Chapter 16
BLADE & LAYLA - A DAY IN THE LIFE
Five months after the Epilogue in Colt’s book
Layla
Monday
5:23 a.m.
My husband’s deep voice wakes me. Or maybe it’s his hand on my breast. Either way, he wakes me from a sleep I’m not ready to be woken from. Not even for what he wants to do to me.
“I’m still asleep,” I grumble, pushing his hand away.
He grinds his hard dick against my ass and brushes his lips against my ear. “You’re awake.”
“I promise you I’m not.”
His hand finds my breast again. “Let me wake you up.”
I desperately want to keep sleeping. I’m exhausted after a weekend of celebrating our son’s eighth birthday.
Between hosting a birthday party for him and twenty of his friends on Saturday morning, attending a Storm barbeque at their clubhouse on Saturday night, spending most of yesterday with Donovan’s mum, and having a sleepover here last night with Keaton, Sawyer’s cousin and best friend, I’m not ready to face today yet.
“What time is it?” I ask, squeezing my eyes so they stay closed.
My husband is the most determined man I know.
He’ll do everything in his power to fuck me this morning.
And since I love sex with him, I know I’m not getting any more sleep.
But I’m still sleepy enough to be in denial over that.
If I can just keep my eyes closed, maybe I can keep my legs closed too.
Donovan kisses my neck, giving me some teeth too because he knows that never fails to turn me on. “Almost five thirty.”
When he moves his hand down my body to find my clit, I say, “I’m divorcing you at the end of this life and finding a new husband for my next life.” The arch of my back as I say this, along with the moan that escapes my lips after, tells him another story though.
He circles my clit over and over before sliding his finger through my wetness. “Sweetheart, we both know I’m never allowing you to leave me. In this life. In our next life. In any fucking life.” He lightly bites my neck again as he pushes a finger inside me.
My eyes open, right alongside my legs.
I reach up to grip the back of his neck as I turn my face to his. “I’m going to try. It’ll be a fun game at least.”
The growl that comes from him right before his lips crash down onto mine is almost enough to make me orgasm.
I begin to roll to face him, but he’s already got his hands all over me and is taking charge of getting me where he wants me.
I’ve gone from not wanting to open my eyes to desperately wanting him inside me. Ten years of being with this man and I still can’t get enough of him.
Today, he spreads me out under him, his intense gaze all over my body, unleashing a torrent of need through me. That need only intensifies when his eyes land on my pussy and stay there.
I know what’s coming next.
And it can’t happen fast enough.
Hands flat to the bed either side of me, he dips his mouth to my chest and kisses my breasts.
He takes his time with each nipple, giving me his lips, his tongue, his teeth.
He then moves slowly down my stomach, giving me the same until he reaches my pussy, at which point he stops giving me anything except his eyes.
I allow him a few moments here. Donovan’s a visual man. He likes to watch me. To imagine what he’s going to do. To think about all the ways he’ll make me scream his name. But I’m always impatient for him, this morning being no different.
I sit up and reach my hands around his neck while bringing my mouth to his. Our kiss is rough, needy. Like our kisses always are. We’re unable to only go half in on anything that involves our bodies together.
When I let his lips go, I keep hold of him, my face close to his. My eyes search his. Breathlessly, I say, “I want you inside me and I don’t want to have to wait until you’ve tasted me.”
“Fuck,” he hisses, gripping my neck. Tightening his fingers around me, he says, “Lie down. I’m tasting you.”
“No. I need your dick.”
His eyes flash with fire. I’ve worked my husband up. A specialty of mine. One I hope never changes. “You’ll have my dick when I’m ready to give it to you.”
I feel all those words and the way he says them deep inside.
I might want his cock, but I want this more.
This push and pull that is always there between us.
This darker side of him.
I do as he says and a moment later, his fingers are on my clit.
“Spread your legs,” he orders, and when I do, he places his hands to my thighs to keep them wide and pressed to the bed while he bends his face to my pussy and licks me.
“Oh god,” I moan, reaching for the sheet. Grasping it, my back comes up off the bed as Donovan’s tongue pushes inside me.
He fucks me with it for a few moments before sliding out of me and sucking my clit into his mouth. Using his tongue, he does that thing he does that I wish I could have more often than the few times a week we manage to find time for.
In our next life, we’re not having kids or jobs.
