I shivered all over from his words. I was sitting on his lap, topless on his single bed at seven thirty in the morning. Nothing in my life had prepared me for Tyler Leeds. He kissed me so slowly, so thoroughly, locking our lips, that I gave a little cry.
“Let me give you what you need,” he said. Turning, he lay me back on the bed and eased my leggings down as I kicked off my shoes. Laid bare before him, I looked away shyly.
“You’re beautiful. I shouldn’t have a chance with a woman like you, Layla. Don’t you see that? Whoever told you that you’re too much, too smart, too tall, too anything—they were scared and they were wrong. You’re fucking perfect,” he said. I felt a flush of pleasure at his words. He parted my legs with his hands. Instead of stripping off his shorts and settling between my legs, he moved down the bed.
“Give me those long legs,” he said, draping them over his shoulders. He kissed the inside of my thigh. My leg jerked of its own accord, “Easy now. Let me,” he said, his voice brooking no argument.
Tyler buried his face between my legs, hot and cold chasing each other up my legs as his warm breath, his wet mouth kissed my sex the way he kissed my mouth, fully and with tongue. I rose up off the bed at the first stroke of his tongue flicking the sensitive underside of my clit that was used to a silicone vibrator, not the fiery, wet touch of a man’s mouth. Jerking and writhing, I knew why he had to hold me by my hips to keep me still, to bring me up to his mouth for a better angle. He lapped at my clit and teased it making tight circles with the tip of his tongue. Then he started to suck and I started to moan and beg and say stupid, porno-sounding things. The scrape of his teeth drove me mad, made me scream and fist the bedsheets.
“So beautiful,” he groaned against my pussy, and moved his hand from my hip down between my thighs.
Tyler stroked the edge of my slit, teasing, riling me up until my legs jerked and I swore. He sucked my clit just as he tucked two long fingers deep inside me. I screamed, bowing off the bed, slapped the mattress as I cried out, “Ty! Ty!” I couldn’t even form a complete word, his name broken down to one syllable in my fevered pleasure. My body jolted, shuddered, a bright, icy wave of pleasure dragging me under until I couldn’t breathe. The sharp, sweet contraction of my inner muscles pumped on his fingers as he pushed in deeper and kept working me, kept sucking and stroking until he had wrung every last drop of pleasure from me.
He climbed up my body and kissed my cheek and gathered me into his arms.
“That is goals right there. For you to scream Ty every time you come for the rest of your life. Into the dark with your vibrator, into my mouth, when I thrust into you.”
“Could be awkward when I’m with the next guy,” I tried to joke, so shaken by that orgasm, by the closeness and vulnerability I felt.
“Maybe there isn’t going to be another man. I mean to ruin you, Layla. Until you can never take another man to your bed because of me. Because no one could ever touch you the way I do.”
His voice was possessive, so fierce and delicious. I clung to him and kissed his chest and silently hoped there would never be another man but him. That he would stay here in this town, that he would keep calling me, keep seeing me, and that one day after I’d helped him enough with his PTSD, he might learn to love me. I wanted it more than I could say.
I looped my arms around his neck and kissed his jaw and ear, “When did you first feel that desire come back?” I asked teasingly.
“The second I saw you carrying those flyers. God, you have no idea how much it shocked me or how much I wanted you. It was like being electrocuted,” he said.
“Tell me more,” I said.
“I got so hard that I couldn’t calm down all day. That night I tried working out, tried a cold shower, anything I could think of.”
“What gave you relief?” I prompted, nipping his earlobe. He fondled my nipple as he answered.
“The thought of you. I let myself fantasize about you.”
“Oh really?” I said archly. “What was I doing? Posting flyers about town?”
“You went into the office with me. You let me touch you and pull your clothes aside and fuck you right up against the door,” he said raggedly. I writhed at the thought, my body igniting at the image it created. “Wait, do you like that?” he said in awe and disbelief.
I took his hand in mine, pressed it between my legs against my tender flesh so he could feel the fresh wetness there, how messy and slick I was for him, “Yes,” I said, “I like it. Tell me more.”
“I took down your overalls and rubbed your nipples. I sucked your neck and fingered you, and then I went slow and deep—”
“Oh, God, Tyler, yes,” I moaned as I stroked his chest. I kissed the ink over his heart, a series of numbers, rows of them, “Someday tell me what this means. But for now let me make you forget it all.”
His hands on my breasts and stomach wound me up, as sensitive as I was from coming so hard.
“I’ve never come like that before,” I admitted to him.
“I felt that. It felt better doing that to you than anything I’ve ever done, or had done to me.”
“You can’t be serious. Making me come can’t have affected you like that.”
“Yeah, it can. I could feel you quivering and bucking and clamping down on my fingers so hard. It was like you tried to push them out, but I just went deeper and that made you crazy. It was so fucking hot, it’s a wonder I didn’t come from it.”
“Don’t you need more than that to—”
“You,” he said, cutting me off. “I just need you.”
Tyler kissed my mouth, slow and sensuous, his tongue stroking me so perfectly, making me feel that bittersweet longing that brought tears to my eyes even as I ran my hands through his hair, gripping it a little. He liked that, I could tell from the way he moved.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. I felt so good when he said that, so close to him. Kissing him, touching him, making him feel safe and sexy and amazing. It made me feel so powerful.
Tyler wrapped me in his arms, pulled us full length against each other and kissed me, lewd and fiery, making me gush with want. The hard planes of his body, the way he would stop for an instant just to hold me, to press me to his chest and kiss my hair was so romantic it made me choke up a little. This tangle of feelings, lust and sweetness and affection and so much longing and loneliness overwhelmed me. I held on to him so tightly.
“I’m not letting you go after one date,” he said softly. “I’m not letting you go at all. You’re where you belong, Layla, right here.”
“In your bed?” I said, trying to joke.
I was trying not to let him see how much it affected me for him to say things like that. The kind of things I’d heard before in bed with a guy I didn’t know very well, a guy who would say anything to get what he wanted. I didn’t think Ty was like that, but it was hard to believe him when all I’d had in bed before were lies. But his touch was real, the heat of his breath on my skin, the way his work-roughened, calloused hands worked my sensitive flesh. I loved the scrape of his palm on my inner thigh, the tease of his rough thumb around my belly button giving me a spike of unexpected pleasure. It was that gentleness of his touch, the deft knowing of his fingers mixed with the rough scrape of his skin on mine that was so tantalizing.