CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Layla
As we cruise through Harmony, the summer night air is thick and humid.
I cling to Sean and watch the lights of the town go by, and I realize that I have no idea what to expect from the home of Sean Hunter.
He’s never talked about where he lives and won’t give me any sort of hint.
The mystery that surrounds him makes me want to learn every last thing about him.
“Not what you expected?” Sean asks, unclipping my helmet and hanging it from his handlebars.
“Honestly? Not at all.”
“What did you expect?”
“Either … all white walls and stainless-steel furniture, or a manly cabin somewhere in the middle of nowhere.” Sean tugs on the lapels of my leather jacket and pulls me close.
“I didn’t expect an upscale home in the middle of one of the nicest neighborhoods in Harmony, but I’ve resolved myself to the fact that, when it comes to you, I’ll always be a little nervous because I have no idea what to expect, Sean Hunter. ”
“Good. I like you a little nervous, little dove,” he says bending down to grip my face between his broad palms. His delicious cedar and leather scent washes over me as he kisses me, my insides pooling with fire as his tongue sweeps into my mouth and meets my own.
He pulls back just short of my knees giving out and looks deep into my eyes.
“I’m nervous because this …” I motion between us. “This intense sort of feeling, a man who claims you as his own and tattoos your name on his face within days of meeting you? It just doesn’t happen in real life.”
Sean takes hold of my hand and places it under his cut over the thin cotton of his black t-shirt, where I feel his heart beating fast under my fingers.
“What is real life?” he asks. “This is real.”
There are no sounds aside from insects buzzing in the night. Sean slides my hand down to feel his cock through his jeans. It’s hard and ready for me. “This is real,” he whispers. “Nothing else matters, Layla. You just have to open the door to that cage and fly out.”
“I want to,” I say honestly. “But the people I loved left me alone with their ghosts and lies. What if … you’re just like them?” I add meekly.
“I’m just like me. I’ll never lie to you about who I am. I’ll never hurt you and I will skin any motherfucker alive who does you wrong. That is who I am. I don’t give a fuck about anything else—what is normal or accepted. Those things are illusions. Those things aren’t real.”
He kisses me again until I’m breathless and desperate for him. Then he chuckles and runs a thumb over my swollen bottom lip.
“Let’s go inside before I tear your clothes to shreds in my driveway,” he says gruffly. Sliding his hand down my arm, he laces his fingers through mine. I recognize it as a gesture he does often and find comfort in the familiarity of it as we walk.
“Is that an apartment?” I ask looking over my shoulder at the garage as he leads me to a door at the side of the house.
“Yeah, my mom lives up there,” he says as he unlocks the door.
Of course she does. “That’s sweet you gave your mom her own space.”
Sean looks back at me as he walks into the house. “Sweet has nothing to do with it. If she’s here, I can keep her safe.”
Oh.
Sean flicks on a light as we enter the kitchen.
Of course his house is pristine. It smells clean and like Sean.
There are walnut beams lining the ceiling in the kitchen.
It’s vaulted and there’s a skylight overhead.
The cabinets are walnut on top and white on the bottom and the counters look like polished white concrete.
Everything is modern but keeps with the traditional style of the house.
The island has to be eight feet long, and on the other side of it is a dining room with a big harvest table and bench seating.
It’s apparent the space was opened up at some point.
The stools at the island are iron and leather, and the counters are clean and bare, save for a fancy-looking blender and a coffee maker.
Should I be surprised that there aren’t any pictures on the stainless-steel refrigerator, or even a magnet?
I notice the rest of the house is absolutely spotless as he takes me around, showing me the living room with overstuffed leather furniture.
The only thing on the walls is a large mirror behind the sofa.
The floors are polished hardwood, and there’s a long narrow table on the other wall near the front foyer, but nothing is on it.
It would be the perfect place to display photos.
He shows me his bedroom—light gray walls and a massive king-size bed with a wooden headboard.
It’s rustic and masculine just like the rest of the house.
His bathroom is white tile and there’s a clawfoot tub in the center that looks too big to be original yet still somehow fits with the style of the house.
A state-of-the-art home office that I imagine was once another bedroom is behind double glass doors.
“That’s where I work, for both the club and my job,” he offers simply. I nod and look around.
“Do you have anything personal?”
Sean shrugs. “The past is the past. But I’m not a complete heathen. I have a box of things that mean something to me.”
