Eighteen
Layla
We arrive at Blake’s condo, and he parks the Rubicon in his assigned spot. Neighbors mill about walking their dogs, bringing in groceries, and sitting on their patios, like most folks would on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon. Laughing, we run up to his door hand in hand. Carefree and a little bit dangerous, like we’re a couple of teenagers ditching school to go make out.
He makes quick work of the door lock and I’m pressed against the wall, pinned there by his hips, before the door shuts behind us.
He doesn’t kiss me like I thought he would. Instead, he plants his hands on the wall on either side of me, caging me in. “Mouse.”
“Snake.” I know what he wants. Permission. It’s sweet, but he’s going to have to stop treating me like I’m breakable. I smile and tilt my head.
A low groan vibrates up from his chest. “Don’t want my rebellious girl. Not now when I’m aching for you. I want my Mouse.”
His Mouse. I like the way that sounds.
He leans in close, his lips only inches from mine. “Been waiting too long for these lips, sweetheart. That drive was ridiculous.”
“Yeah, it was.” I laugh and curl my hands behind his neck. “Okay, Snake. I’ll bite.”
“Yeah? I like it when you bite.”
I suck a ragged breath into my lungs. How is it that he can seduce me with nothing more than his words? “Kiss me, Blake. Touch me.”
An agonized moan that sounds more like relief than pain slides from his lips as he brushes them against mine. “Fuck, is this really happening?”
Tilting my head and parting my lips, I give him my mouth as an answer, letting him dive in deep. His hands tangle into my hair, and he holds me close. Our tongues slide against each other’s in a slow dance timed to perfection. No awkward slips or messy coordination, but like we were made to fit together. My belly tightens, twisting with delicious expectancy.
He grips my hair tight, and the pleasure-pain shoots straight to my nipples and womb. I arch my back, pressing my chest into his in search of the needed friction. He slides his hand down from my hair to my back. One tug at the tie of my bikini top and his hand skates up to work the tie at my neck. The top falls between us, and our bodies press together skin to skin. Warmth from his chest penetrates mine. His muscles flex against my nipples, and a wave of pleasure washes over me.
He curls his big arm around me and grabs my bottom. Pulling me up, my legs wrap around his waist, and he carries me down the hallway. Not once breaking our kiss, I squeak in surprise when I go airborne and land flat on my back on his bed.
Standing at the edge, his eyes devour my topless body as he unlaces his board shorts. He moves his gaze downward, from my bare chest to my belly, before focusing on the waistline of my linen pants. “Need those off. Shoes too.”
I’m lying on my back, and there’s a trained fighter who’s double my size looming at my feet, but I’m the one with all the power. Blake has proven that my feelings are his main priority. And the hunger in his eyes, combined with the response his body is proudly showing, makes me feel sexual and dominant.
I hold my foot up toward him. “Nu-uh. You do it.”
He smiles a crooked smile and bites his lip. I stare, envious that it’s not my teeth sinking into the plump flesh. I lick at my lips, savoring the taste of his tongue that lingers there.
His shorts hang dangerously low on his hips. A light sprinkling of sandy brown hair trails from his belly button and disappears beneath the waistband of his shorts. His muscles flex as he pulls off one of my wedge sandals, then the other. My eyes eat up his body with gluttonous satisfaction, and I study his tattoo.
The illustration of the world with an anchor through it looks almost three-dimensional. Its detailed shading contains so many variations of gray that it almost seems to be made up of colors. Amazing. The eagle stands on top of the earth with its wings spread proudly. Above it, printed in striking bold letters, is Semper Fidelis. That, I know, means “always loyal.” But below the art, on his ribs, is something else in flowing, scripted letters: Si vis pacem, para bellum.
What does that mean? There’s a story there, but I’ll be damned if—Ooooh…
Blake’s big strong hands rub circles into the soles of my feet. I drop my head back onto the bed. “Mmm, that feels good.”
He chuckles, his laughter laced with arrogant pride. “This ain’t shit, Mouse. You’re in for a lot of feelin’ good.”
My tummy somersaults. I know he feels like he’s on a mission to reform my no-climax status, but I hope he’s not disappointed when it doesn’t happen. “Um… don’t expect too much. You’re dealing with sixteen years of bad programing.”
