Page 102 of Power Play

My eyes close from the pleasure. I fuck myself steadily and rhythmically, moving the dildo in and out of my pussy. My moans and erratic breaths fill the space, and even though I keep my eyes closed, I know he’s watching me. His heated gaze is setting my skin on fire as it devours me.

“Look at me, Layla.” His command is husky.

I open my eyes and prop myself on my elbow. My other hand still moves relentlessly, pushing the dildo inside me. Again andagain. Clay is no longer in his jeans, or in his tee. Hell, he’s not even sitting anymore. He stands by my bed, his gaze transfixed on my pussy as his hand moves up and down his shaft.

“So close to your orgasm already,” Clay comments, bending down and flicking my nipple with his fingers.

I nod, unable to say a word.

“Fuck yourself harder,” he commands, climbing onto my bed. Hovering over me, his eyes roam over my body and up to my face. He angles his cock and says, “I want to fuck your throat.”

I don’t answer. I turn my head to him and open my mouth. His dick slides inside, and he starts moving his hips. I fuck myself faster; my vision becomes hazy. Clay reaches for my nipple and pulls hard. I whimper, sucking harder on the head of his cock. A groan slips out of his mouth.

“Jesus Christ, please…” he begs. “Do that again, baby. I’m gonna come in no time.”

He fucks my throat, going so deep I gag. My hand starts moving lazily; my orgasm is fading away. I’m too focused on making him feel good. But that’s not what Clay wants.

His hand covers mine, and he starts pumping my toy into my pussy. I suck his dick, swirling my tongue around his head and sliding it to the base of his cock. He trembles—his release is going to be explosive. Just like mine. I move my hips in time to his movements.

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna come so hard.” His voice is barely above a whisper. “I’m going to fucking paint your throat with my cum.”

A few more pumps, a few more thrusts, and we both explode, coming hot and strong. His cum hits the back of my throat; some stays on my tongue. He grabs my chin with his hand, forcing me to look at him.

“Show me,” Clay demands. I open my mouth and stick my tongue out. His cum is still visible. “Now swallow it.”

As slowly as possible, I swallow his cum. My body is still trembling after the orgasm I had.

“What next?” I ask when he climbs farther onto my bed, his hand resting possessively on my tits.

“I need a little break,” he murmurs, and I pout in disappointment. “I’m hungry, Layla, and only you can help me.”

I sit up and look down at Clay. “You want something to eat? I can go cook?—”

Both of his hands are on my waist, and he hauls me into him until I’m straddling his legs. He lowers himself onto my pillows and says, “Grab this headboard and sit on my face.”

My mouth falls open as I gape at him in surprise. He surely doesn’t think he can breathe with all my weight on his face, does he? He’s going to die if I do that.

“Clay, no. We aren’t doing that.” I shake my head. “We can?—”

The words die in my throat when his hand wraps around my neck. His grip is strong, but it turns me on more. “You’re going to sit on my face, Layla, so better do as I tell you.”

“But what if you can’t breathe?”

He squeezes my neck harder; my vision starts to blur. “I can handle you,” he murmurs and lets go of my neck.

I hesitate, still indecisive. Then I move up, grab the headboard, and hoist myself above him. The moment he sucks my clit into his mouth, I know I’m done. Admitting to myself that I’d do absolutely anything for this man, without any limitations, I start riding his face.

The only thing I want is to please him…and also come too.

A few more times if possible.

We sit in the bathtub;my back is pressed to his chest. We both need a break from our crazed sexcapade. It’s been intense, orgasmic, and over-the-moon mind-blowing. My skin is still vibrating from his hands on it.

“I still owe you an explanation…about Eli,” I say quietly.

“You don’t. I thought about it, and decided that I don’t want to know. It’s your past, and I want us to focus on our future. So tell me this: when are we going to tell our friends and Drake that we’re together?” he asks me, his hands moving gently as he washes my hair. Each brush of his fingers is an unspoken promise of care filled with tenderness. The cotton candy scent of my shampoo wafts in the air.

I sigh, my eyelids closing from the pleasure his caress is giving me. “You’re forgetting something,” I murmur. “Telling our friends and Drake is the easiest part, even though I didn’t think that before. All I need to do is own my shit and admit that I’ve made a ton of mistakes since our breakup, but you still love me, and I absolutely love you back.”

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