27. Layla #2
He hums against my flesh, the vibration making me shudder. Then he's sliding his fingers inside me, curling them forward to hit that perfect spot as his tongue circles my clit. The man can play me like an instrument, causing heat to build at the base of my spine.
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs against my heated flesh, adding a third finger that stretches me deliciously. “I could eat this sweet cunt all night.”
“Don't stop,” I beg, grinding against his face. “Please don't stop.”
When he sucks my clit between his lips while pumping his fingers deep inside me, I shatter, crying out his name as my orgasm slams into me.
But he doesn't stop, he clamps down on me, his fingers and tongue working in concert to draw out my climax until I'm trembling, oversensitive and desperate to be filled.
“Oh god, Bennett,” I pant, tugging at his shoulders. “I need you inside me. I need your cock.”
He rises, positioning himself between my thighs, head pressing against my entrance. Even after that intense orgasm, I clench at the contact, my body already craving more.
“Look at me,” he commands, one hand gripping my chin. “I want to watch your face while I stretch you open.”
Our eyes lock as he pushes inside with one powerful thrust, filling me completely. We both moan at the sensation. He's so thick, stretching me beautifully, hitting places inside me that make my vision blur.
“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he groans, buried to the hilt inside me. “Gripping me so tight. Like you were made for me.”
I clench around him deliberately, making him curse. “Move, Bennett. Fuck me hard. You know I love it hard.”
He complies, drawing back and slamming into me with such force that I have to grip the edges of the island to keep from sliding. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes in the kitchen as his rhythm quickly builds, each thrust driving me closer to another climax.
“You like that?” he pants, hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave marks. “Like feeling my cock stretch your little pussy?”
“Yes,” I cry out, reveling in the overwhelming sensation. “Harder, Bennett. Fuck me harder.”
His control snaps. He pounds into me with animalistic intensity. I can feel another orgasm building, pressure coiling tight in my core.
“I'm going to come,” I gasp, nails digging into his forearms. “Don't stop, I'm so close.”
“Give it to me,” he growls, one hand sliding between us to circle my clit. “Come all over my dick like the fucking angel you are.”
The combination of his fingers on my clit and his cock hitting my g-spot with every thrust sends me over the edge. I scream his name, my inner walls clamping down on him as ecstasy crashes through me.
Before I can fully recover, he's pulling out and lifting me, spinning us around to press my back against the wall. His strength is intoxicating. I love the way he can manhandle me so effortlessly, position me exactly how he wants me.
“Hold on to me,” he commands, lifting my legs to wrap around his waist.
With one thrust, he's inside me again, the new angle making him feel impossibly deep, and I cry out at the sensation.
“Fuck, yes,” he groans, setting a punishing pace. “You take my cock so beautifully. So fucking amazing.”
I cling to his shoulders, completely at his mercy as he drives into me with relentless force. Each thrust pushes me higher against the wall, my body trapped between the hard surface and his harder body.
“I love fucking you like this,” he pants against my neck. “Love feeling you helpless in my arms. You're mine, Layla. Say it.”
“I'm yours,” I gasp, the words torn from my throat. “Only yours. ”
“That's right.” His teeth find my pulse point, biting down just hard enough to mark me. “My pussy. My woman.”
The possessiveness in his voice combined with the relentless pressure of his pounding has me climbing toward another peak. I can feel it building, that familiar tension coiling tighter and tighter.
“Bennett,” I moan, head falling back against the wall. “I'm going to come again.”
“Not yet,” he says, suddenly stopping his movements. “Not until I say so.”
I whimper at the loss of friction, my body clenching around him desperately. “Please?—”
“Please what?”
“Please let me come,” I beg shamelessly. “I need it so bad.”
His smile is wicked. “Since you asked so nicely.”
He resumes his thrusts, even harder than before, and within seconds I'm dissolving in his arms, my orgasm hitting me like a freight train. My vision whites out, sensation so intense it borders on pain.
But he's not done with me yet. Still buried inside me, he carries me to the couch, turning me around and bending me over the back of it. The position leaves me feeling vulnerable, exposed, and impossibly aroused.
“I love seeing you like this,” he says, hands running over my ass before positioning himself at my entrance again. “Bent over, ready for me to do whatever I want to you.”
When he enters me from behind, my knees nearly buckle.
I’ve never been so thoroughly fucked, so impossibly turned on that I’ve come numerous times.
But here I am, taking him deep, my insides coiling again as he sets another punishing pace.
I think I might die as his hands clutching my hips with bruising force.
“You're dripping wet,” he groans, hand tangling in my hair, pulling my head back. “I can feel you soaking my thighs.”
The sensation is too much. Stars explode behind my eyes as I wonder if I’m about to pass out.
“I can't,” I babble, overwhelmed by sensation. “It's too much?—”
“You can,” he insists, never slowing his relentless pace. “Give me one more. I want to feel this pussy squeeze my cock again.”
