A loud groan burst out of me when I finally had my full length buried deep inside her with my balls pressed against her clit. “Fuck, baby.”
Running my hand from her ass up to the base of her neck, I made small stabbing motions, quick withdrawals and thrusts back inside her.
“Keep your hand there,” she begged, grinding her ass into me and moaning.
I squeezed the hand I had on her neck, assuming that was the one she meant and not the one I had on her hip. “You want me to hold you in place while I fuck you?”
“God, yes,” she whispered, grinding down again. “That feels so good.”
I took my time withdrawing until only the tip of me was inside her, and then with a snap of my hips, I thrust inside her, hard enough to move her up the sheets.
“Brace your hands against the headboard,” I barked on the next thrust, watching as they shot out and gripped the wooden slats hard enough to turn her knuckles white.
With them stopping her from moving now, I had enough resistance when I thrust into Layla for her to get the force she loved so much when I thrust into her. Using my free hand, I skimmed it from her hip to the base of her spine and pressed, urging her to arch her spine.
That changed everything. Whereas before, I’d been skimming over that patch inside her that drove Layla nuts, now every movement I made was with complete contact to it, meaning that within five thrusts, she was crying out, and I felt her muscles clamp down around me.
I didn’t let up once, not even when it became hard to press through her spasming walls. At one point in time in our relationship, I’d only been able to last out until she came, but now one wasn’t acceptable. If I could hang on for her to come again, I made sure it happened.
Like now.
Bending over her until my hand was braced on the bed next to her head, I whispered in her ear, “You’re my heart and my entire world.”
She raised her head and pressed it against my shoulder as I increased the timing of my thrusts. “To the moon and back, Mark.”
Then, leaving one hand on the headboard, she slid the other one down the sheet and pressed it under mine, linking our fingers together.
Something about that gesture, effectively anchoring herself to me, made the familiar tingle in the base of my spine that signaled I was about to come hit.
“I want you to come with me.”
Her head pressed even harder against my shoulder, but then every muscle that I could feel in her body against my own tightened, and she cried out as it hit her again, pulling me over the edge with her.
I lost the ability to feel any of my limbs as the pleasure rushed through my body, and when I finally regained control of my senses, I realized I was lying wholly on top of her. When I’d done this the first time, I’d been worried I was crushing her and stopping her from breathing. Now I knew she liked it when it happened, so long as I didn’t lie there for any longer than necessary, i.e., enough to suffocate her.
Lifting my weight off her ribs, I brushed the hair off the side of her face so I could see it. “You okay, pretty girl?”
“If by okay you mean can I feel my body and could I possibly be a productive member of society at any point in the rest of my life? No, and unlikely.” Turning her head slightly so she could see me, she grinned. “Well, the last bit might happen, but the first one is a definite no.”
A flash of light lit up the room and was quickly followed by a loud crack of thunder, and the wind blew, making the light curtains dance as they lifted up with it and alerting us to how sweaty we both were. This was a good sweat, the best kind, though, and the breeze that hit us felt like heaven.
I rolled to the side, bringing her with me, and lay spooning her with my chin on her shoulder, my fingers idly running over her stomach.
“So, how bad is it exactly?” Layla asked finally.
Feeling drowsy, I frowned at the question. “How bad is what?”
“How bad is the sunburn?”
Lifting onto one arm, I rolled her onto her back and took her in from her head to her hips. It really was terrible.
Instead of answering her question directly, I asked slowly, “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”
She tried to shuffle away from me, and when I didn’t let her go, she moved her foot around and hooked the sheet on her big toe to pull it over her body. “Oh, God, it’s bad, isn’t it?”
If I said yes, she’d feel self-conscious, and I didn’t want that for her. I was also genuinely concerned that she was in pain with it. “Do you need me to go and get the aloe? Maybe they have a doctor who can come and check you over?”
“I don’t need a doctor,” she hissed. “Now tell me how bad it is. On a scale of one to ten—ten being an overcooked turkey.”