She guides me into her hot mouth, and my eyes roll back into my head. She’s delicate today, in a teasing mood as she only works the head of my cock. I watch her plump lips pump in sync with her small hand, and it drives me fucking wild. I grip her hair into a tight fist as the orgasm builds, bubbling to the surface like a boiling pot of milk.
“Fuck...” I pause when she takes me deeper,her cheeks hollow, eyes closed. “You’re so good at this.”A low growl leaves my lips, and it spurs her on.
She pumps faster, and the hold I have on her hair tightens, my hips bucking when she claws at my thighs, pulling me closer and deeper until the head of my cock hits the back of her throat, and I’m fucking done for.
“Out,” I rasp, yanking my hips back, but she moves with me. “I’ll come in your mouth if you don’t let me go.”
She sucks harder, holding onto my ass to keep me in place. I pin her head to the wall, pumping in and out of her mouth a few times before a powerful orgasm shatters my entire body, and muscles cramp with my release. Black spots flicker before my eyes, and I hold onto the wall for support, watching Layla swallow. A tiny trickle of cum slides from the corner of her lips.She looks up at me, cheeks pink. She’s so fucking beautiful. I bend down, grip her under her arms and throw her on the bed.
“This is not how this was supposed to go down. I want to feel you come around my cock, Layla, so you’re in for torture before I’m ready to go again.” I cover her body with mine, twirling my tongue over her pebbled nipple.
It doesn’t take long for the first orgasm to run through her body. Two, maybe three minutes of my lips on her clit and my fingers pumping in and out before she gasps, biting on my lip when I try to drink her moans.
We get to three before I’m ready, and the first deep, urgent thrust scoots Layla up the bed. I rest my weight on one elbow while the other hand holds onto her neck.
“Oh God,” she breathes, the words like a breathless staccato when my thrusts gain pace and orgasm number four looms nearby.
I learned exactly where to push and probe to have Layla coming time and time again, and I sure use that skill to my advantage tonight. If I can get her exhausted beyond reason, she’ll fall asleep and stay home tonight.
“It’s too much, Dante, please, enough, I—”
“It’s not too much. Don’t hold back, Star. Let go.”
Seven. Seven orgasms within two hours. Mission accomplished. She’s so exhausted and mellow that her eyes fall shut on their own accord when I get out of bed.
“I know what you’re doing,” she mutters, cuddling one pillow to her chest. “Jean will be here within the hour if you don’t take me to Anatolij’s.”
“Sleep, Star. I’ll deal with Jean.”
She smiles, eyes closed, and by the time I emerge from the bathroom with a washcloth, she’s passed out.
Layla
The smell of freshly brewed coffee pulls me out of a peaceful, dreamless sleep—the kind I like best. I wash up and throw on a robe, heading downstairs.
“Good morning, sweetie,” Jess chirps, rushing around the kitchen, setting cups of coffee in front of Jean and Anatolij.
Dante lost the fight with Jean last night, or rather, I forfeited when she screamed her head-off downstairs and woke me up less than half an hour after I nodded off.
“Good morning.”
“Sleep well?” Jean hides a grin behind her cup.
“I would’ve slept better in my own bed.”
She pulls a face, sticking out her tongue at me, then immediately straightens her spine when Anatolij walks into the kitchen. He bought this house a few days after I was released from the hospital in Moscow so he would have somewhere to stay when he visits. Still, not even three months later, he re-arranged his business in Moscow and moved to Chicago permanently when he and Jess got back together. I’m happy for them, especially since my mother is changing back into the woman Anatolij described a few months ago, passionate and ambitious, no longer focused solely on her looks. It’s all thanks to Anatolij, who, unlike Frank, nurtures Jess’s qualities instead of fueling her flaws.
I’ve been spending a lot of time with both of my parents lately, working through my issues with Jess and getting to know Anatolij better. I’m not ready to call him Dad, and I might never be, but the bond we’ve formed over six months is more than I could’ve hoped for.
With a smile that might not leave my face for one second today, I take a cup of coffee from Jess.
“What are you grinning at?” Jean huffs.
I shrug, smiling wider. “Seven hours from now, I’ll be Mrs. Carrow.”
“If it was anyone else you wanted to marry so young, I’d strongly object,” Jess says, resting her back against the cabinets. “But I won’t because Dante is...”
“The right guy for me?” I laugh, expecting a cliché to come out of her no-longer-pink-and-glossy mouth