Perfectly Lonely - Jessica Marin Page 0,43

at me and leaves.

As soon as Layla is more coherent, I’ll be grilling her on this asshole. Maybe I can talk to Cal to have his fancy private investigators get full details on him. I turn my attention back to Layla just in time as she sways while standing up from the booth. I wrap my arm around her waist to hold her up and carry her tote bag with my other arm. We walk outside and get into an awaiting taxi. Fortunately, with it being a Friday night, there are plenty lined up outside the bar. I give him my address and as soon as I’m done talking, Layla grabs my face and starts kissing me.

“Layla,” I groan, as she starts to trail kisses down my neck. Her hand is on my pants, fumbling with the button to my jeans. She manages to unbutton it before I move her hand away. “Not here, Layla. Let’s wait until we get to my place.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want this,” she seductively says, continuing to move my zipper down and slip her hand inside my pants. To distract me, she brings her lips back up to mine and sears me with a hot, wet kiss. Her breath tastes like the signature cinnamon whiskey she enjoys and my control starts to slip. Her tongue slips through my lips and I moan as her hand touches my erection. She continues her assault on my lips and my dick, the outside world slowly starting to fade. She gently bites down on my lower lip, squeezing my shaft at the same time and I almost cum right there in her hand. Her lips leave mine and I watch in a daze as her head goes down to finish me off. My cock starts twitching at the thought of being inside her hot, wet, mouth but before she can latch on, I place my hands on her shoulders and pull her up.

“Layla, not here!” I demand and the tone of my voice not only gets her attention, but that of the taxi driver as he looks at me in his rearview mirror.

“Wow, since when did you become such a fuddy duddy?” she slurs, disappointment written all over her face.

I close my eyes and count to ten, praying that I can keep my control in check. We only have a couple more blocks to go until we arrive at my apartment. If making her mad keeps her hands - and mouth - off me, then so be it.

“The taxi driver might become distracted by hearing that succulent mouth of yours. I wouldn’t want us to crash, Angel.” I lean in close to her and whisper in her ear. “Just another five minutes and then you can have your wicked way with me in the privacy of my place.” I wink at her and this seems to placate her for the time being. What seems like the hardest five minutes of my life from refraining to touch her, we finally arrive at my apartment. I pay the driver and help Layla out and up to my apartment.

As soon as we get inside, I deposit her on the couch and go to the kitchen to get her a glass of water. “Did you eat dinner?” I question, feeling guilty that I let her down by not showing up on time.

“Nope!” Her emphasis on the word makes me smile. No wonder she’s drunk with the amount of alcohol she has imbibed on an empty stomach. I walk back to the couch with her water.

“How about I make you a sandwich? I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“I’m not hungry for food,” she says and proceeds to try to stand up, but dizziness from the alcohol causes her to sit back down.

“Why don’t you watch some television while I make you a snack?” I don’t give her a chance to answer as I head back to the kitchen and prepare her some eggs and toast. I see her flick through the channels and settle on a movie. Eight minutes later, I carry a tray with our food out to her but stop short at the sight of her.

She’s slumped over, snoring in her sleep.

19

Layla

The first thing I feel when I start to regain consciousness is the slow, pounding hammer in my head. I try to open my mouth, but it feels as dry as a desert. My eye lids feel like they are weighed down with sand bags and refuse to open. I groan