Layla - Page 78

He smiled softly at me and continued his journey, dragging it out for as long as he could until he reached where my underwear began.

Running his finger down the elastic edging, he raised an eyebrow. “How long have you had these sexy panties?”

I could lie, but at no point did I want to deceive or hurt him by implying I hadn’t been thinking of him or that I hadn’t bought them especially for him. That was a child’s game, something neither of us had ever been with each other.

So I told him the truth.

“I went shopping with Cyn today, and she took me to a store in Palmerstown called Lexie’s. I decided I deserved a birthday treat, so I stocked up on sexy underwear for you.”

His head tipped to the side as his finger dipped under the elastic. Would he notice that I’d gotten waxed?

“You decided your birthday treat was to buy me sexy underwear and nighties?”

I nodded. “The plan seems to be paying off.”

He chuckled as his finger moved farther under the material covering my crotch, and I felt the change in him the instant he realized what I’d done. The muscles in his body had tightened as he moved his finger from side to side across my mound.

Not saying a word, he straightened onto his knees, so suddenly I gasped and then pulled my nightie up and stared at my panty covered crotch.

His mouth moved, but he didn’t say anything audibly, so I had no idea what was going through his mind until he grabbed the waistband of my underwear and pulled them slowly down until they were bunched up at the top of my thighs.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “So many dreams. So many, and not one of them was even close.” He sounded almost tortured, and it hurt my heart to hear because I could sympathize with him on it all.

I’d dreamt of him every night, but the dream version was nowhere close to the reality. They’d just brought me pain.

With him on his knees staring down at me, I began to feel slightly self-conscious, but I decided to embrace what I’d managed to do to him and knock his socks off.

Lifting my legs, I braced my feet on his stomach and then pulled my underwear to my knees before lifting first one leg, then the other, and pulling them over my feet slowly before lowering my legs back down to the bed on either side of his hips.

“Jesus.”

I fisted the silky garment in my hand, then whispered, “Give me your hand.”

Not even questioning it, he held it out for me to put them in and closed his fingers around the material until he had them squeezed tightly in the palm of his hand.

“Dreams definitely didn’t do you justice.” He shook his head and gave me a disbelieving look as he chuckled.

Turning his hand so that his thumb was at the top of my folds, he slowly slid it down until he brushed over my clit, making me cry out softly.

Then, having reached the limit of his control, he lowered himself back down and kissed me, stealing the breath out of my lungs. I’d never understood it when people said that’d happened to them, but sure as hell, it was possible. And it wasn’t an unpleasant experience like I’d assumed it’d be because as I sucked a breath back in through my nose, he deepened the kiss even more, licking into my mouth and teasing my tongue to follow his.

“I’ve missed this,” I murmured, pushing my fingers through the hair on the back of his head.

It felt like everything was a rediscovery. Kissing him, feeling Mark pressed against me, how he touched me, and how silky soft his hair was. There were also new discoveries like the fact that his lean body had even more muscles than he’d had four years ago and the new tattoos on his arms that I’d asked him about the other day and had almost cried when he’d explained their relevance to me.

I needed to get a Mark tattoo, but I’d do that later.

Pulling his mouth away, he moved lower on the bed, dragging his chin between my tits and using the stubble on it to tease me. When my thighs clenched around his hips, his eyes flicked up to look at me.

“I wonder…”

He didn’t complete the sentence. Instead, he nipped the lace edging of the nightie and moved it away, uncovering my nipple. Then, watching my face, he slowly and gently skimmed his stubble over the tip of it.

Now, it had to be said, I wasn’t a screamer or a moaner during sex. It was something that always annoyed me when I watched sex scenes in movies because it seemed so contrived when the woman screamed or cried every time the guy did something. But those bristles rubbing over my nipple? It drove me out of my mind, and I did the one thing I never believed I would—I moaned loudly and only just managed to stop myself from crying out loudly.

“I love that noise,” he whispered as he flicked the tip of his tongue over the area. “I want to hear it more.”

I licked my dry lips and tried to focus on what he’d said. “You’ll be lucky.”

Tags: Mary B. Moore Romance
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