Chapter Three
Layla:
His words melt away the last of my reservations. With him, I feel safe. Cherished. Wanted. The way he looks at me, the way he touches me, it’s like I’m the most precious thing in the world to him. It’s a feeling I’ve never had before, and I find myself wanting more, needing more.
“Let me take care of you,” he whispers against my lips. “Let me show you how good it can be.”
I nod, my heart pounding against my ribs. “Okay.”
His hands move to my waist, and he lifts me as if I weigh nothing.
I gasp in surprise, my arms tightening around his neck as he settles me on the edge of his desk.
The wood is cool against my bare skin, and I shiver, goosebumps rising on my thighs.
He’s so big, so strong, standing between my parted thighs, and the sheer size of him makes something deep inside me clench with anticipation.
“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with a hunger that both thrills and terrifies me. “Just relax. Let me make you feel good.”
His hands slide up my legs, his thumbs stroking over the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. I tremble under his touch, my breath catching in my throat. He’s so close, so warm, and I can feel the heat radiating from him, calling to something deep inside me.
“So beautiful,” he says, his eyes roaming over my naked body. “And all mine.”
His words send a jolt of lust through me, and I can feel myself getting wetter, my body preparing for him even though my mind is still racing, trying to catch up with the reality of what’s happening.
His fingers find my folds, parting them gently, and I gasp as he explores me.
He’s thorough, mapping every inch of my most intimate places with a touch that’s both tender and possessive.
I’ve never been touched like this before, never allowed anyone this close, and the intensity of it is overwhelming.
“You’re so wet for me, Layla,” he murmurs, his voice a low, sexy rumble. “Is this all for me, baby?”
“Yes,” I whisper, my cheeks flushing. “All for you.”
“Good,” he says, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face. “That’s how I like it.”
His thumb finds my clit, and I cry out, my hips pushing instinctively towards his touch. He circles the sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through me. It’s too much and not enough all at once.
“Rhys,” I gasp, my hands gripping the edge of the desk, my knuckles turning white. “Oh God, Rhys.”
“That’s it, baby,” he encourages me, his other hand coming up to cup my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple. “Let me hear you. I want to hear every sound you make.”
He leans down, his lips finding mine in a kiss that’s just as possessive as his touch.
His tongue delves into my mouth, claiming me, and I moan into the kiss, my body arching into his touch.
His thumb continues its relentless assault on my clit, pushing me higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge.
I can feel it building, a wave of pleasure so intense it’s almost painful. My toes curl, my back arches, and I cry out against his lips as it crashes over me, sending me spinning into a universe of pure sensation. I’m lost in it, drowning in it, and I never want to be found.
He continues to stroke me through my orgasm, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure, until I’m a trembling, boneless mess on his desk. I’m breathing hard, my chest heaving, and I can feel my breasts leaking, a warm, wet trickle down my torso that makes me blush with embarrassment.
But Rhys doesn’t seem to mind. He pulls away from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire as he looks down at me. He leans down, his tongue darting out to catch a droplet of milk from my breast, and I shiver at the intimate contact.
“Delicious,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a smile. “But I think it’s time for the main course.”
He straightens up, and with a swift movement, pulls his shirt over his head, revealing a chest that makes my breath catch - all hard muscle and warm skin.
I lower myself down onto my back as I watch, my breath held tight in my chest, as he takes his cock in his hand.
He positions himself at my entrance, and I can feel the blunt head of him pressing against me, thick and insistent.
My heart hammers against my ribs, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through me.
“Look at me, Layla,” he commands, his voice low and husky. My eyes snap to his, and I’m caught in the intensity of his gaze. “I want to see your eyes when I take you.”
I nod, my throat too tight to speak, and then he’s pushing into me, slow and steady.
There’s a brief, sharp pain as he stretches me, a burning sting that brings tears to my eyes, but it’s quickly replaced by a fullness, a sense of rightness that settles deep in my bones.
He’s inside me. Finally, he’s inside me.
After dreaming about this for six weeks, he’s finally inside me.
“Fuck,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “You’re so tight. So perfect.”
He stills, giving me a moment to adjust to his size, and I’m grateful for the reprieve. He feels so big, so deep, and I can feel every inch of him, every ridge, every vein. It’s an overwhelming sensation, but it’s not unpleasant. It’s... right. As if my body was made for him, and only him.
After a moment, he begins to move, slowly at first, drawing almost all the way out before sinking back in.
