by Sylvia Day
Standing, she went to move around him.
He caught her arm.
“I’m tired,” she lied, achingly conscious of his grip and proximity. The top of her head was level with his shoulder. She wanted to turn into him and hold him again. Fear held her back. The fear that she wouldn’t have the strength to part from him again when the time came, which was only a couple days away.
Pressing a quick, hard kiss to her forehead, he released her.
She brushed her teeth, then climbed into bed. Brian gathered up what he needed and headed into the bathroom to shower. She feigned sleep when he slipped between the sheets and curled up behind her. Soaking up his warmth and the comfort of his embrace, she finally shut off the horrible images in her mind and drifted off.
Chapter 4
Layla’s soft cry of distress woke Brian a moment before she jerked violently in his arms.
“Baby,” he murmured, jostling her carefully. “Wake up. It’s okay.”
Her short nails dug into the forearm he had draped over her waist. She gasped and turned into his chest, burying her face against his bare skin.
“It’s okay,” he said again, running his hands up and down her spine to soothe her trembling. “I’ve got you.”
She pushed him to his back and climbed over him, clinging to his torso like a crab.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asked quietly, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. It was just past two in the morning.
“No,” she mumbled into the crook of his neck. “Just hold me.”
“Always.” He hugged her tight.
Wriggling over him, Layla got more comfortable. The position notched her pussy directly over his cock, the heat of her flesh burning through her boy-short underwear and his boxer briefs. His dick responded despite his strenuous efforts to keep it in check. When it came to Layla, he’d never been able to control his reactions to her—bodily or otherwise.
He knew the moment she became aware of his hard-on. She tensed slightly, her breathing hitching a moment, before continuing with a cautious tempo that was obviously considered.
“Ignore that,” he said.
Instead, she rolled her hips, stroking herself with the hard length of his cock. With her lips to his skin, she whispered, “It’s too big to ignore.”
Her tongue flicked over his throat and he cursed, his body tightening.
“Layla . . .” he warned.
Her hands slid down the sides of his chest to his waist. “Here’s a tip, tough guy: You’re about to get laid.”
Christ. Brian’s eyes squeezed shut. He wanted her so badly his teeth ached with it, but adrenalized by a nightmare wasn’t the state of mind he wanted her in when they finally went at each other.
But Layla wasn’t the kind of woman to be deterred, especially when it came to sex. And when she slid down his body and her teeth scraped lightly over the flat disk of his nipple, Brian lost the will to deny her.
Her tongue licked over the sensitive flesh and he jolted with a grunt.
“Watch it, baby,” he growled. “You know what it’s like with me when it’s been a while since I’ve had you.”
She wouldn’t have forgotten. He’d sometimes been overseas on a mission for months at a time. When he came home to her, she knew to have a cleared schedule and the kitchen stocked, because they wouldn’t be leaving his house for days.
“God, you’re sexy, Brian,” she said with a low moan and unmistakable note of resentment. “I get wet and needy just looking at you.”
And he was apparently going to pay for that. The way she reached between them and squeezed his erection wasn’t tender or tentative. It was firm and demanding. The stroke of her palm up and down was quick and forceful.
“Just thinking about you does it for me,” he said gruffly, startled when she lifted off him and slid out of bed.
“Get naked.”
Her sharp order had his blood raging. She’d been a virgin the first time he’d had her and that first encounter had set the tone for their sexual relationship—he led, she followed. That was the way he liked it—and she as well—but he was more than willing to let her have some fun. Shit, he was very willing. “Bring it on, baby.”
As he lifted his hips and pushed off his boxer briefs, Brian heard her undressing. The lamp on the nightstand rattled as she bumped into it, but she was too focused to complain. Focused on him. On fucking him.
He’d never seen her like this. When it came to Layla, he was easily seduced. A heated glance or a coaxing, “Brian, honey . . .” was all the encouragement he required to have a rock-hard dick and a spurring impatience to find some privacy. But right now, she was running the show and going full throttle, and he was going to let her—for a little while—and just enjoy the ride.
