by Dace Everan
Layle shook her head. “I can’t do that just yet,” she whispered.
Laird tightened his grip on her. “Sleep on it,” he hummed, gripping her jaw and turning her head to face him. He planted a soft kiss on her lips, his finger tapping the tip of her nose. “Get some rest…I may wake you early.”
* * * *
Layle sighed, her head buried against her pillow, large warm hands caressing her back. She stretched out, her ass being lifted from the mattress. “Are you tender?” whispered Laird’s voice, licking her insides with a wave of lust.
“A little,” she admitted.
Laird smiled. “But you’re good?”
Layle nodded, lifting her ass to Laird. Laird growled at the offering before him. His hands were firm as he grasped her ass cheeks, his thumbs drawing circles as his fingers curled around her hips.
Layle moaned, desire swelling through her. This was how she should be able to wake every morning. Laird over her and his hands on her, showing her how much he wanted her.
Laird swiped his dick through her juices, her body jerking as he slid over her tender clit. “I’m going to take you hard and fast.”
Layle nodded, gasping as he shoved his thick dick into her warm cunt.
He hammered her hard, his grunts filling her ears, and she sighed in contentment that she could offer this to him. His balls slammed against her pussy and sent another sensation through her. Her legs tensed as a thrill of pleasure tore through her. She moaned and his grip tightened on her.
“So fucking tight, Layle,” he panted, slamming deeper into her.
Layle clenched her fists as something heavy built in her. She shook her head, confusion filling her. How was it possible that this man could take her so easily and send this feeling through her?
“Let it take you, Layle,” he ordered, his voice low and husky.
She whimpered, eyes slamming shut as the trickling of stars filled her darkened vision and her body lifted to a higher place and froze in time. A strangled scream gargled from her as her body stiffened and her cunt sucked at Laird’s cock.
Laird jerked into her, his arm circling her waist, pulling her close as he growled into her ear. “Delicious, Layle,” he panted against her ear.
Layle sighed, turning her face toward him, a soft smile on her lips.
Laird grinned. “Amazing,” he praised, lips whispering across hers.
Laird spent the early morning hours devouring every inch of her. His hands soft and firm, hard and gentle all at the same time and not at all. His mouth devouring and stealing her breath away, bringing her breathless passion.
Layle flinched at the ringing of a cell phone.
Laird grunted, pulling her back into his arms and peeking over her head at her clock. “Reality’s calling,” he mumbled, kissing her cheek.
She watched him leave the bed and wander out her bedroom door naked. A smile crossed her lips. He had a beautiful, muscled ass. Her smile widened as she remembered kissing that ass, biting him. He hadn’t taken too kindly to the bite. Her ass still stung from the spanking he had given her for that one. His hand sure delivered a wallop.
She snuggled deeper under her blankets and closed her eyes. Maybe she would stay in bed all day and just lavish in his smell. She hummed, her body so relaxed from all his ministrations.
“It’s the club and apparently I had a class this morning,” he announced, entering the room and crossing straight to her. He leaned over her, brushing a stray curl off her cheek.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him.
He smiled, dipping and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Pretty sure you said you had work this morning?” he reminded her.
Layle’s eyes widened. Shit, she had to deliver those cookies to the shelter. She whipped around, looking at the clock. Fuck! She was going to be late. “Yes! Shit.” She turned back, delivered a quick kiss to his cheek, and hopped out of bed.
“Well shit, I would have at least been nice and offered a nice kiss.”
Layle giggled, turning back to him languidly. Hugging her arms around his neck, she pulled him close and pressed her mouth to his. When she pulled away, his arms had her in a vise grip. “Good morning,” she announced.
Laird chuckled. “Kay, now you may go.”
Layle giggled, grabbing up her phone and crossing to the closet, dialing. She pulled out a pair of black jeans and a white T-shirt. “Hey, Gina, I’m so sorry I’m going to be late…Awesome, yes, I’ll work the kitchen for lunch…four dozen…the kids are still coming in?” She opened her drawer and grabbed clean underwear, tossing them on the bed along with her clean clothes.
