by Kar, Alla
His voice is a rough caress, my heart kicks into overdrive. I arch my back, complying with his command with triumph in my eyes. His finger trails against the curve of my ass, to palm it with his large hands. Roughly, he reaches around and unzips me, sliding the fabric of my jeans down my thighs to the floor. Then he is removing my shirt, my bra and standing behind me. I hear his pants unzip, and feel his massive prick against the softness of my ass.
His hands smooth over my ass, fingers dipping under the thin line of my thong. I feel more then hear him snap one side of my thong, then the other, tossing it aside. A rush of burning fire voyages from my stomach and rests between my throbbing core.
He leans over, one of his hands spread on the outside of my smaller hands, his body enveloping me, his mouth at my neck. He grazes his lips, but doesn’t kiss me skimming along my skin, impassioned breath tantalizing my every bravery.
He rocks his pelvis forward, all my attention drawn to his erection. He bites where my neck meets my shoulder—a primitive marking. I feel like his prey that he’s been stalking for months. A roar of a growl travels down my ear. He’s fucking pissed and I’m going to feel every inch of his rage.
“Taylor.”
My mouth betrays me, begging him with a soft caress of my voice. I’m not regretting this. I want him like this. Regardless of what my grandpa says, I love this Taylor. I love this primal predator. I love all of him.
He licks the spot he’s bitten. One of his big, rough, long fingers I’ve had too many times to count, slides and strokes between my slick folds. A deep, feral growl erupts from his chest as he covers me, his prey, with his massive body. I shudder.
He straightens off the bed. For a moment, there is no contact at all. My body tightens with anticipation, with need. His hands grip my hips in a possessive hold, fingers curling into soft flesh. I feel his hard shaft shove my entrance just before he slams inside of me. I scream, coming instantly. I’ve never come this fast. It’s an animalistic feeling, undoing inside of me. Holy Hell.
He doesn’t wait for me to feel my pleasure, taking his own with brutal thrusts. His hips slamming against the softness of my ass. I know this isn’t just about fucking me, marking me. I know what he is doing. Making me submit to him. This is about taking what he wants, what he wanted from the first time he saw me in that pool hall. All of me. Every ounce of myself poured out in front of him. Not being able to hide my demons. Letting him take over and hold me close to him. Letting him take care of me forever.
I grip the sides of the comforter, my back arching for more. A huge hand slides up my spine, long fingers wrap around the back of my neck. With a firm hold, he eases me down till my cheek lays against the soft fabric. This angle allows him to drive even deeper. I whimper with halting breaths as he pounds me unmercifully. One firm hold on my hip, one on my neck, he fills me over and over, stretching me to a glorious point, almost to pain. My body delights in being mercilessly and helplessly dominated, climbing higher and higher with each thrust. I come again, clinching and pulsing around him. This time he stops—thick, hard, and deeper than any man has ever been. But by the steady growling, I know he isn’t finished with me, not just yet.
Gripping my shoulders, he pulls me back flush against his chest. His hand slide over my bare shoulders, lowering his hand to cup and knead at my breasts. I buck back against him. He snarls. Not a man’s growl, but a fucking animal. Warning me to keep still, proving who the master is here and who has control. For once in my life, I know it isn’t me and my reaction is a bone-deep feeling a high. I’ve always taken what I wanted. Whenever I said it was done, it was done. But, not now. Not with Taylor. His other hand slips between my legs, rubbing and rotating. I wrap my hand around his forearm, my other at his hip, feeling muscles move as his fingers work me. My head falls back to his chest, my throat exposed. He bites and licks my neck. I think I would fall if he didn’t have his arm wrapped around me. He is everywhere, overwhelming me. He bends me at the slightest angle, then he really starts to move.
Swallowed by erotic sensation, I let all thought go, cherishing every punishing thrust. His mouth is now at my ear, rough breaths cascading down my neck.
“Scream my name, hustler.” His voice grinding against me as hard as his body. His fingers on my breast knead, pinching my nipple harder. He slams deep and hard, commanding me again. “Scream my fucking name.”
“Taylor!” I fucking scream, my body wanting to please him in every way possible. I’ve never felt the need to do exactly what Taylor says.
