It’s crazy how sometimes I find myself wishing for a break and now that I have it, I have no idea what to do with myself. After the kids left for their weekend with their father, I glanced around the empty house and the silence drove me crazy. I took a shower and got all dressed up for work, but as luck would have it the one weekend I don’t have to worry about leaving the kids by themselves, I’m not scheduled to work.
For about a second, I toyed with the idea of going to the bar anyway before I changed into my pajamas and ordered enough Chinese food to feed a family of ten.
Now I’m sitting on the couch wearing one of those wax masks that are all the rage, watching The Girlfriend’s Guide to Divorce as I eat my weight in Egg Foo Young.
Good times.
Not really.
It doesn’t help that I keep staring out the window hoping to catch a glimpse of Lee’s headlights. I’d like to tell you I didn’t think about him, that I didn’t stare at the phone debating to call him or not, and while I’m at it I most certainly did not think about the kiss we shared.
Nope, not at all.
I didn’t touch my lips a hundred times trying to remember how swollen and bruised they felt after he left. Who the fuck am I kidding? I did. I totally did.
Staring at the television, I watch the lead actress nervously go on her first date since her divorce and fork another mouthful of MSG. Of course, the first man she takes to bed is half her age and fucking gorgeous—total bullshit. My doorbell rings just as the show touches on the realistic part of jumping into bed with someone new, you know the part when you take off all your clothes and you wonder if he cares that you’re not as tight and taut as you were before you had children.
Pushing the blanket off me, I shove another mouthful into my mouth and pause the show. Did I mention how much I love Netflix? It’s the best invention ever. Who needs cable anymore? Not this girl.
Too enthralled by my binge-watching television escapade to think, I pull open the door and forget I’m by myself, away from the rest of world and the only person who could possibly be ringing my doorbell is the man who kissed me like I was the last woman on earth. Lee turns around and I watch as he quietly assesses me, pausing when his eyes meet mine.
“Jesus, what the hell happened to you?” he asks, scratching his jaw.
Instinctively, I narrow my eyes and glance down at my attire. Okay, so maybe I’m not dressed for the Oscars but there is nothing wrong with my pajamas. Well except for the fact I’m not wearing a bra and my nipples are saluting Lee. Crossing my arms against my chest, I lift my eyes.
“I wasn’t expecting company,” I say as he steps closer. Pulling my arms away from my chest, he pins them to my sides and lets his gaze wander to my defiant nipples. I guess they’re lonely too. His fingers glide up my sides and pause just under my chest.
“Wasn’t talking about this,” he murmurs, his thumbs gently stroking the underside of my breasts.
So, he did notice my headlights flashing.
Teasing me with one hand, he lifts the other to my face and swipes his index finger along my cheek. “What’s all this black shit?”
“Oh…shit,” I shriek, pulling out of his gasp. I lift my hands to my face and my eyes widen in horror as my fingertips graze over the wax.
The fucking mask.
Lee’s lips quirk and he steps inside my house, closing the door behind him.
“I totally forgot I had this thing on,” I say as I leave him at the door and hurry toward the bathroom. Panic engulfs me as I glance around searching for the directions, wondering what the repercussions are for leaving wax on your face for over an hour. Black fucking wax.
“Oh my God, what if it doesn’t come off?” I mumble to myself. “Where the fuck did I put the directions?”
“Whoa, calm down, killer,” Lee soothes, forcing me to stand upright and glance at him in the mirror. Suddenly, my bathroom feels like one of those tiny outhouses. Grabbing my shoulders, he gently pushes me down on the toilet and kneels between my legs. “It’s a good look on you,” he jokes, running his fingers down the side of my cheek.
“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”
“Is it working?”
“A little,” I laugh, drawing in a deep breath as I glance around the messy bathroom. “I can’t find the directions but I’m pretty sure I just have to peel it off.”
He scans my face, lifting his fingers to the hard wax around my hairline. His fingers are gentle as they pick at a corner. Getting some leverage, he begins to pull the mask away from my skin.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No,” I murmur, as he continues to peel the wax. “Rip it off.”
“So, you like it rough, aye?” he teases, amusement flickering in his light eyes.
“I don’t remember how I like it,” I answer honestly. Realizing the weight of my admission, I let out a nervous laugh and avoid his eyes.
“Look at me,” he commands gently, flicking some of the wax into the sink before he goes back to removing it. “How long has it been?”
If my cheeks weren’t already red from him peeling off the mask, they’d be crimson now. I shake off the embarrassment because I’m a rock star like that and shrug my shoulders. I honestly don’t remember the last time Louie and I had sex. I want to say we gave it a go before we signed the papers but I’m not sure. It makes me realize how much of my divorce I’ve blocked from my head.
“That long, huh?” he questions. “It’s okay,” he murmurs.
