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The waves just don’t stop. His strokes are stretching them out.
His face above me is intense. He stares down into my eyes like he’s confused or puzzling something together that he hasn’t quite worked out.
He tosses one of my legs to his other shoulder so they’re both together, crossed at the knees. “You’re so tight. It feels so fucking good. I…”
“Come, Layton. Let go with me and take your pleasure.”
And he does. A few more strokes and he plants himself to the root and shouts my name. His eyes never waver as they hold mine.
He collapses on top of me, a shiver running through him, still inside me as his orgasm works out of his body.
Warm lips caress my shoulder and trail to my ear. “You’re fucking perfect, Pix. How will I ever resist you?”
I stiffen and look away. Of course, he’d be thinking how to leave while he’s still inside me.
A strong palm turns my face to his. “What?”
I shrug and shake my head.
“Not a chance, Olivia. Talk to me.”
I clench around him, hoping to distract him. The groan I pull from his chest is worth it, and he pushes in a little deeper.
“I wish I could describe what you feel like inside me. Brutal beauty and perfect fullness. It’s like hunger and satisfaction at the same time.”
“I can’t explain how you feel around my cock,” he whispers. “A velvet vise. I never want to leave it.”
I squeeze him again. Instead of feeling him move, he withdraws, rolling me to face him. His murmured voice is sated but serious. “What did I miss? I can’t read your mind.”
I drop my eyes, staring at his pecs, tracing my fingers around the muscle of one. “Why do you need to resist me?”
His hand stills on my face, he doesn’t lift mine to his. He waits. Who would’ve thought Layton Ranger was patient?
After several long moments, I prompt him, “Well?”
I misread his silence for patience. Persistence is a better description.
When I finally look into his eyes, they’re warm but firm. The fun, easygoing man I know has been replaced with an intense one.
“I… Have I angered you?”
He shakes his head, saying nothing.
“Why do you want to resist me?”
“Do you think I don’t want you?”
I shrug, not quite sure what’s happening here. It’s like post-coital snuggling but with word games. My eyes drop of their own volition.
“Look at me, Olivia.”
I snap up to meet his gaze.
“Can you think of no reason I should resist you?”
I hedge. I’m mellow after the orgasms, but not interested in opening myself up for rejection while I’m still naked.
And vulnerable.