“You going to do what I tell you, Layla?” He grips my chin in his palm and turns my face toward his. “You going to stop worrying about me? It’s my job to keep you safe … ” he slams into me and I whimper, “ … it’s my job to protect what’s mine, Layla. Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” I whimper, my sex throbbing from the deep impact of him. He’s touching where no one else has ever traveled.
Grabbing my upper arms, he pulls out of me leaving me throbbing and wet. Rubbing his fingers in-between my legs he strokes me and growls. “You’re so fucking wet for me baby.” He turns me suddenly and shoves me down on the bed. I glance up at him. His muscles coiled under each tattooed arm. Short, spiked, black hair hanging over deep gray eyes. He lowers his head to my breast, licking a slow circle. My already damp core grows wetter. I grip his shoulder with one hand, the other spanning over the nape of his neck. His lips clamp over my nipple, teasing with teeth and tongue. When I am all but panting, he rises, his mouth at my ear. “Open your legs for me.”
I do as he commands. Directly. Knowing full well I’m not in control anymore. I’m not sure if I ever was. At this point, I don’t care. I want him more than anything I’ve ever wanted. More than air.
Two long fingers search in-between my legs, rubbing my slick folds. I’m hungry for him. He’s been in me once and leaves me with his fingers.
He bites my neck then licks again. He’s never bit me this much, and it feels domineering and wonderful. He’s marking me. All over. Everywhere.
He kisses a hard path up to my neck. “You want me, baby? You want me back inside that wet little pussy?”
Those two fingers probe deeper, stroking all the way in and all the way out.
“Kiss me, Taylor.” He hasn’t put his mouth on mine since we walked into this room. He always kisses me.
“Oh. I intend to.”
He drops to his knees, pulls one of my legs over his shoulder and opens his mouth on my core.
“Taylor!”
Fucking torture. I want –need –him inside of me. I grip the slopes of both his shoulders, shuddering from the intimate movements of his mouth. I stroke my hands up and down the slanted ridge of his shoulders, the same, easy beat as the blows of his tongue. He groans as if I give him as much pleasure as he gives me. Impossible.
Under his full command, my body rocks against his mouth, melting under his touch. I try to hold on, not to climb too far, too fast, but Taylor is sucking and licking me into oblivion. I come with a scream, again.
Holy Hell!
Bending down he traps me with his muscled body. His gray eyes orbs staring a hole into me.
“I don’t ever want another man’s hands on you again, Layla. Do you hear ‘me’?
I whimper under his weight. “Yes.”
“I own you?” He shifts and thrust inside me up to the hilt. I suck in a breath, squeezing my eyes shut. Once inside, he doesn’t move, he rubs the rough scruff of his jaw against the softness of my throat.
I wrap my legs around his thighs, trying to roll my hips, urging–begging– him to move. He doesn’t. Ugh!
“Taylor,” I scream in frustration.
“Open your eyes.” Blazing, gray eyes meet mine. “Only me.” A deep, gruff command.
I try to rock against him with no success. He presses his pelvis, his muscular weight keeping me still, impaling me in place in the most enticing and torturous way.
“Only me,” he orders again. His deep voice vibrates fr
om his chest to mine. He lowers his head, taking my lower lip between his teeth, letting it slowly slide out. “Say it.”
“You … ” I say, unable to finish my sentence. I need him! “Move, damn you.”
I want him so bad. And he fucking knows it. I see it on his smug face. He keeps me held still, keeping his prey steady with his body of steel, demanding my submission. I’ve always been faithful to Taylor. He knows it. We both know it. He lives for this. Lives to make me his, every day.
“Only you,” I spit out. “Only you!” I scream it this time, unable to control my lust. My love for this fighter. This man that makes my heart beat like no other. This poor boy that grew up with bruises. Grew up to be this beautiful, beautiful soul.
His lips cover mine, his tongue licking in, slow and soft. I feel my bones melting into goo, my blood rushing, my soul stirring. He traces my lips with his tongue, teasing.
“Say it again. I’ll give you what you fucking want, baby.”
He pulls all the way out of my body. I moan. He thrusts in once, hard and deep, impaling me in place again.
“Yes . . . yes,” I whisper against his lips. “Only you. Please!”
