by Jenika Snow
God, yes.
“I don’t want to go back. I want it all, and I want it now.” I was surprised at how forward I was. “I want it the way you want to give it to me.”
I felt how wide the head of his dick was, pressed against me, foretelling what was to come.
In one deep, hard thrust, he shoved all those huge inches into me, having me gasp, making me want to beg him to stop but ask him for more. I couldn’t help the way my back arched or how my breasts thrust out.
He’d taken my virginity and had me crying out because it hurt so good. Tears leaked out the corner of my eyes, and in a swift move he was bent over me and licking at the tears, kissing away my pain.
“It’s okay, baby. It’ll be okay. I’m here.”
“I love you,” I said, the feelings and emotions that I had overwhelming.
“God, I love you too,” he groaned. He rose up from me, beads of sweat lining his forehead, making me thirsty.
“Tell me to fuck you; ask me for more.”
I parted my lips, catching my breath, suffocating from the pleasure. “Fuck me, Lachlan.”
He groaned deeply. Then he started pulling out and shoving back into me, making me moan, making me need more. Lachlan was frantic, his motions becoming fiercer, more determined.
His focus was trained right on me. Always on me. “Fuck, baby. You feel so damn good.” He thrust into me deep, so deep that I gasped and gripped the sheets, tugging at the material. He plunged back in, over and over, stretching me, claiming my virginity, letting me know there was no one else for me but him.
“I want you to watch as I fuck you, as I tunnel my big cock into your virgin pussy.”
I gasped when he slammed into me, thrusting his massive cock into my body, making me take all of him.
“Tell me you want more,” he ground out.
I wanted to say that, to tell him that, but the words were lodged in my throat. The best I could do was open my mouth and suck air in.
“That’s okay, baby, just feel what I’m doing to you, just fucking enjoy it all.” He slammed into me again, and again and again. I held on to his biceps at the same time he rose up, bracing his massive weight above me, fucking me into abandon.
“Oh. Fuck,” he said softly, his eyes closed and beads of sweat dotting his temple. “Watch as I fuck you, as I take you as mine.”
I rose up, bracing my upper body on the bed, and looked between us so I could see what he was doing to me. The sight of him moving his hips back and forth, plowing me, thrusting that massive appendage into my wet, tight body made me nearly come right then and there.
God, it was hot.
His body shook atop mine, his muscles strained, his form tense. I looked into his face, saw the strain, knew he was holding back, wanting me to get off before him.
And then he went fierce on me, fucking me like he was a madman, like I was his vessel for pleasure. But before I could ask for more, he pulled out of me, making me wish he was plunged back into me. I lay on my back, my legs spread, my pussy swollen, sore from his fucking.
I wanted so much more I couldn’t stand it.
“Ready for more?” he said, low, harsh, reading my mind.
“God, yes.”
“As much as I like you like this, I want you on your fucking hands and knees. I want to see your ass in the air as I fuck you from behind.”
My heart jumped to my throat, but of course I did what he said, because at the end of the day his pleasure was mine. I wanted him back in me, wanted him stretching my pussy, reminding me that he’d been deep in my body.
When I was in position, he pushed my legs farther apart and brought his hand down on my ass. I felt the flesh jiggling slightly from the action. The sting was there, the burn feeling so good.
Did he know how much I liked that? Did he know him being rough made this even better for me?
For a second all he did was smooth his hand over my ass, stroking it, rubbing the sting away.
“Mine.”
I’d never get sick of hearing him say that, or feeling that truth fill me.
He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back gently, growling like this damn animal.
I loved it.
He then shoved back into me in one fluid, swift move.
“Fucking hell.” He started slamming his cock deep in me, over and over again.
He grabbed my waist, curled his fingers into my flesh hard enough it hurt, and fucked me like he was dying for it.
I was dying for it, dying to be filled up by him constantly, owned by him irrevocably.
He pumped into me like a madman, his balls slapping on my flesh, my wetness back, his movements slick.
“God, yes, Layla. Fuck. Yes.”
I felt myself climax.
“I’m coming, Layla baby.”
He slammed into me once, twice, and on the third time buried his dick deep in my body. I felt him pumping his seed into me, marking me.
It seemed like our orgasms went on forever, and I never wanted it to end. I gasped as the sensitivity slammed into me, and Lachlan rested atop me. His cock was semi-hard in my body, his breathing haggard.
Lachlan gave me this slow, sensual kiss, then pulled out of me with a grunt. I rolled over to face him, the sheets smelling like our combined passion.
Before I came down from my euphoria, Lachlan had his hand between my legs, teasing me, bringing me to that peak once more.
“You’re mine,” he said in this distorted voice, this harsh whisper. He lifted his hand and licked his fingers, his focus trained right on me.
I couldn’t even think, let alone respond.
