12. Merlin
12
MERLIN
I’m in purgatory.
I’d bet my next paycheck this is what hell feels like.
Leila soft and warm in my arms isn’t something I thought I’d get to experience ever again. Yet here we are. And it feels like punishment knowing that’s all I get — her in my arms. God, I’d give almost anything to be able to sink into her tight, wet heat and lose myself in her. To hold onto her and never let her go. But she’s not mine anymore. I lost that right a long time ago.
No, I didn’t lose the right; I threw it away through sheer stupidity.
Now, I get to take my lumps. So, instead of giving in to the need, I recite football plays, baseball scores, anything to will this hard-on away. The last thing I want is for Leila to think I’m trying to get into her pants. I mean, come on. I’d have to be halfway to dead not to want her. And even then, I’m not sure I wouldn’t want her still. But she’s been through hell these last few days.
For the second time in twenty-four hours, I find myself at peace with the world, simply laying here beside her. The familiar scent of her enveloping me in a sense of calm and serenity I experience at no other time. One of the many gifts of this amazing woman.
It isn’t long before I follow her into sleep, although for how long I don’t know before a soft chirp signals an incoming message. Shit, I should have put my phone on silent to avoid disturbing Leila.
Speaking of, she moves restlessly against me, and I have to bite back a groan as her tight little ass rubs against my erection. I’m about to slip out of the bed when she sighs and rolls toward me. She burrows her nose into my neck, her arm settling across my chest. And I can’t help myself. I sink my fingers into the long, burnished copper strands of her hair and wrap the soft tresses around my hand.
Fuck, I love the silky soft feel of her hair. Another little thing I’ve locked away and not thought about in years. The slide of those silken strands trailing over my chest and down my stomach ... nope, not going there. I’m already going through hell, and thoughts like those aren’t helping.
I shake off the images and become aware of Leila staring up at me, her eyes roving over my face. And what I wouldn’t give to know what’s on her mind. Then, without thought, I tilt my head down and nibble on her soft bottom lip. Her sharp inhale has air flowing over my own lips, and I tilt my head to kiss her. For the barest moment in time, she hesitates before she opens to me.
This time I can’t prevent a groan from escaping. I cup her head in both my hands and deepen the kiss, pouring everything I feel but find myself unable to say into it. All the things I wish I could say but don’t have the courage to.
The hand resting over my heart tightens into a fist around my T-shirt, and I wish I could feel her touch on my bare skin. To have her rake her fingernails over me, just like she used to.
My fingers spread, the better to cradle her head as I deepen our kiss even further and encounter the edge of the medical tape that covers the stitches where the gun caught her temple.
What the fuck am I doing? I’m mauling Leila after she took a blow to the head that left her unconscious.
Jesus.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Disgusted with myself, I end the kiss, resting my forehead gently against hers. “I’m sorry, sweetness. This is the last thing you need after being attacked just a couple of days ago.”
“I’m fine, Kyle. Do I hurt? Sure. But I won’t break from a little loving. I’m not some fragile flower who needs to be treated with kid gloves.”
I pull my head back to study her face. “That may be so, but you were injured barely more than forty-eight hours ago. I don’t want to make it any worse. I couldn’t bear it if I made anything worse.”
“You won’t if you’re careful.”
“Are you sure this is what you want?” She nods. “I need the words, sweetness. Tell me what you want.”
“Please, Kyle. I want this – you.”
“You’ve got me.”
A sad look crosses her face, but she doesn’t say anything else. Merely reaches up and pulls me back down for another kiss. My hands find their way to the hem of her T-shirt of their own accord, and our lips separate long enough for me to pull it over her head carefully.
Then, wrapping my arms around Leila, I run the tip of my tongue over that pouty bottom lip of hers, silently asking her to open for me again. Desire streaks through me as she welcomes me in. Deepening the kiss as passion turns intense, she moans softly, and I harden painfully.
Somewhere in the back of my brain I know I shouldn’t be doing this. Yeah, Leila’s saying all the right words now, but sleepy Leila was always easy to seduce. But I also know beyond a shadow of a doubt, wide awake Leila’s going to be pissed she did this. I know my girl.
No. Not my girl. Not anymore. And I have no one to blame but myself.
Still, even aware that this will end badly, I’m too weak to say no. I want her so badly, I’ll suffer the consequences when she throws my ass out. Because she will. Her anger, evident in how she reacted on the ship, is clearly still raw, even after five years.
When we finally come back up for air, I lean down and nibble at the tender spot beneath her ear before working my way down towards her glorious tits. She arches into me, seeking more of my touch. My sweetness always was super responsive. Never shy to show me what she needs or how much she’s loving something I do.
Obliging her, I glide my hands down her torso, plumping the mounds together, licking first one nipple then the other. They harden into tiny pebbles under my tongue, begging for more. Leaning over her, I enclose one in the warm cavern of my mouth, tugging on it with my teeth.
Her body bows in response, and I hear her breath hitch.
“Hmm, like that do you?” She always did love it when I played with her tits.
She nods. “Yes,” she breathes.
Pressing them together, I weigh the firm bounty in my hands before turning my attention to her other breast. Giving it the same treatment, I draw the eagerly beaded bud into my mouth. She moans, long and low. God, I love how she’s so vocal in her pleasure. Always did.
Slowly, I work my way down her body, kissing and laving her silky soft skin as I go. Finally reaching my intended destination, I hook my fingers into the waistband of her pants and underwear, pulling them down her legs. I ease them off first one leg, then the other before flinging them over my shoulder.
I gaze down at her swollen and glistening pussy and let out a groan of my own. Reaching out a gentle finger to part her folds, I open her further to my gaze. With my shoulders, I part her legs to my questing mouth and trail open-mouthed kisses across the skin of her inner thighs. Coming back to her pussy, I nibble on her clit.
I can’t help the smile of satisfaction as Leila arches off the mattress, giving voice to her pleasure. Eating at her like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet, I can feel her get wetter. Getting ready to take me. I insert a finger, gliding in and out of her sensitized channel.
Her moan of pleasure makes me impossibly harder, so hard I think I might just come right out of my skin with need. Adding another finger, I thrust into her velvety, wet warmth and feel her muscles clench around them, a sure sign Leila’s winding up to go over the edge.
“That’s it, sweetness. Come for me. Let me taste you on my tongue. Let me hear you.”
Renewing my efforts, I lap at her wet folds.
Leila’s fingers thread through my hair, just the same as she used to. She tightens her grip, holding my head in place the better to grind on my face. Reaching for her orgasm, she begs for more.
“Oh God, so close. Please Kyle ...”
“What baby? Tell me what you need.”
“I want more — need more. Harder, baby.”
“I’ve got you sweetness. I’ll get you there.”
Crooking my fingers, I thrust them deeper and harder, hitting the tiny hidden bundle of nerves with each pass. I add my lips and teeth, and it isn’t long before I’m rewarded when she splinters apart all over my hand. God, I want inside her so badly. Even more than I want my next breath. And that’s the moment I realize I don’t have any protection. To be honest, it’s been a really long time since I needed any.
When I make no move to take things any further, she opens eyes glassy with passion.
“Kyle?”
Holding her gaze, I stroke the back of my hand down her silky-soft cheek. “I don’t have any condoms.”
I watch as, in the space of a single heartbeat, Leila goes from soft and sated to solid under me.
“Bathroom,” she whispers, her eyes tightly shut, not giving me any way to check in with her.
“Leila —”
“I’m going to be sick ...”