He groans, lips firming and forcing mine wider apart. Then he keeps his promise and gives me what I want. What I will always want. Lifting his body just a fraction, he pumps in a steady, ever-increasing pace, my chest rubbing against his bare chest, tempting my senses. He grabs the back of one thigh, holding hard and driving home. Again and again. I lick into his mouth and nibble on his lower lip. He pounds harder, roaring into my mouth.
I let go. I let myself feel everything. Forever. I let him push our passion to the cliff, let my body synchronize to his in perfect accord. I let more than my body fall over the edge.
With him. Where I always plan to be.
Chapter Nine
Taylor
The sun is rising when I open my eyes. My entire body is sore. Every muscle burning from yesterday. A feel Layla curled up against me, her ass pressed against my dick. I growl and roll over onto my back, staring at the ceiling. My body burns from the movement, I can imagine how Layla is going to feel when she wakes up. I fucked her good. We’ll be well-fucked today. My stomach tightens from the ab work. Sex is a fucking workout. I saw red when Peter put his fucking hands around her waist. He had the fucking balls to put his cigarette on my tire too. He practically signed his hospital bill when he did.
I’m sure he regrets it today.
Stretching, I walk down to the kitchen and pull out some orange juice. No one else is up yet, so, I jump onto the counter and chug from the carton.
It’s the day before Christmas Eve and we’re having our Christmas with Layla’s grandparents today. I’m not ‘not’ looking forward to it, but I just want to get it over with. I have two things for Layla. One I’m sure she’ll love, I’m not sure how she’ll take the other. Sliding off the bar, I walk back upstairs. Layla is sitting on the edge of the bed when I walk in. The door is still cracked down the middle, but I walk past it, I like to pretend I didn’t break down the door.
Her eyes widen and a sleepy smile forms on her face. She has sex hair, in a delicious tangle of mess on top of her head. “Good morning,” she whispers.
“Morning,” I say, handing her the glass of orange juice I brought her. She guzzles half of it and meets my glare above the rim. Red is covering her cheeks. It’s adorable. “How do you feel?”
She sits the glass aside and wipes the corner of her mouth, slowly. “Sore.” She smiles.
A sense of relief roars through me. I wasn’t sure what to expect after yesterday. I’ve been rough with Layla plenty of times, but yesterday I felt … different. I needed to mark her. Make sure she knew she was mine forever. I would not tolerate any horseshit. The urge to beat his head in wasn’t there until I saw his hands on her. That cocky ass grin, and then Layla throws a goddamn fit. What was I supposed to do? Let him touch my woman? Puh-lease. Taking her chin in my hand, I make her meet my glare. “Did I hurt you?”
Slowly, she shakes her head back and forth, her eyes watching my mouth carefully. “No, sir,” she whispers, then bites the corner of her lip. “I loved it, Taylor. I was so fucking mad at you, and then I had a need to fulfill all of your pleasures. To do what you wanted. To let you take me however you wanted. At first, I thought it was stupidity. Lust. I thought I was bowing down to you and then … it hit me. I am yours. We’re on the same level. I don’t have to bow down because you’re standing beside me. Letting you take care of me isn’t punishment. It’s a reward for having the best, most fucking amazing fiancé ever. The best fuck I’ve ever had. The best love I’ve ever had. It all boils down to you. Every ounce of myself. Always you.”
Goddamn my heart just melted into fucking goo. Heaven to any man’s ears. “Layla,” I whisper against her lips, buzzing a kiss along her jaw. “You’re so fucking amazing. Do you know that?”
She shrugs and tugs on my shoulders, bringing me down on top of her. “We have Christmas today. We leave tomorrow.”
I nod, fingers tipping her chin back to get a look at her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Sighing, she rests her hands on my chest. “I’m nervous about Christmas. I’m nervous about my grandpa and you. You haven’t really gotten along. Not to mention Damon. He hasn’t been back since it happened yesterday afternoon. You haven’t come in contact with him and you will today. I’m scared you won’t be able to stop yourself.”
I frown. “I would never ruin your Christmas, Layla. This is family time and I promise not to do that. I won’t even look at Damon.” Stupid promise to make, but I’ll try.
