Chapter 19
Layla
My skin heats despite the cool temperature of the pool, and I rub my thighs together when Russell, Paul, and, surprisingly, Max step out of the garage gym, all stripped down to just their athletic shorts and shoes, sweat pouring off of them. Max and Paul have only a smattering of hair on their chests, while Russell is the opposite with unbelievably sexy chest hair, his biceps and calves nearly twice the size of Max’s. I scoop water up to pat my cheeks and neck, gaze locked on the flex of Russell’s abdominal muscles when he slows and swaggers toward me with a smug smirk.
“No, I definitely get it now,” Cora says to my side, helping Gauge float in the water in one of his swim diapers we ran out in Russell’s truck to get since we also both needed swimsuits and sunscreen. “I thought he was old and fat—no offense,” she says quickly. “I mean, I usually like ‘em skinny as a toothpick, but now…” She drops her voice low. “I can see the appeal. Mature and thick. The money is just an added bonus.”
I huff. “Stop looking at my husband,” I tease, splashing her with water and making her laugh .
We both scream and shield Gauge when all three men kick off their shoes and jump into the pool at the same time, creating a tidal wave that throws the water over the edge of the aquamarine tiles, drenching the stone patio. I crow with laughter when Russell pops up behind me and scoops me up, tickling my waist.
Kissing the crook of my shoulder as he turns me around, he asks, “What was that? Did you just call me your husband?”
I bite my bottom lip and toy with the wet strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. “Is that a problem?”
“You know it’s not,” he says with a husky voice, working his lips across my jaw.
Max does the same with Cora, and I see it—the flash of the man she fell in love with when he twirls her and Gauge around, giving her a big fat kiss after telling her how pretty she looks in her one-piece red swimsuit, a twinkle in both their eyes.
After a minute, Paul hops out and lies back on a towel beside the pool, one arm propped under his head as a pillow, thumbing open a thick paperback with two dragons on the cover that I want to borrow when he’s finished.
“I wish it could always be like this,” I tell Russell, wrapping my legs around his waist while he supports me with his hands on my bottom, resting his back against the ledge in the deep end.
Russell’s face turns serious when he says, “It could be. I’ve done the research.” One hand drifts over my hip to splay across my belly. “Got it all planned out.”
It suddenly becomes hard to breathe, my chest constricting. “What plan?”
“I switched to the best health insurance I could find. Once we’re married and I get you added to my plan, I’ll threaten whoever I need to in order to get your surgery approved.”
Tears mix with the pool water dripping down my face. “Surgery doesn’t mean I’ll magically be able to have children. It’s to lessen the pain. It…it could increase my chances of getting pregnant, but it’s not a guarantee. And any endo they remove could grow back.”
“I know that, too. My insurance covers IUI and IVF. If you want, after you recover from your surgery, we can explore the best option for us.”
I smash my lips against Russell’s, sobbing into his mouth while I hug him so tight around his neck that I threaten to cut off his air supply. He carries me out of the pool, stepping through our private doors into our bedroom while I attempt to lock my ankles around his back. I only rip my mouth away to say, “Shower.”
Neither of us bother with fully undressing when Russell stands me on the tile floor with my right foot propped on the stool. I shove his stretchy waistband down enough to draw his hard cock out while he yanks on the knots tying my sky blue bikini bottoms together. One knot gets tangled, but the other comes loose, giving him enough access to push his cockhead inside me when he bends his knees.
And then we’re both moving, rolling our hips while our tongues slide across each other’s, and I don’t care that I haven’t had time to properly grow wet enough with arousal to take all of him—I just need it. Need him. Right now…until I inevitably jerk and hiss as my muscles clench.
“No, no!” I clutch Russell when he immediately retreats. “Don’t stop.”
“I have to, darlin’. Need to get you worked up first to take me. ”
“Wait.” I grip Russell’s waistband to keep him from pulling all the way out, leaving only his tip inside me. “Let me—like this.” His knees nearly buckle when I fist his shaft and stroke it, tightening and relaxing my hand until I find the pressure he likes. “Cum inside me, Daddy.”
“Fuuuuuuu—” Russell slaps his hands to the wall behind me, his large body trembling with his hot, rushed release.
