Page 12 of Raw & Reckless

Layla’s lips twitch upward into a slow, cheeky, incredibly daring smile. “Shame.”

That single word is all the invitation I need.

A dark, dangerous thrill surges through my blood. I grab her hand, and we race down the hallway toward the master bathroom, her breathless giggles echoing off the walls.

Once inside, I turn the shower handles, letting the stall fog up with thick, billowing steam before I turn back to her. I take my time undressing my precious girl, peeling the oversized flannel away inch by inch, my eyes tracing every curve, every dip of her skin, until she’s standing bare before me.

Then, my expression hardens as my eyes catch the fading, ugly purple bruises still mottling her throat and wrist. A low, vicious curse tears from my throat, my jaw clenching so hard it aches. I hate those marks with every fiber of my being.

Layla senses the dark shift in me. Her delicate hand reaches up, tracing a line across my stubbled jaw, dragging my attention back up to her purple gaze.

“Be here with me,” she whispers, her voice steady and full of quiet power. “Right here in this moment.”

I cup her face in both of my massive, calloused hands, drawing her down into a deep, lingering kiss that washes away the ghosts of the past twenty-four hours.

We step together into the pounding, steaming heat of the shower. The hot water sheets over our skin, electrifying my nerves as we begin washing each other. When it's my turn, Layla soaps up her hands, sliding them down my chest, over my abs, and lower, deliberately brushing her soapy palm against my heavy, swelling cock.

I let out a rough chuckle, my hands coming down to grip her waist. With a smooth, effortless motion, I spin her around, pressing her back flush against my front. The hot water cascades over both of us as I lean down, brushing my lips against the sensitive shell of her ear.

“You don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, my pretty little Moonflower,” I rasp out, my voice thick with warning and promise.

My hands roam up over her slick, soapy chest, pinching her hardened nipples before sliding down the wet curves of her waist, lower, lower, until one large hand cups her hot, soaking pussy.

Layla whimpers, her head falling back against my shoulder as she writhes wildly under my touch, grinding her soft backside backward against my fully hard, throbbing length. I dip a single, thick finger into her tight, welcoming heat while my thumb relentlessly strokes her slick, swollen clit.

“Does my sweet, filthy girl like this?” I murmur into her ear, my voice dropping to a rough growl. “When I’m deep inside you?”

I slide a second finger in beside the first, stretching her smoothly while working her clit to a fever pitch. Her entire body trembles and arches in my arms, but even in the haze of pleasure, she manages to reach behind her back, groping blindly until her small hand wraps firmly around my throbbing dick.

“Fuck… I can’t wait to give you more of this,” I groan, burying my face in her wet hair. “More of me.”

Layla moans in desperate approval, squeezing my painful erection tightly, milking a thick bead of pre-cum from the tip. We fall into a frantic, chaotic rhythm, syncing our movements together. Our grunts and heavy, desperate breaths are drowned out by the roaring rush of the hot water. The steam and the blinding pleasure electrify every inch of my skin as we claw our way toward the edge together.

With a final, desperate thrust, we both shatter.

Our climaxes slam into us simultaneously, an overwhelming wave of white-hot pleasure and profound, bone-deep emotion that leaves us both gasping and shaking beneath the cascading water. I wrap my arms tight around her trembling body, holding her weight as we ride out the aftershocks, pressing tender kisses into her wet shoulders before resting my forehead heavily against her back.

When the world finally stops spinning, we wash up properly. I turn off the water, wrap her snugly in a fluffy, oversized white towel, and lift her up to sit on the bathroom counter so I can dry her off. I press soft, lingering kisses to her cheeks and the tip of her nose, grinning as she looks up at me with that shy, radiant smile. She is the most goddamn adorable thing I have ever laid eyes on.

“You know,” I murmur, running my thumb over her lower lip, “after all that working out... I definitely owe you some breakfast.”

8

LAYLA

The sun dips below the jagged Pacific Northwest horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of violet and ffuchsia, but the warmth of the shower still lingers like a phantom current beneath my skin. I’m curled up on the worn leather couch wrapped in one of Phoenix’s softest hoodies, but my mind is trapped in the memory of the bathroom… the heat, the steam, the heavy weight of Phoenix’s hands mapping every inch of my body, and the life-altering release we found together.

A few feet away, the rhythmic clink of dishes breaks the quiet. Phoenix is standing at the small kitchen sink, cleaning up after dinner with practiced movements. The contrast between his lethal, tattooed enforcer presence and the domestic way he takes care of me sends a sweet, aching flutter straight through my chest.

When he finishes, he dries his hands on a towel and walks back into the living room. Without a word, he sits down on the coffee table right in front of me, gently taking my ankles and lifting my bare feet onto his lap.

My breath hitches as his large, calloused thumbs press firmly into the arches of my feet. The relief is instantaneous, a melting wave of relaxation that washes over me. He works his way up slowly, his strong hands massaging the tension from my ankles, smoothing up my calves, and gliding higher over the sensitive skin of my thighs. Every brush of his fingers leaves a trail of liquid fire in its wake.

Without thinking, my thighs part wider under his touch.

Phoenix doesn't hesitate. With a low, hungry growl, he abandons the massage, crawling up my body like a predatory cat. He cages me in against the back of the couch, pressing his heavy, rock-hard length directly against my core through my clothes as his lips crash down onto mine.

I moan into his mouth, arching my back to pull him closer. The friction sends a sharp, electric jolt straight between my thighs, making my head spin.