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Whoa.
I think I’m done, start to draw breath into my starved lungs, then groan when Layla clenches around me, hard.
“Oh God,” she whispers, and then she’s coming, too, coming again, squeezing my still hard dick until it jerks once more, wringing the last drops out of me.
Jesus. I find myself zoning out, slumped back and staring up at the white ceiling, and she drops on my chest, breathing heavily.
“Distracted yet?” I try to say and am not even sure it comes out right.
She hums against my pec and I feel her smile.
Looks like she is, and I grin, snatching this quiet, calm moment with my girl from the chaos, my body sated, my mind clear.
This is how my life should be, once the Organization is beaten, and I’m gonna do my best to make it happen.
***
“You kids done playing yet?” Storm’s voice booms alarmingly close to my ear, and I snap upright.
And find myself sinking into tepid water.
Fuck.
“Don’t drown in the tub, buddy,” Storm calls out, the bastard, and then a slighter body collides with mine.
Layla wraps her arms around me. “You okay?”
“Fine,” I grumble, though her slick body against mine feels incredible.
“You fell asleep. Didn’t want to wake you, but the water is getting cold.”
“You didn’t wake me, that idiot did.” I send Storm a pointed glare.
“So you don’t need any help climbing out of that tub, do you?”
Asshole is having way too much fun with this.
And I can’t deny I do need help, because my muscles are like jelly, and I’m not even sure I can stand up from the water.
“How about this? I help you out, take you to the bedroom, and leave Layla to get out with some privacy and join you later?”
“Damn right you’ll give her privacy, motherfucker.” I’m strangely protective of her.
Strangely jealous of the idea of Storm seeing her naked. The thought makes me wanna punch him in the face.
“So come on then.” Storm beckons, and although it pains me, I let go of her and hold on to the rim as I make my slow way to the steps. Moving in the water is okay, but the moment I emerge from the water it’s as if my limbs have turned to lead.
Storm sometimes has the right idea in his immature, stupid head, I think as he bends over to help me out and then lets me lean on him and hobble my slow way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of water on the floor.
“Feeling human again?” he asks, seating me on the bed and reaching for a folded towel someone’s left there. “You look more human. Less like a werewolf that went through a fucking sewer.”
“Always with the fucking compliments,” I snarl and flop back on the bed, too tired to move another muscle.
“I do what I can. Get under the covers.”
“Can’t.”
“Move your goddamn lily-white ass, Hawk.”