“Remember, Mouse. Nothing more than you’re willing to give. You can trust me.”
And that’s it. That’s what it is about Blake. I can trust him. It’s not logical to put my faith in someone like him, and yet here I am. When he tells me I’m safe, and that I can trust him… I believe it. To the core of my soul, I believe him.
He puts a knee between my legs on the bed and braces himself over me. His big body hovers and sends me shrinking back into the mattress. Trapped. My mouth goes dry, and I struggle to take a full breath.
As if reading the panic in my body language, he frowns. “Fuck.” Shifting to the side, he drops to his back and pulls me on top of him. “I’m not him.”
I pull in a shaky breath. “I know.” Boy, do I know.
My heartbeat calms against his ribs, and my arms tuck in tight to his sides. The warmth of our skin ignites a desire to taste him. I run my lips along his tan skin. It’s unnatural for a man this strong and intimidating to be so soft. Moving lower, I concentrate on his tattoo, dropping kisses against his ribs. He groans and shifts his hips beneath me.
I smile against him at his restlessness. “This is really beautiful.” Peeking up from beneath my eyelashes, I find him staring at me.
His vibrant green eyes burn with hunger. “Nothing close to as beautiful as what I’m looking at.”
His simple compliment flips around in my belly. I dip my lips to his torso. “This script? What does it mean?” I hold my breath while I continue to rain kisses on his tattoo, hoping he’s relaxed enough to open up about his past. Then I tilt my chin up and see that he’s looking down at me.
“If you want peace, prepare for war.” His expression is serious, and I wonder what his story is.
“What does that mean?”
“It means you fight. Anything worth having in this life, you fight to get. And you don’t stop fighting until you get it.”
Yes. Exactly. Where was he seventeen years ago when everyone was telling me to do the right thing? I had plans and dreams. I’d never have given up Elle, but I had options. I could have fought harder for what I wanted, rather than giving in to what everyone wanted for me. His words remind me that it’s not too late. That it’s never too late to fight for our future. To fight for our peace.
A wave of contentment washes over me. I skate my open mouth from his ribs to his belly button, dragging my tongue along to savor the mild salty flavor. His hands fist in my hair, and I can feel the evidence of what my attention does to him digging between my breasts.
A ravenous hunger hits me hard. The overwhelming desire to devour him, to gorge until I get my fill.
I move lower, making sure to keep my eyes locked on his. “Blake, I want to taste you.”
“Your show, sweetheart.” His tense smile confirms the worry I see in his eyes.
Confused by the mixture of signals he’s sending, I slide back up his body, making sure to drag my bare chest along his until I’m at his mouth. “Stop worrying about me. I’m a big girl. I know what I want.” I place my lips to his in a tender kiss, hoping to reassure him. “I want you.”
He pinches his eyes closed for a moment before looking deep into my eyes. “Promise me this won’t fuck things up between us. If you’re not ready or if—”
“I promise.” Cupping his strong jaw, I run my thumb along his stubbled cheek. So handsome. “Now, may I?”
“Never say no to you, Mouse,” he whispers. “Never.” He grips my head, and brings his lips to mine in a passionate kiss.
Our tongues thrash together, desire pushing our bodies impossibly closer. Hips grinding, hands roaming, breathless moans and whimpers filling the room. He sits up and pulls me close so that I’m straddling his lap. He moves to my breast and sucks one nipple deep into his mouth. I roll my hips in approval. My body heats, feeling like it’s on the verge of catching fire from the attention of his skilled mouth. “Blake—”
“Need these off.” He tugs at the waistband of my pants.
Grateful that they’re drawstring, I make quick work of the tie and open them enough for him to slide his hand in. The intrusion of his fingers beneath my swim bottoms drops my head back on a purr.
“Fucking beautiful.” He slides two fingers in, and my breath hitches. “Everything about you is so damn perfect.”
With his hand engaged between my legs, he drops back to the bed. I look down to see his forearm running the length of his impressive abdomen. It flexes as he rolls his fingers, and the tightening in my belly coils deeper, bringing me to the edge of delirium.
Reaching up, he hooks me behind my neck and pulls me down to him. I’m swirling, light-headed. Greedy for more, I straighten my legs, and with the help of his free hand, I kick off my pants and bikini bottoms.
