by Dace Everan
“Of course I would probably wreck it and spank you somewhere along the way,” he pondered.
Layle giggled then snuggled closer. “I think I would like that,” she whispered against his neck.
Laird pulled Layle on his lap until she straddled him. “Not gonna promise it’s going to be nice and easy and that we would get along all the time.” He grinned. “Shit, you’re the mouthiest woman I’ve ever had to deal with.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “And I love that about you. Did you finger Jake?”
Layle blushed. How did he know? Shit, she should really apologize for that. She was sure she was in for the spanking of her life for that one.
“He is pushy isn’t he?” Laird hummed.
Layle nodded. “And he went real fast around that corner,” she grumbled, snuggling closer. Maybe if she snuggled him he would not remind Jake of that incident.
Laird chuckled. “He does the same thing with me. Hate that corner. You will apologize to him for that. He hasn’t spanked anyone in a long time, and Viv would be more than happy to see her man happy,” he warned.
Layle cupped his face in her hands, a grin marring her face. “You really want to meet my parents?” she asked, changing subjects as quickly as possible.
Laird grinned. “Yes, and don’t change the subject.”
She harrumphed. “Fine, I’ll apologize. My dad’s crazy, and my mom talks a lot. You still have parents alive?” She was amazed, he was older. She blushed. That was rude.
Laird laughed. “Yes, and they are very lovely people.”
Layle sighed, marvelling in his thick arms holding her close. “Thank you, Laird. For coming to my rescue…I’m sorry I left you. I should not have ever done that. I should have stayed and talked to you about my fears. Should have allowed you to take care of me. Trusted you to take care of me and my needs.” She bit her lower lip and slumped, wondering if he could ever forgive her.
Laird studied her for a moment. It took guts to apologize. How she did it warmed him all the way through. Thanking a person took just as much. And with Layle, he was sure it was a struggle. “I hope you never change, Layle.”
She looked at him. “I’m worse when Harley’s home,” she warned. She couldn’t wait for Harley to get home.
He grinned. “Good, I like spanking your ass,” he shared. “Oh, and later when everyone has retired for the evening, you will be getting the smacking of your life,” he promised. Laird’s lips curled in a smile at the pouty look she dared give him. “Don’t think to get out of it, sweetheart. I always get what I want,” he warned.
Layle slumped in defeat. “I was just hoping to soften it a little,” she murmured.
Laird bellowed out in laughter, hugging her closer. “Not happening, pet. You deserve a good spanking, worrying me,” he chastised, lifting her and placing her easily on her knees. “Although.” He pushed her against the table, pulling her skirt up over her firm ass. He fell to his knees behind her. “I did miss this sweet little pussy of yours.”
Layle all but hummed, lying over the tabletop.
“Do we have any arguments?” Laird questioned, undoing his pants.
“No, Sir,” she replied clearly, her pussy weeping and waiting for her man to take her. Her man! Oh goodness, her heart jumped and giddiness filled her at that thought whirling through her head. He was hers!
“It will be quick. I am upset with you, but this is not an act of anger.”
Layle lifted her bottom, letting him know she was fine with him taking her here and now. Wanting him to take her here and now. “Please, Master Laird,” she begged, her heart racing in her chest, waiting to feel his thickness to fill her.
Laird tugged down her thong and cupped her wet pussy. “Mine, Layle,” he declared, thrusting a thick finger in her cunt. “Understand?” he asked, pulling his finger from her sopping wet cunt.
“Yes, Sir,” Layle responded, breathless, her ass lifting, begging for more.
Laird grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up and at the same time thrusting deeply into her. A strangled moan escaped Layle, and she reached back, grasping at him. “Hands on the table,” Laird ordered, pulling nearly out of her then thrusting back in.
Layle braced herself on the table, soft pants escaping her as Laird rode her. She itched to reach between her legs to rub the itch that had built the moment he had thrust into her. “Please, Laird,” she begged, arms trembling.
Laird growled against the back of her neck. “Please what?” he growled.
