Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39947 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Layla broke free from our kiss, trailing her hot mouth down my neck, and every single fiber in my body was on fire. She unfastened my slacks, fumbling with my zipper between us, and the thought of stopping this because we were at our friends’ house ran through my head for exactly half a second before I decided Chase could take one for the team.
Still, I needed to be the greenest flag in the carnival, so of course I had to make sure she wanted this.
“Baby . . .”
“What’s the worst that can happen?” she murmured into my skin. “I’m already pregnant.”
I carried her from the doorway, using the back of my foot to shut the door closed. I perched Layla on the edge of Chase’s office desk, panting, while her mouth was still exploring my throat and shoulder.
There was no time to get undressed. No need, either, since I nudged her panties to one side and grabbed the back of her knees, pulling her to meet me halfway.
The first second my cock was inside her I genuinely feared I was going to cry.
So wet. So warm. So fantastically good.
Don’t you dare come. You’re going to make it good for her.
But it’d been too long.
After a few moments of stillness, Layla nuzzled her nose in my shoulder. “Is there a reason you aren’t moving?”
“Too scared it won’t last,” I grunted.
She chuckled against my flesh, her throaty laugh telling me she found it adorable, not embarrassing. “We’ll do a rerun when we get home.”
That was enough to give me the strength and power to pull through. As soon as I started moving into her, I knew I was done for.
She owned me.
Every single piece of me.
And I didn’t want any of it back.
She arched her back as I thrust into her, and we met halfway, panting and grunting. Each time I pressed home, the desk moved half an inch, scraping the floor.
As a result of divine intervention, and no doubt thanks to my good karma, I managed to make her come before I found my own release. I felt her tight little body squeezing and spasming around my dick, and the shudder that rippled through her, head to toe. Only then did I allow myself to empty inside her. The feeling was incredible.
It took us another full minute to catch our breaths as we leaned into each other. My forehead was sweaty, and I was pretty sure Chase was going to burn down the desk we’d used. Likely the entire apartment.
Layla pulled back and grinned shyly at me, and I gently lowered her from the desk to the floor, unable to rip my gaze from hers.
“I think we did our part honoring the mistletoe tradition.” She was still panting, her hands bracketing my face.
“You think?” I swallowed hard. “I’m afraid Santa will blacklist us from presents for inappropriate behavior, but no regrets there.”
She wobbled to the door and opened it while I tucked myself in and caught up with her step.
“Would you look at this. It’s a Christmas miracle,” Maddie fussed from the living room. We both turned to look at her. She was standing there with her diabolical husband, clutching her chest with a dreamy sigh.
“It’s literally June,” Layla said, scowling. “That mistletoe had no business being there.”
“I was feeling festive. Sue me.” Maddie shrugged.
“And he was feeling cunning.” I pointed at Chase.
“Yeah?” my best friend scoffed. “Something tells me my complaint box is still going to be empty at the end of the night. I did you a huge favor. I’ll take my thank-you in the form of evacuating yourself from my apartment and buying me a new desk.”
They were being extremely understanding about this. More than I’d ever be. Then again, Chase knew the stakes I had in this matter. “Send me the model, and I’ll buy you another one.”
“You wish. I’m upgrading to something more expensive this time,” Chase said with a devious laugh. “Now, leave. My turn to make my wife moan.”
Layla and I left holding hands and spent the rest of the night making up for lost kissing time.
And more . . .
Chapter Fifteen
Layla
“Shiloh, sweetie, remember what we talked about, practicing gentle hands?” I softly pried a two-year-old from her classmate as she jammed a toy screwdriver into his ear, apparently on a quest to give him a medical checkup. “Why don’t you focus on Ms. Garcia’s new song?”
It was Spanish class for my kids at preschool, and most of the toddlers sat crisscross applesauce on the colorful ABC’s carpet, listening to the teacher singing a new song.
My new teacher assistant, Ashley, and I were present mainly to make sure nobody unintentionally killed themselves. Two-year-olds were exceptionally prone to accidents.
“Maya, sweetie, no, no. You cannot push a broken crayon up your nostril.” I stood up swiftly from the carpet, rushing over to another child.