“Feel better?” His voice was low. Rough.
Layla soaked up the sight of him. His chest was tanned from his daily shirtless runs, the broad expanse covered in a light dusting of hair that tapered into a thin line bisecting washboard abs. His arms were a work of art, the ripped biceps flexing when he lifted the water to his lips and drank deeply. His throat worked with each swallow, making her body tighten with need. She was starved for the feel of him.
He was so damn sexy. Deliciously powerful and virile.
She nodded.
“What are you thinking about, sweetheart?” He licked a drop of water off his lower lip.
“How bad I want your mouth on my pussy.”
His low growl made her nipples hard. He came off the bed in an agile rush of movement. “Eat your dinner while I grab a shower. Then, I’ll eat you.”
The look he gave her made her nipples hard.
His gaze lowered to her chest as he approached and stopped in front of her. “I’ve been thinking about licking your mouthwatering cunt since you stopped me last night. I fantasized about pulling over at a rest stop, dragging you into the back of the Bronco, and tonguefucking you until you screamed.”
“Brian.”
He pushed his hand into her panties and cupped her. “Umm . . . you’re hot and juicy already.”
Her legs parted at his urging, her heart racing. He was such a highly sexual man and unashamed of his needs. His lack of inhibition turned her on and drove her crazy.
She gripped his biceps as he parted her with his fingers and stroked over her clitoris. Her knees went weak. Her breathing was shallow and fast. His fingertips circled the clenching opening of her pussy, then two long fingers pushed inside her.
“Oh God,” she whispered, welcoming his penetration with a hot rush of moisture. She returned the favor, reaching into his open fly and down the front of his boxer briefs. His cock fell heavily into her waiting palms, the plush head already slick with pre-cum.
He caught her leg with his free hand and urged it up to his waist, opening her to his touch. His fingers withdrew, then thrust deep, making her back arch on a gasp.
“How many times have we done this, baby?” he purred, pushing his cock into her grasping hands. “How many times did you need to come so badly I’d have to find the nearest corner and finger-fuck you to orgasm?”
“Not enough.”
“It’s never enough.” He pumped his hand, working her with scissoring fingers and deft twists of his wrist. His thumb found her clit and massaged it, taking her to the edge of climax. “God, you’re so beautiful. You make my chest ache.”
Layla jacked his cock with both hands, using the fast, firm grip she knew he liked.
“You’re so wet.” He groaned. “I’m dying to taste you. And you’re so close to making me come . . .”
“No.” She stilled, giving him one last firm squeeze.
“Layla!” he protested, curling his fingers to rub her G-spot.
“When you come, you come inside me.”
His green eyes narrowed dangerously a second before he bent his head and took her mouth. His kiss was softer and sweeter than she expected, lush and hot and leisurely. It was his kiss that kicked off her orgasm.
Her moan drifted into his mouth. Her pussy trembled around his fingers and her hands tightened convulsively on his cock.
He hissed, jerking in her grip. “You’re killing me.”
But he kept on thrusting gently, drawing out her climax until only sweet aftershocks remained. She leaned into him, breathing hard, relying on his support to keep her standing.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, nuzzling his cheek against the crown of her head. Releasing her leg, he caught her around the waist and drew her close.
“Shower later.”
“I have stubble, sweetheart. I need to shave.” Brian backed away. His face was flushed, his eyes feverish with lust. “I want you naked when I come out.”
She was already stripping before he stepped into the bathroom. As she heard the shower come on, Layla grabbed her salad and crawled between the cool sheets. Needing to slow her raging heartbeat, she picked up the remote from the nightstand and turned on the television. A few channel switches later, she found a showing of Navy SEALs.
She started watching, her thoughts drifting to why a man would choose such a life. Jacob had chosen it because of their father, who had chosen it because of his father. But Brian never really had an answer to that question. He didn’t have those family traditions. He’d been raised by a single mother, who never told him who his father was. When Layla had asked him why he’d joined the military, he’d shrugged and said, “What else was I going to do?”
