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Zoey’s little nose crinkled for the briefest of seconds before she ran to the other side of the car and hurriedly buckled herself into the passenger seat.
“That’s what I thought.” I smirked, standing up and getting into the car with her.
I was about to put the pedal to the metal when Zoey placed her tiny hand on mine.
“Thank you, mister.”
“No problem, kid.”
“My name isn’t kid, mister. It’s Zoey,” she corrected, shaking her head at me like I had a few screws loose for forgetting her name so quickly.
“Whatever you say, kid . . . I mean, Zoey.”
After that serendipitous interaction, I made sure to keep tabs on the two girls at all times. Something inside me just had this need to protect them. The little one, because she showed bravery when most kids her age would have cowered when faced with the likes of me. And Layla, for having shown the same courage in her selfless pursuit to save her sister, since it was obvious she had failed to protect her mom and brother.
I had some hiccups keeping track of them when they lived in the foster home and then later at their aunt’s house in Charleston. But the minute Layla turned eighteen and made the decision to move into the city—my city—I made it a point of knowing every move she made from there on. And when I learned she got a job as a waitress in this dump, there was no way I wouldn’t use it to my advantage.
Over the years, my urge to protect her grew into an obsession, one I did very little to curb. Watching Layla grow up from a well-intentioned teenager to the fierce, kind woman she is today stirred something inside me that went beyond the basic need to keep her safe.
The need to possess her heart, body, and soul became a compulsion that has taken over every thought in my head. The only time I’m not thinking about having her under me is when I’m taking the light out of someone’s eyes. After that, Layla is all I think of.
Shit.
My cock gets hard just from recalling how she blushed yesterday when she tried to innocently flirt with me.
And when she touched me . . .
Fuck . . .
When she touched me, it took monumental effort on my part not to pick her up, lay her on top of the table, hike that ugly skirt she wears as a uniform up, and fuck her right there where everyone could see. The insatiable need to devour her body and ravish it so completely that she would have no choice but to scream my name for all of New York to hear was so strong, I had to leave before I did something stupid.
Wiping my sweaty palms over my thighs, I lick my lips as I watch her sashay around the tables, her cute ass begging for my teeth to mark each cheek. She laughs at something the cook just whispered in her ear, and she’s still smiling when she retrieves the plate full of food he puts on the counter, destined for her next client. Even though he’s old enough to be her grandfather, I can’t help the illogical jealousy that invades me, my hands balling into fists.
Layla is prone to smiling, but she hardly ever laughs.
Those moments are rare, so when she does it, it feels as if the sun just parted a cloudy sky for me, warming my insides with its transcendent, heated glow.
Layla places the plate on the table, shoving a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Disappointingly, her fiery red locks are in their usual bun today. Every time I’m near, I secretly beg her to let me untangle her hair from the top of her head just so I could feel the silk pass through my fingertips.
My cock swells in my pants to the point of pain. Unable to stop myself, I free my steel shaft from its confinement and wrap my hand around its base. Shame and embarrassment should snap me out of my lust-filled haze, but sense has no place in my mind when all I see is her. With the tinted windows of my car giving me the privacy I need, I jerk my cock with images of Layla playing in a seductive loop in my mind.
I stare at her full, lush lips and envision them parting for me, her tongue peeking out to tease the crown of my cock. I hiss when she takes me into her warm wet mouth, her jeweled eyes fixed on mine. My fingers weave into her hair as I push her down as far as she can take me, my cock hitting the back of her throat as tears begin to stream down the corners of her eyes.
I loosen my grip on her, afraid that I’m hurting her with my unbridled lust, but my temptress doesn’t like that. Her hands cover mine, pushing me to continue my onslaught. She rubs her thighs together, her slick, wet pussy needing to be filled.
So small, so delicate, so . . . perfect.
I ask her if she wants to jump on my lap and ride me, and she nods as she sucks me down, making me delirious with want.
I ask her if she’ll let me fuck her long and hard for days on end, and I get another nod, causing me to leak into her mouth.
And when I ask her if she’s mine and I see her green eyes sparkle with utter love for me, I come undone. It’s too much for me to take, and I come down her throat, loving how she never takes her eyes off me as she milks me dry, swallowing every last drop of cum.
When I feel my release on my hands, I see the mess I’ve made on my designer jeans, and cold reality sets in.
Fuck.
There’s no way I can go in looking like this. I slam my fists on the steering wheel, hating myself for not having better restraint.