Layle squeaked as he moved in a different direction, hitting a whole other spot in her. Fluid gushed from her. She squealed, and Laird hummed as if he’d just won a prize. “Sweet woman,” he proclaimed as the warmth of her juices flowed around him. He reached around to her front, flicking her clit as he hammered her. Her sweet, high-pitched moans drove him harder and faster. When her body froze into place and her cunt clamped around him in a spasm, he grasped her hips and took what he wanted.
Layle fell against the tabletop in a wreck of heavy breathing. “Never ever leave me again, woman,” Laird rumbled into her ear. His heart pounded erratically against her back. “Not ever, Layle…” He kissed her temple. “Promise me.”
Layle turned her head and looked at him. Guilt filled her at the pain in his blue orbs. “I promise.”
Chapter Fourteen
Harley eyed the elegant brute up and down, taking note of the strong jaw and wild hair. It was the hair that made her think brute. Long, wavy, and untamed. But the way he held himself was elegant. Refined. Like he was the boss and no one would ever step in his way. Definitely someone for Layle. Harley finally nodded her approval. “Pretty,” she decided, hugging Layle closer. “And he has you smiling, so that’s good enough for me.” And it was, Layle deserved nothing but the best. And this man seemed to have brought Layle’s nightmares to a halt.
Layle smiled, glancing past her at the scruffy-looking man that was staring at the back of Harley’s head intently. Laird smirked. “Roark Hurt, if I recall,” he voiced with authority, holding out a hand.
Roark nodded, shaking hands, and then his arms crossed over his thick chest. “Laird Roan, I’ve heard lots about you. I’ve been to your club a time or two.”
Laird nodded. He remembered the younger man. He was only twenty-seven but serious as shit and could wield a wicked flogger. Layle stepped back into Laird’s personal space, and her body eased as his arms surrounded her, hugging her close. “I’m having a private party on the weekend,” Laird informed him, wondering if Roark would show up and perhaps play a little.
Roark grinned. “I’ll be there.” He wasn’t sure if the invite was for Harley, for him, or both of them. He would take up the offer anyway. He had heard good things about Mr. Roan’s private parties. There was nothing better than attending one at a place where there were good, decent Doms.
Harley frowned at the three. “Am I in some bad dream? What kind of parties are we talking and who the hell invited you, Roark!” she uttered, grabbing Layle’s hand and pulling her close, glaring at Laird. “When I’m home, she’s mine,” she uttered, leading Layle across the room to their couch, plopping down, and snuggling her close. Layle turned in her arms and snuggled her right back.
Laird stared at the two in surprise. Layle had warned him that she and Harley were close, but he hadn’t expected this close. Roark had a dumbfounded look on his face that Laird assumed reflected his own.
Layle glanced back at Roark. “So this is him?” she asked Harley.
Harley scoffed, and Roark bunched up again like a snake ready to strike. “Oh, you told her about him but not me? Layle, tell you’re oh so good friend here ‘once a ‘douche bag always a douche bag,’” Roark uttered. And that was a fucking fact! That scumbag Harley had cozied up to at the bar had only one thing in mind for her, and Roark didn’t think that was good enough for her! She deserved the best and that was his role to fill.
Layle looked at Harley. “What?” What in the hell was he talking about? She was sure this wa
s the one Harley had been talking about this whole time. A tall, dark, buff, handsome, and grumpy fucker. That fit the description of this man who stood in their living room.
Harley sighed. “I was busy getting it on with you-know-who when some other you-know-who”—she glared at Roark—“decided I don’t have a right to fuck whoever I want and jumped in and tore you-know-who a new asshole.” Oh, she hoped Layle would catch up and not go too deeply into the subject. Roark hadn’t left her alone since that night, and he was trying her nerves as it was.
Laird chuckled. “Childish,” he mumbled.
Layle shot Laird a surprised look. “Did you just mumble, Laird?” she asked, astonished. She had never heard him mumble.
