Ch. 22 – Layla
“ G od, I’m falling for her so hard.”
Those words froze Layla to a spot just outside April’s stall. She’d been about to open her mouth, announce she’d finished brushing down Graybeard. Now, all she could do was stare at the tableau in front of her.
Prem leaned against his horse, his forehead touching her side, eyes squeezed shut. The faint light played across his strong jaw and the straight line of his nose. The wind during the ride had tousled his inky hair, turning it just a little wild.
Layla knew men were often described with words like handsome, dashing, or rugged. But to her, Prem was simply beautiful.
“I think I’m falling for him, too,” she whispered. She hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, but she didn’t regret them either.
At the sound of her husky voice, Prem whipped around to face her. Emotions flickered across his face, and the shadows turned his eyes dark, almost black.
“Do you mean it?” he asked, his voice roughening.
Layla almost felt offended, but then she remembered their discussion on the trail. She saw Prem anew as a man always striving, always trying to be good enough.
You’re good enough for me, she thought to him.
“Yes,” she said out loud. Something was changing inside of her. The shy, giggly, simpering Layla retreated, and someone else took her place. A woman filled with liquid passion.
Prem looked away. “You can’t even imagine what I’m thinking right now.”
“I want to know.”
“You really don’t.”
The fire between them burned hotter. Layla’s body thrummed with want. She took a step into the stall. Prem’s eyes flashed with warning. His hand curled around the comb in his grip, his knuckles white from the pressure.
“Layla, you’re just so… innocent. Maybe we should…should head outside and get some air.”
“I’m not innocent,” she whispered. This new Layla felt brave. She wanted to tease him. To stoke the flames licking at the space between them. She took another step into the stall, blocking the entrance with her body.
“If you come any closer, I’m not going to be able to control myself.” Prem’s voice turned guttural. He suddenly seemed fierce. A wild beast, barely contained.
Normal, goody-two-shoes Layla would be terrified of a man who looked at her like that. Like he wanted to devour her. But there was another side to Layla, a part of herself she’d always hidden away. That side of her felt delicious tingles when she read the sex scenes in romance novels. It occasionally reached under the blankets in the middle of the night to stroke herself. Layla had always feared this part of herself, felt ashamed of the wanton need that sometimes gripped her. But she couldn’t hide it anymore. Naughty Layla had been chained in the basement for too long and she wanted out.
Naughty Layla was excited by the way Prem looked at her. Thrilled.
Naughty Layla took another step into the stall.
Prem moved fast. In a moment, his hands splayed possessively on her hips, and he pushed her up against the wooden wall of the horse stall.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he growled.
“But I wanted to,” she answered.
Prem stared at her for a moment as he recognized the glint of wickedness in her eyes. He put his mouth next to her ear. “And here I thought you were only made of sugar and spice and everything nice.”
Layla trembled. “That was your mistake.”
He answered by claiming her mouth. Naughty Layla greeted his lips eagerly, opening her mouth to allow in his tongue. Somewhere in the back of her brain, goody-two-shoes Layla gasped in horror.
Go away, Naughty Layla sneered at her. He’s mine. She tangled her fingers into Prem’s hair as his hungry lips traveled down her jaw, tasted the side of her neck, and clipped the delicate skin of her clavicle. Layla gasped in delight and nibbled his earlobe.
An annoyed huff startled them both. April looked at them, her large, dark eyes filled with annoyance.
“Sorry, girl,” Prem said sheepishly.
Layla nibbled on her lower lip in contrition. “Sorry, Apri–OOH!”
Before Layla knew what was happening, Prem slung her over his shoulder like she weighed nothing.
“Change of venue,” he announced, stalking out of the stall.
Layla giggled in delight and offered a goodbye wave to April as Prem’s long strides took them deeper into the stable. One of her too-large boots fell off, and Prem kicked it out of the way. He made a sharp right into an empty stall with a clean dirt floor and let her down.
“Where were we?” he asked.
“I think you were pressing me against the wall,” Layla answered, “and kissing me right here.” She touched the rosy spot on her clavicle.
“Here?” Prem dipped down and sucked on the tender area. “Or was it here?” his lips moved lower. “Are you sure it wasn’t here?” His tongue scorched the skin just below the neckline of her blouse.
“I…uh…can’t remember anymore,” she confessed.
“Oh, and I had you up against the wall. That’s right.” He pressed his body into hers, forcing her to step back until her shoulder blades met the wooden side of the stall. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.
Naughty Layla squeaked in delight.
“Stay,” Prem commanded and then yanked her blouse up and over her head. He dropped it, then laughed as it hung against her braid. “Got caught up on the line,” he said, pulling her braid through the neck hole, until her top fluttered to the ground.
Layla laughed, too, then looked down at herself and yelped.
“Oh no!” She clapped her hands over her bra.