Lachlan was breathing so hard, his hot, fast pants bathing my flesh, making my arousal climb higher. This moment, right here with Lachlan, was right. This was exactly where I should be. I shifted so I could look at his face, see the post-euphoric expression he held as well.
“When I say I’m not letting you go, I mean it, Layla.” He looked into my eyes.
“I want you, Lachlan. I want to be yours forever.”
“I don’t care what anyone says, not your father, not anyone. I’ll fight for you.” He cupped my cheek and stared into my eyes, the heat from his body spearing right into me.
I’d wanted him for years, but the truth was I hadn’t realized exactly how much I’d needed him in my life. It hadn’t been about the sex, and that’s not how I understood this emptiness he’d filled in me. It had been about so much more. It was about the connection we had, the way he held me, touched me … spoke to me.
“Your father might kill me.”
I laughed softly. “What a way to die,” I teased. I hoped my father would be happy for me, even if he was strict and paranoid at times. I wouldn’t back down from what I wanted, not now or ever. No one would dictate who I loved or who I was with. This was my life.
I didn’t want to let that go. I wouldn’t.
When I was with Lachlan, I felt alive.
Layla
One week later
I stared at my father, not sure what his reaction would be.
“You want to be with my daughter?” my father asked Lachlan. My mother stood beside him and my sister beside her, the expression on both of their faces a little stunned.
Lachlan pulled me slightly behind him, and I couldn’t help but feel warmth that he was always trying to protect me.
“Yes, sir,” Lachlan responded, still holding on to the side of my waist, making it known he wasn’t going to budge on being my human shield, even from a verbal attack my father might launch. “And as much as I respect you as a man and my employer, I also have to say that I won’t walk away from her.”
My heart was thundering, my body starting to become tense, tight. What would my father say? How could he react? Would he fire Lachlan, force him to leave, make it impossible for me to see him? I wasn’t a child, and nothing short of throwing me into a cell would keep me from getting to the man I loved.
I also knew Lachlan wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t just let m
e go. I could be in a bricked-up building, no entrance in sight, and he’d still find me, still get to me.
“I love her, sir, and she loves me.” Lachlan turned and looked at me, the love in his expression, in his eyes there, real. “I’ll protect her with my life. Always.”
And I knew he would.
We stared at my father again, waiting for him to say something, anything. He exhaled sharply, then nodded.
“I’m your father, Daisy, not someone who will stop you from going after what you want.”
Shock filled me.
“And if I were to pick a man to be with you, it would be Lachlan. I know he’ll always look after you.”
“You’re okay with this?” Was I hearing this correctly?
He moved closer, and Lachlan stepped back, probably seeing the fatherly expression on his face. My dad took my hand in his, and the smile he gave me was sincere, sweet even. “I’m protective, Layla, but I won’t keep you from being happy, and I can see on your face that you are.”
“I am,” I said and smiled up at him.
“Then I’m happy for you, and Lachlan,” my father said and looked over at him. “You treat her well and put her before all others.”
“Always, sir.”
And just like that things were right in the world. I had the man I loved beside me, and my father’s support.
Epilogue One
Lachlan
Two years later
I’d been waiting for this moment since I first saw Layla, since I knew she would be mine. I would have married her right from the beginning, would have told her how I felt if I’d had the balls.
But the truth was I was the luckiest man on this planet, no matter how long it had taken for me to get to this point.
When it came to the woman I loved, I was a possessive and territorial motherfucker, but I knew she liked that. I knew she wouldn’t have it any other way. I was a protector, her protector.
I stared at the guests who’d come to watch us get married, the majority of them Layla’s family and friends.
When the music started playing, everything and everyone faded away. I focused on the aisle, on where my bride would be walking down. Then I saw her with her father on her other side.
God, I loved her, would marry her over and over again.
They started walking closer, and I held in the tears of happiness that were starting to form. I was an alpha male, but hell, I could have cried like a fucking baby at that moment.
I held her hand as we said our vows, and we proclaimed our love and loyalty to everyone. God, never had I felt as happy, as complete as I did when I was with Layla.
“I do,” she said as she stared into my eyes.
“I do,” I said with everything I had in me.
I pulled Layla into an embrace and kissed her until she was breathless, until she was clinging to me and softly making those sweet sounds I fucking loved.
She’ll always be mine.
Epilogue Two
Lachlan
Two years later
I was going to be a father.
My heart jackknifed in my chest, the very knowledge that my woman, my wife was pregnant with our baby filling me with so much excitement and love that I suffocated from it. But I wanted to drown in that emotion, because what a way to die.
I squeezed Layla’s hand. She was so fucking strong, so beautiful.
God, I love this woman so much.
We stayed silent as the ultrasound technician did her thing, running the wand device over Layla’s slightly rounded belly. She pointed out the heart, the little fingers, and showed us the legs and arms.
“Do you want to know the sex?” the technician asked, a smile on her face as she looked over at us.