I’m completely naked. Totally exposed. But I don’t feel powerless or ashamed.
I feel desired. Worshiped. Cared for.
His fingers move in sensual and tender strokes. “Damn, look at you.” He runs his gaze over my face. I’m surprised, with all of his available options, he’s choosing to keep his eyes on my face. “Those eyes. So fucking sexy.”
Bared to him completely, and yet he praises me for something so everyday. A smile twitches my lips, but fails to develop. My nerves are on high, skin vibrating as my need pushes me higher and higher.
Reaching between us, I grip him beneath his shorts, and curb my reaction to jump back at his size. Heated steel warms my palm, and I tighten my hold. A hiss of pleasure shoots from his lips. I stroke him and then latch on to his mouth to swallow the deep groan that bubbles up from his throat.
His abdominal muscles flex and release in time with my caress. I pull back to watch, but he chases my lips, insisting I stay with him. The kiss becomes urgent, like no matter how much I give him, it’ll never be enough.
“Can’t take it anymore.” He pulls at my hips to roll me on top of him.
He scoots down the bed beneath me while encouraging me to crawl toward the headboard. He trails his lips between my breasts, down my ribs, and over my belly button, making sure to hit every erogenous zone on his way down. Oh, wow.
The new position releases a million butterflies that start in my middle and race all over my body. I grab the headboard and pull myself up while he continues his journey down.
I’m lost in sensations, responding to the contact and begging for more.
The tender touch of his lips whispers along the skin just above my pubic bone. Deliberate swipes of his mouth and gentle nuzzles of his nose. I’m lost, gone in a flurry of euphoric bliss.
He grips my bottom tight. “What the fuck?”
My muscles tense when I realize what he’s found. Oh shit.
Blake
She tries to wiggle away, but I clasp her hips, keeping her in place. The jagged scar, well below her belly button, is the focus. I know scars. They’re common in the life of a professional fighter. But a scar down here, so close to—that motherfucker. Fury, hot and catching, floods my veins.
“What happened?” My barked question says accusation, not curiosity.
She tries to scamper away again, and I flip her to her back, my shoulders between her legs. I keep my grip on her hips.
“Blake.” The warning in her tone gets my attention.
“Mouse, don’t worry. I’ll let you go.” I place a delicate kiss on her scar. “I’m just curious.”
She bucks once and throws her forearm over her eyes. “I got caught up in everything and I forgot. Dammit.”
I run my finger along the silvery strip and kiss the surrounding skin. What could it be? It’s too big to be a stab wound, but seems too sloppy for a surgical scar. “Don’t shut down on me. Tell me what happened.”
Her tensed muscles relax fractionally at my whispered words. I continue to brush and pull at her tender skin with my lips, urging her to calm, silently begging her to trust me.
I don’t move any lower, but linger, content to stay between her legs as long as it takes for her to talk to me. If Stew did this to her, I’ll hunt him down like a pig and slaughter his ass. I keep this information to myself, knowing that my flipping out will only chase her away.
“C-section scar,” she finally whispers.
Well, thank God.
My breathing slows, and I study her skin. It looks like the damn procedure was done with a box cutter. The line isn’t straight, and the skin is puckered, like it healed wrong in some places. “Why?” It sounds like a stupid question, but I don’t know shit about baby delivery.
She clears her throat. “I’m small. I was smaller at sixteen. Axelle was almost ten pounds.”
“Fuckin’ hell, Mouse.” I don’t know much about babies, but I know weight. A ten-pound baby coming out of this tiny body? I resume my kissing hoping to hide my grimace, and trace the line with my lips. “Does it hurt?”
“No. It’s hard to explain. Kind of numb, I guess.” She coughs out a laugh. “Guess this is the first time you’ve ever been naked with a mom before.” Throwing her hands over her face, she groans. “Embarrassing.”
She’s right. I’ve never been with a mom. I don’t tell her that women with children were on my list of sexual no-no’s. It’s possible I unknowingly hooked up with a chick that had a kid, but I’ve never seen a scar like this before. I’d remember that.
I slide up her body and pull her hands apart to see her face. She looks up at me with unease.