Laird was already in the shower when she entered the bathroom. “Hurry up and I’ll wash your back,” he called.
Layle smiled, slipping into the shower. “Saved, I have an hour,” she shared.
Laird grinned. “You just have to work the kitchen?” he asked.
Layle nodded. “The others hate working the kitchen at lunch—gets hot in there,” she shared, rinsing her hair.
“What time do you get back at?” he asked.
Layle peeked up at him. “Three,” she whispered.
Laird nodded. “Dragging you out for dinner. I have a social I have to attend tonight. Black dress, heels, and hair up,” he ordered.
“Long or short dress?” she asked.
“Your call,” he answered, washing the soap down her back.
“Are we talking like a benefit kind of social?”
“Yes.”
Layle scrunched up her nose. She hated those things. She had attended a few before Steven had gotten his hands on her. “What time do I have to be ready by?” she asked, rinsing the suds from her hair.
“I’ll be here at six.”
Layle nodded. That gave her enough time to go from the shelter to the salon.
* * * *
Laird harrumphed as he waited at the door. He could hear her heels clicking on the other side of the door. He smiled and wondered what she would look like. His breath caught in his throat when the door opened and elegance greeted him. The woman was gorgeous.
“I hate these things, for your information,” she replied haughtily, stepping back and making room for him to enter.
Laird looked her over. A beautiful diamond choker of light-pink diamonds adorned her neck. He wondered if she had any idea what that choker did to him. A matching bracelet hung from her black glove-covered wrist. Her dress was delectable. Tight bodice, flowing skirt, and elegant black heels. She did know how to dress for these functions. He handed her a skinny square box. “I guess you don’t need these.”
Layle took the box, lifting the top.
Laird watched her look over the pieces. First surprise, followed by doubt, and then questioning.
“You bought me jewelry?”
Laird smiled. “I’m dragging you to a social, so it’s the least I could do…The jewels reminded me of your eyes.”
Layle smiled. Emeralds, they were beautiful. She crossed to the island and placed the opened box down, removing the choker. “They are beautiful, thank you.” She held the new choker out, teardrop emeralds hanging in a cascading effect.
Laird clasped the choker on her, his hands skimming over her bare shoulders. She came from wealth. She was entirely too comfortable with receiving jewelry. Layle removed her earrings and bracelet. Laird replaced the pieces and smiled. “You look stunning.”
Layle smiled. “Yes, you clean up rather nicely as well. By the way, I tend to insult the uppity people.”
Laird nodded. “Fair warning. I tend to ignore most of them.”
“Then why the hell are we going?” she grumbled. Surely he could find something more fun to do with her?
Laird chuckled. “I see your ass misses my hand,” he warned.
Layle grunted. Of course her ass missed his hand. Shit, her whole body missed his hands. She straightened her back and looked up at him. “I’m waiting?” she murmured.
Laird smiled. “You are not my type of woma
n, but you have this amazing pull over me, Layle.”
Layle grinned. “I am totally your type of woman. You need the mouthy attitude so you have a reason to swat my ass, and I’m cute to boot.”
Laird burst out in laughter, hugging her close.
Layle smiled. “Hey, you think later after this whole horrid evening is over I can lay you out naked and tickle you with my new nails?” Said nails delved under his shirt and scraped across his skin.
“Keep that up and this horrid night might just cozy on down to your room and charities would be out thousands of dollars,” he warned.
Layle met his gaze. “It’s a charity benefit?”
Laird nodded. “A lot of my clients run high-end businesses. I hold three charity benefits a year and a private charity at my country house.”
Layle raised her brows. That she would like to attend. “All righty then.” She retracted her new claws and straightened out his shirt. “Let’s rock and roll.” She grabbed up her clutch, strolling to the door.