She gives me a fake smile and pushes me up to a sitting position. “Well, we need to run to the store for my grandma. She gave me a list of things to get for her today.” She walks toward the dresser and pulls her clothes out. “We’re eating at six tonight. My grandma is going all out.” She slides those toned thighs through her pant legs. Then she puts her T-shirt on. It clings to her breasts and the curve of her side. “You going to get ready or stare at me all day?”
“The latter,” I say easily, lying back on the unmade bed.
Her eyes roam my body, from my messy hair to my bare feet. “You know, you look like sex walking? Has anyone ever told you that?”
What? I bark out a laugh, and drag the palm of my thumb against the corner of my lip. “No, but it’s sexy as fuck that you think so.”
Layla gives me a sexy smile and bends over to grab her hoodie, slowly, giving me an easy view of that tight ass. I bite my lip, looking over her with hazy eyes, I grind my hips in a frontward motion. Her cheeks darken at the movement. It’s so fucking sexy. No matter how long we’ve been intimate, she always blushes like it’s the first time. It feels like it … every single time.
***
I’m watching Layla’s hips sway in those ridiculously tight yoga pants when she comes to an abrupt halt. I run up on her, stopping us from falling with my hands wrapped around her shoulders, steadying her. “What the–,” I stop dead in my tracks. Stuffing duct tape, rope and anything in his view, into his jacket pocket, is Seth. I didn’t realize it was him until he reached up, showing the huge scar on his face, and bent back down. Layla’s fingers are gripped tightly around the handle of the shopping cart. Reaching down, I pry each one of her slender fingers from the bar. “Turn down this aisle,” I whisper at the back of her ear.
With shaky hands, she turns the cart to the left and turns down the cereal aisle. She looks up at me, fear coating her face. “What do we do? You know he’s going to start shit.”
Placing my hands on her shoulders, I reach down and kiss her forehead. “Keep shopping. Get the cranberry sauce and everything else on your grandma’s list. We’ll deal with him if we see him.”
She doesn’t look convinced but she starts pushing the cart. We walk around a few aisles, and I’m keeping my eyes opened. I can hear him a few aisles away, laughing on his phone. It isn’t until we walk around the corner that he almost trips insid
e our cart.
He glares up at us, then a smile crawls on his face. “Taylor, Layla. What a surprise.” A fading black bruise is still underneath his eye. His lip has a new scar too. “Yes, what a pleasant surprise.” His eyes are set on Layla, not looking away. “I was told you two took a trip to your old house yesterday. Huh?” He lifts an eyebrow and then looks over at me. “Knocked someone out cold, Taylor?” He laughs. “You sure do fight a lot for someone that’s supposed to have stopped fighting.”
“What do you want?” Layla asks from beside me. She keeps his gaze. And he starts to laugh.
“Layla, you’re not as smart as I thought. I know you know who I am. I can see it on your face.” He trails his dirty fingernail along the edge of the cart. “You know my dad … Jason.” Cold hard eyes stare into Layla’s. I see her shiver. He’s killing her over and over again inside his fucked-up mind. Grabbing her arm, I sling her behind me, until he can’t look at her anymore.
“Don’t fucking talk to her about your deadbeat father. He had what was coming to him. He tried to kill us. And we didn’t kill him anyway.”
Seth’s eyes flash dark, his fingers latching onto the buggy and nearly tossing it on its side trying to get to me. “No,” he screams. “You didn’t. That little bitch Damon did, and he’s got what’s coming to him too. Just you wait.” He pokes a finger at Layla behind me. “You fucking wait, you stupid little bit--,”
Goddamn, I hit him. As hard as I can, a right uppercut to his jaw. Blood sprays from his mouth like a Windex bottle onto the floor. He stumbles into a stack of toilet paper, stacked nicely at the end of the aisle, and goes rolling across the floor. The woman in the meat department across from us is staring. Her eyes round. A small, chubby hand covering her mouth. “Call for help,” I tell her. She nods, and runs into the back.
“Layla, go get in the truck … ”
She whimpers. Please, we don’t need a repeat of yesterday. Get in the car. “Okay.” She turns and disappears down the aisle. When I turn back Seth is standing up. Blood runs down his chin and drips in a steady pattern onto the floor.