The way he says it stirs something inside of me and I watch quietly as he grabs the towel from the rack. Placing it under the faucet, he turns on the water, dampening it before he gently washes my face with it.
“There’s that face,” he says after a moment.
Something has changed between us.
There is a tenderness that wasn’t there before.
An understanding of sorts.
A commitment to care.
“I missed you, is that weird?” I blurt, blinking as he stands and offers me his hands. “Don’t answer that,” I say quickly as he pulls me to my feet and spins me around to face the mirror.
Thankful my skin is still intact, I run the back of my hand over my red cheek and meet his gaze through the mirror.
“I missed you too, killer,” he says, leaning into me as he presses his mouth to my cheek. I stare at our reflections, watching as his lips trail down the side of my neck.
We fit.
Tattered and torn, our broken pieces fit.
His hands move to my hips as his lips part against my shoulder and his tongue glides over my skin.
“The kids still with their father?” he asks as he tugs on the thin strap of my camisole with his teeth.
“Yes,” I breathe. “How do you know that?” I ask a moment later.
“Tommy called me,” he supplies, sliding one hand around me and pressing it against my stomach. His fingers inch lower and tease the hem of my shirt. Trying to focus on the conversation and not the fact that his touch is awakening every nerve in my body, I lay my hand over his. He lifts his head and meets my surprised gaze.
“Its fine,” he assures. “I like your kids, Layla,” he adds before licking his lips. “And I really, really like their mom,” he continues, leaning his chin on my shoulder. “She’s fucking beautiful. And sexy,” he says, pressing himself against my ass. “So fucking sexy.”
My inhibitions fade and I quickly spin around, wrapping my arms around his neck. My breath comes out in short pants and before I realize what’s happening my mouth is on his. He grabs a hold of my hips and slams my back into the vanity, taking control of our frenzied mouths. Our hands are quick, moving all over one another as our tongues duel, conquering and tasting every inch.
Like he did the night he first kissed me, he wedges his leg between mine, prying them apart, rocking his hardened cock against my belly in slow, tantalizing thrusts. A moan ruptures past my lips as I slide my hands under his shirt and touch all the hard plains of his chest. I’ve forgotten how much I enjoy this part, touching and exploring, familiarizing myself with all the parts of him I’m going to hang onto when he’s driving himself deep inside me.
Lee pulls his mouth from mine and I fist his shirt to bring him back to me but he lifts me by my hips and deposits me on top of the vanity. He brushes away my hands and takes a step back. Swallowing, I push my hair away from my face and open my mouth to ask him why he stopped. Before I can get the words out, his hands are on the waistband of my pajama pants.
“Lift your ass,” he instructs as he starts to work the material down my hips. I obey, gripping the edge of the counter, and before I can blink, my pants along with my panties are on the floor. Bare from the waist down and feeling self-conscious, I start to close my legs but he covers my knees with his palms and shakes his head.
“Don’t,” he orders. “I want to look,” he says as his hands move up my thighs. Wetness pools between the lips of my pussy as I struggle to keep my legs open, knowing his eyes are glued to the most intimate part of me.
Lee growls and I watch as he unbuttons his jeans. Drawing down the zipper, he shoves his hand in his pants and cups his bare cock. I barely register the fact he’s not wearing underwear, too infatuated with the facial expressions he makes as he stares at me and strokes himself. Finally, he lifts his gaze upward and tips his chin toward my tits.
“Take the shirt off, Layla,” he commands in a guttural tone. His voice makes me even wetter and I do as I’m told, gripping the hem of my shirt I pull it over my head and toss it to the floor.
“What about you?” I ask as I take a deep breath and brace both hands on the counter. Fully aware I’m on display, feeling a little out of control but loving it all.
Every fucking second.
Pulling his hand out of his pants, he reaches behind him and pulls his shirt over his head. My eyes span his shoulders, taking in all the vibrant colors of his tattoos, traveling down his chest and admiring the dusting of hair that covers it and the thinner trail that disappears into his jeans. My fingers itch to touch, my mouth salivates for a taste causing me to whimper.
He moves between my legs again, pushing my shoulders. My head hits the mirror and my back arches as his mouth closes around one of my nipples.
“Fuck, yes,” I cry, pushing my fingers through his thick hair. Flicking his tongue over the erect bud, he teases me before taking it between his teeth and tugging. The most exquisite pain shoots through me as he pinches my other nipple tightly, taking turns biting, sucking and licking the one in his mouth. I feel his other hand slide between my legs and I lift my ass off the counter, begging for it.
For him.
All of him.
“Touch me. Fuck me. Take me,” I beg shamelessly. He releases my nipple and buries his face between my tits, gliding his fingers between the soaked lips of my pussy.
“Fuck, Layla,” he murmurs against my skin. “I want these tits in my face and you bouncing up and down on my cock,” he growls, cupping one breast, squeezing it so hard I’m sure he’s bruising me. The pain is delicious and not like anything I’ve ever known.
