Chapter 22 #2
“I prefer the term giver.”
Her laughter stops abruptly as she lifts a finger. “I am not touching that one.”
Winking, I sit back. “Come on, tell me what you want. I won’t judge. Actually, I’m excited about all of this and honored you feel safe enough with me to do it.”
That sobers her up. She looks at me then, as if she can find the answers to all her questions just by staring at me.
She makes a sharp point with the fabric of her dress again. “I don’t just want things done to me. I want to…experiment…with you.”
I stop breathing.
My heart stops beating.
I think I stop existing.
Oh my fucking god.
All those nights I laid in bed thinking about the girl with the sharp tongue, with the fiery red hair and sunshine attitude, and imagining what I’d do to her are coming true.
“Do you know what you want to do?” I manage to get out.
She licks her lips. “Yes. Believe it or not, books can be very…eye-opening in that department.”
Oh I know that.
That book she was talking about earlier? The one she’s read a hundred times, the one I secretly listened to, the one I took inspiration from for our first date? That was eye opening. It was raunchy. No, more than raunchy—it was graphic.
So much so I want to see what she annotated in that book.
I put my arms on my knees purely to hide the bulge in my pants.
“That’s…exciting to hear, to say the least.” Her chuckle slithers down my back.
“That’s good that you want that. It means we can take things slow.
” Take my time is more like it. “No one just jumps into sex straight off the bat and I know you’re eager to get on with it, but I want your first time to be special. ”
“Slow.”
“Slow,” I parrot.
Layla nods, her thoughts right there in her eyes for me to read. “I don’t know how to ask for what I want.”
Her quiet confession has my heart melting just that little bit more for her.
“That’s okay,” I reassure her. Moving closer, she’s forced to tip her head back as I say, “Just one thing. Tell me one thing you read about that you want to do.”
Her eyes close as her chest rises and falls in quick succession. “Talking.”
“You like dirty talk, sunshine?”
She blinks at the deep timbre of my voice. “I think so,” she murmurs.
Reaching up, I slowly move her hair off her shoulder, my fingers trailing down to her pulse point where it hammers wildly in her neck. “Tell me,” I drawl. “How does this make you feel?”
She’s all but panting. “G-good.”
I cup her jaw gently, my thumb brushing back and forth across her bottom lip as I lower my head, hovering my face an inch from hers. “And how would it make you feel if I told you to part your lips and suck?”
A small noise escapes her, part shock and part moan. Her hand darts out to grip my shirt. I don’t think she knows if she should pull me closer or push me away.
She does neither as she holds me where I am.
“More than good,” she confesses.
I smile against her ear as I drawl, “Then you like talking, sunshine.”
I knew that would be the case, there was far too much dirty talk in that favorite book of hers. And by the way her legs are pressed together, Layla more than enjoys it.
It takes every ounce of self-restraint to pull away from her. Removing my hand is like a punishment straight to my soul, especially as she sits there panting, her eyes heavy-lidded and lips parted.
Her hand is still fisting my shirt.
She wants me.
And fuck does that feel good.
“What else do you want?” I ask.
My question pulls her from her thoughts and she ever so slowly lets go of my shirt. Her eyes flit from mine to the floor to the windows at the front. She’s quiet for a moment, pensive.
“There’s one thing that I seem to enjoy.”
Even talking about sex, she sounds sophisticated and elegant.
Smiling to myself, I ask, “And what is that?”
“I’m not sure what it’s called because I’ve researched both voyeurism and exhibitionist and it doesn’t quite fit.”
Every nerve ending in my body sparks to life.
My blood rushes in my ears, my heart all but leaping from the confines of my rib cage.
Layla and this list are far outweighing any fantasy I ever conjured up.
“Describe it to me.”
She gets this faraway look, her cheeks remaining rosy. “Anything that is public. The sheer thought of getting caught sets my body on fire. I don’t want anyone to actually see me but—”
“You like the idea, the risk behind getting caught and the knowledge that you shouldn’t be doing it.”
Her cheeks flame as she nods.
Now I understand the constant glances behind me. She’s looking at the large windows lining the front wall, the ones that show a clear view of the parking lot.
The very deserted, very dark parking lot.
All the restaurants that are open near here are on the other side of the shopping center, and even though I’m wrapped up in everything Layla is saying, I haven’t spotted anyone walk past. Where we’re sitting is even at the back of the store, only a sliver of the reading nook visible from the street.