Layla returned to him in a rush of silken limbs and warm, soft woman. His woman. The only thing in the world he’d ever felt truly belonged to him. And he’d let her walk away. Because he had shit for brains. No man in his right mind would have let that happen.
He tried to catch her, to kiss her, but she was sliding lower, her beautiful perfect tits caressing his abdomen the whole way down. Reaching up, Brian fisted each side of his pillow, wishing the light was on so he could watch her suck him. There was something in her eyes when she gave him head, a softness and vulnerability that flayed him open. They connected when they were intimate with each other, in a way he’d never known was possible until she had shown him. He couldn’t explain it—the way her pleasure became his own, the way his joy made her happy, the way the need to touch and taste became as necessary as breathing. He just knew that he’d lost the ability to be happy when he lost her, that he had stopping living and just barely managed to make it through each day without her.
She gripped his throbbing cock in her hand, her slender fingers not quite able to surround him. Her partial clasp was a torture all its own and he groaned, so thick and sensitive he knew he wasn’t going to last long. She pumped him a few times with her fist, priming him, bringing the first drops of pre-cum to the tip. The moment her tongue licked across the engorged crest, he cursed.
“I’ll let you play, sweetheart,” he bit out, as her breath blew hot over the dampness she’d left behind. “But now’s not the time to tease.”
Her fingers massaged his balls, gently tugging at their tautened weight. “You’re the one who says it’s no fun when you rush.”
“Who’s rushing?” Gripping her by the hair, he arched his hips and nudged her lips with the crown of his dick. “I’ll be fucking you’til sunrise.”
Brian felt the little shiver that moved through her. Once they took the edge off, they’d settle in for a slow, deep ride. She knew how it would be. The intensity. The intimacy. The unbearable pleasure. He couldn’t wait to get there. He’d been dying in slow degrees ever since she took that away from him.
She touched the back of his thigh. “Spread your legs and bend this knee. Let me get comfortable.”
“You won’t be down there long enough to get uncomfortable. You’re just going to ease me back a bit, so I don’t bruise your tight little pussy on our first go-round.”
He swore he could feel her smile. And then her sassy mouth was engulfing him and his head pressed back into the pillow, his gut knotting from the heated pleasure. “Fuck, yeah.”
Layla took him deeper, her mouth so hot and tight he spurted a wash of pre-cum over her wicked fluttering tongue. She moaned and swallowed, sucking hungrily for more.
“That’s it, baby,” he said hoarsely. “Suck my dick . . . Ah, God.”
Eyes closed and teeth clenched tight, Brian’s mind spun from how damn good it felt. Her head lifted and lowered, her lips sliding slickly up and down, her fist pumping him at the root. As if she was starved for the taste of him.
The pressure in his balls increased when her mouth drew hard on his cockhead. Her fingers left his scrotum, sliding lower, the pads of her index and middle finger stroking over the pucker of his ass.
He tensed in surprise. Her hand
withdrew, her lips curving around his cock.
“Witch,” he hissed.
Layla’s tongue swirled around the sensitive crest, making his teeth grind. His spine was rigid with the need to come, his stomach so taut he felt like he couldn’t move. Shit, he didn’t want to move. If he could hang on to the edge forever, so damn ready but still able to hold off, he would. There was nothing in the world like the pleasure she could give him or the love he felt in every touch, kiss, and moan she gave up to him.
“So good.” He groaned. “You suck me so fucking good . . .”
Her fingers returned between his parted legs, once again teasing the tight ring of muscle, her touch now slickened with what he quickly realized was the missing lube. Her head rose and fell faster, her mouth working his aching cock in what he was sure was a deliberate attempt to distract him from the pressure for entry she was applying.
“Layla, baby, what are you doing?”
She released him with a pop. “You bought the lube; you can’t tell me you didn’t want some anal play.”
She knew damn well his ass wasn’t what he’d had in mind, just as he knew that this was his punishment for excessive optimism in buying the lube to begin with. Neither of which mattered, because he’d always give Layla anything she needed.