“Yes,” Layla and I said at the same time. I looked at my wife, lifted her hand and kissed it, and glanced at the ultrasound screen once more.
The tech started moving the wand, the baby seeming to jump around in Layla’s belly. I had this perpetual smile on my face, the fact that my baby grew inside the woman I loved making me feel pretty fucking proud.
She finally pointed to the screen and glanced over at us. “It’s a little girl.” She typed that announcement on the screen, and a second later I heard the slight buzz of the printer spitting out the image for us.
A baby girl.
“Oh man,” Layla said. “You’ll be even more protective than you were.” She was smiling as she said this, and I saw tears in her eyes.
The tech laughed softly after that.
“A baby girl,” I whispered and brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles again. “And damn right I’ll be protective of her. Boys looking to take her out better come with their background check in hand.” The tech and Layla started laughing. I was only half joking.
I’d already have their background checks done before they even knocked on the front door.
Once the tech left us alone, I helped Layla to sit up and immediately embraced her. I pulled away to cup her cheeks, stared into her eyes, and smiled.
“I love you.” I leaned in and kissed her softly, taking this moment to really appreciate all I had in this life.
“I love you, too, Lachlan.”
This was what it felt like to be the luckiest man in the world.
The End
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Coming July 2017
Mine to Keep: You can add to your TBR shelf HERE
His Beauty, Her Beast: You can add to your TBR shelf HERE
Bought & Paid For (co-written with Jordan Marie): You can add to your TBR shelf HERE
Excerpt: Mine (A Real Man, 13)
Chapter One
Jana
“Well, let me bring Mr. Savage in here to go over your résumé.”
I stared at the woman whose name was Poppy or Pippy or something equally fake sounding. I just nodded, not about to be a smart-ass and ask why I needed to speak with the owner of the club when I was applying to strip for them. Did he need to know where I’d gone to school before I took my clothes off?
Pippy or Poppy, or whatever the hell her name was, got up and left me in the swanky office alone. I had to give the place credit; it was high-class, like men had to fork over a shitload of money just to get into the VIP room.
I started picking at lint on my shirt. Although there probably was nothing there, I felt my nerves grow higher. The seconds moved at an agonizing rate. And then I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
The room became hotter, the air thicker. My skin felt tight, and despite facing the desk and not hearing anyone enter, I knew someone had come into the room.
I turned around in my chair, and there he was, this imposing figure over six feet tall, wearing a dark three-piece suit, and having authority written all over him. His hair was coal colored, short. His eyes were this deep blue, so dark they almost could've been black. And I could see tattoos peeking out from under the collar of his shirt and jacket and creeping down his hands.
But it was his expression, his focus on me that had me sitting up straighter.
He walked closer, not saying anything, never taking his gaze off me. He sat behind the desk, finally looking away from me and staring down at the folder with my résumé.
For long moments he did nothing but look at those forms, at my qualifications. I didn't know what he was trying to figure out, seeing as I was here to take my clothes off.
“I’m Cole Savage, the owner of the club. Tell me, Miss Banks, why would you want to work here?”
Was he serious? Did he want some long, drawn-out explanation of why I wanted to stand in front of a roomful of men, their gazes raking over my partially nude body, right before I twisted around on a silver pole?
Instead of lying and making up some excuse on why I needed the money, I just told him the
truth.
“I used to dance.” When all he did was stare at me, I continued. “I did ballet, but I hurt my ankle and wasn't able to do it anymore. Instead of working a dead-end job, cleaning tables or serving people their food, I figured the fastest way for me to pay off my debts is to strip.”
He didn't say anything, just leaned back in the leather chair, his arms folded over his broad chest, his gaze intense.
I shifted on my seat, feeling this uncomfortable tightness in my whole body. I didn’t know what it was about this man. Having him only five feet from me, his expression making me feel like he could see right through me, knew my every secret, made me feel unhinged.
He closed the folder, blocking out my résumé, making me feel like this was the end of the story. Maybe he didn't like what he saw? I wasn't well-endowed in the chest department, didn't have curves that went on for miles. I certainly wasn’t made like the women I saw dancing at his club.
I was a ballet dancer down to my very core, even if I was sitting in front of a strip club owner asking him to give me a job to get naked in front of strangers. I was graceful, thin. But I knew I danced beautifully.
If he wanted me to demonstrate what I had to offer, I'd be more than willing to give him a show he’d never forget.
He leaned forward then, his hands clasped on the table. I stared at his fingers, how long and strong they were. The backs of his hands had tattoos, his knuckles sporting the same ink. How much of this man was covered? How much of his golden, hard skin was painted in abstract, seemingly dangerous lines of black?
Strangely enough, I wanted to know that. I wanted to see for myself.
I don't know what it was about him, but he made me feel like I walked on a tightrope, the ground beneath me an endless void of the unknown.
