“This okay?”
When I nodded, he nudged my legs apart with his knee and weaved his legs with mine, pressing his erection into where it counted. My leggings did little to stop the sensation, and I was pretty sure I might orgasm from dry humping in clothes.
Seriously.
His hand moved down my side until his thumb stroked along the waistband of my pants. “I need to touch you a little, mix your scent with mine.”
His scent was divine. Piney, a little sweaty and musky from his dog walk. It exuded strength. I would drink it if I could.
The perimeter of the yard was lined with heavy bushes, and tall trees swayed overhead. No one could see us as I arched off the chair, his hand inside my leggings, grazing my most sensitive spot. When I called out his name a moment later, I tried to whisper, not sure if anyone could hear us. But then I didn’t care.
With his weight lifted off of me, raised on his elbow, Layton brought me to orgasm right there in his backyard with only a few flicks of his finger. All I could think about was returning the favor.
“Layton,” I mumbled.
“Good? Do I make you feel good? Because this makes me feel on top of the world, touching you.”
“Yes, oh, yes, Lay.”
Rather than pull his hand away, he gave his finger another swirl, a flick, and then a squeeze, and I was riding another wave toward orgasm.
“I want to touch you,” I breathed out.
“Right now I’m touching you, beautiful. Later, we’ll take care of me.”
I wanted to pound his chest and screamnowbut then he slipped two fingers inside me. “Oh God.”
My second orgasm hit hard and then I lay like a fish on land. I flopped back on the chair, my back sore from arching and my heart racing to nowhere but getting Layton inside me.
“Can we go inside? Maybe to your room?” I found the moxie to ask in a rather demanding way.
He scooped me up and tossed me over his shoulder, making me gasp with surprised giggles as he slid the screen door open and carried me all the way back to his king-sized bed. He placed me gently on the comforter before shimmying my pants down and gently removing my thong.
Then he took off his jeans, followed by his boxer briefs, gazing at me the entire time. He reached out for my shirt and pulled it over my head. Kneeling, straddling me, he slipped my bra off and traced my nipples with his finger.
I brought my hand under his shirt, wanting to touch him. “Can you take this off?”
“Yeah. It’s an old habit.”
I scolded myself for forcing the issue but when he removed his shirt, my hands were drawn to his chest like a runner to a finish line. He was handsome, graceful, and hot. His body was made even more beautiful by his insecurity.
He leaned in, still keeping his weight off of me as he reached into his bedside drawer. He set a condom on the bed but ran his erection along me—already dripping and not so eagerly waiting. I lifted my hips to meet him and he slid along my wetness, almost sliding inside me.
Playtime over, he grabbed the condom and wrapped himself, and then he was home. He drove deep, stilling himself at the end of each stroke.
“You’re so gorgeous. I could spend forever like this, looking at you,” he said when he bottomed out. “But every time I sink inside you is delicious.” He moved again, completing the circuit. “And then I pull out, and it’s even better when I dip in again.”
Layton moaned, I arched, and he picked up speed. We sped to the finish, our skin touching, our scents mixing, and our mouths fused. I came yet again, a record for me, and he didn’t last much longer.
He slumped on top of me and ran the tip of his nose over mine. “God, I wanted to wait, but I guess I couldn’t. I have no willpower when it comes to us.”
Us.That sounded so perfect.
“I’m glad we didn’t wait. That was the most fabulous welcome to LA.”
He smiled from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling with tiny flecks of amber that glowed in the brown. After he ditched the condom, we spent the rest of the afternoon lazing in his bed. I almost asked if we had to leave, if we could skip meeting his friends.
But I had more willpower than that. Right?