Prem stepped back from her. “What? Is this too much? Am I going too fast?”
“No, no,” Layla shook her head, immediately missing the heat of his body. “It’s just that…” Embarrassment flamed into her cheeks. She couldn’t get the words out.
“What is it?” Concern filled Prem’s voice. “Layla, if you don’t want to…”
She leaned forward and whispered her terrible secret. “I’m…wearing granny panties.”
A startled laugh, almost a cackle, burst out of his chest. “So?”
Cal always hated when she wore plain white bras and full coverage underwear. It’s like the man expected her to wear string thongs and nipple tassels at all times just in case he felt randy after a long day at work.
“Is that…is that okay?” Layla asked.
Slowly, with surprising gentleness, Prem peeled her hands away from the white cotton cups of her bra.
“Layla Sandoval, you would look gorgeous in a potato sack. In a garbage bag. Even in one of those stupid banana costumes.”
“Really?” Relief whooshed all the way through her.
“Really,” he professed. “And now I’m going to have wet dreams about your granny panties.”
Goody-two-shoes Layla would have cried in happiness, but Naughty Layla showed her appreciation in a different way. She lifted onto her toes and gave Prem a long, bruising kiss. Closing her eyes, she breathed in the smell of him, sage and pine mixed with scents of fresh hay and sunshine.
He reached behind her and unhooked her bra. It fell to the ground.
“God,” he breathed, immediately bending to put his mouth over her left nipple. Layla gasped as he bit and suckled. His other hand traveled up the back of her thigh, moving beneath her skirt.
“You are so damn beautiful,” he murmured after releasing her nipple. “You know that, right?”
Layla had always been told she was pretty, and she’d grown used to the stares of men. But the way Prem looked at her was different. Through his eyes, she felt gorgeous, a being filled with sexual energy that didn’t need to be constrained or hidden any longer. Prem made her feel powerful.
She wanted to consider this more, luxuriate in her newfound sexual potency, but Prem’s finger brushed against her core over her panties, and then Layla couldn’t think at all. A long, multi-note groan tore out of her. Apparently, Naughty Layla didn’t mind being loud.
Her noises only seemed to encourage Prem. His thumb stroked her back and forth, the friction with her underwear sending chills through her body.
Layla cried out. Twisted against him. Thumped her head against the stall but hardly noticed. He rubbed faster. Harder. Something stretched inside of her. A rubber band that was almost painful in the most exquisite sort of way.
But it also scared her. What would happen if that band snapped?
Subtly, she shifted her hips to lose contact with his fingers.
“It’s your turn,” she told him breathlessly.
“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy.” With a wicked gleam in his eye, Prem put his hands on her hips, rested them there for just a moment, then slid down her skirt.
“The notorious granny panties,” he said.
Layla covered her face with her hands as he pulled the elastic waistband from her skin and shimmied the panties down her legs. She stepped out of the panties, one foot booted, the other bare, but kept her hands over her eyes.
Which is why she squawked in shock when she felt the languid brush of his tongue on her… her… that place . Prem did it again. And again.
Layla squealed and writhed. Cal only performed this act on her birthday, occasionally. After a few licks, he’d stop, imminently proud of himself and ready for his turn. But Prem didn’t stop. And the growling, nuzzling noises he made seemed to suggest he found it pleasurable rather than a chore.
Layla threw her head back. Her groans rose in volume and pitch, and her entire body vibrated. Cal had never worked on her this long with such intense precision. The band inside pulled again. Tighter and tighter. Layla couldn’t stand it. She tried to twist away, but Prem dug his fingers into her hips, locking her in place.
One more stroke of his tongue, and her body exploded.
Shooting stars. Waterfalls. Rainbows arcing through the sky. All of the above on a backdrop of shimmering diamonds.
Layla’s body convulsed and shuttered. Her nails dug into Prem’s shoulders, and then she slumped against him as he stood and rocked her in his arms.
“What…” she gasped, still trying to breathe, still trying to make the world stop spinning. “What happened?”
He held her out from him by the shoulders, his eyes searching hers. “Layla, that was an orgasm.”
“Orgasm?” she repeated. “Oh… Oooooh.” So that’s what all the fuss was about. That’s why Alanna and Everly seemed to treasure them so much. Why every female protagonist came so utterly undone during them in her romance novels.
“I see,” Layla said, her voice far away. She met Prem’s gaze. “I understand.”
And she finally did. The big O changed everything about sex. It wasn’t a chore or something to get through. Sex was beautiful and wonderful!
Sex was great!
Prem pulled her into his body and swayed with her. Layla tucked her face into his chest and laugh-cried. Part of her rejoiced at this new, incredible, world-shattering discovery. Another part despaired for all the past experiences that could have been so much more.
But soon enough, the smell of Prem in her nostrils refocused Layla on the task at hand. Her arms moved between their bodies, sliding down his chest and reaching the hem of his polo. She lifted it up, and Prem helped her, pulling the red shirt over his head and dropping it to the ground.
