But it wasn’t enough; I needed to set her on fire.
Lifting her up ever so gently, I cupped her pussy with the palm of my hand. Even though she ground right into it, I still wanted to hear her say it.
“Tell me you want me to make you come.”
She started to respond, but her words were cut off by a gasp when my thumb pressed on her swollen clit through her slick panties. “Yes. Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Make me come,” she panted. “Please.”
I gripped her hip with my left hand, lifted the slightest bit, and ripped the fucking panties from her skin with my right. The sounds of my desperation made her moan again.
I may come before her without her even touching my cock.
When I slipped two fingers inside of her, her back arched. I used my other hand to fist her hair, and yanked it back to expose her neck. Sucking hard on her delicate skin, I wanted to leave a mark to remind her what it felt like to have me finger-fuck her.
Her pussy was so snug. I slid my fingers out and then pushed them back in harder than she expected. She gasped, and my mouth dipped lower to find her nipple again.
“You’re so wet for me. So beautifully tight. I love that I’ll be your first in such a long time. And you for me.” I increased the speed of my pumping fingers. They glided in and out smoothly now, her body relaxing a little and accepting the pleasure. Her hips began to rock.
“Are you on the pill, Layla?”
“Yes,” she moaned.
“Good. I went to the doctor last week for a checkup. I’m clean. I’ll bring you the papers to show you, if you’d like.” I added a third finger at the exact moment I gave her hair another good, hard tug, and her moan sounded like a song.
“We’ve had barriers between us for years. I want nothing between us when you’re ready. I want you bare so I can fill you with my cum.”
I stretched my thumb to press on her clit, which I’d purposely been ignoring, and when she started to chant yes, yes, yes, I wasn’t sure if she liked what I was doing or couldn’t wait for me to come inside her, too. I liked to think it was both.
I felt her pussy clench around my fingers and pulled my head back to watch the magical moment of her explosion. The sight was more captivating than anything I’d ever seen. Her muscles throbbed as she cried out my name, and then her face went tense before a glow of relaxation hit. Her eyes closed, and she rode a wave of euphoria.
Beautiful.
Just fucking beautiful.
Eventually, I let go of my tight grip on her hair, and she collapsed forward onto me. Face pressed to my shoulder, her breathing stayed ragged for a while. When it leveled out, she turned her head to face me, and I caught the best lazy smile on her lips.
I smiled back from ear to ear. She’d been the one to orgasm, but that happy face was the best gift she could have given me. Wrapping my arms around her, I kissed the top of her head. This…this was another of those moments when I wanted time to stand still.
“God, I think I really needed that.” Layla’s voice had already turned groggy.
“I think you did, too.”
“Damn. The boys in high school really had no clue what they were doing if this is feeling me up.”
I chuckled. “Is it crazy that I have an urge to beat the crap out of a bunch of faceless high school jocks who got to feel your tits before me?”
She laughed. “Crazy? Yes. But also really sweet.”
I felt the car slow and looked out the window. We were already through the tunnel and back in Manhattan. I had no sense of time when it came to this woman. From the first day I’d met her, the hours seemed to fly by.
“We’re almost to your place,” I whispered and kissed her forehead.
She perked up and looked outside. “Wow. That was really fast.”
I looked at my watch. “We left Quinn’s place almost a full hour ago.”
She smoothed her hair and grinned. “Damn. I guess time flies when you’re having fun.”
A few minutes later, just as we’d both gotten ourselves situated again, we pulled up outside her apartment. My hard-on wasn’t about to go away on its own, but it had at least gone down enough to be able to walk.
“I’ll walk you up.”
Layla bit down on her lip, her eyes skirting from mine as she deliberated over something. “I didn’t take care of you. Do you want to come in for a little while?”
It was an invitation I’d have given my left arm for a few weeks ago. Yet when I looked in her eyes and saw hesitancy, I knew she wasn’t ready for that.
“As much as I want to say yes…” I slipped two fingers under her chin and lifted so our eyes met. “As much as I really want to say yes, I should go.”
She looked both relieved and disappointed, but nodded.
I decided it was safer to say goodbye at the door. After she unlocked her apartment, I held onto the doorjamb with both hands. “Come with me to a party tomorrow night. It’s my father’s partner’s sixtieth birthday, so it won’t be as much fun as a six-year-old’s, but I’d love to take you and show you off. Grant is also my godfather.”
Layla’s face softened. “I’d love that.”
“Will you still feel that way if I tell you it’s black tie?”
She smiled. “I’m sure I can dig something fancy out of my packed closet.”
I nodded. “Seven o’clock.”
“Okay.”
Leaning down, I brushed my lips with hers, even though I really wanted to devour that mouth again. “Thank you for tonight, Freckles.”
She blushed. “Pretty sure I’m the one who should be thanking you after the car ride home.”
“It was my pleasure. I can’t wait to do it again very soon…only next time…with my tongue.”
Chapter 19
* * *
Layla
It’s big.
And hard.
It’s been a really, really long time.
