Page 8 of Handle Me

“What the hell?” I muttered to myself as I walked over and yanked one open. It was full of my clothes. Whipping around, I discovered the entire contents of my closet lay in piles on the floor of my bedroom. There were piles on my bed. Everywhere.

Had she come…to give me a bloody makeover?

This had gone too far. Maybe I didn’t look the part of a prince, but I wasn’t about to change who I was to please her—or any of them. I bent down and picked up a bag. Everything was going back in its place, and I was going to put Lola in hers the next time I saw her. I hoisted the bag higher to give me room to grab another. Tonight, I would crash, and then I would sort out this mess. Walking inside the bedroom, I dumped the bags on the floor by the walk-in closet. I yanked off my boots, my brain alternating between raging at Lola’s audacity and thinking of all the ways I wanted to torment her. Hooking a finger under my collar, I tugged off my T-shirt and tossed it in the corner. My jeans followed. That would probably really get a rise out of her. She’d gone to all the trouble of putting my life into neat piles. Maybe that was the ice queen’s problem. She was used to being the one in control. She needed someone else to take charge for once.

It was a service I’d be pleased to offer her. Just as soon as I delivered a good spanking to her. My dick twitched at the thought of her ass. Then again, thinking like that might only cause more trouble. I’d seen many a friend fall victim to a magical muff. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake.

I hit the lights and shuffled toward the bed in the dark. I climbed into it and went to shove the clothes she’d left on the other side off when I realized it wasn’t my belongings piled there. Lola Bishop had put herself in her rightful place: my bed.

CHAPTER FOUR

LOLA

Anders found me in my dreams. It turned out that there I didn’t mind that he was cocky as hell or pushing my buttons. One dream shifted into another, and he had a starring role in all of them. In one, he climbed out of his car, bent me over it, and took me around the track. Then we were in the shower. He didn’t make suggestive comments or lewd gestures. He just picked me up, braced me against the wall, and showed me. In this one, he’d caught up with me, shirtless with bare feet after I’d stolen his keys, and decided to punish me. He pulled down my jeans, rubbing circles on my backside. Anders lifted his hand, and I tensed, waiting for him to spank me. Instead, it grew brighter around me. No! No! No! I rolled over and buried my face into the pillow, unwilling to exit the dream. My thighs clenched together as I fought to stay unconscious. It was slipping away, but I hung on until his palm cracked across my bare skin. He murmured something I couldn’t make out as he rubbed my stinging flesh. I wiggled my hips toward him as I waited for the next round.

Instead, I made contact with something hard. Very hard. I was enjoying the spanking, but I wasn’t about to say no to that. Not with it poking me through my jeans. How had those gotten pulled back up? Why did the dream keep changing at the best possible moments? I ground encouragingly against his lap. A strong arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer.

I pressed into him as hard as I could. A hand dipped between my legs and started to stroke the wound-up bundle of nerves. I moaned his name, and he rubbed harder, edging me closer.

“Please,” I whimpered, covering his hand with mine and urging him to move harder and faster. But it wasn’t enough. I fumbled around for the button of my jeans. Unfastening it, I slipped my hand into my knickers to find myself wet from all the dirty fantasies that had invaded my sleep. I slid a finger to my clit and began to knead it under the weight of Anders’ hand.

“Fuuuuuck.” I bit my lip as my body tightened. “Don’t stop.”

He increased his pace to match mine, his palm rocking against the hand in my pants. It was the hottest dream yet, and I gave in to it.

“Oh God, Anders!” I was so close. “Don’t fucking stop.”

Anders complied, taking over entirely. He worked his hand over mine until I shattered. But the hungry ache in my core lingered. No doubt the product of whatever dream was coming my way next. I flipped over and hooked an arm around his neck, dragging his mouth to mine. He didn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss. After a few moments, he rolled me onto my back and shifted his erection to press against my still throbbing clit. But I wanted more than that. More than his hands or lips. I slid my palm down his back before reaching around to grab his—

He broke the kiss and pushed onto his elbows. I groaned in frustration, fighting to get control of the dream before it shifted to another fantasy.

“Careful, boss,” Anders muttered groggily. “You’re giving me ideas.”

My eyes flew open, and I blinked at the bright sunlight invading the room. Two things were immediately apparent. The first was that I was in bed with Anderson Stone. The second was that this wasn’t a dream.

Oh my god, was I sleep shagging? Was that a thing?

A grin hooked his mouth as he stared down at me, looking half asleep himself.

For one completely mental moment, I considered pretending I was still asleep and just going with it. The hungry pulse between my legs told me that my recent orgasm was as real as the arousal I still felt.

But I wasn’t about to give in to weakness. I shoved him away and scrambled out of his bed. I nearly tripped over a pile of his clothes as I refastened my jeans and searched for a way out of this debacle.

Anders sat up and folded his arms behind his head, watching me with a smile that grew each second. He pointed his toes, stretching his legs and showcasing their impressive muscles. But it wasn’t his legs that caught my attention. It was the tentpole straining against his boxer shorts. I shut my eyes, prayed he hadn’t caught me staring, and turned away from the temptation.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “You can’t…just…”

“Just what?” he repeated slowly. “You said my name. Well, you moaned it. I just responded.”

“I did not!” I so did. There was no way I was admitting to that, though. I searched the room for the heels I’d kicked off somewhere the previous evening.

“Anders! Don’t fucking stop!” he mimicked me in a high voice.

“You are…” What? Come up with something, Lola! “You thought I just crawled into your bed and fell asleep waiting for you.”

Anders leaped out of bed and stormed toward me. “That’s exactly what you did!”

He wasn’t wrong, and I wasn’t about to tell him that.