pull air into my lungs. “I need you naked, baby. I know you love the dress. I can buy you a new one.” I reach for her.
She jumps back out of my grasp. “No. I love this dress. You’re just going to have to wait.”
I grip my cock that’s straining against the zipper of this monkey suit I’m wearing. “I’m dripping with need for you, Layla. I can’t wait.” My words are strained as I try to reach for her, but she’s a tiny thing and fast as she again evades me.
My eyes are glued to her as she turns her back to me. “Can you unzip me?”
I step close, my hands falling to her back as I slowly pull the zipper down. She steps away before I can rip the offending piece of fabric from her body. “I want you,” I tell her.
“I want you too, but I love this dress.” I watch as she carefully slides the fabric over her shoulder and shimmies her hips, letting it slide to the floor. When she bends over to pick it up, her tits look as though they are about to fall out of the strapless bra she’s wearing, and her ass in that thong… I want to bite it.
“What would your mom say if she knew you tore my dress and why?”
“I don’t give a fuck, and can we not talk about my mom right now?”
Soft laughter fills the room as she turns to face me. “I need you naked, Owen,” she says, her hands on her hips.
“Gladly.” I begin to rip off my clothes—jacket, tie, shirt, with my buttons flying across the room. Next, I fumble with my belt as I unclasp it. I make sure to latch on to the waistband of my boxer briefs and remove them with my pants. Letting it all fall to the floor. “You’re next,” I tell her, gripping my cock. I watch in fascination as she walks to the other side of the room, pulling a chair from the small dining table in the corner. She carries it with her, setting it in front of me.
“This is for you.”
“What am I supposed to do with that?” I ask, staring at the chair.
“Sit.”
“Babe, we can talk later. I need you.” I look down at my hard cock gripped in the palm of my hand.
“Sit, please,” she says, batting those baby blues at me. I can’t say no to her, so I sit in the chair. With slow, gradual steps, she comes toward me, stepping between my legs. My hands grip her hips, any excuse to touch her. “I like this,” she says softly, running her hands over my newly trimmed beard. “I like the way it feels against my bare skin.”
Fuck. Is she trying to kill me? “Layla,” I croak.
With a hand on either side of my face, she bends so that our mouths are barely a breath apart. “I love you, Owen Riggins.” Her lips press to mine, and I try to deepen the kiss, but my girl has other plans as she pulls out of my hold, taking a step back.
She stands just out of reach, and I want to go to her, toss her on the bed and have my wicked way with her, but something tells me that she needs this. That she needs to feel in control, and we both know Layla holds all the control, along with every single piece of me. The breath whooshes from my lungs when she reaches behind her and unclasps her strapless bra, letting the tiny scrap of material fall to the floor.
I keep my mouth shut and my hands fisted at my sides as she slides an index finger on either side of the waistband of her thong, and shimmies her hips yet again, letting it fall to her feet.
“Did you know that I can’t think when your hands or your mouth are on me? It’s like you turn my brain to mush. You always get to take the lead, and I thought it would be fun to mix it up a little, but I can’t have you touching me. I’ll lose focus.”
My throat is dry as I reply, “You want to seduce me, baby?”
“Something like that.” She smirks.
Unfurling my hands, I raise my arms and open them wide. “I’m yours for the taking, Layla. Do with me what you wish.”
“There are so many things,” she says, tapping her index finger against her chin.
“Do your worst, baby.”
“Oh no, that I won’t