She looks puzzled. “I don’t understand the question.”
“Do you agree that you’re mine? A relationship? Monogamous?”
“Max,” she whispers, understanding dawning. “This is complicated. You know that.”
I shake my head. “I’m not talking about jobs or the team. I’m talking about you and me. Everything else will fall into place. But we need to be in agreement that we’re in this together. No other guys. No dating apps. Just us.”
Her eyes dance between mine. I know what I’m asking. I want her to choose me. Not Ground Man. Not anyone else. Me.
“Okay,” she whispers.
“Yeah?” I ask, letting out a relieved breath.
“Yeah.” Layla gives me a hesitant smile. “If you’re asking for the reason I think you are, you should know I’m on birth control.”
“Thank fuck,” I mutter, grabbing her knee. Yanking it up by my hip, I slide home, groaning as her hot pussy snugly pulls me in. God. It’s been years since I’ve fucked without a condom, and it’s possible I’d forgotten how spectacular it feels. Every bit of her pussy twitches and squeezes me, making me feel like I might blow my load at any second. Once I’m fully seated, my eyes find hers. “Do you know how good your pussy feels? How perfect it fits me? You were made to take me, baby.”
“You were made to fill me,” she replies, whimpering as I pull almost all the way out, before I quickly push back in. I begin a steady pace, slamming into her as I watch her expression.
“I can’t believe this is only the third time I’ve been inside you,” I grunt.
“Second time,” she pants.
“What?”
“It’s only the second time,” she replies, grabbing my neck and yanking me down to kiss her.
“I said what I said,” I mumble against her lips. Tomorrow.Tomorrow, I’ll tell her the truth and hope like hell she forgives me for keeping it from her.
Sounds of sex permeate the room as I pummel into Layla, her cries of pleasure only heightening my fervor to make this the best orgasm of her life. Sitting up, I turn her, spinning her legs in front of me without letting my cock slide out, then grab her hips to bring her to her hands and knees. Latching a hand into her hair, I fuck her harshly, only vaguely recognizing when she cries out that she’s coming. Black spots dot my vision as my stride falters, an orgasm of epic proportions barreling toward me. With a roar, I empty inside Layla, collapsing on top of her as I come.
Sliding just barely to the side, I don’t pull out, wanting to keep this connection as long as possible. We don’t speak as we both catch our breath, but the silence doesn’t make me uncomfortable. Rather, with Layla, it feels like it should. Like I’m coming home to the one person who matches me.
And that’s how I fall asleep, still buried inside her. The last thought I have before sliding into unconsciousness is how I hope she doesn’t break my heart.
When I wake up alone the following morning, I’m incredibly disappointed, and oddly pissed off. Looking at my clock on my nightstand, I find it’s just after seven. Sunlight streams in from my windows, and it makes me irrationally angry. Where the hell did she go?
Jumping out of bed, I grab my discarded boxer briefs, pulling them onto my legs, then stalk out of the bedroom. The kitchen lights are on, and when I peer into the guinea pig enclosure, I find a smorgasbord of fresh vegetables for them. “Well, at least she clearly said good morning to you.”
Striding down the hallway, I find Layla’s door open, and hersitting on the bed, wrapped in a towel, and applying lotion to her legs. I let out a loud whoosh of breath, making her head pop up. “Hi.”
“You could have showered in my bathroom, you know,” I blurt out, still aggravated at waking up alone, but relieved she’s still in the apartment.
Layla looks confused, her eyes darting to her en suite. “All my stuff is in here?”
Good point. “What all do you need for a shower?”
“Is this a rhetorical question? You’ve obviously showered before, Max. You know what people use,” she says, her lips twitching as she fights a smile. Popping the lid closed on the lotion, she stands up.
“Not rhetorical, Peaches. Give me specifics.” Before I leave for New Orleans, I’m moving all of her shit into my bathroom, and if I have time, I’m moving her clothes into my closet, too.
She glances at me, her expression one of slight concern and obvious confusion. “Shampoo, conditioner, body wash, stuff for shaving. Sometimes I use a deep conditioner, and other times I use a detoxifying shampoo. What is this about? You seem a little riled up.”
Layla approaches me slowly, her hand tentatively reaching out to touch my chest. My heart beats erratically under her palm, and I find myself breathing much faster than I should be for just waking up. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Max, what’s going on?” she asks softly, stepping closer. My arms automatically band around her, pulling her entire body against mine. I’m quiet for a moment, listening to her breathing, and allowing mine to sync with hers.
“I thought you left, and I didn’t like waking up alone,” I finally admit, my voice hoarse and no more than a whisper.