Each stroke sends pleasure through me, and I can feel myself getting wetter, my body easing to accommodate him.
I wrap my legs around his waist, my heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him deeper.
“That’s it, baby,” he encourages me, his hands braced on the desk on either side of my head. “Take all of me. Take every inch.”
His eyes are locked on mine, and I’m mesmerized by the intensity of his gaze. There’s so much emotion swirling in their depths - desire, possessiveness, and something else, something that looks a lot like... love. The thought makes my heart ache with a happiness so profound it’s almost painful.
He picks up the pace, his movements becoming more powerful, more demanding. The desk creaks beneath us, the sound of our bodies slapping together echoing in the quiet office. I can feel another orgasm building, a slow, delicious heat that spreads through my veins, making my blood sing.
“You feel so good, Layla,” he grunts, his hips snapping against mine. “So fucking good. Better than I ever imagined.”
He leans down, his lips finding mine in a kiss that’s just as demanding as his thrusts.
His tongue delves into my mouth, claiming me, and I moan into the kiss, my body arching towards him.
His hand finds my breast, cupping it in his large palm, and I can feel more milk leaking from my nipples, coating his fingers in my essence.
“Christ,” he groans, breaking the kiss to look down at me. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with desire. “You’re still leaking for me. So full. So ready.” He lowers his head, his lips closing over my right nipple, and I cry out as he begins to nurse from me.
The combination of sensations is overwhelming. The feel of him inside me, stretching me, filling me up, and the feel of his mouth on my breast, drawing out my milk, is almost too much to bear. I’m so close, right on the edge, and I know it won’t take much to push me over.
“Rhys,” I gasp, my hands fisting in his hair, holding him to me. “Please. Don’t stop.”
“Never,” he growls against my skin, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. “I can’t. I’m already addicted, baby.”
He switches to my other breast, his tongue flicking against my nipple before he latches on, and the suction sends a jolt of pure pleasure straight to my core.
I cry out, my back arching off the desk as my orgasm crashes over me, more powerful than the previous two.
I’m a mess of sensation, of pleasure and pain and need, and I’m completely and utterly lost in him.
But he doesn’t stop. If anything, he pushes me harder, his hips snapping against mine with a force that steals my breath.
He’s nursing from me with a desperate hunger, and the sound of him swallowing my milk, the feel of him losing control, is the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced.
I can feel him growing even harder inside me, his body tensing as he chases his own release.
“Fuck, Layla,” he groans, lifting his head to look at me. His lips are wet with my milk, and there’s a wild, feral look in his eyes. “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna fill you up. I’m gonna breed you, baby. You want that? You want me to put a baby in you?”
His words are filthy, depraved, and they send a fresh wave of arousal through me. I’ve never heard anything so sexy in my life. I’ve never wanted anything more.
“Yes,” I gasp, my hands gripping his shoulders, my nails digging into his skin. “Yes, Rhys. Please. I want it. I want you to fill me up.”
“Good girl,” he growls, his hips pistoning into me, driving into me with a force that rocks the desk. “That’s my good girl. Take my cock. Take my seed. Let me put a baby in that sweet little belly.”
His words push me over the edge again, and I’m coming, my body convulsing around him, my walls clenching and releasing in a rhythmic pulse that milks him for all he’s worth.
He moans my name, his body tensing as he finds his release, and I can feel him pouring into me, hot and thick and endless.
It’s a feeling so intense, so intimate, it brings tears to my eyes.
He collapses on top of me, his weight pressing me into the desk, but I don’t mind.
I welcome it. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close, my fingers stroking over the sweat-slicked skin of his back.
We’re both breathing hard, our chests heaving, and the only sound in the room is the pounding of our hearts.
“Stay,” I whisper, my lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “Stay inside me.”
He nods, his face buried in the crook of my neck, and I can feel him twitch inside me. He doesn’t move, just lies there, his weight a comforting presence, and I can feel his heart beating against my chest in a steady, reassuring rhythm.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft kiss against my skin. “I’m right where I belong.”
“Rhys,” I whisper, my fingers tightening in his hair. “I...”
“I know, baby,” he says, lifting his head to look at me. His eyes are soft, full of an emotion that takes my breath away. “I know.” He leans in, brushing a soft kiss against my lips. “I love you, Layla. I think I’ve loved you since the moment you walked into my clinic.”
My heart soars. “I love you too, Rhys,” I whisper, tears welling in my eyes. “So much.”
“Good,” he says, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Because you’re mine now, baby, and I want you with me forever.”