“I’m not sleeping in another man’s bed. It doesn’t feel right.” I sit up and think of the hypocrisy of my last statement. I won’t sleep in his bed but I’m dying to sleep in his daughter’s.
“Pickup got delayed. Likely gonna be an extra couple days on top of what we figured.”
“Roger that,” I confirm, not needing to talk about this any more on a phone.
“Layla there?”
“Probably sleeping.”
“Can you put her on anyway?”
I sit up and try and catch my bearings, my head still dizzy as I lumber up the stairs. When I reach her door I see that it’s cracked open. I’m not sure if I should knock or peek inside to see if she’s asleep. Does she sleep in the nude?
Damn, this is too much.
“Layla,” I call out, banging on the wall next to her door. “Your father wants to speak with you.”
A few seconds later I see my angel, sleep still in her eyes, her hair every which way, her face covered in marks from her pillow…and she’s still the most beautiful girl on the face of the earth.
She takes the phone, smiles, and then her hand reaches around and slaps my ass. “For waking me up,” she tries to justify. I make a mental note to return the favor later. Disobedience will not go unpunished.
She glides back to her bed, covered only in a sheet. I swear she looks like an angel, and her voice this morning sounds like it too. I just lean against the doorjamb, watching as she talks with her dad.
Seeing her like this, this morning has my dick harder than a rock and there’s no hiding it considering I’ve got nothing on other than my boxers. I want to see her this vulnerable, this perfect, every morning for the rest of our lives. I want to march right over there to her bed and touch her, run my hands along every inch of her and welcome her into the day…as she welcomes my thickness into my body. That’s how every morning should start out for the rest of our lives, and I vow to make that a reality damn soon.
Gripping the doorjamb so hard I feel the wood creak underneath my fingers. I want her like a fiend, want to grab her thighs and spread them open, placing my mouth on her pretty little pussy and tasting her all over again.
My mind races back to the thought of that boy who was here yesterday. Maybe I overreacted to him being over, and then again maybe not. There was just something about knowing he was here in the house with her, alone…knowing he could be flirting with her, touching her, making her laugh, kissing her, all of it…it drives me crazy. Just thinking of any boy or man with Layla makes me jealous. She should be spending her time with me.
I rap my knuckles on the door and run my finger in a circle, signaling she needs to finish up the call. Her dad’s close to the delivery point and we don’t need anyone tracing our call and placing him at the scene when things go down. As much as I’d like to stare at her all day we’ve got things to do.
“Almost done,” she says, her pretty little lips forming the words just before she licks them to provide some more moisture to combat morning dehydration.
I say nothing, and neither does she. We just stare at each other for several seconds, our gazes trained on each other.
She pats the bed next to her, offering me a place, and I just shake my head because I don’t trust my voice right now. Instead, I move toward the stairs, making my way downstairs. This is so wrong on so many levels. I should have been stronger and just stayed away. I should have just come over to check on her while her dad was gone. Hell, I should be the one who went for the pickup like I always do, but I sent him away so I could be with his daughter…the one I’ve wanted since her eighteenth birthday. No other woman compares to her, no one else on earth interests me one bit.
When I reach the downstairs area I go straight to the kitchen and tip back a huge glass of water. Out of nowhere, I feel tiny hands wrap around my waist and an equally small head burrow into my back. “Mornin’,” she greets me.
I set the glass down, afraid if I turn around too quickly I might slice her in two with my rock hard dick. So I move slowly until we’re face to face.
“Kiss me,” she demands, causing me to groan like a wild animal. I run the back of my hand across her porcelain cheek and tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, my hand continuing right along until it’s behind her head. Cupping her skull through her golden locks I move her head toward mine as my own face closes the distance between us, my lips claiming hers. It’s clear she’s already brushed her teeth, but even if she hadn’t I wouldn’t care. I sweep my tongue between her parted lips and move it in rhythm with hers.
She whimpers softly and my cock jerks violently in my pants.
My other hand finds the small of her back and I jerk her into me, causing her to throw her legs around me and herself fully into my arms.
With her breasts pressed square against the center of my chest I can feel her hard nipples through the material of the oversized white tank top she put on before coming down. The one that’s razor-thin, clearly worn in after years of use. Add in the fact that she has no bra on underneath and I’m damn close to fisting my cock and sliding it right into her entrance, starting the day with some real life fireworks.
She continues to grind her little body against me and I move toward the counter, sitting her down and pulling back.
Her breath is ragged and I inhale deeply, trying to get oxygen to my brain so I can think straight. The look on her face is one of admiration…for me, and damnit if I don’t feel the same about her.
“We need to stop. It’s the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do, but it needs to be done.”
She says nothing, the entire house silent.
“I don’t want to stop.”