29. Briggs
brIGGS
Getting her home is safe, not easy, but I’m not looking to push when my brain has no problem begging Layla to pick me and the life I built for us.
She’s quiet the whole way, lost in her own little world, and I allow her space.
When I pull up into her driveway, she doesn’t attempt to open her door to get out, fully aware I’m going to insist on doing it for her anyway.
When she takes my hand to get down, she doesn’t release it as she starts for her front porch and her two-bedroom house.
It matches her.
Pink flowers line both sides of the stairs, and there’s a wind chime that tings and releases long resonant tones.
We make our way up the steps, and I fully expect her to turn around and say good night. But what I don’t expect from my girl is her rising on her tiptoes, wrapping her free arm around the back of my neck, and pressing those soft, fuckable lips against mine.
I’m lucid and stimulated all at the same time.
Pulling her against me harder, I can’t help but crank the kiss up a notch and slide my tongue easily into her mouth.
There’s no way I’m going to stop and pepper off eighty more questions on what we’re doing, what she’s thinking, or how she’s going to handle her uncle, because in this moment, it’s just us.
What we used to be.
Two crazy kids who fell in love, and that’s all that mattered.
I immediately jolt, however, when her fingers find the button of my jeans and unclasps it on the first go, not expecting her to go right for the damn kill so quickly.
All this built-up sexual tension has finally broken through, and my ass is not resistant to Layla Jean wanting to smother me with her mouth, her body, and anything else she wants to give me.
I reach for the door, finding it unlocked when I shove it open, and one-arm lift Layla off her feet to move her inside.
Our kiss doesn’t break, in fact, Layla clings tighter to me as I kick the door shut and open my eyes for the first time to find where I’m at.
I’ve never set foot in Layla’s home before. All I notice is that we’re in a foyer with white wooden tiles and a mirror that stares back at me.
“Where?” I ask impatiently, because I need to be inside her, and it has to be quick.
“Right here,” she answers, pointing behind her. “Knock the stuff off the table.”
Moving forward, my fingers recognize glass and something mossy, so I move it to the side to fit her body, but Layla Jean flat-out shoves the shit mercilessly to the hardwood floors with zero tolerance for it being in the way.
Okay, we’re going to have hot, insane sex while we break shit.
I’m here for it.
I spread her legs wider for me to step between them when she drags me closer, crashing her lips to mine again in a needy kiss that speaks of where she’s at mentally, and it’s all with me.
This isn’t what I had planned when I dropped her off. I knew it was going to take more time for us to get to a place—the place—I wanted us to be.
However, I’m not one to turn down sex.
With Layla Jean.
I haven’t fucked anyone since I left Magnolia Ridge, since her, and my cock misses being in a tight pussy that has had it and me in a choke hold for half our lives already.
It’s home.
The only home.
The only place we want to be.
So when she takes my cock out of my jeans, there’s no turning back now. It’s the score we’ve never settled. Us, fucking and making love without her sassy words and my anger issues.
Sliding her dress up her warm thighs, I hook onto her panties and pull them to the side, sinking one digit inside her soaking cunt, and Layla moans.
It’s sweet and sexy, and with each pump, my girl slowly begins to rock her body against it, earning her two fingers to ride.
The table underneath her scrapes a little against the floor, but it doesn’t deter either one of us from slowing down. She pumps my cock in her palm, working my balls into a frenzied state that sprints right up to my gut.
“Take what you want, Layla,” I order against her plush lips. “I’m here to serve my girl.”
She coaxes my mouth wider, using her legs to draw me closer between them as I pull her closer to the edge for easier access.
Removing my fingers, I break our kiss and bring them up to my lips, clasping around them and tasting her intoxicating flavor of fucking mine.
Layla’s hazel eyes gloss over, her breathing uneven as she studies me. Her lips parted, cheeks pinked in a pretty little blush that has my cock twitching once in her palm.
It’s all the motivation my beautiful other half needs to escort me right to her entrance, and I push in.
And I immediately choke on a grunt because she squeezes me so fucking tight that I’m never leaving.
We’re going to hole the fuck up, right here, in this foyer for the rest of the night.
My hips rock as Layla releases a little mewl that wrecks me to my core. I’m hypervigilant in every sense. I can still taste her on my tongue, I can feel her gripping me to death with her perfect cunt, and fuck me, I’m not going to last long.
Jacking off did not prepare me for the real thing.
Not when my fist versus Layla’s pussy is like night and day. There’s no comparison, just a weak attempt to ease an ache temporarily, and how the hell am I going to go back to my team while not having this at night?
“Layla,” I ground out, reaching down for her clit because I’m going to need her to come and fast. “I’m gonna need you to milk my cock and come because round one is the practice round. Round two is when we really start playin’.”
“You need to stretch first?” She smiles even though her breathing is still labored and she’s still hella turned on.
“And then some,” I return. “I might need to go rub one out in the bathroom before—” Layla spreads her legs wider for my fingers, putting herself on full display for me and my cock to fuck as we want.
“I’m here all night, Briggs Kerrigan. Do your worst, best, and everything in between.”
My body lunges forward, sinking deeper into her pussy, and it barely comes up for air before I’m driving into her again.
My thumb circles and toys with her little clit, while I fuck every emotion and shred of hopelessness out of me that I may have been fighting a lost cause for years.
But this was the medicine I needed to keep forging through.
There’s zero way Layla and I don’t work out. My girl needs me as much as I need her through everything. We’re perfectly imperfect together, but flawless when we’re like this.
Because nothing and no one feels this good to be with.
My body hums on a rhythm that’s only been hers. Especially when she throws her curls back from her face with a jerk and looks up at me like she just can’t wait for me to give her an orgasm.
