Taking the Heat

“I won’t be done,” he warned.



Layla bit her lip, writhing beneath him. “Please.”



Gripping her hips, he fucked her trembling pussy with rapid thrusts, his head tilting to deepen his reach. It was a fervent, wrenching kiss, his hungry growls making her hotter and wetter. The slick sounds of his avid mouth against her drenched sex were searingly erotic. Her hips churned, her pulse pounding in her neglected clit.



His plunging tongue felt so good she couldn’t control the ferocity with which she bucked into the rhythmic penetration. The pleasure was too much, her love for him too powerful, his love for her too evident and fierce.



Brian moved with a groan, his lips surrounding her clit and suckling, licking, pushing her into an orgasm that shattered her.



Chapter 7



No more.” Layla pushed weakly at his head.



“One more time,” Brian whispered, tonguing her swollen clitoris. “Just once more, baby.”



He had lost count of how many times she’d come, but it could never be enough to satisfy him. His dick was pounding in demand for its turn at her slick, scorching cunt, but he held himself in check, needed her pleasure more than he needed his own.



With patient coaxing, he brought her to orgasm again, his groans muffled in the folds of her soft, sweet pussy as he fucked her rippling depths with his tongue. Her cries were low and hoarse, her perspiration-damp body trembling with exhaustion.



As he pulled away, her leg slid heavily off his shoulder, her body lax and replete. She was vulnerable now. Open. Almost where he needed her to be.



She curled on her side as he left the bed, her eyes on the thick stalk of his raging erection. She licked her lips. “I can suck you off.”



He reached for the nightstand drawer.



A tiny whimper escaped her.



“You’re soft and relaxed now,” he soothed, gripping the lube in his fist. “You don’t have to do anything. You don’t even have to move. I’ll take care of everything.”



“Brian . . .”



“We need this, Layla. You know we do.”



He watched the goose bumps sweep over her skin. She turned, lying prone, and he joined her on the bed, running his parted lips down her spine. “I can’t tell you how often I dreamed of this ... how many times I woke up hard and aching.”



Grabbing a pillow, Brian slid one arm under her slim hips and lifted her, pushing the pillow beneath to cant her body to just the right angle.



Layla’s hands fisted in the bottom sheet, her chest rose and fell with swift breaths. “You’ll kill me . . . I can’t take this. Not now.”



He squeezed a line of lube in the seam between two of his fingers and a larger dollop on his fingertips. “You know it has to be now.”



She shivered when he touched the pucker of her ass, the tight ring of muscle flexing. He rubbed in slow, gentle circles, willing to be patient. He knew what this act did to her, how much of herself she gave when he took her this way, how exposed and defenseless she felt. She’d shown him by example last night, made him experience in the flesh what he’d thought he understood in his mind.



“No one else has been here, have they, baby?” he asked softly.



Her lower lip quivered.



“You’re still mine, aren’t you, Layla? Just as I’ve always been yours.”



“Brian, please ... I can’t bear it.”



One fingertip pushed inside her, and she gasped. Her slender body shook.



He slid in and out, twisting his wrist. After a moment, another digit joined the first. She whispered a curse. Her hips began to move in tiny circles, seeking the pleasure of his touch.



She hissed when he pressed a third finger into the tightly stretched opening.



“You’re so damn tight.” He groaned when she clenched around his thrusting fingers. “And scorching hot.”



“Oh God . . .”



He pulled free of her clinging depths and filled his palm with lubrication. He stroked his cock from root to tip, squeezing the thick pulsing length, imagining how damn good it was going to feel once he got inside her. More than the raw physicality of the act, it was her surrender that turned him inside out. He ceded to her in many ways, couldn’t help himself from wanting to see to her happiness, found it almost impossible to say no to her, but in this one demand of his, she yielded completely.



If he’d needed proof that there was still an emotional wall between them, her token resistance was it. She’d never denied him anything, especially not in bed. But she was vulnerable now—weak from pleasure and falling for him all over again. After her expressionless face yesterday, he could finally read her tonight and he knew this was it—his chance to reach her, to make her feel his need and regret and pain. To feel the longing for her that was eating at him from the inside.



Brian gentled her quivering with a hand at her hip. Taking himself in hand, he ran the wide head of his cock up and down between her cheeks, teasing the flexing opening. With a sharp inhale, she pushed out, accepting him. He pressed forward, sliding into her, growling at the heat and damn near unbearable tightness.



Her exhale was shaky. “Brian . . .”