We’re just having Donovan’s tongue and my clit.
Oh, and his stubble.
I never encourage him to get rid of that because it feels so damn good when he’s got his mouth between my legs.
I let go of the sheets and move my hands to his head. Donovan started shaving all his hair off a year ago and I can’t get enough of his bald look. I also love the feel of it and have my hands all over his head every time he gives me his mouth like this.
He loves my hands on him, and the growl that comes from him when I touch him almost tips me over the edge. I hold my orgasm back, though. I’m not ready for it yet. I need more of his tongue.
He spends another couple of minutes on my clit before looking up at me. “Touch yourself while I finish you off.”
I comply with his order. Donovan watches my fingers for a few moments before licking my clit again.
We’re all fingers and tongue together while he pushes two of his fingers inside me.
Pleasure reaches every inch of my body.
My skin is alive with it.
I rock my hips and move with it as he fucks me.
The world ceases to exist while my husband gives me everything I need.
My body jerks and my pussy clenches as my orgasm hits.
I’m lost to it, barely aware of what’s happening around me while I let it consume me.
And then, a scream pierces the morning and I’m completely aware of everything.
My eyes snap open as Donovan curses and jolts up off the bed. A second later, he’s pulling on pants and striding out of our bedroom.
Shit.
I move off the bed and find my underwear and one of Donovan’s T-shirts. Dressing quickly, I leave the bedroom and make my way into our daughter’s room.
Elizabeth, our four-year-old, has been having nightmares the last week and often wakes screaming. When I reach her room, I find Donovan with her in his arms while she clings to him sobbing.
“You’re okay,” Donovan says quietly, soothingly as he strokes her hair gently. “It was just a dream, baby girl.”
My heart constricts.
I hate that she’s having these bad dreams and feeling them so deeply.
I move to them and place my hand on her back while pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re okay, baby.”
She lifts her face and looks at me. Heaving through her sobs, she gets out, “There was a scary dog. It was mean.”
Donovan continues stroking her hair and I continue rubbing her back.
When she appears to have settled, I ask, “Would you like me to make you a hot chocolate, baby?”
She nods her head a couple of times before burying her face back in her father’s neck and clinging to him tighter.
Donovan meets my gaze and I nod at his wordless communication.
He’s going to spend another five or so minutes in here with her and then bring her out for her drink.
This has become our standard routine whenever she has one of these nightmares.
Elizabeth only wants her father when she’s this distraught and I don’t blame her.
Donovan has a reassuring presence when I’m upset too.
He calms with a touch. A look. A press of his lips to the forehead.
I leave them and go into the kitchen to make a hot chocolate. An odd choice of drink in the middle of the December heat, but it is always Elizabeth’s request when she’s looking for comfort. Probably because her father introduced her to it after she fell and hurt her arm badly last year.
Our daughter is a true daddy’s girl. Anything he says, does, or teaches is gobbled up by her. I’ve learned that if I want her to do something, the quickest way is through him.
It takes him longer than five minutes to coax her out of his arms this morning. Ten minutes pass before they join me in the kitchen.
Donovan’s eyes find mine as he enters the room still holding her. Then, looking at her, he shifts his hands to take hold of her and deposit her on the floor. She comes straight to me. Reaching her little arms up, she says, “Mummy.”
I smile as I lift her. Wrapping my arms around her, I say, “Did Daddy scare the dreams away?”
She nods. “Yes.”
“Good.” I kiss her cheek. “Are you ready for your drink?”
At her nod, I put her down and say, “Sit at the table, baby.”
I watch Donovan leave the kitchen as Elizabeth hops up on a chair at the kitchen table. I hear him talking with Sawyer and Keaton in the lounge room and sigh. I should have woken up faster this morning. I’m not getting sex now.
I spend the next fifteen minutes occupying the kids with a cartoon in the lounge room and thinking about what I’ll make them for breakfast while Donovan showers and gets ready for work.
I’m not working today due to the school holidays.
I’m taking the kids to the beach with Harlow, Madison, and their kids.
I’m both looking forward to it and wishing we were just staying home.
It’s a massive effort taking that many children to a busy beach in the December school holidays.
Especially when I’m already exhausted and could nap for a thousand hours today.
“Save some energy for me tonight,” Donovan says against my ear when he comes back into the kitchen and hooks his arm around my waist.