Laird smiled at the gentle sway of her hips. Yes, she was exactly what he wanted in a woman. Would she let him chain her down and fill her back with beautiful red welts from the lick of his whip?
Chapter Eight
Layle stood obediently next to Laird the entire evening, minus when she was asked to dance and dragged out onto the dance floor. She was surprised to see Dedrick and Jamal in attendance and dressed to the nines to boot. Shit, they made handsome men outside the club. She was sure she saw Mistress Lania. Not quite sure, but the view from behind was most certainly her. Had to be!
It was late when Laird took her by the hand and led her out of the banquet room on the lower level of the fancy hotel building. “I have a room upstairs. Do you need to be at the shelter in the morning?”
Layle gave him a sharp look. “How’d you know?” she grumbled. She hadn’t said anything about the shelter to him.
Laird smiled. “Security,” he reminded her. “I know how to find out information…that and Mr. and Mrs. Bleenan were in attendance. Gina says beautiful, by the way.”
Layle grunted. “She’s so going to harass me next week. No, I only go once a week for the cookie runs for the kids.” Seeing their smiles and their eyes light up made her week a little easier to handle. It was something she had learned in counselling. Find what makes you happy and go there often. Laird was the other thing that made her happy.
Laird smiled. It was amazing how her tiny little order of cookies made so many smiles. Her giving nature filled him with pride. He held the elevator doors open as she passed through, and a young man in a leather bomber jacket stood in the corner with a hoodie draped over his head. Layle took the opposite corner away from him, making sure to put Laird between them. Laird felt her shiver as the elevator doors closed. He smiled down at her, draping his arm over her shoulder and huddling her close.
“Pretty busy down there,” replied the man.
Laird nodded, eyes darting to the numbers above the door.
The young man looked over their apparel. “Wedding or something?” he asked, hands slipping into the pockets of his coat.
Laird shook his head. “Nope,” he answered, pressing the button for the main level again. “Sorry, hon, I forgot to grab your clutch from the front desk,” he mumbled, the elevator stopping and doors opening before closing and going back down.
Layle snuggled in close to Laird. He obviously didn’t feel safe in the close confinement with the man. The doors opened, and they escaped without confrontation. Laird led her to the front desk and asked for the manager. When Laird had reported the mysterious out-of-place character, they returned to the elevators and all was clear.
“He was creepy,” she whispered.
Laird nodded. “Yeah, he was…Did you see the tattoo on his neck?”
Layle shook her head. Was that supposed to have some monumental meaning? “No, I saw the greasy hair escaping the thick hoodie and decided not to stare at him.” She shuddered. Eww, the man had been more than creepy.
Laird snorted. “I’ve seen it once before. The end result was not good.”
Layle glanced at him. “You warned the manager?”
Laird nodded. “He has security on it.”
It had been years ago since he had seen the tattoo. A job he had been working on, rich couples getting mugged in elevators. The offender had changed up his routine and started taking lives. He pulled her close when the doors opened and peeked out.
Layle released a nervous laugh. “Mr. Bodyguard man, you’re making me wish I could put on my fatigues and tote a pistol,” she murmured.
Laird chuckled. “That would be a sight after seeing you tonight,” he hummed, leading her down the hall and stopping at a set of large double brass doors.
“Ooh, spiffy, Mr. Bodyguard has a fancy place,” she sang in a teasing voice.
Laird chuckled. “Little one is in dire need of some training on her sassy attitude,” he hummed, opening the door for her.
Layle stepped in and came to a halt at the spacious room. A huge chandelier was the first to catch her attention, followed by the sitting area with overstuffed furniture. She saw a door leading into another room and the corner of a large bed with wooden posts.
Laird let her assess her surroundings.
Layle gawped, her head slowly turning to him. Who was this man? How the hell did he get a room like this? There was no way he could have money for a place like this after working security. Her insides quivered. He had brought her here for a reason. Could she do this? Her inner self demanded she do what he wanted. She would try to do what he wanted of her. She lowered to her knees and bowed her head.
