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“And they left you like this?” I ask, bending to breathe in the scent of her hair. “That’s just cruel.”
“Mmhm.” She looks up at me, her green eyes huge. “Help me?”
I look behind me at the party. We have the wedding photos scheduled in a few minutes. Any second, one of the bridesmaids is going to come looking for me. My entire body is screaming at me to grab Layla and carry her all the way back to our hotel room. But I can’t.
“Please?” Layla asks softly. She looks a mess; there’s a pink flush crawling up her neck and cheeks, and she’s breathing shallowly as she rubs her body unsubtly up against mine. I can’t leave her like this.
“Come with me,” I mutter, taking her hand.
* * *
Layla lets me lead her out of the hall and into the service corridor. Hustling her to the end of the hallway, I open the door to the private staff bathroom.It’s pretty in here: the wallpaper is patterned with roses, and the seashell-shaped sinks are set in a long marble counter studded with gold-plated taps.
Locking the door behind us, I turn and push Layla back up against the wall, kissing her again. She melts against me, gasping. Her hands cling to my lapels like she’s holding herself up. “Please,” she whispers again. “It’s driving me mad.”
I slide my hand down the curve of her hip, feeling the cool fabric of her dress bunch under my fingertips. “Do they hurt? Want me to take them out?”
She shakes her head, grabbing my wrist and guiding it between her legs. “Please,” she breathes. “Touch me.”
Dutifully, I slide my palm underneath her dress. Her soft, smooth thighs are hot and damp. When my fingers reach the sodden lace lining her pants, I have to close my eyes. She’s soaked.Nudging the wet fabric aside, I slide two fingers between her slick, puffy lips, marvelling at her softness. She shudders all over as I tease my fingertips around her entrance, before gently dipping them inside. As I start to stroke her, I feel the hot, slippery surface of the metal beads. She jolts as my fingertips brush them, and I kiss her cheek. “Does that feel good?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“Y-yes,” she stutters. “Oh—”
I laugh, fluttering my fingers inside her.
For a few minutes, we’re mostly silent. I finger Layla steadily, and she buries all of her little gasps and murmurs into the front of my shirt. She’s already close. I can feel her wetness dripping down the palm of my hand, wetting my wrist.
Suddenly, my phone beeps on the counter. I close my eyes. Crap. “I don’t have much time. That’ll be my brother wanting to do pictures.”
She grinds up against me again, her hips trembling against my hand. When I meet her eyes, they’re glassy with tears.
I frown. “Baby, does it hurt?”
“It aches,” she hisses. I pause, and she makes a sad sound. “No,” she gasps. “No, keep going!” Her voice is tight with desperation. Obediently, I keep up my steady movements, plunging my fingers deep inside her. Her slippery walls clamp down on me like she’s trying to drag me in deeper, and her whole body jerks against mine. She’s on the edge. She probably has been for a while. Her breathing starts coming quicker, each gasp more high pitched and desperate than the last, and I kiss her even harder, not letting up so she can catch her breath.
“Gonna come?” I murmur.
She nods into my shoulder, and I smile against her, thrusting my fingers in even deeper until I reach the metal beads. Very carefully, I grasp ahold of one, twitching the string inside her as I roll my thumb over her swollen nub.
***
FIFTY-NINE
***
JOSH
Her eyes widen. With a low moan, she explodes in a hot, wet mess against my hand. I hold her steady as she convulses against me, gripping hard onto the front of my jacket as waves of sensation roll through her. I can feel her pulsing around my fingers, hot and strong as she writhes against me.
It is the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen. I have to close my eyes and force myself to steady my breathing.
Eventually, she starts to slow down, but I’m not done. My heart is hammering. I want more. I jam my fingers knuckle-deep into her, not letting up until she’s squirming again.
“Josh—” she mutters. “I can’t—it’s too much.”
I twist my fingers, scooping at her inner wall, and tug on the string of beads. Almost instantly, she’s coming again, her body jerking hard against mine as she shudders all over. Her hair has fallen over her face, strands tickling all over her cheeks, and I push them back behind her ears, holding her close as she gasps silently.
By the time the last wave of shivers leaves her body, she’s slumped against me, sweaty and limp. I kiss her wet cheek, pulling out of her reluctantly. On the counter, my phone beeps again.