Oh, lord have mercy. Layla splayed her pale, trembling hands across the expanse of bronze skin wrapped tightly over defined muscle. Prem obviously took care of himself. His pecs were hard beneath her palms, his belly flat and trim.
And below that? Goody-two-shoes Layla would never dare explore that forbidden region. Naughty Layla went on a scouting party with reckless abandon. Her hands fumbled and then unlatched the button of his jeans and pulled down the zipper.
Prem made a noise halfway between a growl and a purr as he kicked off his boots and pulled down his pants. His black boxer briefs did nothing to hide his state of readiness.
Layla gasped in delight. He was excited for her! Her hand inched forward and closed around the shaft of his penis.
“God,” Prem groaned.
She pumped her hand back and forth over his boxers, and he growled into her neck, sucking the delicate skin beneath her ear. His skin was hot, practically burning, and his penis throbbed beneath the fabric in her hand.
“I can’t take much more,” he groaned.
“That’s what you get for making me think you had a girlfriend,” she teased, delighting in her power over him. The handsome, stern vet was a trembling wreck beneath her palm.
He laughed between his moans. “I tried…to explain. You wouldn’t… listen to me.”
“You were mean.”
“You never…gave me a chance.”
“You said you didn’t have pets.”
“April is…”
“A queen. I know.”
“And so are you.” His eyes met hers, his gaze feral. He gripped her wrist and pulled her hand away from his shaft. He swiped two fingers across her core with his other hand, then put his lips to her ear.
“You’re wet for me, Layla.”
Yes. She. Was.
Apparently, a secret waterfall had formed in her vagina.
He removed his boxers. “Do we need a condom?” His voice was hoarse.
“I’m on birth control,” she managed.
“Thank God. My condoms are somewhere in the very back of my glove compartment. I don’t think I could even make it to the car right now.” He stepped into her body again.
Instinctively, she put her hands on his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his hips. Her thighs burned, the skin irritated and chapped from riding in a skirt. Layla didn’t care. In fact, she invited the discomfort.
Prem put both hands under her ass and slowly guided her onto his penis. She slid over him. The feeling was electric. He filled her completely, stretching her with a sweet sensation. Layla kissed him feverishly, hungry for every inch of his skin. His hands, those wide, long-fingered surgeon’s hands moved her back and forth.
Layla’s body sang and stretched. Her eyes glazed. Her breath came out in sharp pants. Faintly, she heard a rhythmic banging, like a drum beat to their dance. It was her, she realized. Her body hitting the side of the stall.
Layla threw her head back and moaned. She’d never felt this sinfully good. This free and powerful. Her heart sang even as her body imploded with another orgasm.
And then Prem came. Her name tore from his lips in a growl as he shuddered inside of her. For a moment, nothing else in the world existed except the two of them. A magic blanket of quiet across the entire universe. Layla’s soul felt full like never before.
This.
This is what she’d been missing. What she’d been dreaming of her whole life without even realizing it.
And then her feet were touching the floor, and Prem listed against her for several long moments, his skin glowing with perspiration. Together, they slid to the ground, Prem hastily spreading his shirt and jeans beneath them.
“God,” he whispered, “What did you do to me?”
Layla could have asked him the same thing. Instead, she told him the truth. “I don’t know, but I liked it.”
Prem croaked a laugh and gathered her into his arms. He placed a tender kiss on her temple. It was such a contrast to the needful, frantic sex they’d just had, but it felt right. Perfect.
When she looked up at him, his eyes were no longer black but a warm chocolate. “Who would have guessed that beneath those butterfly sandals lived a sex goddess?”
Layla looked at her feet, one still in the oversized boot, the other bare.
After a few languid moments, Prem’s eyes fluttered shut and he seemed to struggle to force them open.
“We’d better head out, or I’m going to fall asleep,” he murmured. “I’m only working on 5 hours of shuteye over the past two days, and now you’ve wrecked me.”
Layla untangled and repositioned herself, so she could guide his head to her shoulder. Prem didn’t resist. His eyes grew soft, the lines easing from his forehead.
“Close your eyes,” she told him. “It’s okay.”
“But I have so much to do,” he answered, his voice already slurring with sleep.
She combed her fingers through his damp hair. Soon his breathing evened out, and his head rested more easily on her shoulder. Layla traced his eyebrows with the pad of her thumb and marveled at the length of his dark lashes.
Beautiful, she thought to herself again as her bare foot knocked gently against her booted foot. She didn’t want to move. Not for a hundred years. Not ever.
She kissed Prem’s temple, echoing the gentle kiss he’d given her.
“Thank you,” she whispered to the man who had shown her the truth. Who had freed her. Who had given her power. And who was also her boss. “But what are we going to do now?”