Chapter 21 Hayes
Hayes
I can’t get enough of the sounds she makes.
The gasps that happen when I flatten my tongue on her pussy. The strangled breath when I suck. The whimper that says, Don’t stop, oh God, don’t stop . . . and the way her hands reach for my shoulders and tug.
She’s trying to pull me closer even though I’m already as close as a man can get.
Layla tugs at me—at my hair—and I groan helplessly, sealing my mouth over her clit again, sucking harder when her thighs tremble around my head.
I keep one hand under her, palm to the small of her back, lifting her to my mouth so I can take what she gives me and give it back tenfold.
My other hand slides up her belly, pressing.
I lap and tease, change the pressure, learn her. Every twitch, every curse, every shaky little whine all but begging me to fuck her . . .
She rocks against my mouth, and I hold her there, greedy, because I want to feel her come apart on my tongue. I want to feel the exact second her body decides this is it.
Her fingers bite into my scalp, and the sound that rips from me is not polite, not patient.
It’s mine.
She is mine.
Her thighs try to close; my shoulders hold them open. She bows off the mattress, and I pin her there, worshipful and a little ruthless, because she asked for more and I have more to give.
“That’s it,” I breathe, barely words. “Come in my mouth.”
She shakes her head as if she doesn’t want to—she probably wants to come on my dick, but that’s not the goal here. Not for me, anyway.
Layla does her best to be quiet, moaning, head tossing from side to side as my mouth does what it does. Her legs quake around my head, the sound she makes landing somewhere in my chest and detonating.
Hearing her is like a five-star review.
I ride it with her—gentle licks, a kiss on her pussy that borders on obscene, the hand on her belly caressing until the tremors ease and she falls back to earth, boneless and beautiful.
I press my mouth to the inside of her thigh, a soft kiss to say I’m thankful—and a second to say, I’m not done with you yet. When I crawl up her body, she’s flushed and dazed, eyes blown wide, hair a halo on my pillow.
“Hey,” I rasp, bracing over her on my forearms so I don’t crush her. “You okay?”
A breathless laugh ghosts across my cheek. “Define ‘okay.’”
I grin and tease, “Could you drive my truck?”
Layla laughs. “Absolutely not. No better than you could after that BJ.”
Real talk.
“But enough about me . . . it’s your turn,” she whispers, the promise causing my cock to go from rock hard to—solid rock.
I catch her hand and bring her knuckles to my mouth. “You don’t have to—” Suck my dick.
Again.
“I want to.” She shifts under me, a deliberate roll of hips that smashes my good intentions to dust. “I really, really want to.”
A woman who loves blow jobs? Pinch me, I’m fucking dreaming . . .
My composure frays as one minute I’m wearing pants and the next second I’m not, grinding into the cradle of her thighs. “I’m already so hard—I want to be inside you when I lose it.”
“Well . . .” Her eyes flare. “What are you waiting for?”
“Condoms,” I laugh hoarsely. “I have no condoms.” Haven’t needed them.
I can feel the look she gives me, even though the room is mostly dark, her hand caressing my hip. “Hayes?”
“Hmm?”
She goes quiet for a beat, like she’s weighing something important, then: “I’m on the pill.” A soft brush of lips at my jaw. “Was at the gyno two months ago, and she tested me. All clear.” Her thigh slides up my hip, hooking me closer. “You?”
“Same,” I say, feeling a blush on my cheeks. “I mean—at the doctor. Not the . . .” Gyno. “It’s been . . . yeah. I’m good.”
“How do you feel about . . .” She swallows. “Doing it with no condom?”
How do I feel about it?
Uh.
Good? Great?
Fanfuckingtastic idea.
My last scrap of willpower snaps when she begins kissing me.
I line up, nudging against her slick heat, just the tip, enough to make us both curse under our breath. She’s so tight I almost forget to breathe.
“Oh shit,” she whispers, thumbs stroking my hip bones. “You’re so big.”
Music to my fucking ears. I haven’t been accused of having a big cock in ages. “Sorry.”
