“Lucky bastard,” he says more to himself than to me. “We’ll be there at ten.”
“You and Nate, keep it to yourself for now.”
They’re the only two who know about Kyle, and it needs to stay that way. The more people who know, the greater the risk of exposing Kyle. He has to maintain his position until Chicago falls into my hands.
“Sure. We’ll be there.”
“And get someone to always watch Luca. I want to know his every move.”
I find Layla in the kitchen still in a black see-through nightdress, a focused expression on her doll-like face as she looks at the screen, biting her cheek. A pile of open books and the tape recorder she used while interrogating my mother litter the table.
“Who gave you permission to leave our bed?”
She jumps, looking over her shoulder. “Why are you sneaking up? You scared me.”
I move closer to kiss the top of her head. “I ask you a question.” Pushing her laptop aside, I catch her hand and don’t let go until she sits on the table.
“I didn’t want to wake you.”
The nightdress hugs her frame, highlighting her boobs—the one part of her body she’s self-conscious about for no apparent reason. They’re not the largest but fit perfectly in my hands. I don’t need more than that. In fact, if I could change one thing about Layla, it wouldn’t be her looks or her personality. It’d be her surname. Apart from this easily fixable detail, she’s a dream.
My dream come true.
“You’re not allowed to leave the bed until I let you.” I bite on her ear and take her upstairs, determined to fill the two hours before Spades and Nate arrive with nothing but her moans.
Layla point-blank refused to skip classes all week in favor of sex, but I’m all over her the minute she gets home every day. Sex has always been my go-to tension reducer, and with all the problems hanging over my head, I can’t get enough of Layla no matter how long we’re in bed. How she managed to finish her dissertation on time is beyond me. We have sex at least three times a day. We’ve christened the bath, shower, kitchen, and living room. We tried every position I could think of to find those she enjoys most, but I can’t get enough of her. The sweet, breathless moans, the way she tastes and looks when she comes.
I gave the maid a few days off so she couldn’t listen to Layla’s moans, my growls, the bed slamming against the wall, or witness us on the couch while Layla rides me, with her mouth on my neck, my hands on her back. She enjoys dominating and is getting good at maintaining a demanding pace.
“You’ll be late,” I say when she walks out of the bathroom, her hair wet, eyes gleaming, legs weak after the intense orgasm she had while I held her pinned to the wall under the stream of hot water, driving into her from behind.
I do my utmost to make her writhe, squirm and beg for release. Knowing that she needs it so much, that she needsmeso much is empowering.
“It’s the last day before Christmas break. Newson can handle me being late for a change,” she says, struggling with the zipper on her back.
It starts too low for her to reach, but she’d rather dislocate her shoulder than give up. I drape her hair over her shoulder, zip her up, and kiss the nape of her neck. “Can he? Good, because I’m fucking starving.” I throw her on the bed, yanking the dress up and panties down. “Open.”
“Wejusthad sex!” she chuckles.
“Don’t deny me my pussy. Open, Layla. Nice and wide.”
She lets her legs fall apart, her smile morphing into parted lips and hooded eyes when I latch onto her clit like a starving man, slipping two fingers inside.
She had an orgasm ten minutes ago, but she’s fucking soaking wet, already on the brink of another violent release within minutes.
“There it is... good girl, don’t hold back,” I say against her when she writhes, pressing her sweet pussy to my lips as she comes, flooding the house with her moans. I love that she’s so fucking vocal, letting me hear how good it feels when I make her come. There’s nothing more arousing than seeing her ripped to shreds by an intense orgasm.
My plan for the day consists of dropping her off and picking her up from college and hours of catching up with paperwork in-between, but it all goes to shit five minutes later when I ascend the stairs to find Spades on the sofa with a take-out cup in hand, two more on the table.
“Morning,” he says. “It might be a wise idea to change the alarm code, Dante, so no one can barge in here unannounced now that Layla lives here, and...” he trails off, cocking an eyebrow to non-verbally finish the sentence.
“Are you blushing?” I smirk, plopping down on the sofa. “My house, my girl. If you don’t want to hear her come, don’t arrive unannounced.”
He swallows hard, rubbing his hands on his trousers. “I’ll remember that.”
“Get on with the show, Spades. You found the snitch?”
“Not yet. There are more pressing matters to attend to right now. Caro rang earlier. The V brothers are flying in this afternoon. They want to meet up at the club.”