Brian pushed out, as he’d taught her to do when accepting his cock in her rear, and the slim tip of one finger slipped inside him. Instantly, sweat misted his skin. He forced himself to relax, to give her no resistance while she explored a new aspect of their lovemaking.
Chest heaving, he absorbed the feeling of penetration and the vulnerability that came with it. Layla took his cock in her mouth again, sucking the head with delicate pulls, her finger pulling out and then pushing back in.
“Ah, Christ.” His neck corded tight with strain. His thighs began to quiver.
He gasped when she pushed a second finger inside him, the slight burn sending a violent shudder through his frame. She rose to her knees, her hair falling over his hips, her mouth sucking in a greedy, demanding tempo. Her fingers moved in and out, fucking his ass.
“Damn it, Layla. You’re shredding me.” The shock and instinctive recoil he felt was tempered because it was Layla who touched him. She was already so deep inside him, so much a part of him, that ceding the intimacy to her was a natural extension of that connection. It also felt surprisingly good. Without conscious thought, both of his knees fell wide, encouraging more forceful thrusts of her hand.
“I’m going to kill whoever taught you this,” he bit out. “String him up and castrate the motherfucker. Ah . . . shit, baby. I’m gonna come. Slow down.”
The sounds filling the room—her vibrating moans and his tortured growls, the voracious suckling and the rhythmic thudding connection of her knuckles to the lower curve of his buttocks—were driving him insane. His dick was so hard it hurt, his balls drawn up tight and full. She owned him, possessed him completely, and he felt his surrender burn through him like a fever.
“I’m gonna come hard,” he warned hoarsely. “Ease up, baby. Now. Ah . . . fuck! ”
She’d found his prostate. Rubbing the gland swift and hard, she threw him over the edge.
Mindless with the savage, wrenching pleasure, Brian cried out and climaxed violently, his hands in her hair, his hips bucking. His head slammed back into the pillows, his eyes and jaw squeezed shut, his spine so stiff he thought it might break.
He pumped her mouth full and couldn’t stop, years of pent-up lust and longing exploding from his aching dick with a force that felt ripped from his vitals. Her hungry moans made his head thrash; her greedy swallows barely kept up. Her evil fingers still worked his ass, coaxing every drop from him until he collapsed into the mattress.
Dripping with sweat, he forced his cramped fingers to release their grip on her hair. She gave one last hard suck, then straightened. In a distant part of his ecstasy-dazed mind, he heard her pad to the bathroom and run the sink. That short distance between them was too much. He needed her next to him, with him, where he could hold on to her and never let go again.
“Leave the light on when you come out,” he said gruffly. “Keep the door cracked.”
Layla stepped into view a moment later, naked and flushed and so damn beautiful his heart thudded painfully in his chest. His dick twitched, a response that shouldn’t have been possible after the orgasm that just shattered him, but wasn’t totally unexpected with her. He’d been built for her, designed to please her. As long as her hot little body was hungry for cock, his body was ready to give it to her.
“Come here.” His arms lifted to embrace her. “Kiss me.”
She draped her body over his. The moment their lips touched, Brian rolled her beneath him, his head angling to form a tighter seal. His tongue thrust in slow and easy, stroking alongside hers, gliding over the soft recesses. She quivered and moaned, surrendering, her body going lax and pliant beneath his. He pushed a thigh between hers, finding her pussy slick and swollen. She’d always gotten off on his pleasure. Because she loved him. He knew she loved him still or she couldn’t have touched him so intimately. But that didn’t mean she loved him like she used to, with her heart and soul, and not just because of fond memories and the connection they’d shared through Jacob.
Lifting from her, he bent his head and caught a hard, peaked nipple in his mouth. He groaned at the feel of her on his tongue, the joy of having her close, the relief from the constant ache he’d lived with the last five years of his life.