There’s power behind those brownish-green eyes that controls me and works even harder for her. I was born to be hers, not an MLB player or some kid whose father couldn’t stand him, but hers.
And her body says the same thing.
Now, I just have to get her mind to finally agree despite all the bullshit we’ve been through.
“God damn, Short Stop, your cunt is stranglin’ me to come,” I manage to get out as she clenches around me. “Where do you want it?”
Her lips part, appearing captivated by my words, which she’s going to get used to fast again. “Inside me.”
Fuck.
My jaw locks to keep from finishing right now because I can feel my dick pulsating to spill every ounce of cum somewhere—anywhere—just so we can go again.
“Better think about that twice,” I urge, even though I don’t want her to. “Because you’re gonna get yourself into a whole lot of trouble.”
“I’m used to it.”
Not if I get you pregnant, you aren’t.
And I don’t need to explain to Layla how the birds and the bees work. She’s playing a dangerous game that might throw us back a few steps.
Maybe it’s a subtle opening to what she wants, but we haven’t discussed it in length. Regardless, if she gets pregnant, it doesn’t change what I’ve already determined in my head.
She’s always mine.
“Sounds like an issue,” I force from my lips. “Ever try sage, Short Stop?”
“Nothing keeps him away. He’s been chasin’ me for years.”
My lips coil proudly. “Can you blame me?”
She shakes her head and reaches out to fist my shirt, pulling me closer before our mouths connect and ignite yet another wave of lust through my veins.
Every action and thought blur together as we mindlessly kiss each other senseless. I feel my cock deep, her tongue lashing out against mine, and a buzzing feeling that hasn’t subsided since we started but only intensifies.
Layla keeps moaning against my mouth, and the sound is euphoric and timeless, before her body begins to shake a little.
“There it is,” I urge against her lips. “Take this cock, and give it to me, Layla Jean. All of it. And you’re going to take this cum deep inside you because it’s what you were made for. For me. And only me.”
That triggers her orgasm finally, and mine detonates almost at the same time. I milk her pussy and shove my cum so deep inside her she’ll never be able to force it out.
I pump through my dizziness, making sure my cock is fully done and sated before I stop to catch my breath.
Layla rests her forehead against mine, sharing oxygen and heated exhales between us, and it’s perfect.
Intoxicating.
And peaceful.
She steals a kiss from me and reels me in, sparking another wave of desire throughout my whole body, and my brain locks in for round two.
But, realistically, we need a few minutes of recovery.
“You’re perfect,” I say when she softly breaks the kiss from me. “There’s no one like you, Layla Jean.”
“Same,” she replies in an amused tone. “You’re annoying and stubborn, Briggs Kerrigan.”
“And yours,” I remind her. “Don’t forget the most important part.”
She nods and wraps her arms around me in a hug, drawing my cock deeper into her. “We staying like this?”
“If you want to. I was going to clean you up and get you something to munch on.”
“I ate already.”
“But you get hungry after sex, and we both know you’re going to need to bulk up on the energy. I remember a few years ago, you bitched at me about abuse, with not feeding you.”
“That was after like four rounds,” she retorts with a small scoff. “And you wouldn’t let me out of bed.”
“I was spendin’ our time effectively because you wanted breakfast food, and room service didn’t start until four.”
“Excuses.”
I shake my head with a chuckle. “Alright, no food.” I slide her ass off the table and lift her in my arms. “Give me a tour.” She promptly begins to unravel her legs around me, but I drag her closer. “With my cock inside you.”
She hits me with an exasperated look, but then it softens because she realizes who she’s talking to. “Are you serious?”
“Dead fuckin’ serious.”
I tow us out of the foyer to the right, stepping into a small family room. The accents are a soft green and white. The walls are a light pine color while her furniture is cream with a green plaid blanket draped over it. She has a TV over a small fireplace, and it’s homey and her.
“This is…cute.”
Layla stares at me suspiciously. “What does that really mean?”
“It’s just like you. I like it.”
She points behind me. “The kitchen is behind you.”
I don’t make a move for it just yet, striding toward the shelves she has bolted up and notice there are no pictures like the ones I remember her having up in her bedroom when we were kids.
She’s tried to keep emotionally closed off here.
“I know you’ve made memories since I’ve been gone,” I divulge lightly. “Where are pictures of you, Zo, and Fallon?”
“In my phone somewhere.”
I look at her, and she’s emotionless, trying to hide the truth behind those rosy cheeks and hazel eyes. “You forget how to work a printer or the internet?”
“I’m not here much.” She lifts her shoulders as if it doesn’t matter. “I just have things comfortable.”
I tip my head downward. “Alright. Well, fewer things to move.”
“Move?” Her brows go toward her ceiling because she must be remembering what I said earlier. “You can’t be serious.”
“When have I ever not been serious?”
She blinks. “Every day of your life?”
Alright, specifics.
“When have I never been serious about you, Layla Jean?”
Drawing her bottom lip between her teeth, she sighs. I meant what I said about the house I bought being ours. I made it specifically for her and me.
“Never, it seems.”
“Good girl.” I smack her ass lightly and move from the wall. “That gets you a treat.”
Before she can respond to what that might be, I lightly toss her to the couch, watching her bounce twice while her hair goes every which way, before I climb on top of her and between her legs.
“Round two starts now,” I vouch, peeling her panties down on one leg and not bothering with the other. “Feel free to scream on this one.”
Then I position my cock, shove it inside her, and receive Layla arching her back for more.
I last longer on this time, thank God, because my pride would not survive a two-pump chump status tied to my name.
Layla screams my name when she finally comes.
And, me…I come inside her again because it’s the only way I’m going to cement it in her head that I’m here to continue the long haul.
Forever.