Page 26 of August and the Night

He positions his dick, which is still covered by the gray sweatpants he's wearing, on my wet pussy and starts humping. His hard, big cock, covered in the fabric of his pants, rubs against my wet flesh, and his moan in my ears immediately pushes me to another orgasm. He follows right after me, letting out a guttural groan in my ear as he cums.

We lay in each other’s arms, trying to catch our breath. He leans in to me and whispers, “I'm taking it easy on you because you're a virgin, but when I finally fuck you… I can't promise to go easy.”

23

Layla

The moments that follow our intimacy are filled with contentment and a little bit of shyness on my part. August's movements are purposeful as he rises from the bed, his gaze fixed on me. He suggests we freshen up, and I nod in agreement, my cheeks flushed.

The bathroom is inviting, and August extends his hand towards me, and I put my hand in his, feeling it engulf my smaller one. The water starts, and I join him, the sensation of the warm water against my skin both soothing and invigorating. His nearness is a reminder of what we did a few moments ago, and I can't help but feel a touch of nervousness, even as excitement buzzes within me.

The water envelops us and August's touch is gentle yet possessive, lighting my body on fire.

The vulnerability of the moment makes my heart race, and I find comfort in his hands washing my body.

His hands on my skin, fingers tracing lines and curves, ignite my desire again, but I keep quiet. The combination of steam and water blurs the world around us, leaving only the two of us in our own bubble. With every caress, my shyness slowly lessens, but my desire does not. I can never be immune to this man.

After we wash up, August and I emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in plush towels that absorb the moisture from our skin. His touch as he towel-dries me is both tender and electrifying, making my heart race. I dress in my clothes from the previous day, while August puts on a crisp white button-up shirt that clings to his well-defined physique, the top buttons left undone to reveal a glimpse of his strong chest, paired with casual jeans.

The scent of breakfast wafts from the kitchen as August bustles around, preparing a delicious meal for us. He moves with practiced ease, the clinking of utensils and the sizzle of food filling the space between us. Breakfast is a feast of flavors, a blend of eggs, vegetables, and savory ingredients.

After we finish our breakfast, I ask August if I can see the bird enclosure again. He readily agrees, his lips curving into a faint smile as he leads me to the living room. As we stand there, watching the graceful creatures in their space, my gaze fixes on a dove with bandaged wings. It stirs something within me, a feeling of empathy that I can't quite explain. The bird's struggle seem to mirror my own —hurt, caged, and powerless.

A shiver runs down my spine, and I turn to find August observing me closely, his eyes perceptive as ever. "Are you alright?" he asks, his voice gentle.

I hesitate, unsure of how to put my emotions into words. "It's just... that dove," I begin, my voice trailing off as I gesture toward the wounded creature. "It's like... it's trapped, and I can't help but feel like I understand how it feels."

August's expression softens as he takes in my words. "You won’t be trapped for very long," he says quietly, his gaze locked on mine. "I promise."

His words send warmth over me, and I believe him. We sit in silence for a few moments before his next words take me by surprise. "How about we head to my spa?" he suggests, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I blink in astonishment, my mind racing to comprehend his change of stance. "Your spa? But... you said no one could touch me, not even a female masseuse," I stammer.

His smirk is both playful and enticing. "Rest assured, little dove, I'll be the only one touching you," he replies, his words laced with a seductive edge that sends a flush creeping up my cheeks.

The implication of his words isn't lost on me, and my heart skips a beat at the thought.

His gaze remains unwavering, and he chuckles softly at my flustered state. "It's not what you're thinking, Layla," he says, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"I meant a massage, one that will help you relax and unwind."

I exhale a nervous laugh, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief wash over me. "Oh," I manage to utter, my cheeks still flushed.

He reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, his touch gentle and reassuring. "But if you ever do want something more, you know I'm here to fulfill your desires," he whispers, his eyes glossed over with lust, which I believe mirrors my own, and I hit his arm gently, embarrassment filling me for my dirty thoughts.

As we drive to the spa, I can't shake off the mix of excitement and curiosity that churns within me. The drive is filled with comfortable silence, the scenery outside passing by like a blur as my thoughts center on what awaits us.

Upon arrival, I am utterly taken aback by the beauty of the place. The spa resembles a fantastical retreat, as if plucked right out of a fairytale. Vibrant gardens, serene ponds, and charming stone pathways adorn the surroundings, creating an enchanting atmosphere that is hard to resist.

August leads me on a leisurely tour, his hand lightly resting on the small of my back as he guides me through the various sections of the spa. He explains the features of each area—the serene pool area, the tranquil sauna, the well-equipped gym—and it becomes clear that this place is a true oasis of relaxation and luxury.

As we admire the pool area, an employee approaches, her polite smile directed at August, and if it weren’t for her greying hair and slightly hunched back, I would have been jealous. "Boss, should I arrange a couple massage for you and your guest?" she inquires.

The possessive edge in August's voice is unmistakable as he growls out a firm "No, just prepare room number one for us." His tone leaves no room for argument, and I watch as the employee's smile turns sly, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Of course, boss,” she responds.

She walks away, August's gaze remains fixed on her retreating figure, his expression both irritated and amused. He turns to me, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It seems my employee is quite eager to play matchmaker," he remarks in exasperation.

I can't help but chuckle at the interaction, finding it adorable. August has a certain warmth in his eyes when he looks at her, but it isn’t the same warmth he has when he looks at me; it is more like he views her as family, and my heart melts.

---