Layla bit her lip and whimpered as Brian’s tongue curled around the tip of her breast. The vibrations of his groan sent ripples of sensation skipping across her nerves. She arched her spine, fisting her hands in the bottom sheet. His skin was hot and damp to the touch, his scent sifting through her mind like intoxicating smoke.
From the time she was sixteen, she’d been drawn to his clean masculine smell. Her primal attraction to him had ultimately exposed her love to her brother. Jacob had caught her sleeping in one of Brian’s shirts and he tore her a new one. It was Brian who told him to lay off, waving her thievery aside as if it was just aggravating kid sister shit. But he’d shot her a look that gave him away, a look that revealed a tempered hunger that made her ache. She’d known then that he was aware of her the way she wanted him to be—as a woman.
The next two years of waiting to turn eighteen had seemed endless. Just as the last five had.
“Brian.” She touched his broad shoulders, stroking over the lean flexing muscles with a soft hum of delight.
He bit lightly on her nipple, the tip elongated by his suckling. Nuzzling his way across her chest, he paid the same focused attention to her other breast, plumping the swollen flesh with his large callused hand. She was barely a handful, but he worshipped her tits as if they were the best pair on the planet.
“You’re so beautiful,” he praised, squeezing her hip before sliding lower. “I’ve dreamed of having you like this again . . . hungered for it until it gnawed at me. Your body is like food and water to me, Layla. I can’t live without it.”
She closed her eyes, fighting back tears and words she couldn’t afford to say.
When he slid between her thighs, she opened to him as he’d opened to her. Not just to take pleasure, but to give it. Knowing the sounds she made, her unrestrained reactions to his touch soothed something ferocious inside him.
Brian draped her leg over his shoulder, his lips kissing their way down her inner thigh to the tender flesh clenching in emptiness. She’d felt empty for so long. So lonely and alone.
She had walked away from him because she’d needed to be the one that left, instead of the one that was always left behind. She knew she couldn’t survive another official car pulling up to her house, carrying men bearing the news that someone else she loved was gone forever. She had cut the tie first, but she’d paid the price. She was still paying it.
He pressed a soft kiss to her clit, then massaged it with the pointed tip of his tongue.
“Lat
er,” she said, staying him.
His head lifted, his gaze meeting hers. His smile was wolfish, but it faded. Whatever he saw on her face, he knew what she needed.
He came over her in a rippling display of gorgeously delineated biceps, washboard abs, and long thick cock. Biting her lip, she slung one leg over his hip, wanting him inside her more than she wanted to live to see another day. A soft sound escaped her when she felt the wide crest part the slick folds of her pussy.
“Shh, baby. I’ve got you.” Brian cupped her buttock, canting her slightly, making it easier for her to take the first hard inch.
Heat flared across skin, flushing her.
“So pretty,” he murmured, pushing deeper. “I love the way you blush when I slide into you. And, God . . . I fucking love the way you feel. So tight and hot. So slick. Your cunt gets so wet for me.”
She lifted her hips, needing faster and deeper. “Hurry.”
His gaze was on her face, tender and searching. “Didn’t we already talk about rushing?”
“I need you in me. You can slow down once you’re there.”
“You’re tight as a virgin, Layla.” He slid a fraction deeper, his eyes darkening as her pussy rippled greedily. “You feel like you did the first time I had you.”
Turning her head, she pressed her hot cheek into the cool pillowcase. She’d tried starting a relationship with someone else, gave it her best shot and stayed with great guys longer than she should have. But after a couple years of trying her damnedest, she’d given up. She was hurting men who didn’t deserve to be hurt and she was hurting herself.
Brian caught her face in both hands. “Open your eyes, Layla.”
Her neck arched as he withdrew a little bit, then pushed deeper.
“Look at me,” he coaxed. “Let me watch you take my cock.”
Her lids lifted. She watched him, too. Watched his skin tighten over his cheekbones, watched the pleasure cross his face like the sweetest agony. He worked into her with slow easy drives, holding her gaze as the connection deepened. Tugging him closer with her legs, Layla lifted as he bore down, the pleasure hot and drugging.
