Every time I close my eyes, I see your mouth on mine. I feel the little hitch in your breath when I pulled you closer.
I tell myself it was a mistake. That I should stay the fuck away.
But I keep coming back to it. Keep wanting more.
I let out a shaky breath. Fuck.
Layla
I keep thinking about what would’ve happened if we hadn’t stopped.
I would’ve letyou.
Reed
Layla…
The screen stays lit on my name while the seconds stretch.
I stare at his message, my chest tight, as my thumb hovers over the call button.
My thighs are still pressed together from that one involuntary squeeze, the ache between them now a steady, insistent pulse.
I don’t think as I tap the phone icon next to his name. It rings for less than a second before he answers.
“Layla.” His voice is rough and gravelly. I can hear the restraint in his voice from our messages.
I swallow. My mouth suddenly goes dry. “Hey.”
A beat of silence, until a soft exhale, almost a laugh, but pained. “Don’t make this harder for me than it already is.”
“Reed.” I shift on the couch, pulling my knees up again, letting my hoodie slip off one shoulder. “I couldn’t just… keep typing. I needed to hear you, please.”
He lets out a half-groan, half-curse. “Fuck, your voice. It’s worse than the texts.”
Heat floods my face, spreading everywhere. I let my free hand slide down my stomach, resting it on my lower abdomen. “Tell me why it’s worse.”
“Because I can hear how turned on you are.” His words come more slowly now. “That little hitch in your breath, the way you’re trying to stay quiet, is turning me on.”
I bite my lip. “Talk to me, Reed, please.”
He lets out another rough exhale and a groan that will damn near make me fall to my knees.
I can picture him, probably lying back on his bed with his arm over his eyes, as his phone pressed to his ear, a faint smile stretching across his lips.
“Let go, for me.”
Holy shit.
My fingers twitch against the lace of my panties. I part my legs a fraction, sliding my fingers lower. “Reed, I—I want you.”
“Fuck.” His voice cracks on the word. “Are you wet for me, baby?”
“Soaked.” I slide two fingers down, parting myself just enough to feel how wet I am. “From thinking about that night on your couch. About how you kissed me like you were drowning, then just… stopped.”
“I stopped because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have let you leave.” His breathing is heavier now. “I would’ve taken you right there, pushed your shorts down, spread you across my lap, and made you ride me until you couldn’t remember why you’d ever said yes to him.”
A whimper slips out before I can stop it. I press my fingers inside my pussy slowly as my hips lift off the cushion.