I chewed on my pen cap and stared down at my notebook.
Really, really hard, I added. So much so that apparently it deserved two spaces in the pro column. And I underlined the really. Both of them.
I’d gotten ready early, so all I needed to do was slip into my dress. Since Gray wasn’t due for another half hour, I’d started a pro and con analysis of sleeping with him. After twenty minutes, my pro list was pretty long, yet my con list had only one item. But if I’d dropped my collection of pros and the single con onto a scale, I was pretty sure the weight of that one negative might still tip the scale to its side.
Could break my heart again.
That was really my only reservation anymore. I’d forgiven him. I’d accepted everything he’d told me as the truth. I’d even admitted to myself that we were unfinished business I couldn’t move on from, no matter how hard I’d tried.
Yet I was still terrified. Deep down, part of me worried that I wasn’t any different than my mother—that I wasn’t capable of seeing a situation for what it really was and would accept a man who was something other than what I ultimately wanted.
I thought back to the day I’d realized my mother was in denial. I was fifteen, and my dad had left the day before for his usual four days on the west coast—with his real family. My mom was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of tea while looking through travel brochures for Hawaii. I’d gotten excited and asked if we were going on a vacation.
She’d smiled and said yes. “Your father was going to surprise us, but I found them in his suitcase when I was unpacking him from his business trip.”
Business trip. That’s what she always called the time he spent with his wife and other daughter.
My smile had faded. Sure. He was going to surprise us with a trip. They weren’t brochures his wife had stuck in there for him to pick a nice place for his real family. I’d shaken my head and said, “Mom…there is no trip.”
“Of course there is,” she’d said.
I’d searched her face, thinking she couldn’
t possibly believe it. But she had.
It made me sad.
We never went to Hawaii that summer. But Dad did happen to have a two-week absence, and when he’d called to talk to us, the area code for his business trip was 808. Maui.
How could she not have seen it? I was just a kid, and I saw it clear as day. The only logical explanation was that she justified everything in her head because she wanted to be with him. And admitting that the man she loved was a liar would have meant it was wrong for her to be with him. Love is supposed to be blind, but it’s not supposed to make you deaf, dumb, and stupid, too.
Putting away my notebook, I decided to get dressed. If I truly planned on giving this relationship a chance, I couldn’t spend my pre-date time reminiscing about my parents’ poor example of a relationship and all of my trust issues.
I’d decided to wear a gown, rather than a cocktail dress. Black tie could go either way, and I was in the mood to dress up. I’d spent an inordinate amount of money on the thing and had only worn it once—to a charity event I’d attended for a client along with a few others at my firm. It was the most beautiful, deep shade of midnight blue. It had a simple, sleek silhouette with a neckline that cut low, but still managed to cover up everything and pull off elegant. Delicate beading cinched my waist in a belt-like pattern and made my curves seem even curvier. When I’d worn it to the previous event, I’d gotten a ton of compliments—from men and women.
My buzzer rang right on time, and I told Gray to come up while I lined my lips in an extra bright shade of red. He stepped off the elevator just as I unlocked the front door, and I let out a little sigh. God, he looked gorgeous.
His usually messy hair was slicked back and to the side, and his tuxedo fit him perfectly. He looked like an old-fashioned movie star, a gentleman. Although when he prowled to the door and wrapped his arm around my waist, his mouth was anything but gentlemanly.
“You look good enough to eat.”
I rested my hands on his chest and teased, “Maybe I need to lose another bet at the party tonight.”
Gray growled and took my mouth in a kiss. I loved that his hands always found my face when he kissed me. He cupped my cheeks and tilted my head to the side while he sucked on my tongue. I imagined how it might feel if his head was between my legs and he sucked there with the same intensity. Before he broke the kiss, his tongue retreated and then came back to flutter against mine.
Oh my God.
I hadn’t imagined what his tongue would feel like on me; he was showing me.
“You don’t have to win or lose a bet, sweetheart. Just say the word. I’m salivating at the chance to burrow my tongue in that tight little pussy of yours.”
I shivered. God, I loved that dirty mouth of his. “I think you better stay out here while I get my purse.”
When I turned to walk inside, Gray stayed firmly planted in the doorway.
“I was teasing, you know. Come in.”
He shook his head slowly as his eyes raked up and down. “Trust me. I need to stay out here.”
***
“I should’ve brought business cards. Slipped them into my dress.”
We’d just finished talking to the third couple Gray had basically told they should move their legal business to my firm. It hadn’t even dawned on me that the majority of the people I’d be meeting tonight were prospective securities clients—even though it made perfect sense since it had been Gray’s father’s business, and we were at a party for his partner.
He looked down at the neckline of my dress. “Pretty sure you have nowhere to hide anything under there.”
Gray walked us to the dance floor and pulled me into his arms. I wasn’t surprised to find that he danced like he kissed—aggressively, holding me pressed against him. He had grace and rhythm and led with a strong hand.
“Where did you learn to dance?” I asked.