When he recovers, though his cock takes time to reharden, he slants his mouth over mine, moving a hand between us to play with my clit. My back bows as he pushes deeper within me, applying more pressure.
“That’s it, darlin’. Open up for me. You want it, don’t you?”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” I repeat, gasping when my core relaxes enough to take more of his half-hard length. “I want all of you inside me.”
“I’ll give it to you. Just need you to let go and let me do my job. Let me take care of you.”
I whimper and arch, dropping my head back as I cling to his shoulders, rocking my hips against his fingers.
“There you go. That’s perfect. My little Layla. Going to open up and take all of me…right…now.” He grunts, burying himself inside me, fully hard again. “Oh, good girl. Such a good girl. You’re ready now, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes. Make love to me.”
As furiously fast as I brought him to orgasm, he’s the opposite in bringing me to mine, his hands slowly exploring my body.
“Faster, Daddy.” I scrape my nails down his back, hoping it will spur him on.
Russell shakes his head, licking my bottom lip as he grips my backside and squeezes. “Feel it. Feel me inside you.” He exaggerates the roll of his hips so that I feel every single inch of him when he slides fully in and out of me. “We don’t have to rush, darlin’. We’ve got all the time in the world, now.”
My mouth drops open with a moan, his lips on my throat, my hips flexing so I can take him as deep as possible. “I feel you.”
His voice is lower, gruff when he says, “It should have been like this all along. You and me. This.”
I shove my fingers into his hair, murmuring against his lips, “I should have been with you. You were with me all that time.”
“Yes, darlin’. I’ve been caught up in your whirlwind from the moment you first walked into Granny’s diner. Been wanting you exactly like this. My woman. My little darlin’. My wife.” His next thrust is harder, our thighs clapping together. “You were mine long before you ever knew.”
“I knew,” I breathe out, arching my back deeper. “I used to dream about you waiting for me outside, ready to whisk me off if I ever had the courage to leave.”
He’s finally moving faster now. “You weren’t dreaming. I was there, sleeping in my truck outside your house and apartment nearly every night, waiting for you. I never would have stopped waiting.” His brows dip when I whimper. “Does that scare you?”
I tug his strands. “I’ve never been scared of you.”
“Even when I was following you?”
“ Especially when you were following me. You were keeping me safe.”
“Yes,” he admits, thrusting deep within me.
“Because you loved me.”
“And I always will.” He slants his lips over mine.
This time, when I scrape my nails over his sides, Russell takes me harder, quickening his pace and giving us what we both need to cum together, just as we should have and always will.
* * *
Russell
It doesn’t matter that Layla and I have spent the majority of our afternoon either in the shower or bed, only taking a break to eat on the patio with our family before Layla dragged me back to our bedroom with simply a hot look in her eyes—I’m hard in an instant when Layla steps into the living room where we’re waiting for her. She’s all fancied up with rosy cheeks, dark lashes, and loose, bouncy curls, wearing a body-hugging navy blue dress and the new whiskey-brown western boots I gifted her an hour ago. If I thought her white boots and jean shorts were sexy, they’ve got nothing on this outfit, drawing attention to the long lines of her legs I had spread wide for me not too long ago.
Stunned speechless, I stumble forward, ready to sling her over my shoulder, when Max opens his mouth. “Little short, don’t you think?”
Layla looks herself over and slides her hands down her dress as if that’ll lengthen the hem.
I tuck Layla under my arm and turn toward the group hovering at the side door to the driveway. “How about you let me worry about my beautiful wife, and you worry about your…girlfriend?”
Max laughs as if I said something funny, stuffing his hands in his light blue jeans. “She’s not your wife yet.”
“But she will be soon. Very soon, if I have my way.” Layla wraps her arms around me, and I sense her smile even if I’m looking directly at Cora, dressed in the kind of bell-bottom type jeans I haven’t seen since I was a kid and a white T-shirt knotted above her belt. I ain’t too proud of myself when I mutter a phrase I didn’t understand until this very moment: “Don’t let your boyfriend stop you from finding your husband.” Max puffs out his chest, and I laugh as insincerely as he did. “Relax. It was just a joke.”
“Yeah, real funny,” Max grumbles.