I shake my head, certain it's impossible, but he's already proved tonight that my body is capable of more than I ever imagined. His fingers tease my clit with expert precision while his length drives deep inside me, and I feel myself climbing that impossible peak again.
When this orgasm hits, it's so powerful I actually scream, my knees giving out completely. Bennett catches me around the waist, supporting my weight as aftershocks ripple through me.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, voice heavy with approval. “So fucking good at coming for me.”
The praise sends warmth flooding through my chest even as my body continues to tremble with residual sensation. He's still hard inside me, still needing his own release, and I love that I can give him this, want him to take all that I have, give me everything of him.
“Bedroom,” I manage to gasp. “I can’t stand anymore, and I want you to come inside me.”
He groans at my words, carefully withdrawing before lifting me in his arms. My legs feel like jelly, useless, but he carries me like I’m made of feathers.
This time when he lays me on the bed, there's something different in his touch. Still heated, still desperate, but gentler now. More reverent.
“I will never tire of seeing you like this,” he says, voice hushed as he enters me slowly, letting me feel every inch as he fills me. My oversensitive body clenches around him, drawing a groan from deep in his chest. “So open. So mine.”
“Yours,” I agree, the word feeling like a vow.
He maintains this slower rhythm, building me back up with exquisite patience. My body responds despite my exhaustion, heat gathering once more like a storm on the horizon. It's different though—deeper, more intense, radiating from somewhere beyond the physical.
“Bennett,” I breathe, arms wrapping around his shoulders, drawing him closer until there's no space between us. “I need more.”
Without breaking rhythm, he takes my hand, guiding it between my legs. “Touch yourself,” he whispers against my lips. “I want to watch you.”
I comply, fingers finding my oversensitive clit while he maintains his steady thrusts. The sensation makes me gasp, my body already wound tight from multiple orgasms.
As I begin to circle that bundle of nerves, his free hand slips around behind me, exploring with gentle but insistent pressure.
“Trust me,” he breathes as his finger drags my wetness to a place no one has touched before.
I tense momentarily at the unfamiliar sensation, then surrender to his touch as he presses gently inside, creating a new dimension of fullness that has me gasping with surprised delight.
“Oh god,” I moan, overwhelmed by everything that’s happening inside my body. “Bennett?—”
“Let go,” he urges, voice strained with his own approaching climax. “Come with me, Layla. I want to feel you shatter. Just one more time, baby. Once more.”
With his cock deep inside me, my fingers on my clit and his finger exploring my ass, I’m pushed beyond what I thought possible. Ecstasy builds in waves that threaten to drown me, and I can feel him getting close too, his rhythm becoming erratic.
“Fuck, I love being inside you,” he groans, voice rough with the effort of holding back. “You're everything, Layla. Everything I never knew I needed.”
His words resonate deep within me as sensation builds to an unbearable peak. It's not just physical anymore. It's emotional too, this connection between us that feels bigger than both of us combined.
The climax that crashes over me is the biggest I’ve ever experienced.
It starts deep in my core and radiates outward, consuming every nerve ending until I'm shaking with the force of it.
And in that moment of complete surrender, when every wall I've ever built comes crashing down, I lose every ounce of my control.
“ Bennett !” His name bursts from my lips, a scream tearing from my throat as I come. “ I love you! ”
His rhythm falters for just a moment, his eyes flying to mine, wide with surprise. But then his own release overtakes him, and he buries his face in my neck, groaning my name as he finds his climax, his arms crushing me against him like he's afraid I might disappear. “Layla. ”
Afterward, as our breathing slows and reality seeps back in, I freeze, suddenly aware of what I've just said. What slipped out in the heat of the moment.
I've just told Bennett Mercer I love him.
During the most intense orgasm of my life.
Panic rises in my chest, but before it can fully take hold, Bennett lifts his head, his eyes finding mine. There's something in his expression I can't quite read. Surprise, yes, but also something softer. Warmer.
“You love me?” he asks, voice low and careful, as if he's testing the words.
My mouth suddenly feels dry. I could lie. Could play it off as something said in the moment, heat-of-passion words without weight. But looking into his eyes, I find I don't want to.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I didn't plan to say it like that. Or at all, yet. But... yes. I meant it.”
He's silent for a long moment, still inside me, still holding me close. I can feel his heart racing against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my own.
Then he presses his forehead to mine, eyes closing briefly before meeting my gaze again.
“No one has ever said that to me and meant it,” he says, voice rough.
The admission breaks my heart a little. I lift a hand to his face, fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. “I meant it, Bennett. I love you.”
Something in his expression shifts, softens. He doesn't say it back—I hadn't expected him to—but he kisses me with such tenderness that it feels like an answer of its own.
“Don't leave me,” he murmurs against my lips, and there's vulnerability in his voice I've never heard before. “I need you, Layla. More than I've ever needed anything.”
It's not ‘I love you,’ but it's something just as significant coming from him. A commitment. A promise. A plea.
“Never,” I whisper back, sealing the word with a kiss that tastes like forever. “I'm not going anywhere.”