Roark grunted. “Can’t believe you would pussy out like that, Harley,” he grumbled, taking his seat. How dare she turn him away after having that fucker paw her up like a slab of meat? His fists tightened in balls of frustration. To have to sit there and watch as she allowed that dickface to have liberties with her body so openly and in front of so many. Watch as she played seductress to another man while her eyes were on him.
Harley glared at him. “Ever occur to you, asshole, I don’t like men bossing me around!” she said raising her voice and standing, trying to tower over him. Had he not been such an ass maybe it would have been him that night and not that douche! Had he not stood over her making demands of her the way he had in the tone he had. She growled in frustration. Too many times she had gone over that night, the actions both of them had taken, and she was friggin’ done!
Laird smiled. She was an intimidating creature. Now he knew what it was Roark saw in this woman. She was a little hellfire.
“Not in your day-to-day life you don’t, but in your bed…” He smirked. “You like a little slap and tickle,” Roark commented.
Harley turned a deep red and glared at him.
Layle sighed loud enough to catch Harley’s attention. “Oh come on, Harley. You like smacking ass once in a while. Remember that time we went to that club?” She lifted her eyebrows numerous times in a suggestive manner. “Or when we did those spankings? The way you giggled when you smacked my naked ass?”
Harley whipped around, her face deepening further at the confessions her friend was making. ”You’ve completely lost it, Layle. I would never smack your naked ass. Push you down and wrestle with you, yes, but your naked ass?” she screeched.
Layle sighed. “One time, Harley…”
Harley looked at her. “Pardon…?” Her insides roared to life. She couldn’t believe Layle would pull that card right here right now! Not here with Roark! And oh God, not with this new man of hers?
Layle looked at her. “You said if there was ever a time I wanted you to do something with me I could have one time,” she murmured. She knew what was going on here. This Roark fellow wanted Harley, and Harley wanted him but something was stopping her. Perhaps if she and Laird joined the party, they could bring Harley and Roark together?
Harley stopped in her movement. “This does not count in any way. There are two men here and no way do I do private shows for perverts,” she grumbled. Yes, she had promised Layle a little exploring expedition, but that was between the two of them and they both had to be ready for it. She was no way wanting to explore that part of her sexuality.
Layle grunted. “You’re being a big baby, Harley,” she accused, settling in Laird’s lap.
Harley faced her friend and shook her head. “No way, no how, Layle. You can’t just thrust this on me and expect me to be all yeah let’s get it on!” she uttered, moving away from the group. She had left one hell and traded it for another. What twisted place had she come home to?
Layle looked at her best friend. “You’re right…I don’t have the right to do that to you. I’m sorry, Harley.” What the hell had she been thinking to pop that one out and here and now? Oh yeah, she wanted her friend to feel the love she had. Oh goodness! She looked up at Laird and saw displeasure there. Not for trying to explore but for putting her friend on the spot. Laird would never disapprove of her exploring her sexuality, but to bring it up like she had and drop it like she had was so wrong.
Harley grunted, her anger leaving her. She fell to her knees in front of Layle and hugged her close. The deepest of love filled her at her friend’s apology. “I’m sorry, I can’t handle this right now,” she whispered.
Layle nodded, hugging her back. She glanced at Roark. “Why are you here if she doesn’t want you here?” It was time she played friend and not the silly matchmaker she was apparently not.
Roark smirked. “She does. She’s just being bullheaded,” he replied, reclining back in his seat.
Harley grunted, pushing Layle away and standing and glaring at Roark.
Laird cleared his throat as the beautiful Harley opened her mouth to, he assumed, make a smart-ass remark at Roark. “Perhaps Layle and I should go grab you some supper. Give you and”—he paused, looking down at Layle—“Brute? Is that what you referred to him as?”
Layle grinned, nodding. “Yes, this brute of a man, a moment to have a discussion.”
Harley stared at him. Was he fucking serious?
“You can sit here. That way you two are separated by something,” Laird finished as Layle stood, crossing to Harley and pecking her on the cheek.
“Chinese?” she asked, passing by and grabbing her coat.