“Yes,” I cry, drunk on sensation.
He pushes two fingers inside of me and grabs my chin with his free hand. He turns my head and brings us face to face.
“Eyes on me when I touch you,” he commands. “I want to see you,” he asserts, punishing and pleasing me with his fingers. Deeper and deeper he slides, twisting and turning, pressing me in all the right places.
“I’m going to come,” I whimper as he starts to pull his fingers out. Desperate to keep him inside, my pussy tightens.
“Shh,” he rasps, lifting his hand between us. His fingers are coated in my wetness and as I gasp for breath, I watch him move closer. “Give me that mouth,” he orders, pressing his wet fingers to my lips. He paints my mouth with my essence and it’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced. In a sudden movement, he takes my mouth with his. His tongue is slow as it licks my lower lip from one side to the other, soaking up every drop he’s covered me with.
“Lee, please,” I cry as he continues to trail his tongue across my lips. “I need it.”
“What do you need?” he questions, inching back. Opening my eyes, I watch him kick off his boots. Next, he pushes his jeans down his legs and kicks them off. Standing completely naked in front of me, he wraps his hand around his cock.
Lifting my head, I part my lips and hesitate as he closes the distance between us, stretching my legs and wrapping them around his waist. I lock my ankles on the small of his back as he takes my face in his hands and runs the tip of his nose down mine.
“Tell me.”
“You, I need you,” I whisper, grabbing his shoulders and bracing myself for what comes next.
“You got me,” he answers, pushing into me. Gasping, my nails bite his flesh as he moves deeper and deeper, filling me. He moves slowly and precisely until his balls are pressing against my ass and I’ve taken every thick inch. Once fully immersed, he stills, pushing my damp hair away from my sweaty face.
“Ready?” he grinds out.
I didn’t think I would be.
I expected to be nervous, to be self-conscious but being with Lee feels natural. There is none of that awkwardness you feel the first time you sleep with someone new. I trust him. I have no idea why but I trust this man with my body, with my mind and with my spirit. Maybe it’s because my expectations aren’t ridiculous and I see him as just a man. A beautifully flawed man.
Nodding, I give him permission to take me. I surrender my body and hang on for dear life as he pistons his hips and starts to move inside of me. My initial fears of Lee being a three-pump man are quickly put to rest as he rotates his hips and fucks me like it was a skilled sport he mastered.
The control fades from both of us and it becomes a war between two bodies fighting to feel. Fighting for the reminder that there is life after loss and though parts of us may feel dead, we’re very much alive. His nails dig into my ass and he lifts me from the counter. I wrap my arms around his neck and he spins us around, throwing me against the bathroom door. I grab onto the towel rack as he slams into me over and over, deeper and deeper.
The sweat drips from his brow as he works me. My pussy pulsates and my eyes roll back as I start to fall over the edge, enjoying the glorious climb my body makes toward an orgasm.
“You fucking feel like heaven,” he growls. “I’ve never been to heaven,” he adds, sucking on my neck. “Never want to leave now.”
“Don’t.” I pant. “Don’t stop.”
“Want you coming all over my dick,” he hisses. “All over me.”
“Yes,” I cry. “Yes, fucking yes.”
“That mouth. So dirty.”
“Fuck me dirty, Lee,” I plead, setting him off. His body slams into mine repeatedly and I start to lose it. My walls clench as my knuckles clench around the rack. A scream pours from my lips as I come.
I fucking come.
It’s amazing.
Like nothing I’ve ever felt before.
Something I never want to end.
“That’s it, come, killer. Drown me in it,” he purrs against my neck. The end of one orgasm rolls into another and it’s too much. I pull the towel bar off the wall and throw my head back as his cock pulses inside of me and his release shoots in warm, wet spurts. The rack falls from my hands, crashing onto the floor as Lee moans into my neck.
“Holy fuck,” he pants.
I lean back against the door, struggling to catch my breath as I process what I just experienced. There are no words and so I focus on keeping my limp legs wrapped around him. After another moment, he lifts his head from my shoulder and turns my face so our eyes meet.
“You’re going to fucking ruin me,” he rasps.
“Not exactly the words a woman wants to hear while she still has your cock inside of her,” I argue, threading my fingers through his damp hair.
“Just speaking the truth,” he responds. “I’m just getting started, Layla.”
Happily sated, I close my eyes and smile.
“Is that a promise?”
“Yeah, yeah it is,” he says, pulling out of me. His swollen cock swings between us as he cups my boob. “It’s going to be a long night,” he adds, twisting my nipple between his fingers. “You’re going to be fucked every which way a man can possibly fuck a woman. You may ruin me, killer, but I’m going to fucking wreck you too.”
Wrecked and ruined never looked so promising.
Bring it, Lee Jameson.
I may just be the woman who can take it.
All of it.
Every fucking inch.