“No, never been with a mom.” She rolls her eyes, and I catch her arms to keep her from covering her face again. “Scars aren’t ugly, Layla.” She startles, the sound of her name from my mouth getting her attention. But I need her to know how dead fucking serious I am about what I’m about to say. “They’re badges. Reminders of the experiences in our lives that were important enough to leave a mark.” Gazing down the length of her perfectly naked body, I skate my finger from her throat straight to the scar. “This is a reminder of what you have and what you went through to get her here. Not a damn thing ugly about that.”
Her eyes sparkle, and she reaches up to run her hand over my hair and behind my neck. “Yeah, I like that.”
“I like it too,” I whisper and slide my hand lower.
“I’m glad—oh, gosh.”
I catch her breathless gasp with my mouth.
Everything I learn about her—the good, the bad—only makes her more attractive. I told myself to stay away from women with children for so many reasons. But I’m finding that some of her sexiest qualities revolve around her being a mom. Her patience and determination to right her wrongs with her daughter. Her concern for Axelle’s stability. And her capacity to love. I’ve never met anyone so complex and yet so simply beautiful.
I want her. All of her.
Trailing kisses down her body, she moans as I pass my lips over her scar again. But this time, I don’t stop there. I press open her thighs and wedge myself between her legs, throwing one of them over my shoulder.
And then, I’m gone.
I dip down and open my mouth between her legs. Mmm. Pure, sweet heaven. She takes a sharp breath, tensing for a moment, and then relaxes as I gorge myself on her. Unable to pull my eyes away from her arching body, I’m staring openly. Her hands grip the sheets, and her moans encourage me deeper. My hands dig into her ass, tilting her hips for a better angle. Harder, deeper, more.
She’s breathless, and her supple breasts rise and fall faster and faster. “Snake…”
My dick throbs at the breathy way she says my nickname. I’ve never wanted to be inside anyone so badly in all my life. My skin feels tight, and the pressure of what’s building below the surface threatens to rip free. I pull one hand from her ass and thrust my fingers inside her. She gasps with a drawn out mewl. Her hips roll, pressing against my hand, and I increase the pressure of my tongue. I focus on the cues her body gives. She’s so damn close, but unlike last night, she’s not fighting it. Two more seconds of this and my woman’s going to ignite.
I pull back, not at all ready for this to end, but desperate for her gripping heat to engulf me. She lifts her upper body from the bed, and I climb over her. She grasps my head and kisses me. Pressing her back to the bed, I drop to the side and roll, taking her with me so she’s on top. She sucks my tongue into her mouth and groans. The taste of her floods both of our mouths.
Reaching over, I open the top drawer of my bedside table. In record time, I’ve got my board shorts off and a condom on.
“Sweetheart?” I say between kisses. There’s no way I’ll go any farther unless she begs. “Ask me.”
“Please.” She buries her face in my neck.
“Say it, Mouse.” I slide my hand between her legs. “I need to hear you say it.”
She grinds down on my fingers. “Yes, I want you inside me.”
“I want that too.” Gripping her hips, I position her over me. “Beg me.”
“I’m empty without you.” She pulls at my earlobe with her teeth. “Please, Blake.”
She pulls back, and we lock eyes. Straddled over me, she pushes up to her knees and lowers her body down, slowly taking me little by little. She rolls her lips between her teeth and her eyebrows pinch together.
I hold her hips to still her. “Talk to me.”
“I’m okay. You’re just really big.”
“You sweet talkin’ me, Mouse?” I grin and pull her down for a long, wet kiss. “Feels so good, wrapped tight.”
She pushes back, controlling the penetration until we’re completely connected. I wait for her to adjust, taking that time to move my hands and mouth over every available inch of her body. Her hands roam over my shoulders, arms, and chest. After a few minutes, she starts to move. Slow rolls of her hips alternate between long slides up and down.
My chest gets tight, something intense welling deep. This goes far beyond a couple of consenting adults playing around in the bedroom. What’s happening here is binding. Permanent. It’s in the way we don’t take our eyes off each other. The visual stimulation of her petite body taking mine is more than I can handle. Her narrow hips are set wide across mine. Her delicate frame is braced above me, moving in rhythm with my thrusts.
She moves faster, small sounds leaking from her lips going straight to my gut. My abdomen tightens, and the release I’ve been trying hard to hold off swirls at the ready.