Harley rolled her eyes and flopped into the seat Laird had occupied. She watched as Laird ushered Layle from their home and silence fell over the apartment. She gritted her teeth and avoided eye contact with Roark. After a few excruciating moments she glared at him. He was looking at her with concern.
“You haven’t had time to take a breather since you’ve been back, have you?” he asked.
The question threw her off and softened her heart. His tone was total concern, and the look in his eyes was pure worry. “I’m sorry for acting childishly…” She closed her mouth and grimaced. “Thank you for making sure I made it home safely.” Her gaze landed on his wide chest.
Roark leaned forward. “You’re welcome…and I’m sorry for hounding you. I should have known you would need time to yourself.”
Harley met his gaze, and in his sharp blue eyes she saw someone different. Not the young punk that always played the jokes on everyone in their platoon. Not the overly serious soldier that insisted on watching her back at every fucking turn.
“Thank you,” she murmured again.
Chapter Fifteen
Laird hugged Layle close, inhaling her delicate scent. Her soft breath whispered across his chest. He kissed the crown of her head and relaxed on the swing. He looked up to the millions of sparkling stars high in the sky.
“So beautiful out here, Laird,” she whispered, not moving.
Laird smiled. “Should have known you weren’t sleeping,” he replied, nodding.
Layle smiled, kissing his chest. “You think Harley will come out this weekend?” she asked, her whole being at ease. She had never felt so filled with peace as she did at this moment. The night air cooling her from the hot day. Laird’s strong arms around her comforting her after the exquisite torture he had just delivered to her now-tender rump.
Laird ran his hand along the length of her hair, sending sweet shivers through her. “I hope she does…These quick nuptials of yours is putting quite the kink in my mother’s neck, by the way.” His mother and Harley had hit it off rather well at the engagement party, and as much as he wanted Harley there for Layle, he was pretty sure Harley’s sarcastic remarks would help calm his mother and her rants about him knocking Layle up so quickly. That or it would backfire on him and he would have two angry women harping at him.
Layle snorted. “I’ll do the summer wedding to appease the beautiful woman, but the dress I want will not fit me then,” she reminded him. She loved Laird’s mother. For a sophisticated debutant she sure had one hell of a sense of a humor and a mouth a sailor would blush at. She giggled to herself at the appalled look that her own mother had
plastered to her face for most of the evening of their engagement party from the remarks spewing from Laird’s mother’s mouth. And Daddy. The laughter he had with Laird’s parents had made her heart sing in joy.
He smirked. “Yes, I know, and no I’m not complaining. It’s all her fault for making us wait till you’re in your eighth month to have a friggin’ wedding. Who the hell does that? Fuck, you’d think she would be racing us to the alter el pronto.”
Layle giggled. “Maybe she doesn’t like me?” she teased.
Laird laughed, giving her a squeeze. His mother loved her to bits and pieces. Insisted on showing up at any time to do anything she could with her. “Your dad’s a funny man, Laird. I never expected that from the looks of him, such a brute of a man.”
Laird grinned. He was a replica of his father. He could only hope he was in such fine shape in his sixties. Laird pecked her on the temple. “Don’t make me jealous, woman. I know you like them older fellers.”
Layle giggled, rising up and looking down at him. “I want this weekend, Laird,” she voiced with passion. Her heart hammered in her chest and threatened to burst free from the want of this weekend. For the want to spend the rest of her life with this man.
Laird smiled, running a finger down her cheek. “And you shall have it.”
She had gone through all the wedding books and done the dress thing with his mother and her mother, the flowers and the settings and any other little detail their mothers could think of, and then they had found out she was pregnant. Shit, Laird had never been so fucking terrified in his life as at that moment when she knelt down in front of him, tears in her eyes and the saddest look on her beautiful face. She had mumbled something about ruining their perfect wedding and how she would be fat and ugly and awkward and after he had calmed her down, he found out he would be a father. Shock was the first thing to strike him, quickly followed by pride. Pure unadulterated pride that this woman was giving him a child. “Harley will be there, Layle. She wouldn’t miss this,” he assured her.
