Page 17 of Haunting Me

LAYNE: Okay, you can pick the dress.

ATLAS: What time do I need to be there?

“What time should he be there?” Wes walks back over to the bed, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Tell him to be there by 3:30. I have an in with the judge who does the paperwork, so he will squeeze us in.” He tosses the towel and bends down kissing my neck. “Hurry, baby. I want my dessert.”

LAYNE: Be there by 3:30. Gotta go, love you!!

Chapter eleven

W E S

I stand on the balcony of the loft. The distant cries of seagulls and the soothing sound of crashing waves reach my ears. Layne lies in our bed, still asleep. This place will be the home we share. It is five in the morning and the bay is already busy. I shudder as the cool breeze sweeps past me. I stand out here in nothing but a shirt and my boxers. The sound of the door opening catches my attention. Layne’s feet patter across the wood floor. I bring a cigarette to my lips and click the lighter, the orange glow illuminating my face.

“Good morning, Ma Petite Mort,” kissing her shoulder, “Did you sleep okay?” My eyes linger as I catch sight of her tousled hair and sleepy eyes.

“Yes, I did.” She scoots closer to me. My arm wraps around her waist and pulls her into my chest. She smells like home. Layne has consumed my life for almost 4 months, and now she is here. She is mine.

Today is the day. I sent my uncle a text after Layne fell asleep, and I was able to get my parents on a last minute red eye flight. My uncle is the judge who will officiate our union.

“Are you ready for today?” I ask, slight worry in my tone.

My question makes her brow furrow. Her hand cups my cheek, and she stands on her tiptoes to kiss my nose. “Why Mr. Larimore, are you asking if I am getting cold feet?” Layne’s adorable giggle fills the air. I finish my cigarette and flick the butt over the railing.

“Baby, you need an ashtray,” she whines as she looks over the railing. “There have to be hundreds of butts down there.”

I’ll be honest, I half expected her to tell me I needed to quit smoke. “No telling me to quit, Ma Petite Mort?”

Layne's laughter fills the air as she responds to my question. “No, baby. I won’t tell you to quit. If we end up having kids, no smoking around them. Does that work?”

How did my crazy ass get so lucky?

“Yeah baby, it does.”

We walk back inside, and Layne makes her way into the bathroom while I head to the kitchen. I already laid out a towel and toiletries for her. “Wes,” she calls to me. I round the corner and she is buck naked. She is shaking out her hair from the braids she slept in. “Do you want to shower with me?” She doesn’t have to ask me twice! I strip my shirt and boxers off. Layne reaches in and turns the hot water on.

We both stand under the hot spray of the shower, and it takes only seconds for us to become entangled. “Everything about you is so fucking addictive, Layne. You are the drug I never knew I needed.” My lips dance across the supple skin of her throat. I bite and draw the skin into my mouth.

“No, no hickey’s. We are getting married today.” She protests, shifting her neck away. I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing with gentle pressure. Her eyes are on mine.

“Ma Petite Mort, hickey’s are beautiful. They are the only mark made on our skin that is from love and affection, rather than hate. This is my way outward way of letting the world know that I adore you.” I tease, pulling back from her neck.

Layne rolls her eyes at my words.

“Do you doubt my words?” I squeeze a little more.

She mouths, “No.”

I let go of her throat, lifting her and pushing her back into the wall. The urge to bury myself inside her is overwhelming me. I wrap my arms underneath her thighs, so her weight rests on my forearms. “Put me inside you, baby.” Layne reaches between us, gliding her hand down my stomach. She grabs my cock and lines me up with her entrance, already slick with her arousal.

She coats the tip and as I thrust in, we both gasp, reveling in the feeling of being one again. “I’ll never tire of your pussy, Ma Petite Mort. Jesus, you're strangling my cock, baby.” Her lips find mine and we melt into each other. Only breaking to murmur, “I love you” and “Don’t stop.” Layne’s hands run through my hair, fisting a handful. She gives a firm tug as her orgasm crashes over her. Her back arches off the wall, and I pick up my pace, chasing my orgasm.

I come inside her, collapsing into her up against the wall. The release from both of us drips onto the shower floor. I pull back. “We need to get cleaned up. Then we can head over to your apartment and get whatever you want to bring here. I have some totes I’ll bring up that we can pack stuff in.” I put her back down, getting the soap to wash her. “Then you can let the pizza maker know you're moving out.”

“Okay.” She moans as my fingers work on her scalp.

“Whatever you don’t want to bring, we can figure it out later.” I rinse off the soap from her hair and body. I wrap my arms around her from behind and stand under the hot water with her. Layne helps me wash, her soft hands lingering. “No more, Ma Petite Mort, let’s wait until after the ceremony.” She nods and exits the shower.

On the bed, she discovers a pair of sweats and an oversized shirt. I pull on a pair of jeans. “They’re for you,” I say as I pull a shirt over my head. “I figure you can change clothes at your apartment.” She slips into my clothes. We walk back to the kitchen and I hand her a bottle of water and hold up a muffin or a banana. She takes the muffin.

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