“I’m right here with you,” he said hoarsely, sliding deeper. “It’s tearing me up, too, baby. Killing me . . .”



Layla pushed back with her hips, taking him halfway. She was stretched tightly around him, clenching rhythmically. The pleasure was stealing his sanity. He could barely breathe through it. Sweat coursed down his chest and back, his hands trembled like a junky’s, his mouth was so dry he could hardly swallow.



Reaching around and beneath her, Brian cupped her cunt, groaning at how wet and swollen she was. He pushed deeper into her rear, his fingers penetrating her pussy at the same time.



“Fuck,” he bit out, feeling himself through the thin membrane between his fingers and cock. He struggled against the need to come before he was fully inside her.



She clawed at the sheets. Cries spilled from her throat, soft sounds of desperate hunger. Her legs slid farther apart; her ass lifted to take him deeper.



“That’s it,” he praised. She opened, and his cock slid in to the root. “There, baby. Right there.”



“Bri . . .” Her voice broke.



Withdrawing his fingers, he yanked the pillow out from under her and tossed it aside. He caught her around the waist and rolled them as one, adjusting them so that he was spooned behind her, still deep inside her. His biceps cushioned her cheek, his other arm was slung over her waist. He linked his fingers with hers, holding their joined hands against her taut stomach, anchoring her in place as he began to thrust.



Layla felt herself unraveling ... falling to pieces ... and she couldn’t stop it. She shook uncontrollably, as naked as she would ever be, her arousal so fierce and wild it frightened her with its power. It writhed beneath her skin, fighting to be freed.



Brian was everywhere—behind her, around her, inside her body and her mind. His chest heaved against her back. His skin was feverishly hot and wet with sweat, sealing them together.



She needed him so much. Too much. Needed his ferocity and hunger, which made her feel how deeply he needed her in return.



His hips pulled back, dragging the furled underside of his cockhead across hypersensitive tissues. The sensation was agonizingly exquisite, coaxing her to arch her buttocks against him to reclaim more of the stretching fullness.



“Easy, baby.” His voice was made gruff by his raging lust. “Nice and easy.”



He pushed back into her. The slow, sure glide ensured she absorbed every nuance of the penetration. The feelings of possession and dominance.



Her head fell back against his shoulder. The slight pain of his entry was its own pleasure. She clenched around the invading hardness, her body desperate to hold him as he began to withdraw again.



“Fuck, yeah,” he growled, spurting a scorching wash of pre-cum inside her. “Keep squeezing me like that. You feel so good, Layla. So good . . .”



She moaned, her hand sliding downward to her pulsing swollen clit. He moved with her, their fingers still linked together.



“Let me.” His index and middle fingers settled over her pussy, parting her, touching her so gently she felt like weeping.



His cock slid free until only the wide crest remained inside her, then he thrust home fast and deep. His serrated groan vibrated against her back. Two long, thick fingers pushed gently into her spasming pussy. His palm massaged her throbbing clitoris.



“I need . . .” Her words came slurred with pleasure. “Oh God . . . Fuck me. Please. Now.”



Cupping her between the legs, Brian began to shaft her tender rear with smooth measured strokes. His hips worked like a welloiled machine, pounding against the curve of her buttocks, his steelhard cock caressing nerve endings only he’d ever touched.



Layla sobbed, her blood raging. The sounds he made spurred her dark hunger—the rough growls and muttered curses, the desperate groans of pleasure. The heel of his palm nudged her clit with every thrust, pushing her closer and closer to an orgasm she knew would destroy her. She’d have no defenses left against him by the time he was done with her, nothing to shield her from the pain of losing him all over again.



“I love you, Layla.” His voice was a harsh rasp in her ear. “So damn much.”



He pushed her forward slightly, gaining purchase with his knees. His strokes came faster, deeper ... his fingers sliding in and out with the same perfect tempo.



“Love you.” She gasped the agonizing truth, coming in a brutal rush. Her body seized, clamping down on his shuttling cock, tightening as he climaxed with heated spurts deep inside her.



Brian gripped her tightly. Holding her together. Holding her to him. For a moment the desperation melted away, leaving them alone with each other. The closest they’d ever been, while also the furthest away.



Layla awoke before Brian. She roused from sleep to the feel of his heavy arm draped over her and his leg tangled between hers. His face was buried against her nape, his rhythmic exhales soft against her skin.



Tomorrow she’d be in San Diego and Brian would go his own way. Again. It was a small comfort that he regretted allowing her to leave him that long-ago day. If they had a second chance, she knew they’d both do things differently.

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