Page 55 of Castaway Whirlwind
Layla rolls over, rubbing her eyes with a yawn.
“Sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Something on your mind?” She inches closer, my dick hardening when she runs her hand lightly up and down my stomach. Cora might not find me attractive at my age and weight, but my little darlin’ certainly does—of that I’m sure.
I continue to keep my hands to myself, though my muscles strain with the urge to sweep her on top of me. Or better yet, roll her beneath me so I can work my thick cock inside her.
I get a little choked up, having to close my eyes and ignoremy dick when I tell Layla, “I’m sorry for offering to pay you to take off your uniform after our conversation in the truck…and also all the things I did to you before that when you were…when you were asleep. Wasn’t right of me.”
She sits up on an elbow and cups my cheek. “I told you I wanted you to.”
“After the fact, darlin’. Not before. I took advantage of you when you were at your most vulnerable. I promise I won’t do it again. You’re safe with me—fromme.”
Layla wrinkles her nose and slips her hand beneath my waistband, skimming her fingertips along my shaft before gripping it loosely. “But what about your other promise?”
I moan, fighting to keep my fingers interlocked so I don’t take over and do something to her she doesn’t want. “What promise?”
She hikes her top leg over me, moving to straddle my thighs, the white comforter falling away to reveal she’s wearing one of the new nightgowns. “You promised I could sleep on top of you every night.” She tugs my waistband down to free my cock and grips it again, slowly jacking it up and down. “How, exactly, am I supposed to do that if you won’t touch me?”
“Told you I won’t do it again. Not if you’re already asleep.” I shudder at the intense pleasure of her small fingers squeezing my crown.
Layla pouts and walks up my body until her bare pussy is sitting atop my shaft, flat against my belly. She pulls my hands from behind my head and sets them on her thighs, dragging them up beneath the hem of her nightgown. “And I told you, I want you to, Daddy.”
I grip her naked hips, helping her rock back and forth along my length. “Where are your panties, darlin’?”
“Why would I wear panties when they’re just going to get in the way?” Layla braces her hands on my chest, squeezing her breasts in the little triangles together while she grinds down on me. She tilts her head and bites her lip before saying, “Maybe that could be our signal. No panties equals I want you to touch me”—she lifts the front of her nightgown, showing me her pussy—“here.” She finds and massages her clit with her middle finger, moaning forDaddy, her pussy growing wetter with her arousal.
I punch my hips up, making her bounce on my lap. “And wearing panties to bed equals…”
“Cuddling, but nothing more.”
I lick my lips, bouncing her again. “Agreed.” And then I jackknife up, whip her nightgown off over her head, and grip the back of her neck beneath her hair, sliding my tongue between her plush, parted lips.
Layla breaks the kiss with a long moan, stilling the hand that had been moving faster over her clit. “I don’t want to wait any longer. I need you inside me.” She sits up on her knees to angle my cock at her entrance.
I stop her from sinking down on my tip with my hands gripping her butt. “You tell me if it starts to hurt, and we’ll stop. I mean it.”
She lightly scrapes her nails through my beard on one side, pressing her supple breasts against my chest. “I love you, you know?”
“I love you, too.” Our mouths meet once again, slower this time, as I help her work my cock inside her, coming to an immediate halt when her thighs clench with a sharp intake of air.
“I thought I could take more than half in this position,” shesays, clearly upset.
I wind her curls around my fingers, kissing along her jawline from one side to the other, rubbing a hand up and down the length of her spine and over her bottom. “It’s ok, darlin’. We don’t need to go any further.”
“But I want to, Daddy.” She tries to flex her hips, but I force her to stop.
“I don’t, not if it causes you any pain.”
“You’re a good man, Russell,” she whispers tenderly. “The best man I’ve ever known.”
“And you’re a good woman, Layla.” I wish we had more light so I could see into the depths of her rich, dark brown eyes when I proclaim, “Mywoman.”
“Yes.” Layla arches her back with a moan, and I relax my hold so she can roll her hips, though she doesn’t try to take me any deeper.
I groan as her warm, wet pussy tightens around half of my cock. If this is as much as she’s ever able to take, I’ll still live to be the happiest man to ever live.
“You’re going to be an even better wife,” I tell Layla, and her eyes flare wide when I bring a hand between us to rub circles over her clit with my thumb, still gripping one of her cheeks to help guide her when her strength lags on top of me. “And I’m going to be the husband you deserve.”
