I tunnel in and out of her, my hand slipping down to undo the clip on her bra. Her large, ivory tits spill free and instantly entrance me. I bend down, sucking one hard nipple into my mouth, keeping my hand on her throat. Her body jerks as she tightens on my cock.
“Thomas,” she cries, shuddering beneath me.
I groan. She’s going to come, and when she detonates, she’s going to take me with her—I won’t be able to stop. I pick up speed, thrusting into her faster, riding her harder than I should. Still, there’s no way I can stop. I need her. I’ve never felt anything like this. I didn’t expect it. She’s like the sweetest high, an addiction that could sink it’s claws into me way too easily. I take her tit in my mouth, sucking not only her nipple but some of the soft mound, humming against her tit as I fuck her. Her nails scrape down my back as her body moves seamlessly with mine.
“Thomas, I think…I think….”
She doesn’t finish, but she doesn’t need to. I can feel the way her pussy is fluttering around my cock and her body trembles.
“Come for me, Sunflower,” I groan. “Come for me,” I literally beg, taking another kiss from her beautiful lips and swallowing her cry as she lets go. She comes all around my cock. She tightens so much on me that it’s on the verge of pain—but the most delightful pain I’ve ever known.
She squeezes me, and just like that, it’s over. I tear my mouth away, growling as I climax, flooding her sweet pussy and painting her walls with my cum. She milks me, matching my thrusts, and choking down on my cock demanding every fucking drop, and I give it to her—and I do it watching her face.
She’s beautiful. She’s fucking fantastic.
“Thomas…” she gasps, draining my cock.
Somehow, I find the energy to slide to my side and settle on the mattress while keeping us connected and shifting so that Lyla is on top of me. Her face is pressed into my neck as I hold her. My fingers moving up and down on her back. I hold her just like this, wondering what in the fuck I’m going to do about Lyla….
Chapter 26
Thomas
I stretch my body, moaning at the heat that seems to be surrounding me. It feels good. I feel good. Amazing, in fact. I turn to my side, lifting my arms up, still working out the kinks and hit warmth.
Warm, hot woman.
My eyes open, and my heart skips a beat.
Shit. I slept with Lyla.
Memories of the night before play through my mind. Visions of her body, open for me, of the way she held me as I sunk inside of her… Oh God. She was a virgin. I took her virginity. I took her innocence, and I shouldn’t have.
I shouldn’t have touched her.
Lyla is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a best friend, but even I know how fucked up it is that we even began that friendship. I took her out because she looked like Gabby. Hell, the only reason I approached her in the first place was because I thought she was Gabby.
I had no business sleeping with her, let alone being the man she gave her virginity to. I try to ignore how good it feels when her ass presses against my already rising cock. It’s next to impossible—especially when she lifts her arms up and rolls over on her back. The sheet has fallen past her breasts, resting on her hips instead. My hands curl into fists to keep from reaching out and touching her. I can remember all too well the feel of her breasts, though. They’re heavy in my hands, soft, pliable, over filling them and making me ache. Her body is a living fantasy, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want her again.
I can’t.
I’ve already taken too much from her. I have to find a way to fix this—without hurting Lyla. With that in mind, I resolve not to give into the hunger that she’s sparked inside of me. I reach down and pull the sheet up to cover her tempting, full tits. Guilt fills me as I see the small bruises and scratches from my stubble that are angry and red against her pale, white mounds. I spent hours kissing and touching every part of her body, but I always came back to her tits. Well, there or between her legs. She’s so fucking sweet that she’s addicting. Hell, I can still taste her on my tongue. I see the confusion that moves over Lyla’s face, and it only increases my guilt.
“Morning,” she whispers, her eyes worried but still soft. Lyla has feelings for me. I’d be a fool not to see it right now.