I grip her hips and fight the urge to slam her down on me, to impale her over and over until she screams my name. My teeth clench. It’s too much. The combination of what’s going on below my waist is outnumbered by what’s going on above.
“Mouse, baby—”
“Harder.”
Yes! I push up to sitting and thrust my hips, practically tossing her off me. She holds onto my shoulders and I take over the pace. Every thrust threatens to shatter my strength and send my orgasm rocketing through me.
Her head falls forward, and she hides her face in my neck.
“You’re safe with me. Always.” I nip at her shoulder. “Don’t hide it from me, sweetheart.” I feel her body tighten around mine. “Show me.”
She pulls back and peeks up at me. “Blake… I…”
“Let go.”
She calls out my name in a combination of a gasp and a growl. The sound pushes my orgasm to the surface, but I hold it back. Her body convulses around me. Burying me deep, she falls apart in my arms. Her fingers pinch into my biceps, holding on to me just as tightly as I am her. I lean back and drop kisses against her parted lips as she rides out her release. With her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes drifting closed, she rolls against me and drops her head to the side on a moan.
Gorgeously sated and relaxed, my strong, amazing woman who has been dragging sexual baggage along with her for over sixteen years just fell apart in my arms. My ribcage feels too small to contain the enormous amount of pride that is surging and billowing behind it. I flip her to her back, the one thing I told myself I shouldn’t do, and put myself on top of her.
“You did it, baby. And fuck me, that shit was insanely hot. You’re not broken, you’re perfect.” I need to make sure that her being pinned beneath me doesn’t bring back old memories. “You okay?”
She gives me a lazy smile, and glides her hands up over my shoulders to my neck. “Yeah.”
I rock into her and grind down. “Good, because I’m not finished with you yet.”
She moans and arches her back. Unable to take another second away from her lips, I lean on my elbow and devour her mouth.
Our bodies move together, the pace growing more frantic. Her legs wrap and lock around my hips. Hands and lips move, exploring in a frenzied loss of control. She rips her mouth from mine and moans so deep I feel it in my dick.
And I’m gone.
I lock my eyes on hers. My breath rasps as I push and pull through my orgasm. The tension in my muscles dissolves, along with everything else in the world. Worry and concern for what just happened between us becomes non-existent. The only thing that that means anything is lying beneath me, eyes closed, and a soft smile, on her lips. And she’s all fucking mine.
“Mouse, I’m…” I’m what? Falling for you. Crazy about you? In lo—no. Right?
“Wow, now I see why you’re so popular with the ladies.”
What the fuck? How can she even think about me with other women after what we just did?
I roll off her, hoping to hell she didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Throwing my legs over the edge of the bed, I give her my back and toss the condom into the small trashcan by my bed.
“I can’t believe I had an orgasm.” She giggles behind me. “You, Mr. Daniels, are quite talented.”
I’m not at all happy with the carefree sound in her voice. That single sexual experience shook the foundation of every fucking thing I thought I knew. And here she’s laughing like it meant nothing more than an orgasm.
I grab my board shorts from off the ground and slide them on. “Yeah, that was fun.” That’s all I can say?
“Fun? That was amazing.” I hear the sound of rustling sheets as she moves around the bed. She’s probably looking for her clothes, but I can’t bring myself to look back at her. “I’ve never felt anything like that before. Now I know why women throw themselves at you.”
Fuck. What just happened here?
I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to get my bearings.
“You okay? You have a headache or something?” Her concerned voice is right next to me.
I open my eyes to see her dressed in her pants with her hands covering her naked breasts.
“Headache. Probably from the sun.” Bullshit. But whatever.
“What time is it? I should probably get home.”
I cannot fucking believe this shit.
Moving up from the bed, I snag a shirt and slip on my shoes. “Sure, let’s get you home.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
No, I’m sure as shit not okay. “Fine. You ready?”
She nods and moves past me. I don’t follow her right away, but instead stare at my bed. Minutes ago, that place held so much promise, a possible future. Life altering shit. But now, the bed is empty, and the sheets are twisted, just like my insides feel.
She’s downplaying our experience and putting me back into the asshole player category she had me in when we met. Reducing her worth into nothing more than a meaningless one-night-stand, with nothing to show for it but—in her words—a goopy condom in my trashcan.