But he was good at everything, from fixing transmissions to masonry to cooking. He could have done anything with his life that he wanted to.
“You’d better eat quick,” he warned, when he turned the shower off. “I’m about to pounce.”
Layla hit the mute button and feigned a loud snore.
“Ha! I know how to wake you up.”
“Bring it on.”
When he stepped out of the bathroom in all his naked glory, she felt her heart stop. Tears welled and blurred her vision. She dashed them away with impatient swipes, unwilling to lose even a second of the sight of him.
“God,” she breathed, loving him so much her chest was tight with it.
He paused near the bed, letting her look her fill. He was leaner than she’d ever seen him, which told her he was working too hard, but his body was perfect in every way regardless. There was nothing she’d change about him, nothing more she could want. She closed her to-go box and set it on the nightstand without looking away.
Brian caught the edge of the sheet and tugged it down, revealing her body in slow increments. “I feel the same way when I look at you,” he murmured. “Like I can’t catch my breath. Like I can’t blink, in case you disappear when I do.”
He saw her. Truly saw her and who she was, knew her and cared about her with all her history and flaws. After feeling invisible for years, hidden behind a name and life that wasn’t really hers, it meant so much to be with someone who got her. It meant the world to be with Brian now, during the most dangerous and stressful period of her life.
He set his palms down on the mattress, then his knees, crawling toward her in a luscious display of masculine strength and agility. His cock hung heavily between his legs, making her tummy flutter in anticipation. Her toes curled when he kissed the arch of her foot. His parted lips slid up to her ankle, his hand reaching for her other foot and squeezing.
“Brian?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Come here.”
His dark head lifted, his gaze snaring hers. “No.”
“I’m not stopping you,” she said huskily. “I just want to hold you a bit first.”
He exhaled, then climbed over her, stretching out beside her.
She rolled into him, burying her face against his chest. His skin was still damp and cool, his heartbeat sure and strong. His arm draped over her and she tilted her head back, pressing tiny kisses to his clean-shaven jaw, so damn grateful for the opportunity to hold him in her arms again.
“Layla . . .” His voice was low and hoarse, with an aching note of yearning.
Even with a raging hard-on and her willingness, he’d taken the time to shave his evening stubble so as not to scratch her. He was always thinking of her, in both big and small ways. Always ready to give her whatever she needed.
Except when it came to his job.
“Make me understand,” she whispered. “Why is it so important to you to risk your life?”
Brian stiffened, then rested his chin atop her head with a sigh. “It’s not that.”
“What is it, then?”
“I don’t know. I’ve thought it over so many times. Lying in bed without you, wondering where you were, if you were okay, wondering why the hell I didn’t just say to hell with the fucking job when you gave me the choice.?
?? His hands stroked down the curve of her spine.
She closed her eyes and nuzzled closer. “It gives you something I can’t. Something you need.”
“I don’t need anything as much as I need you.” He pushed her to her back and loomed over her. His thigh slid between hers, his weight settling atop her in the way that always made her feel safe and cherished. “That’s what shreds me, that you’d ever believe I could love anything more than you . . . that I ever gave you a reason to think that.”
Putting her fingers to his lips, Layla cut off anything else he might say. He nipped her fingertip with his teeth, the slight sting sending a quiver through her. His tongue flicked over the tiny hurt, his gaze unwavering on her face.
“Grab on to the pillow,” he said gruffly. “Don’t let go.”
She reached up and did as he ordered, the position arching her back and lifting her breasts to his waiting mouth. He licked her nipple, and she made a soft noise of pleasure.
His breath blew softly over her skin. “I love the sounds you make.”
“I love the way you touch me.” As if she was the most precious thing in the world, as if her pleasure was the only thing that mattered.
“Then I won’t stop.”