Cora, on the other hand, has a million thoughts swirling behind her hazel eyes while she frowns at Max.
Paul clears his throat, standing apart from us in his own little bubble, having smartly avoided Max for the rest of the day. “I think it’s time we head out.”
Another thing I ain’t too proud of is being grumpy when Layla forked over her hard-earned money to have Max’s car repaired. I’ve been intentionally parking my truck to block her car in with its brand new windshield, selfishly wanting to continue driving her around. Maybe I’ll let her drive alone once I can convince her to let me buy her a new car. Maybe .
Max and Cora follow behind the three of us in my truck to Wyatt’s mama’s house, where she and Dolly’s mom will be babysitting all the youngsters. Introductions are short since the women wave us off with promises that four children under the age of three—Dolly and Wyatt’s sons, William and Weston, and Davis and Goldie’s daughter, Lily, plus Gauge—won’t be too much to handle for one night. Angels, the two of them.
It’s a half-hour’s drive to Big Hart’s Dance Hall, named after a local legend, Mrs. Hart, located way out in the boonies. It’s our region’s hidden gem, and you’d miss the barn-type building if you weren’t looking for it. Plenty of people have found it tonight, though. The paved lot is packed, vehicles spilling out to park in the surrounding fields, country western music pumping loudly from the inside and outside speakers.
“I can’t believe this has been here the whole time,” Layla says when I urge her forward with my hand on her lower back, her head on a swivel. Bar-height tables with backless stools form a U around the central dance floor, a squat railing separating the two areas, with a stage at the back large enough to fit an eight-person live band. “It’s huge. A person could get lost in here.”
“Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll keep a close eye on you so you don’t get lost.”
Layla giggles. “Are you going to follow me around, Daddy?”
“I just might.” I wink, spinning her around as soon as we step onto the polished wooden floor, dancing her away with one arm around her back, clutching her hand in the air as we join the couples already making laps. The lights hanging from the exposed, pitched beams are a warm yellow, set low enough that a couple could get a little frisky if they wanted to, but not so low that you can’t see where you’re going. When Layla steps on my toes and trips over her own feet a few times, I raise my voice to be heard over the band. “Have you ever been dancing before?”
“No. This is harder than it looks. Sorry.”
I slow and count our steps out loud until she finds the rhythm. “So what I’m hearing you say is we need more practice. A lot more practice.”
There goes my dick, bulging against my zipper when her cheeks pinken at the innuendo. When I spin her around, swaying with her from side to side, I think she intentionally grinds her backside against me, her eyes fluttering shut when I glide my hand low across her belly before turning her around again.
“This is fun,” Layla murmurs, eyes shining bright when the song ends and a slower one begins. “Maybe with enough practice, we could do something like this, rent a dance hall, maybe even this one, for our wedding reception. What do you think?”
I dip her, making her laugh when she hikes her knee up my side, then kiss the crook of her shoulder up to her jaw when I pull her to my chest. “I think I’m going to drag you out to the truck and kiss your pussy if you keep talking about our wedding in that sexy little dress of yours, Mrs. Berenson.”
Layla’s eyes are hooded now, and she slips her hands between us to grip my vintage pearl-snap button-down just above my belt buckle. “I want to hire Violet to plan the wedding. There’s a lush area on the property with a ton of old oaks that would be perfect for our ceremony, then—”
I spin her and gently but quickly guide her toward the exit, planning to make good on my promise to kiss her into an orgasm.
As loud as the music is, the Granny’s Girls are even louder when they rush onto the dance floor before we make it three steps, talking over one another in flouncy dresses and boots, pulling Layla away, exclaiming over her engagement ring.
Layla gives me an apologetic wince while I discreetly readjust my dick, and she rolls up on her tiptoes, scanning the hall until she finds Cora and Max standing by themselves in a dark corner just past the bar on the left. She jumps and waves Cora over, and I pop my knuckles when Max stops Cora with his hand on her elbow. I’m too far away to hear what they’re saying, but I can take a wild guess when Cora wrenches her arm out of Max’s hold, then hurries toward the girls.
Maybe Cora wasn’t ready to hear what we had to say about Max yesterday. After tonight, with any luck, she will be.