Page 7 of Trouble
3
Maddox
My jaw fell slack.
Lyla Cash standing in front of me in little more than her underwear.
Andre will fucking kill you.
Andre doesn’t have to know.
The angel and the devil on my shoulder traded punches, while the angel and the devil incarnate stood in front of me; her violet eyes wide as she bit her full and luscious bottom lip.
The already uncomfortable feeling in my jeans increased as I took in the view.
Underneath the coat, she wore a black, lacy bustier type thing which pushed her already voluptuous breasts into two heavenly peaks. For a long time, I’d been an ass man but seeing Lyla now I could easily be swayed otherwise. A short, frayed hem denim skirt barely covered her modesty, offering an expanse of golden thigh before hitting the top of her black, high-heeled leather boots. Her black hair tumbled over her shoulders, already bed-head messy. As she stared at me, she absently twirled a strand around her finger.
I concentrated on breathing again as the angel and devil continued their argument in my head.
Once wouldn’t hurt, Maddox.
It wouldn’t only be once though would it, Maddox?
Fuck the voices. I needed to do something about my dick before I exploded.
While I didn’t live above the garage, I could. There was a mini apartment above it, which I sometimes rented out to someone who needed a bed for a night or more. Right now, it was empty. I was between tenants and for that I was eternally grateful.
“Say something, Maddox.” Lyla almost purred.
I should tell her to put her coat on. We could go and get a coffee at the diner in town, and she could tell me more about the car.
My mouth opened and closed, reminiscent of a goldfish. I couldn’t seem to find the words I needed to shut her down.
Because I didn’t want to.
I simply wanted her.
Right now.
Without another thought, I grumbled at her, “Wait.”
She frowned. “Maddox?”
I exited the office, pulled down the garage door and locked up, taking a quick look outside to make sure there wasn’t anyone around. Lyla hadn’t moved from where I’d left her. I grabbed her hand and pulled her up the back stairs to the apartment.
We crashed through the door into the living area and tumbled onto the couch, breathless, my body pushing her into the cushions.
I stared down into her violet eyes, almost black from her dilated pupils. It wouldn’t be hard for her to tell how much I wanted this, how much I wanted her. My erection was pressing into her.
For our first time, I knew I should take it slow and give Lyla everything she deserved after all these years. I couldn’t hold back though. I knew it could only end up being a quickie. Right now, I couldn’t—didn’t want to—stop. The way Lyla thrust her hips up to meet mine, I was pretty sure she didn’t want me to either.
I threaded one hand into her hair and pulled her towards me. My lips found hers, my tongue slipping into her mouth. She moaned against me. I slid my other hand under her skirt, feeling how damp her panties were, how wet. As my finger began to caress her clit through the thin material, she gasped.
“Oh, Maddox, yes!”
Lyla’s own hands went to the fly of my jeans, unbuttoning it as quickly as she could. It was a blessed relief to finally feel her grasp on my rock hard dick and it took all my willpower not to come there and then. I shoved her skirt up and twisted my hand. With a rough tug, I snapped her panties off, throwing the ruined material to the floor. Sometimes I didn’t know my own strength.
Her mouth fell open and her fingers went to her lips.