Wet heat surrounded the sensitive point of her breast as he took her into his mouth. His cheeks hollowed on a soft, slow suck that radiated through her body. Her head fell back and she moaned. “Yes . . .”
Her pussy spasmed with jealousy. His hand cupped her other breast, kneading, his thumb and forefinger rolling and tugging her tight, sensitive nipple.
Her back arched, her lips parting on panting breaths. It felt as if she was being touched for the first time in years. The sensations were too fierce and hot, too vivid compared to the numbness she’d lived with since she left him. “God, Brian . . .”
His tongue lashed the tender tip of her breast, the drawing pulls of his mouth echoing in the throbbing between her legs. She pressed her pussy against him, slickening his skin with her desire, riding the hard muscle in an effort to ease her aching to be filled.
“You make me so hot,” she breathed.
Sweat misted her skin. She felt almost sunburned, her flesh so sensitive it was nearly painful. When Brian’s mouth moved to her other breast, she cried out, the surfeit of sensation intoxicating her. He sucked harder, his teeth grazing with just enough pressure to make her shudder.
Her fingers were cramping by the time he slid down between her thighs. She draped one leg over his shoulder; the other fell to the side.
“So pretty,” he praised, parting her with his fingers. He flicked her clitoris with his stiffened tongue and she lifted to his mouth, seeking more. “And so sweet. I’m going to eat you for hours ... make up for all the times I hungered for the taste of your pussy and you weren’t there.”
“Bri, please . . .”
“That’s it, sweetheart.” He licked through the saturated folds with a low groan of pleasure. “Beg me. Let me hear you.”
Cupping her buttocks, Brian lowered his head and worked her clit with massaging rubs of the flat of his tongue. Her hips circled, grinding her trembling flesh against his firm lips. He traced her folds with slow, teasing glides, then rimmed the clenching opening to her pussy until she whimpered from the torture of it.
“Don’t tease me,” she whispered, so tense it hurt. “Make me come.”
“Not yet.”
“I’ve waited five years. Don’t make me wait anymore.”
“I won’t be done,” he warned.
Layla bit her lip, writhing beneath him. “Please.”
Gripping her hips, he fucked her trembling pussy with rapid thrusts, his head tilting to deepen his reach. It was a fervent, wrenching kiss, his hungry growls making her hotter and wetter. The slick sounds of his avid mouth against her drenched sex were searingly erotic. Her hips churned, her pulse pounding in her neglected clit.
His plunging tongue felt so good she couldn’t control the ferocity with which she bucked into the rhythmic penetration. The pleasure was too much, her love for him too powerful, his love for her too evident and fierce.
Brian moved with a groan, his lips surrounding her clit and suckling, licking, pushing her into an orgasm that shattered her.
Chapter 7
No more.” Layla pushed weakly at his head.
“One more time,” Brian whispered, tonguing her swollen clitoris. “Just once more, baby.”
He had lost count of how many times she’d come, but it could never be enough to satisfy him. His dick was pounding in demand for its turn at her slick, scorching cunt, but he held himself in check, needed her pleasure more than he needed his own.
With patient coaxing, he brought her to orgasm again, his groans muffled in the folds of her soft, sweet pussy as he fucked her rippling depths with his tongue. Her cries were low and hoarse, her perspiration-damp body trembling with exhaustion.
As he pulled away, her leg slid heavily off his shoulder, her body lax and replete. She was vulnerable now. Open. Almost where he needed her to be.
She curled on her side as he left the bed, her eyes on the thick stalk of his raging erection. She licked her lips. “I can suck you off.”
He reached for the nightstand drawer.
A tiny whimper escaped her.
“You’re soft and relaxed now,” he soothed, gripping the lube in his fist. “You don’t have to do anything. You don’t even have to move. I’ll take care of everything.”
“Brian . . .”
“We need this, Layla. You know we do.”
