Her lower lip quivered.
“You’re still mine, aren’t you, Layla? Just as I’ve always been yours.”
“Brian, please ... I can’t bear it.”
One fingertip pushed inside her, and she gasped. Her slender body shook.
He slid in and out, twisting his wrist. After a moment, another digit joined the first. She whispered a curse. Her hips began to move in tiny circles, seeking the pleasure of his touch.
She hissed when he pressed a third finger into the tightly stretched opening.
“You’re so damn tight.” He groaned when she clenched around his thrusting fingers. “And scorching hot.”
“Oh God . . .”
He pulled free of her clinging depths and filled his palm with lubrication. He stroked his cock from root to tip, squeezing the thick pulsing length, imagining how damn good it was going to feel once he got inside her. More than the raw physicality of the act, it was her surrender that turned him inside out. He ceded to her in many ways, couldn’t help himself from wanting to see to her happiness, found it almost impossible to say no to her, but in this one demand of his, she yielded completely.
If he’d needed proof that there was still an emotional wall between them, her token resistance was it. She’d never denied him anything, especially not in bed. But she was vulnerable now—weak from pleasure and falling for him all over again. After her expressionless face yesterday, he could finally read her tonight and he knew this was it—his chance to reach her, to make her feel his need and regret and pain. To feel the longing for her that was eating at him from the inside.
Brian gentled her quivering with a hand at her hip. Taking himself in hand, he ran the wide head of his cock up and down between her cheeks, teasing the flexing opening. With a sharp inhale, she pushed out, accepting him. He pressed forward, sliding into her, growling at the heat and damn near unbearable tightness.
Her exhale was shaky. “Brian . . .”
“I’m right here with you,” he said hoarsely, sliding deeper. “It’s tearing me up, too, baby. Killing me . . .”
Layla pushed back with her hips, taking him halfway. She was stretched tightly around him, clenching rhythmically. The pleasure was stealing his sanity. He could barely breathe through it. Sweat coursed down his chest and back, his hands trembled like a junky’s, his mouth was so dry he could hardly swallow.
Reaching around and beneath her, Brian cupped her cunt, groaning at how wet and swollen she was. He pushed deeper into her rear, his fingers penetrating her pussy at the same time.
“Fuck,” he bit out, feeling himself through the thin membrane between his fingers and cock. He struggled against the need to come before he was fully inside her.
She clawed at the sheets. Cries spilled from her throat, soft sounds of desperate hunger. Her legs slid farther apart; her ass lifted to take him deeper.
“That’s it,” he praised. She opened, and his cock slid in to the root. “There, baby. Right there.”
“Bri . . .” Her voice broke.
Withdrawing his fingers, he yanked the pillow out from under her and tossed it aside. He caught her around the waist and rolled them as one, adjusting them so that he was spooned behind her, still deep inside her. His biceps cushioned her cheek, his other arm was slung over her waist. He linked his fingers with hers, holding their joined hands against her taut stomach, anchoring her in place as he began to thrust.
Layla felt herself unraveling ... falling to pieces ... and she couldn’t stop it. She shook uncontrollably, as naked as she would ever be, her arousal so fierce and wild it frightened her with its power. It writhed beneath her skin, fighting to be freed.
Brian was everywhere—behind her, around her, inside her body and her mind. His chest heaved against her back. His skin was feverishly hot and wet with sweat, sealing them together.
She needed him so much. Too much. Needed his ferocity and hunger, which made her feel how deeply he needed her in return.
His hips pulled back, dragging the furled underside of his cockhead across hypersensitive tissues. The sensation was agonizingly exquisite, coaxing her to arch her buttocks against him to reclaim more of the stretching fullness.
“Easy, baby.” His voice was made gruff by his raging lust. “Nice and easy.”
He pushed back into her. The slow, sure glide ensured she absorbed every nuance of the penetration. The feelings of possession and dominance.
Her head fell back against his shoulder. The slight pain of his entry was its own pleasure. She clenched around the invading hardness, her body desperate to hold him as he began to withdraw again.
“Fuck, yeah,” he growled, spurting a scorching wash of pre-cum inside her. “Keep squeezing me like that. You feel so good, Layla. So good . . .”
She moaned, her hand sliding downward to her pulsing swollen clit. He moved with her, their fingers still linked together.
“Let me.” His index and middle fingers settled over her pussy, parting her, touching her so gently she felt like weeping.