“Good man,” I tell him, giving him a light pat on the back, ready to get back to Layla. I’d like to say my mind wasn’t on her the whole time I was in service, but I’d be lying.
The crowd is thick already when I exit the chapel and pick my phone out of the basket. I look around for a minute but don’t see her where I left her with my mother and Maria. Someone has the grill going and the smell of steak wafts in from outside when the door is opened.
“She’s fitting right in,” my mom says, posting up beside me.
“I told her to stay with you.” I look down at her. “Shealright?” I strain, trying to see over the crowd, but I still can’t see her through the group of dancing sweetbutts and hang-arounds.
My mom laughs and pats me on the hand. “She’s more than alright, baby. She’s a little sweet and a little sour. A keeper.” She backhand-cuffs my chest. “You really like her, don’t you.”
“Christ, we’re not having this talk,” I breathe out.
My mom laughs, linking her small arm through mine. “She made herself right at home and it ain’t even dinnertime yet.” She nods toward the back of the room. “I’m heading out, baby, busy day tomorrow.” She works as an accountant for Wolfe three days a week.
She squeezes my arm and grabs her purse as she readies to leave the club. I follow her glance to where Layla and Maria are, with two of the regular girls Maria drinks with on any given night. They’re dancing to “Dreams” by Fleetwood Mac in a dark corner, but Layla still commands all the attention in the room. Her hips sway to the music and her back shimmers with a thin veil of sweat. My mouth waters just thinking about tasting her again.
I make it to her in under ten seconds, watching as she sways her hips to the music. She’s definitely been drinking and she’s losing all her inhibitions as she throws her arms up over her head.
“Oh look, it’s my boss,” she mutters with a sass-filled fuck-me look on her face.
“Hell, she’s dancing us under the table,” Maria says, patting me. “She’s all yours.” She heads off for the bar with the other girls and leaves me and Layla alone.
Layla’s eyes flutter closed when I don’t waste any time gripping her tight around her waist. As my fingers slide under the hem of her shirt, she fucking moans, pressing into me.
“It’s not normal to dance with your employee like this, you know, unless you want to fuck her,” she says, challenging me. This fucking woman.
“You’re done with alcohol tonight, Layla.” I say her name evenly, sliding my hand under the waistband of her shorts. Her breathing increases with the feel of my callused fingers moving over her silky waist.
“You’re not telling me what to do,Ax.”
I let my fingers graze the side of her satin thong and grip it tight, twisting my fingers around the soft fabric of her underwear. She sucks in a breath. I know I’m pushing her, because I’m fucking pushing myself.
“Shit …” she whispers into my lips. “Did I hit a nerve?”
“DidI?” I smirk, tugging at her thong. She moans as the fabric pulls tight and nestles right up over her swollen clit. I kiss her lightly once, then twice, remembering what it feels like to have the full force of her lips on mine. Just the thought of kissing her makes me hard. It’s a foreign feeling, something I haven’t craved in as long as I can remember.
“No,” she lies, fighting me with everything in her, but I don’t miss the way she presses up against my cock a little harder. Her beautiful lips turn up into a smile and the tipsy glow of her cheeks flushes even more as her inhibitions fall completely away and she reaches between us, pressing her palm to my rock-hard cock in the dark corner we’ve drifted to.
“There’s a lot of people watching us.” She looks around and grips me a little tighter. “But if this is what you want, two can play that game, Ax.”
“Sean,” I correct. “And by the look in your eyes right now, something tells me you like that all these people are here. You like being watched.”
I suck in a breath as she squeezes my dick again, harder this time, letting her free hand reach up to rest on my shoulder.
“I like it whenyouwatch me,” she moans in a breathy whisper. I give in, letting go of her panties and pressing my hips into her, kissing her with a groan.
“Fuck, woman, what are you doing to me?” Flames lick up my spine as she lets out another throaty moan, then pushes me back. She starts to laugh. An evil little laughing dove.
“It must be sohardfor you not to get exactly what you want right when you want it.” She squeezes my cock again. “That I don’t just bend to your will, Mr. Always-In-Control,” she whispers. “So hardto hover just before your breaking point all the time.” Another squeeze of my cock.
Christ, I’m about to fucking blow in my pants.
“I’m not hovering,” I growl, gripping her so tight her breath hitches. “To be very fucking clear, youaremy fucking breaking point.” I reach between us and grip her throat tight—just enough to take back some semblance of control.
“So why aren’t you taking what you want? You don’t seem like the kind of man who waits.”
“I’mnot,” I admit. “But you will work for my cock. You will beg me for it, Layla, just like I told you you would.” I trail my finger down her cheek and over her lips, then down the valley between her full tits, before gliding even lower, pressing my palm against her clit. My cock throbs behind my zipper with the feel of her wet heat as her palm still grips my cock, only now she’s moving it slowly over me.
“You’ll beg for me to make this pussy mine.” I kiss her. “You’re almost there, baby, so close to begging. This soaking cunt proves everything I need to know.”