“Not from the ballroom dancing lessons one of my stepmothers enrolled me in when I was eleven.”
I furrowed my brow. “You didn’t go, yet you learned how to dance?”
“Etta taught me. It was part of the deal I made with her. I wanted to take karate lessons, not ballroom dancing. My stepmother insisted dancing was a skill necessary for a man who would grow up going to social engagements. Etta used the money for the dancing lessons to pay for the karate lessons no one knew I took, but I had to let her teach me how to dance.”
The most adorable vision of an eleven-year-old Gray dancing with Etta made me smile. “I love that. And she did a good job teaching you. You also have a certain assertive way about you that makes you naturally a good partner.”
Gray nuzzled into my hair and used his hand at my back to tug me closer. “I can’t wait to dance with you horizontally.”
He smelled so good, danced wonderfully, kissed me like it might be his last, and I knew from feeling him straddled beneath me in the limousine last night that he was also well endowed. It was debatable which one of us couldn’t wait more than the other.
After the song was over, we sat down at our assigned table. We’d been seated with Grant’s children, two women about my age, or a little older maybe. They were both very friendly when Gray had introduced us earlier in the evening.
“So what do you do, Layla?” the one named Chelsea asked.
“I’m an attorney with Latham & Pittman.”
“What’s your specialty?”
“I do mostly SEC and transactional work.”
“Oh. So you’re familiar with the lingo all of these people use, then?”
“I’m afraid so.” I smiled.
“I’m an art appraiser.” She poured wine from one of the bottles set up on the table. “Which means all I hear when most of these people talk is blah blah blah.”
I laughed. “People in the industry tend to use a lot of acronyms and like to talk shop.”
“How did you and Gray meet?”
“Umm…”
I was totally unprepared for that question and had no idea how to make we met in prison sound anything but a little nutty.
Maybe because it was a little nutty.
Gray must’ve overheard and seen my face as I tried to figure out an appropriate answer.
“She taught a class I took,” he said with a wink. “I was hot for the teacher.”
We sat around talking for a while. At times, Gray would be in one conversation and I’d be in another with someone else, yet his hand was always across the back of my chair or his thigh pushed up against mine. I loved that he seemed to need to stay connected to me in some way, because I felt the same.
Eventually, a gentleman came over and asked to steal Gray for a few minutes to talk shop. While he was gone, I took the opportunity to find the ladies’ room and freshen up. I fixed my hair, blotted on fresh lipstick, and right before I was about to leave, I decided to actually go to the bathroom before rejoining the party.
I closed myself into the stall and gathered all of the material of my dress to one side before hovering over the toilet in my high heels. I’d heard heels clacking on the tile floor and voices, but didn’t pay any attention as I put myself back together, smoothing my dress back into place. Just as I went to open the lock on the stall, I heard a woman say Gray’s name. I stilled to listen.
“And the woman he brought? She’s an SEC attorney. How convenient. I guess he figures next time he gets caught bilking a client, he’ll have free representation at least.” I recognized the voice as Chelsea—Grant’s daughter, and the same woman who’d been so nice to his face.
The other woman cackled. “Wish I was an attorney. He might be a criminal, but he’s still hot as hell. I’d let him drill me in exchange for some free legal services.”
“My father believes he’s innocent. Can you believe that? Then again, he was also partners with Gray’s father. Maybe he just likes assholes.”
The two of them stuck around for a few more jabs at someone else and then slithered back to the party. I stayed frozen in place, still locked in the
stall. That woman had smiled and acted friendly to both our faces. I’d been so consumed with my own thoughts on Gray, I’d never stopped to consider that he’d lost more than just three years of his life.
That time in prison would follow him around forever. People would pretend to move past it, but there’d always be a shadow of suspicion. I’d seen it happen to criminal clients—an innocent man wrongly accused of rape. Even after his name was cleared, people still looked at him funny. There was always a morsel of doubt. Maybe, just maybe, he’d done it and gotten away with it. Only in Gray’s case, not only had he not done it, he hadn’t gotten away with it either, and he’d lost his freedom for years.
I wasn’t quite sure how to handle what I’d just heard. Should I tell him? Could he possibly already know? My instinct told me he had no idea these people were fake and talking about him behind his back. I stayed in the bathroom for a few more minutes to collect my thoughts, and then headed back out to the party.
Gray was coming down the hall to the bathroom as I exited.
“There you are. I was about to send out a search party for you.”
I forced a smile. “Sorry. Women take forever in the bathroom.”
He studied my face. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Sure,” I lied.
“Dance with me again.” He put his arm around my waist and guided me to walk with him. “It’s the only way I can get my hands on you in public without making a scene.”
Once we were on the floor, I broached the subject of Grant’s daughters to see if he realized they were two-faced assholes. “Grant’s family seems nice.”
“Yeah. Grant was one of the few people who never doubted me when I said I was innocent. And his daughters are great, too.”
My heart ached. God, I hated that he’d done something so admirable to save a woman he’d cared about, and people would forever have doubts. I guess I wasn’t very good at hiding my face.