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She squeezes my shoulders, staring up at me as I reach down, grabbing my cock and guiding it to her pussy. I push my tip against her entrance, feeling her lips open for me, but not enough. With a groan, I push a little harder, but then she makes a pained, gasping sound, and I stop right away.
“Are you okay?” I whisper.
“I’m fine. Don’t stop.”
I try again, pushing, but she makes the same noise.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I growl.
Ineverwant to hurt her. Or let anybody cause her pain.
“Then get off,” she snaps, her voice suddenly taut. “What are we doing? What thehellare we doing?”
I stand, fighting every urge in my body, every carnal call commanding me to claim her. My seed is pissed at me, my balls aching, desperate for a release.
“You have to go,” she whispers.
“So, we’re back to the hot-and-cold routine, are we?”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
I smirk, gesturing at my cock. “That’s funny. I was about to say the same thing.”
She laughs softly, a moment of brightness in the tension, but then she scowls and gestures at the door.
“Please. Before they hear.”
The end of my dick tingles with her wetness, but we can’t call that sex. I didn’t get to feel her hole gripping me. Just the resistance, as if her body knows this is wrong.
“Layla…”
We both freeze when a door opens in the hallway, footsteps walking to the bathroom next to Layla’s bedroom. She stares at me with fear touching every one of her perfect features. I clench my fists as the guilt returns, my manhood waning, and the lust seeps out of me as I wonder if it’s my brother or sister-in-law in there.
After the toilet flushes, Layla gestures at the door and brings her finger to her mouth again. I’ve got no choice but to leave. As I creep down the hallway feeling like a thief, I know I won’t be able to resist her, not now that I’ve tasted her.
I need more.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Layla
“It was a simple fix,” Miles says, standing on the other side of my car.
Noah stands between us, a mug of coffee in his hand, grinning at me and then at his big brother. Miles is wearing a shirt with stylish trousers and fancy shoes since he’s got a business meeting in the city. He cuts a dashing figure with his neat hair shining silver in the sun.
The memory of last night stabs at me. Most of all, I remember what we almost did, his manhood pushing against me and my body as if knowing how wrong it was, not letting him inside. If we weren’t interrupted, would I have told him the truth?
“My brother’s a man of many talents,” Noah says.
Yeah, I learned that last night.
My sex aches inappropriately, my center feeling sore and needy as if pissed at me for not taking it all the way.
“Thank you,” I say, finding it challenging to meet Miles’ eyes.
“It’s not a problem.”
“Right, then.” Noah takes a long sip of coffee. “Now that my brother has shown you his handiwork, I’ll grab some breakfast.”