“I think maybe I’d like to see that.” I smile up at him and he nods.
“I’d like to see you spread out on my bed naked.” He begins to unbutton my jacket. “Now.”
“Uh-uh, Sergeant. First you need your massage. I’m not neglecting my job. You hired me for a reason, and we said massages every other day. We’re already behind.”
“I don’t have a massage table,” he says. “And my back is fine.”
“I don’t need it. Just take your clothes off and stretch out on your bed for me,” I say as sternly as I can. “Now.”
“Fuck,” he growls into my lips. “I don’t know why, but that commanding shit is totally working for me.”
“Good.” I reach up and peck his lips. He gives me a look that says he doesn’t hate me bossing him around. I go with it just to test him. “Then do as you’re told.”
Fifteen agonizing minutes later, Sean is struggling to get through his massage, doing his best to touch me and distract me every chance he gets.
As I lean over him and move my hands in slow, deliberate strokes on his oil-soaked back to work out the knots he has around the area of his slipped disc, he’s busy sliding his hands up the backs of my jean-clad thighs.
I laugh and back away as he squeezes the fleshy part of my upper thigh tight, and he even bites my thigh in his best effort to entice me. I tilt his chin up and he gives me the mischievous smirk I’m starting to find impossible to resist.
“You’re touching me. It’s only fair I can touch you,” he says mischievously.
“You promised dedication. You can make it five more minutes.”
Sean pulls me closer, his upper arms flexing deliciously as he does, and buries his face between my legs over my jeans, groaning, “I told you, I’m weak. I don’t think I can.”
“I’ll tell you what,” I say, backing up again.
I’m learning his love language is physical touch and connection, so I think I can use it to my advantage to get through this massage.
“Every minute you make it, I’ll remove a piece of clothing.
I only need five uninterrupted minutes, and then if you play your cards right, you’ll have me naked by the time I’m through,” I offer with a grin.
“Deal,” he says without hesitation. “Although I don’t know why I didn’t think about having you naked the entire time. From now on, I’ll let you give me as many massages as you want if you aren’t wearing any clothes.”
“We’ll never get through it.” I shake my head with a smile.
Sean folds his arms under his chin and I pull my phone out of my back pocket and set a five-minute timer. I crouch down and kiss him on the lips, realizing I love to make Sean weak for me. I love feeling in control of a man who doesn’t give up his power easily.
“Now be a good boy, and I’ll give you a prize.”
“Fucking Christ, woman. I’m not going to last one second with you talking to me like that,” Sean rasps into my lips. I straighten up and he grabs at me. I place my first finger on the end of his nose.
“Stay,” I hum with a laugh, to which he snarls at me then barks like a dog, and even that is somehow hot. I laugh, pushing him as he groans and drops his face down.
“Let’s get these five minutes over with,” he grunts.
I stand and press start on the timer, leaving the phone on the bed so he can watch it, and then I begin to finish his massage, uninterrupted.
At four minutes remaining I lift my shirt off over my head and toss it to the floor.
At three, just to fuck with him, my socks, but Sean doesn’t argue; I think he likes the anticipation of what’s to come just as much as I do.
At two I don’t have a choice—he unbuttons my jeans and yanks them down before I have a chance to stop him.
I kick them aside and stand before him in just my red lacy bra and thong.
“Red lace?” he deadpans. “Are you trying to fucking kill me?” He immediately moves to bury his face between my thighs.
“Uh-uh,” I remind him, sternly. My pussy throbs with my own words, my dominating stance with him turning my insides to fire before he’s even touched me.
The last minute begins, and I remove my bra, widening my legs just to torture him.
He groans as he keeps his eyes trained on the timer.
I don’t think he even blinks as I finish the last few seconds.
The moment the alarm sounds Sean moves to his knees, his hardened cock bobbing as he grabs me by my waist and tosses me down onto the bed.
My breasts bounce as my back hits his soft comforter and he tears my panties from my body, dropping the scraps aside and staring down at me hungrily.
I wait, my breath shallow. Eager and desperate.
I take in the sight of him, his hard body flexed and the veins in his arms bulging as he strokes his thick solid cock.
My eyes lock with his as every dirty, depraved thought he brings out in me comes rushing to my lips.
“Time for my massage now, Boss?” I beg way too sweetly, just to fuck with him.
A deep growl erupts from Sean’s chest as he flips me over, squeezing my ass so hard I whimper.
“No, little dove. Time for your punishment.”