Page 72 of Power Play

“Same.” I squeeze her ass, pressing her even closer to me. Her breathing hitches as her full breasts mold into my chest. God, how much I want all these fucking clothes out from between us.

“Then why are we wasting our time talking?” Layla places a hand on the back of my head. “Kiss me, Clay.”

And I do. I bring my lips to hers, my kiss hard and demanding. Her mouth opens for me, and I slip my tongue inside. We kiss, our hands roaming over each other, our tongues battling for dominance. My dick grows hard, straining againstmy pants. I thrust my hips into hers, making her feel it. Making her know what her closeness does to me.

When I pull away to take a breath, Layla places her hand on my groin. Our eyes lock, and we stare at each other intently. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth when she skims her fingers to my fly and unzips it. Fuck.

“Layla,” I warn her, my voice husky.

“Clay,” she mimics me, wrapping her hand around my shaft. “God, I almost forgot how fucking huge you are.”

I smile smugly, backing her into my car, shielding her from view in case someone gets off the elevator that opens to the parking lot. She strokes my dick, her eyes trained on me as she does. I press my forehead to hers, my mouth falling open. It feels like fucking heaven.

Her hand starts moving faster, fisting my dick roughly, over and over. I close my eyes. The pleasure building inside me peppers my vision with stars. “I’m gonna come, if you don’t stop. Right in your hand.”

“Then come,” she urges me. Her hand pumps me so fucking hard, I brace myself on my car with my hand, caging her in my embrace. “Come for me, Clay.”

With a low growl, I come, spilling my cum in her hand and in my fucking pants. But fuck if I care. It’s so fucking worth it.

Layla slowly takes her hand out of my pants, and we both stare down at her cum-covered fingers. She lifts her hand and sucks her fingers into her mouth, licking everything off. “Delicious.”

“Come here.” I haul her to me and kiss her lips again, tasting myself on her tongue. We kiss and kiss until we hear the elevator ding. Someone is coming. “I want to see you.”

“I gotta go.” Layla pushes me away and starts to round my car.

“I want to see you,” I repeat, not daring to check who’s coming our way.

“Text me,” she throws over her shoulder, and the next thing I know, she’s gone.

I quickly zip my fly and unlock my car as Drake and Colton emerge from around the corner. That was close.

“Clay?” Colt says, his eyebrows knit together. “I thought you already left.”

“Was on the phone with my dad. Didn’t want to talk and drive,” I lie, my gaze bouncing between them. “See you tomorrow, guys.”

“See you,” Drake and Colt say in unison.

I climb into my car and start the engine, watching them walk to their cars. As I drive away, I glance to my left and see Angie in the passenger seat, and then Layla and Maya in the back seat of Drake’s car. A smile grows on my lips as I focus my attention on the road.

My day officially got a thousand times better.

After I get into bed,I grab my phone from the nightstand and send her a text.

Me:

I forgot to tell you. You were in the wrong jersey

Layla:

I was there to support my brother, number 7

Me:

You were there to support me too. Besides, number 37 would look better on you

Layla:

Wouldn’t that be suspicious?

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