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I know her to the fucking core.
But still, I don’t.
Instead, I step back.
“Ben—”
“Shut up,” I say because I don’t want to give her space or time.
I don’t want her to talk and, in turn, talk herself out of this.
I’ve made my mind up.
We’re doing this.
It’s been a month of dancing around this shit, playing games, fucking around, and pretending that she doesn’t make me fucking burn up every time I see her.
A month of her avoiding me and pretending like she doesn’t feel it all the same.
I grab her hand and start moving, pulling her toward my door.
“Ben, what are you—” she starts but then she stops as I press her hard to the door of my apartment. I pin her in place with my body, grinding my hard cock into her softness, and she stops her objections.
“Last chance, Lola.”
“What?”
“Last chance. You don’t want this, you tell me.”
“Ben, I—”
“But if you want to forget whatever the fuck has been clouding your eyes and you want to do it by me fucking you out of my system, I’ll open my door, bring you in, and make you scream my fucking name. Lola, say yes, and I’ll make you forget everything but my cock between your legs.”
Her eyes go from wide and confused to hooded and hot, her lips parted as she pants softly.
“Lola. Give me your answer.”
She stares at me long and hard, and I wonder if maybe I pushed too far.
If I should have been sweeter and kinder, like the other men I’m sure she’s fucked.
But my sweet girl surprises me, just like she does at every damn corner.
“I want to forget, Ben.”
“Fuck yeah,” I say, the words a growl as I grind my cock into her and reach into my pocket for my keys as my lips meet hers again.
Her hands are in my hair, tugging like she wants to devour me as we kiss and I fumble with the lock.
Click.
We’re in.
Detaching myself from her, I move, grabbing her hand again and nearly dragging her toward my room.
I need to get her in my room.
Then I need to get her naked.