My cock twitches painfully at the idea that comes to mind.
Peering back over my shoulder to make sure no one is outside, I glance down at my watch to see we’ve still got this place all to ourselves for some time.
Sliding closer, I place my arm over the back of the couch, cocooning Layla into my side.
Her eyes slide to mine, confusion swirling as she asks, “What are you doing?”
Watching her face intently so I can spot if she gives any hint she doesn’t like something, I lay my left hand on her knee. I lower my head, sheltering her from the street so if anyone did walk past all they’d see is me sitting on the couch.
Trailing small circles on her knee, I watch as she licks her lips. “What do you feel when I touch you?”
Her eyes widen to saucers, darting behind my shoulder then to my hand on her knee before finally moving back to my face. “Now?” she squeaks.
“Mm-hmm,” I murmur.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her legs squeezing together.
She’s turned on.
She doesn’t answer me, her shyness stealing her tongue as I flatten my palm on her knee, gently brushing my rough calloused hand up her leg. The movement steals her breath.
Dropping my head so I’m only an inch away from her lips I ask, “How does it make you feel?”
“Hot,” she breathes. “Needy.”
Our eyes collide—mine the deepest blue of the ocean, hers the shore of the tropics. My hand drifts just that little bit higher, her dress bunching around my wrist as I tease her thigh.
“Do you want me to touch you?” I ask.
She lifts her chin a fraction, the movement making our lips unexpectedly brush against one another. The spark that races down my spine has me squeezing her thigh as a deep growl hits the back of my throat.
To my utter delight, she parts her legs a fraction, giving me space to climb higher. “Yes,” she whispers, her hot breath across my face.
If Layla reached out and stroked me right now, I’d come in my pants.
I’ve never been so turned on in my life and I haven’t touched her, let alone even kissed her yet.
“You’re not as innocent as people think, are you, sunshine?”
Layla shakes her head, our lips brushing again as I move my hand higher. She leans forward, urging my hand to continue, but I keep us suspended as I torment and tease her.
“How badly do you want my fingers on your clit?”
Her hand snaps out, gripping my thigh as she squeezes, her breaths growing labored as she moves closer, our lips dancing along each other’s and yet not in the way we both want.
“I’m desperate for it,” she confesses.
“Beg me.”
Her eyes snap up. “Beg?”
I nod, my index finger brushing over her underwear ever so softly. The touch is barely there, but she whimpers all the same. Her other hand reaches out and fists my shirt again as her hips begin to seek out friction.
I tsk, moving my hand away. “Give me what I want, sunshine.”
She’s panting against my lips as the hand fisting my shirt tugs me closer. “Please, Kieran.”
“Please what?”
“Touch me.”
No sooner have the words left her lips are my fingers are dipping into her panties and brushing across her swollen clit. Her hips buck off the couch, her eyes closing as she moans into my mouth.
With my thumb on her clit, I slowly slide a finger inside her, feeling how snug she is and savoring the warmth surrounding my fingers.
“You’re so beautiful like this. So carefree.”
Her head is nodding, our foreheads pressed against each other as I whisper, “How does it make you feel to know that anyone could walk by, that anyone could see me finger fucking you on this couch?” She sucks in a deep breath, her eyes fluttering open to lock on mine as I smirk. “Look at how wet that makes you.”
I wasn’t lying, she’s completely drenched. My hand is soaked, and by the way her muscles are clamping, she’s close.
“That’s it, baby, ride my hand. Show me how good I make you feel.”
A deep moan leaves her lips and those gorgeous eyes squeeze tightly shut again.
Sliding my free hand along her neck and into the back of her hair, I gently grip it, holding her to me as I whisper, “That’s it, Layla. Rock against my hand, come on my fingers, baby, and moan my name as you do.”
She’s groaning into my mouth, her hand fisting my shirt pulling me closer as her hips rock relentlessly against my hand, but I can tell she needs something, just a little push over the cliff.
Reaching forward I dart my tongue across her lower lip and whisper, “You have to be quiet, sunshine, otherwise someone’s going to come walking around the corner to check what’s happening.
” My voice is gravelly, my thighs tense as I try my fucking hardest not to come in my pants.
“Wouldn’t want a stranger to get turned on seeing you come on my hand. ”