Page 33 of Black Heart

Finally, she relents and pulls her shiny fingers out and uses both hands to lift the fabric of her nightgown. The soft silk pools around her neck, revealing the creamy swells of her breasts. They’re small but perfectly formed, the nipples tightened into hard peaks.

“I want to see you play with your nipples, Wraithling.”

She cups her breasts, gently tugging and teasing her tight pink buds.

“Keep going,” I order.

“I hadn’t realized you were so demanding,” she says, breathless. “You know what they say about the quiet ones.”

I smile, knowing she’ll do as I instruct. Victory flows through me as I watch her fingers pinch and rub her nipples to the point of pain. Her movements become more urgent.

“Now fuck yourself, Wraithling. Come for me.”

Both of Layla’s hands dive for her starved pussy, stretching herself wide, showing me that tight hole. Layla’s back arches off the bed when she plunges four fingers in. Her head presses into the mattress. Her pussy is so wet, the top of her hand is soaked. I imagine it’s because she’s been thinking of me since the moment I walked away from her at the top of the lighthouse.

The thought fills me with such satisfaction. I imagine how it’ll feel to have her pussy clutching my cock.

Her chest heaves. The camera zooms in farther, and I can make out the glistening trail of her juices running down her thigh. I set the camera to record before I think twice. I don’t want to take my eyes off her. I want this image of her forever ingrained. This is the best I can do.

“You have no fucking idea how good it feels to watch you. I’m as hard as a fucking rock, and I’m going to stroke my cock to you. Layla…” I whisper her name.

I undo my pants, and my cock springs free. My hand wraps around my shaft, and I groan, imagining her pussy stretched around my length.

Layla convulses, tensing as she races toward her orgasm. She brings her knees up to her chest, her toes curling as she comes apart, her pussy squeezing the fingers that are still inside her. I stroke my cock faster, wanting to come with her.

I pump my cock, the seductive sight of Layla writhing on the bed taking me into another, better world. She spasms, and her eyelids fall closed.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” I say.

“Yes,” she moans.

“Eyes on me,” I snap.

Layla blinks her eyes open, her head lolling toward the camera and her focus staying on the lens.

I stroke my cock fast and hard. I’m so fucking close. The rasp of my hand is loud in the room.

“Come all over yourself, Wraithling.”

The sound of her orgasm starts a split second before she can’t look into the camera anymore, and her lips part as she cries out. Layla’s body shakes with wave after wave of pleasure. I’m driven over the edge. The sight of her has me spurting over my hand and my abdomen.

I lay there in a post-orgasmic stupor, my heart beating fast, my breathing labored. I don’t know what the fuck just happened. I’ve never come so hard. I’ve never been so transfixed by a woman before.

The room is silent, save for my thundering heartbeat in my ears, and as her face lingers in my mind, a sense of foreboding descends.

Layla’s not just under my skin; she’s infiltrating the fortified bastions of my soul.

I’ve faced countless dangers and navigated treachery and near-death experiences, both in my patriotic past and this menacing present.

But Layla Verona is the greatest threat I’ve ever encountered.

12

LAYLA

My vagina is a traitor.

I’m squirming in my office chair in hopes of punishing myself by feeling the ache, over and over again, as a shameful reminder of what I did last night.

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