Laird smiled, passing her. Test time, how long would she wait in that position for him? He removed his overcoat, draped it over the back of a chair, looked over the room, and spotted the champagne and glasses set out along with some sweets. He turned his attention back to Layle. Still she knelt, head bowed. “Stand and take off your dress,” he ordered, leaning against the back of the couch watching her.
She lowered the hidden zipper on the side and let it slip to the floor.
His gaze drifted over her garters and little black thong that clashed beautifully with her pale skin. “Turn around, spread your legs, and hold your ankles,” he ordered, crossing the room and settling in a plush chair as he admired the sight before him.
“Beautiful, Mekaila,” he whispered, his eyes devouring her form. He needed to start using her full name. He was tired of using Layle. Her name was beautiful and suited her much better than the name she had given herself.
Layle flinched at the name and hated that her name could cause that kind of reaction. She had kept away from her family just to avoid being called by her name. She inhaled a calming breath. No way was she going to let the name bring her down. She was here to be with Laird.
Laird sipped on his champagne, his eyes on Layle as she stood bent over, hands still on her ankles, ass tilted at a beautiful angle, and her thong now bore a darkened stain from her arousal. He smirked, setting his glass down. “Stand and stretch your arms above your head.”
Layle was slow to move, and her muscles screamed out at having to have held the position for so long.
Laird circled her, his finger trailing along the bottom seam of her bra. He stopped in front of her, his eyes on hers as his finger drew circles on her breast, outlining her pebbled nipple.
Layle’s eyelids drooped, and her breathing accelerated.
He trailed his finger up along her silk-covered arm and back down, smiling as she jerked at a ticklish spot. “You’re beautiful, Mekaila,” he whispered.
Layle let her eyes fall closed. “Thank you, Sir,” she whispered. How the hell did he make her feel so vulnerable and wanted at the same time?
“Are you thirsty?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Laird nodded, tucking a finger under her chin. “Open your eyes, Mekaila.”
Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked into his.
“I w
ant you to look me in the eye…I won’t blindfold you, but I will gag you.”
Layle went to shake her head, but his grip on her chin deterred her from the movement.
“If you have any problems I want you to hold up three fingers. Your hands will be chained above your head, but I will see your hands clearly,” he assured.
Layle furrowed her brow. She wasn’t sure she wanted to do this anymore. Bound and gagged. It didn’t matter if she could see or not. He was leaving her incapable of helping herself.
Laird stepped back. “There is bottled water in the fridge. Grab me one as well,” he ordered softly, passing her and disappearing into the other room.
Layle stood frozen. He would gag her, leaving her speechless, but he did give her a signal and he would stop. She was sure he would. She looked at the glass fridge and then back over her shoulder at the entrance to the other room. She could hear the jingle of chains and the fall of clothes as they landed softly. No blindfold, she would see everything he did to her. She could shoot those fingers up as soon as she saw something she didn’t like. He hadn’t left her hopeless.
She grabbed two bottles, setting his on the top of the hip-sized fridge. She gulped back her water, her nerves getting the better of her. She could do this. She had been tied up many times. She could deal with that. She liked being tied up. Gagged twice in her life and both times had been a horrendous experience. Shit, she couldn’t think about that. Laird wouldn’t hurt her. Fuck, she had spent all of last night in the man’s arms! She had watched him the last year and with feverish interest. She wanted this! Wanted him, had always wanted to surrender to him.
* * * *
Laird watched her stand on the bed below the hanging chain. He gave a soft smile, taking hold of her hand and lifting them above her head. “Remember how many fingers?” he asked softly, wrapping the soft rope around her wrists.
Layle held up three fingers.
Laird pecked her on the forehead. “Good girl…If you need me to slow down and give you a minute, hold up two fingers and then a thumbs-up to continue.”
