Doll Face(50)

I open the door to my room and find Lola in a bright pink bra and panties, standing in front of a full length mirror, dancing to “Sex Metal Barbie” by In This Moment. The song gives me chills, especially when I see Lola's red lips mouthing the words, her fingers crawling down her side, teasing the waistband of her panties with her fingertips. Holy shit.

I step inside and shut the door behind me, flipping the lock before Paulette Washington decides to come looking for me. Lola doesn't notice me, running her fingers through her hair and moving with the music. Her bandages are gone, and I watch as she teases the wounds, tracing them and cringing a bit when she gets too close. As the song winds towards its end, the lyrics repeat the word sex over and over again, turning my rigid cock into steel. I could probably hold up a skyscraper with this baby. Jesus. Blue balls? I'm way beyond that. This is fucking steel cock and it's ten times as deadly.

“Hey,” I say as the song finally fades away and Lola jumps in surprise, spinning and flinging one tattooed arm over her breasts, slapping her other hand over her pantie covered crotch. When she sees me standing there, she sighs and drops her guard, breathing out a sigh of relief.

“Holy-dooly,” Lola breathes as I close the distance between us and pause, the toes of my boots less than an inch from her bare feet. “You scared the fucking shit out of me.”

“Sorry, babe,” I say, reaching down and placing my hands on her hips, feeling the warmth of her skin assaulting my senses and drawing even more blood into my painfully stiff cock. Lola looks down and then back up at me, a grin building on those red lips. Her eyes look even bigger, ringed in liner and shadowed with a shimmering gold color that emphasizes the brilliant blue of her irises. I keep trying to come up with something to accurately describe them, but nothing seems to fit. Cerulean simplicity. No, not quite right. A bite of brilliant sapphire, speckled with stars, ringed in Caribbean Sea.

Asuka pops into my mind, suddenly and without warning, but I don't flinch. I'm used to it.

Ronnie, when we're old and gray, will you still look at me like that, like I'm the most beautiful women that ever walked the face of the earth?

I swallow hard and watch as Lola catches on my pain, mirrors it back in her own eyes.

I pull her against me, oh so gently. My body's aching with need, but my heart is pouring blood, and I just need a second. We both do.

“I need to call my dad,” she mumbles, her lips moving against my T-shirt, her breath penetrating the cotton, warming my skin. I sigh and cup the back of her head with one hand, planting a kiss on her scalp before I pull away. Lola's staring at the rose on my T-shirt instead of my face, sliding her fingers down my bare arms and then adjusting her gaze with a raised eyebrow. “But maybe I should take care of that first?” she asks, flicking her eyes up to mine for a moment before reaching for my jeans. I smile softly and take her wrists in my hands, but I don't stop her. I just rub my thumbs in circles over her beating pulse as she unbuttons and then unzips my pants, the pain receding from her face like the tide, like I'm the Goddamn moon. The fact that I actually have the power to influence her mood doesn't escape me. This could work, I think. I mean, I know we're still missing those day to day interactions with one another, but I figure since we survived all the rough stuff, that shit should be easy.

Besides, I've fallen in love before. I know what it feels like when the trap door of your life opens underneath you and drops you, lets you tumble endlessly through the everyday and right out the other side to the bottom of the world. Welcome to fucking Wonderland, Alice. Just don't expect that you'll ever be able to leave. That whole better to have loved than lost bullshit? It's true. But once I felt that sting, it was like the worst kind of drug, one that you can't live without. I need another hit and Lola's gotta be it.

“Stop ruminating and let me touch your dick,” she says, flicking me in the chest and giving me that stubborn, pouty expression that I like so much. I feel my mouth pull back into a grin and raise my hands in surrender, groaning as she finally frees my cock from the confines of my jeans. I don't know how Turner does it to be honest with you; my new pants aren't even close to as tight as his and I feel like my fucking balls are suffocating. Lola shoves my boxers down my hips and takes me in her hand a split second before the guilt kicks in and I find my body freezing up, my fingers curling into fists. “No,” she says, wrapping her fingers around my shaft hard enough that she makes me grunt.

Our eyes meet and I feel a whisper of a smile cross my lips.

“Don't do that. Listen, buddy, I've let you play nursemaid for a whole week. It was great while it lasted, but I'm healed up enough that I can say this with complete and utter confidence: if you don't fuck the shit out of me, right here, right now, I will kick you right in the nuts and I won't apologize for it. What good does it do me to date a fertile rock God if he won't rock with his cock out every once in a while?”