants more is what I want too.

The chance to get to know her better, learning everything about her, being around her, feels exciting.

And I’m never selling this truck.

It will be the star exhibit in my mental museum of Lola.

Lifting my wallet out of the center console, I pass it to her at an embarrassingly quick rate, I’m that keen. “Take my elevator key card out of there. The same as last night, it will take you up to my apartment from inside my garage. I’ll add your details to the security visitor list. And this.” I hand her my key fob from the side pocket of my driver's door. “Will give you access to my private garage. Park your car inside.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. “I’ll supply the food.”

“Yeah?”

Mischievously, she looks out of the window. “And you can eat me for dessert.”

Holy fucking shit, I think I just came in my boxers.