Hawk (Sex and Bullets 2)

“Love you, Layla,” he says after a while, and I hug him harder, unable to speak. “I am so sorry I was such an asshole to you.”

“I’m not asking anything from you,” I whisper, finally finding my voice.

“And what if I want something from you? What if I want everything? Everything with you? Can’t I want you and love you like any other normal guy? Can’t I love my girl, the mother of my baby? Have you thought about that?” When I shake my head against his chest, he kisses my hair. “I really want to be with you. If you’ll have me. I want to be your boyfriend, your man. I want to be the father to our baby. I want you to let me love you and show you how much I want you.”

“You should rest,” I tell him, my heart booming. “We can talk about this later.”

“No. I won’t wait any longer. Every time I waited to say something, it was too late, or I thought it might be. Remember your dream, when I said I can’t do this with you?” At my nod, he goes on. “I can do this, Layla. I want to do this. But not without you. Not with any other woman.”

“Oh God.” He’s saying everything I want to hear. It’s too good to be true and too complicated to be that simple. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Be with me. Please be with me, Layla.”

“I’ve been with you from the start,” I whisper, and he trembles against me, murmuring my name.

Epilogue

Four months later

Hawk

“We’re going to be late,” Layla says, a crease of worry between her pretty brows. She is distressed, I know, even as I move behind her and zip up her dress.

She spoke to her dad the other day and is still upset about it. I mean, these days she gets easily upset, but anyone in her shoes would be, hearing their father confess he had been foolish enough to let the Organization help him with his business when he got into trouble and then had to play to their tune and allow horrible things to happen under his company’s roof as payback.

Her dad doesn’t seem like a bad person. Which makes me think again about my own parents and wonder if I should try talking to them again. See if they finally decide to speak to me and tell me a similar story to Layla’s father.

Only her father wasn’t one of the leaders. My parents were. Kinda difficult to think of sufficiently extenuating circumstances for that, right? The truth I have to finally accept is that my grandfather was right, at least in this: his daughter found a man just like her—greedy for power and money. They were a perfect match.

Hell, I hope I won’t turn out like them in ten years’ time.

But as Layla turns around and smiles at me, as I put my hands on her swollen belly and feel our baby kick, I doubt that will happen. I can’t feel their motivations. Never could. I don’t care about more money—I mean, fuck, how much money can one person need?

I have all I need right here, in this room, with me.

And like every time I look at my girl, I’m floored by her glow.

“God, you’re so pretty,” I breathe and kiss her, frantically trying to calculate if we have enough time for a quick, hot fuck before we leave.

My dick is rock-hard in my dress pants, and like every time I take in her accentuated curves—the roundness of her belly, the heaviness of her tits, the hardness of her nipples—I’m close to blowing my load just from looking at her.

“No,” she whispers back, “we’re late,” but she’s pressing her body to mine, kissing me back, and I walk her backward until she sinks down on the bed.

I have plans for some more exciting sex today, but for a quickie this will do. I can’t even walk, I’m so hard for her, and seeing her underneath me, in her glittery dress and sparkly high heels, all dressed up for Storm’s and Raylin’s wedding, is too much to resist.

The need to peel her clothes off her is a constant in my life lately, but now I also need to mess up her perfect hairdo, pull loose those shiny locks, pull off her dress to see her lacy panties and bra, throw her legs over my shoulders and eat her up.

She moans when I lift one leg and kiss her ankle, then the inside of her knee, then her inner thigh. I can see her panties now, a pale blue, and I nuzzle her pussy through the lace, drawing in her scent of arousal.

“I want you,” I grunt, pulling back reluctantly so that I can undress her, “so fucking bad.”

She laughs breathlessly. “Even like this?” She pats her belly and color spreads on her cheekbones.

She really doesn’t get it. “Especially like this.” I sit beside her, unzip her dress and have it off her in a heartbeat. “Listen, babe. I hope we’re gonna have fuckloads of children, so that we can have lots of pregnant sex.”

Giggling, she turns toward me, and God, I love the sparkle in her eyes. My hands are all over her body, over her tits. They’re more than a handful now, and I reach behind her for the clasp of her bra, impatient to have them bare in my hands, in my mouth.

The moment I draw one nipple into my mouth, she goes wild. She grabs my shoulders and grinds herself on my hard-on, and pleasure shoots up my spine, sparks behind my balls.