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This is supposed to be a performance but there are no rules here. If I’m not careful then I’m going to cross a line and I’ll never come back from it. I don't give a shit.
I shift closer toward her, close enough to press the head of my cock against her dripping sex and dragging myself over her. And I’m fucking unable to resist the urge to kiss her, to press my lips to hers so she feels my wicked grin. Loving the way she kisses me back. There is no performance there.
She puts herself into the kiss the same way I do.
I can barely breathe when she arches her hips and brings herself closer to my dick.
“Do it,” she whispers. “I want you, Gabriel.”
And that means more to me than any dirty talk. Any inch of ownership I’ve gained tonight.
I yank her to me and thrust inside of her. Filling her to the point where her body presses to mine and there is no space left between us.
“Holy fuck!”
She yells it out, her head tipping back and her mouth open.
“There’s only me, Layla.” I pull out entirely before slamming home again. “Remember that.”
Watching her react…it’s too much.
Watching her watch me fuck her, her hands clenching the open air above the stage. She might keep her mask of control in place every other waking moment but right now she’s not fighting. She’senjoying.
I hold her eyes and grab her by the hips to brace her. She arches her back so that those fantastic breasts are back on display.
No show anymore.
Only her.
Only her pussy clenching around me and tightening with each thrust, to the point where I’m in danger of losing more than my mind. I circle my hips in one direction, then another, slowing my movement to the point where she tries to move. Her sobbing exhales are music to my ears and she’s no longer coiled tightly like a snake ready to attack.
No, she’s moaning, meeting me thrust for thrust, her expression demanding more.
I want to come inside of her. The thought has my balls tightening and my orgasm creeping closer. Right as I’m about to explode, I pull out and jerk myself off, coming all over her tits instead. She watches me finish, panting.
And surprises the crap out of me when she lifts a finger to her chest, dragging it through the hot arc of cum and sucking it between her lips.
Fuck. I’m going to need to jerk off again later tonight.
This one release isn’t going to be enough.
Not nearly enough.
We watch each other for a long moment before I push up on trembling legs, shoving my still-hard dick back into my pants. I reach down for her, waiting for Layla to take my hand. Slowly she lifts her arm and clasps her fingers through mine. I haul her up, ignoring the cum on her as our chests press together.
“I’m clean,” I whisper, nipping at her ear. “Just want you to know.”
She opens her mouth but no sound comes out.
It takes me too long to realize the sounds of applause coming from the rest of the room and to feel the heat of the red lights overhead. Fuck.
The case.
I shake my head, black hair falling across my eyes, and let go of Layla only long enough to grab her clothes. She stands in the middle of the stage with her arms across her chest, not quite hiding but dragging the pieces of herself back into their familiar places.
She lets me shove her jacket around her shoulders. The panties, though?
Those I’m keeping.
