Page 84 of Beautiful Thing

I make an effort to withdraw my hips. But it’s futile. Because Layla keeps me in place. She grips my ass and bobs her head, taking me into the depths of her throat.

What the actual fuck?

She moans and her hips roll, humping the air. Like this whole thing is turning her on as much as it is me. That’s when I lose it.

“Can I…?” I manage to scratch out.

Layla frantically nods, her mouth refusing to leave my cock. Thank god because it’s too late for me to pull out anyway. I start coming. My release spurts out in erratic pulses, filling her mouth, spilling from the corners.

I come for what feels like an eternity. Longer and harder than I ever have.

Layla doesn’t blink. She doesn’t flinch. She just accepts every drop of it, like the good girl she is.

The vision of her swallowing my cum is the last image in my mind before my eyes squeeze shut. My pelvis thrusts recklessly until I’ve released the very last spurt.

My head is spinning and my feet are wobbly. But I reach for Layla before I’ve even had a chance to recover. I pull her to her feet.

Gently cupping her flushed cheeks in my hands, I stare into her perfect face. “That was fucking incredible, woman.”

Her eyes sparkle with pride and amazement and awe. “I’ve never done that…well, I mean I have…but…I just…it never feltanything like that.” She wipes my spilled release from her damp lips with the back of her hand. “I really liked doing that for you,” she confesses quietly.

Goddamn, Layla.

I lean in, my tongue lapping thoroughly at the corner of her mouth where she missed a spot. The taste of her pussy still lingers on my tongue as I lick my own juices from her mouth.

I groan. “Fuck. Me and you taste good together, Belle.” I slide my tongue past her lips for a deeper kiss.

Rising onto her tiptoes, she pulls me closer, exploring my mouth with hers. “Yeah. Kind of addictive.”

“You’readdictive,” I confess, stroking my palms down her sides. “You’re beautiful.”

She throws a quick glance into the mirror, screws up her nose and looks away. “God—when will you stop calling me beautiful?” She shrinks away from me, self-consciously drawing her fingers through her hair.

“That’s never going to happen. Why the fuck would I ever stop?” I pull her into my arms and spin her around so we’re both facing the mirror.

Her 5’5 frame is so small in front of me as I wrap my arms around her. My body swallows hers up. Her hair is all over the place. Her cheeks are flushed red. She has hickies and scratches and bruises from my beard all over her neck and chest.

She looks ruined. She looksmine.

“You’re beautiful, Layla. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful. I know it might sound like a superficial thing to say over and over again. But I promise you, it’s not.”

I draw her hair over her shoulder, pressing my mouth to her jaw and kissing a path down her neck.

“When I say you’re beautiful, I’m not just talking about your gorgeous face. Or your sexy body.”

I smooth my hands up her torso until I’m cupping the undersides of both breasts.

“When I say you’re beautiful, I’malsotalking about your kind spirit, Belle. Your empathy and your compassion and your generosity.”

I think about all the things she does for me. The way she comes around to check on me whenever my siblings head to the bar without me. The way she seeks me out to make sure I’m okay, even when I’m being a stubborn asshole. Even when I try to hide away from her and act like I want to be alone.

I flick my thumbs over her hard nipples. “No one has a big, loyal heart like yours.”

I recall the way she defended me when those nosy old ladies were pushing all my buttons that day at the hardware store. I think about her lying to my family about being my wedding date.

“You’re my little chihuahua, always trying to stick up for me in your own way. Even when it only gets us into an even bigger mess.”

She giggles breathlessly at that. “A chihuahua?! Never! I’m a pitbull.”

---