Not sorry at all when she grips my shoulders, nails biting, a delicious sting that snaps my control thinner and thinner. The room is dark and quiet except for our breathing and her tiny gasps. I swallow them with a kiss.
I push forward . . . one inch . . .
Then another.
I grind my hips, finding a rhythm that makes the mattress groan and Layla’s mouth fall open. Every time I push a bit deeper, she answers with a roll of her hips that steals the air from my lungs.
She is so fucking tight . . .
Not sure if it’s because of my size or because she hasn’t had sex in a while, either, or if that’s just how her pussy is, but it feels incredible.
“Should I slow down?” I rasp.
“It’s okay—I’m fine,” she tells me, giving me permission to bury myself deeper. “Don’t stop.”
So I fuck her—really, really fuck her good. Pump my hips, driving into her until the headboard hits the wall, my name slipping out of her on every thrust. I press my forehead to hers, relishing the little ahhhs that leave her mouth.
“You’re so deep,” she whispers. Whines. Coos. “It feels . . . so . . . good.”
“How fucking good?” I rasp, hand sliding between us to where we’re joined. I circle her clit once, slow, and her whole body jerks. “You like that?”
“God—yes.” Her hips chase my hand. “Just like that. D-don’t stop.”
She drags her hands to my ass and urges me deeper, and I swear I’m going to die from how good this feels.
Jesus Christ. I’m going to die.
“Close,” I grind out. “Fuck, I’m clo—”
“Don’t you dare come yet,” she demands. Her body tightens, the change instant, electric. “Yes, yes . . .”
I keep the rhythm cruel and steady—stroke, circle, stroke, circle—until she’s trembling under me, thighs shaking, breath stuttering against my lips. She’s right there; I can feel it in the way her pussy begins clenching.
The bed creaks. My back bows as I thrust. She goes taut beneath me, eyes going wide and then squeezing shut as she breaks—hot, fluttering pulses around my cock that rip my sanity to shreds.
I grind deeper, deeper, until my pelvis is flush to hers and she makes a sobbing sound in her throat.
Bang, bang . . .
The headboard continues hitting the wall, and for the briefest moment I worry it might wake my daughter, but I lose the fight against Layla’s tight, wet pussy . . .
I want to live inside her.
I want to fuck her again and again, and I haven’t even come yet. Caught up in the sensation of her heat, I could literally fucking cry, it feels so good.
I brace a hand against the headboard to quiet it, the other sliding under her knee to hitch it higher, my nose nuzzling in the crook of her neck.
She trembles. Thighs shake. The mattress dips, molded to her body, moving along with us.
“Layla, I’m gonna come,” I grind out.
A tiny nod. Hands pull at my ass, pulling me closer.
“Yes,” she pants, breath hot in my ear. “Come inside me.”
“Gonna fill you up,” I groan into her neck. “You want it?”
“Oh God yes, I want it,” she moans, nails biting into my ass. “Make me come.”
I angle and hit that spot; her eyes fly open, mouth falling into a soft curse.
“There,” she gasps again. “Right there—oh s-shit . . .”
“I’ve got you.” My voice rips out of me. “Come on my cock.”
Buried to the hilt, I thrust and thrust and thrust her through a release, mine hitting at the same time, white, savage heat that empties every thought I’ve got in my brain.
I spill for what feels like forever, kissing the little cries she tries to muffle.
My body jerks. Shivers.
When the nerve endings finally ebb, breathing now in check, I ease out of her, thick and tender. Sensitive.
“Holy shit,” I breathe. Another twitch steals through me, and in the dim light, I catch her smile. “That felt great.”
Layla laughs. “It did.” She pauses. “I should clean up.”
I nod. “I’m gonna check on Benny—then I’m coming back and doing it again.”
Layla’s already easing off the bed, keeping her legs together as she shimmies to the bathroom door and flips on the light.
I hesitate, admiring her naked body, the curve of her hips. The faint crescent marks my hands left on her thighs. She glances back over her shoulder, mouth tilting.
“Stop staring and go be a dad.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I give her ass a quick, teasing slap that earns me a surprised yelp, and pad into the hallway.
I grin, happy for the first time in ages.