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This won’t be the first time I’ve done my slut strut commando…
I pause for a moment when I walk past a floor-length mirror to smooth my hair and wipe the smudged eyeliner from my face until I look semi-presentable. And not like I got fucked to exhaustion last night. Standing at the door with my shoes in hand, I wait for a second before cracking it to see if the coast is clear.
As soon as I step into the hall, I let out a started gasp when I suddenly bump against Tristan’s chest. He stares down at me with a smug smirk. “And just where are you trying to sneak off to?”
“I wasn’t sneaking off. I was leaving.” I press my hand to his bare chest and use him for balance to slip my sandal on. “You snuck out on me last time, and I’m pretty sure I just woke up alone again.”
“The only reason you woke up alone,” he turns his attention to the boisterous conversation happening down the hall and raises his voice to ensure they hear him, “is because I stepped out to tell my brothers to shut the fuck up before they woke you.”
The loud exchange dramatically softens for a second before I’m met with a chorus of, “Good morning, Layla.”
“Fuck the lot of you,” Tristan shouts at them and shakes his head as he steps forward, forcing me into the room without laying a finger on me.
“I should probably get go—” Tristan grips the skirt of my dress and begins pulling it over my head.
“You aren’t going anywhere.” He looms over me. “Not until I have the taste of you on my tongue and scent of you on my skin.”
“But, your broth?—”
Tristan tips his head and crashes his lips against mine, claiming my mouth with such need that I can barely breathe. He grips my thighs and pulls me around his waist as his tongue continues to wrestle with mine. “You’re coming on my tongue and my cock. Do you want it in the bed where they can hear you? Or in the hallway where they get to watch?” he proposes through softer kisses.
“Bed!” I squeal as he begins to turn the knob on the door. Tightening his grip, he carries me onto the bed while plundering my mouth. Tristan drops us both to the plush mattress, and he immediately begins trailing his lips over my breasts and down my stomach.
He spreads my legs wide and pins my thighs to the mattress with his forearms before delving his tongue into me. Pulling out, he licks up my slit with a groan. “I can still taste me in you.”
I expect him to be appalled. To stop. But he doesn’t. He licks in and around my entrance and over my clit. “We taste so fucking good together.”
He crawls up my body, his lips glistening with my arousal. His thumb drags along my lower lip and prompts me to open as he hovers over me. My mouth opens wide, and he leans close and spills the contents of his into it. He smears us around my mouth with his tongue, and I whimper as the tanginess and saltiness of our cum assaults my tongue.
Swallowing my mewls, he plunges two fingers into my pussy. They glide into me, and he works them at a teasing, slow pace as he kisses back down my body. He curls them against my walls as he firmly swipes the flat of his tongue over my clit.
“Fuck,” I moan, quickly clamping my hand over my mouth.
“Oh, they’re going to hear you, darling,” he chuckles darkly against my pussy.
With his fingers relentlessly thrusting into me, he fervently licks and sucks at my clit and my pussy. His fingers or his tongue are more than enough to do me in, but together... Clenching the silky sheets, my thighs tremble, and my hips buck as I try to hold back the scream building in my lungs.
With Tristan swirling his tongue over my clit with merciless precision, it’s a futile fight. He wants to pull this orgasm from me more than he wants his next breath. My body explodes, and the scream I’ve been holding back erupts from my lungs.
“I fucking love making you come,” Tristan groans as he kisses up my stomach to my mouth. He grabs my hand and pulls it between us, wrapping it around the hard length in his pants. “And listening to you do it as I eat your sweet fucking cunt, makes me so fucking hard.”
I squeeze my hand around him; he’s so hard that it must be painful. And it’s so fucking hot. Clawing at the buckle to his belt, I fumble to free him from his pants. I lower the zipper, and he helps me push them over his ass, causing every glorious, girthy inch of him to spring free.
He rubs the soft skin of his tip up and down my slit. I wiggle my hips, trying to press him inside. “So fucking needy,” he teases, sliding lower before he slams the entirety of himself into me with such force that I whimper as he bottoms out.
“I don’t plan to be gentle this time.” He pulls back and drives into me again with the same brutal force. “I want you to feel me with every fucking step you take until I get to be inside of you again.”
He takes me hard and fast, my nails clawing at the flexing muscles of his back as he fucks me without abandon, drawing another wave of pleasure from me. Yet, as he continues to drive into me, it feels like he’s worshipping at my altar. Every thrust aimed at pleasing me.
“Ohhhh….fuuuck.” He’s breathless as he moans against the side of neck. His hips sputtering, and his cock twitching inside of me. “You’re so fucking perfect. It’s like you were fucking made to take my cock.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LAYLA
“Shut the fuck up!” Jorge exclaims. “He did not say that!”
I reach over Jorge for the bottle of Chardonnay, sitting on the fire escape beside him, to refill my near-empty glass. “He might as well have said he planned to ruin me for all other men.”
