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Bracing my arm against the wall, I ram into her once, twice, three times. Layla lets out a small, very urgent moan, shuddering underneath me. “Oh - oh, God,” she mumbles, her breath coming fast and desperate. “I…”
“Come,” I order.
She cries out as she collapses into another trembling climax, her hands flying out. Her body arches, twisting and shaking. Layla’s a curvy little thing, all soft tits and hips, and her whole body bounces as her release rips through her. Gritting my teeth, I keep on pounding into her, drilling into that special spot deep inside her. Her centre pulses and twitches around me, flushing a few shades deeper. My sheets are getting soaked through with her wetness.
And then it’s my turn. I vaguely register Josh kneeling next to Layla on the bed, pulling her into his arms as she trembles, but I can’t focus on him as my release slams into me. For a second, the room just fades away. Everything thrums as my head empties. Layla clutches around me, waves of contractions rippling through her muscles as she comes hard, milking me dry as I spurt my release into her over and over and over again.
***
TWENTY-FIVE
***
ZACK
Eventually, I come back to reality. Layla is still making noises, soft little needy moans. Her channel sucks at me, fluttering as I pull slowly out of her. I stagger into the ensuite to dump the rubber, and when I get back, Josh is lying with her in his arms, murmuring to her. “I know,” he’s saying into the crook of her neck, pushing her sweaty hair off her forehead. “I know, baby.”
I slide in on her other side. “You good?” I ask. “Need some more?”
“Oh, God, no.”She shakes her head, winding an arm around both of our necks and pulling us closer.“You’ll kill me. Just… just give me a minute.”
I happily snuggle down next to her. My whole body is humming. My head is fuzzy and drunk.
That was probably the best hookup of my life.
We all lay together for a few minutes, catching our breath. Right as my eyes start to drift shut, a phone rings in the lounge. Josh groans and forces himself upright, grabbing his boxers and shirt off the floor. Layla makes an adorable noise of protest, reaching after him.
“Gotta answer this call,” he mutters.
“Ugh.” She flops back down against my chest, burying her face into my skin. “Isn’t it weird for you two?” She mumbles into me. “Sharing a girl?”
“Nah, not really. We’ve been best mates since we were kids. We’re used to sharing stuff.”
“That young?”
I push some hair off her face. “We went to nursery together. He lived across the road from me, so we’d walk home from school and hang out at each others’ houses. He was such a weird kid, but I liked him.”
She smiles slightly. “It must be nice to have been friends with someone your whole life. You guys must be so close.”
“We used to be closer,” I admit, my mood dipping. “After I left high school, I screwed everything up. Cut contact with him for years. Like a prick.”
“When you joined the rugby team?”
I nod. “I didn’t wanna speak to anyone back home. He’d message me, call me, and I never picked up the phone. Even when his mum… when he really needed me to help him, I didn’t do it. Ignored his texts and emails.”
“But you answered when he invited you onto the podcast,” she points out.
I shrug. “Didn’t have much of a choice. He forced me to join. After I got thrown off the team because of my knee, I went on a wee bender. He heard I was back in town, found me in a hotel room, and moved me into his and Luke’s spare room. Next thing I knew, I was on the podcast. Gave me something to do, I guess.”
“Hm.” She studies me for a second, then tilts her face up, catching my mouth with hers. She’s gentle and tentative, kissing me with soft, deep strokes that press us closer together. I stay still, letting my eyes fall closed.
Eventually, she sighs, flopping back on the pillow. “That was nice.”
I snort. “You’re so odd, L.”
“Mm.” She trails her finger through my chest hair, then turns her attention to the ring hanging from the chain around my neck. It’s just a cheap silver band. I bought it when I was seventeen — back then, it was all I could afford.
Layla touches it, running her finger over the cold metal. A sense of wrong rolls up in my stomach, and I smile tightly, pulling her hand away.