He watched the goose bumps sweep over her skin. She turned, lying prone, and he joined her on the bed, running his parted lips down her spine. “I can’t tell you how often I dreamed of this ... how many times I woke up hard and aching.”
Grabbing a pillow, Brian slid one arm under her slim hips and lifted her, pushing the pillow beneath to cant her body to just the right angle.
Layla’s hands fisted in the bottom sheet, her chest rose and fell with swift breaths. “You’ll kill me . . . I can’t take this. Not now.”
He squeezed a line of lube in the seam between two of his fingers and a larger dollop on his fingertips. “You know it has to be now.”
She shivered when he touched the pucker of her ass, the tight ring of muscle flexing. He rubbed in slow, gentle circles, willing to be patient. He knew what this act did to her, how much of herself she gave when he took her this way, how exposed and defenseless she felt. She’d shown him by example last night, made him experience in the flesh what he’d thought he understood in his mind.
“No one else has been here, have they, baby?” he asked softly.
Her lower lip quivered.
“You’re still mine, aren’t you, Layla? Just as I’ve always been yours.”
“Brian, please ... I can’t bear it.”
One fingertip pushed inside her, and she gasped. Her slender body shook.
He slid in and out, twisting his wrist. After a moment, another digit joined the first. She whispered a curse. Her hips began to move in tiny circles, seeking the pleasure of his touch.
She hissed when he pressed a third finger into the tightly stretched opening.
“You’re so damn tight.” He groaned when she clenched around his thrusting fingers. “And scorching hot.”
“Oh God . . .”
He pulled free of her clinging depths and filled his palm with lubrication. He stroked his cock from root to tip, squeezing the thick pulsing length, imagining how damn good it was going to feel once he got inside her. More than the raw physicality of the act, it was her surrender that turned him inside out. He ceded to her in many ways, couldn’t help himself from wanting to see to her happiness, found it almost impossible to say no to her, but in this one demand of his, she yielded completely.
If he’d needed proof that there was still an emotional wall between them, her token resistance was it. She’d never denied him anything, especially not in bed. But she was vulnerable now—wea
k from pleasure and falling for him all over again. After her expressionless face yesterday, he could finally read her tonight and he knew this was it—his chance to reach her, to make her feel his need and regret and pain. To feel the longing for her that was eating at him from the inside.
Brian gentled her quivering with a hand at her hip. Taking himself in hand, he ran the wide head of his cock up and down between her cheeks, teasing the flexing opening. With a sharp inhale, she pushed out, accepting him. He pressed forward, sliding into her, growling at the heat and damn near unbearable tightness.
Her exhale was shaky. “Brian . . .”
“I’m right here with you,” he said hoarsely, sliding deeper. “It’s tearing me up, too, baby. Killing me . . .”
Layla pushed back with her hips, taking him halfway. She was stretched tightly around him, clenching rhythmically. The pleasure was stealing his sanity. He could barely breathe through it. Sweat coursed down his chest and back, his hands trembled like a junky’s, his mouth was so dry he could hardly swallow.
Reaching around and beneath her, Brian cupped her cunt, groaning at how wet and swollen she was. He pushed deeper into her rear, his fingers penetrating her pussy at the same time.
“Fuck,” he bit out, feeling himself through the thin membrane between his fingers and cock. He struggled against the need to come before he was fully inside her.
She clawed at the sheets. Cries spilled from her throat, soft sounds of desperate hunger. Her legs slid farther apart; her ass lifted to take him deeper.
“That’s it,” he praised. She opened, and his cock slid in to the root. “There, baby. Right there.”
“Bri . . .” Her voice broke.
Withdrawing his fingers, he yanked the pillow out from under her and tossed it aside. He caught her around the waist and rolled them as one, adjusting them so that he was spooned behind her, still deep inside her. His biceps cushioned her cheek, his other arm was slung over her waist. He linked his fingers with hers, holding their joined hands against her taut stomach, anchoring her in place as he began to thrust.