Page 92 of Never Really Over

He digs his fingers in, pressing his erection against me. “You’re a little tease, aren’t you? Touch yourself, Layla.”

Biting my lip, I reach between us, playing with myself.

“Feel good?”

“Mmm,” I hum, feeling like I could come out of my skin.

He reaches around and tweaks one of my nipples. “Are you wet for me?”

“Yes,” I pant. “I need you, Colt.”

I cry out as he slams inside. He’s not gentle and I love it. My breasts bounce back and forth with every thrust.

“I’m losing my mind back here, Layla. Seeing you like this, watching me go in bare, it’s fucking amazing.”

His words spur me on and I flick my finger against my center faster. He gives me another slap on my ass and uses his thumb to apply pressure on an area that has always felt so forbidden and taboo.

“Oh my shiiiiit,” I groan as quietly as I can.

“You like that?”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to but yeah.”

“Nothing wrong with it,” he says with a ragged breath. “Fuck, Layla. I’m close. Get there with me.”

His demands turn me on even more than I already was. He’s gotten bolder with me which is surprising but I’m relishing in it. How could I not? His attention to me makes me ecstatic. We never really talked during sex; now he can’t stop saying my name as if he needs the reminder I’m here. A part of me hates it, but a bigger part loves it. We’re back here. Together.

That thought alone sends me spiraling.

“Colt! I’m coming. I want to feel you come with me.”

If he can be demanding when I come, so can I.

He grunts in response and pumps harder into me, the pressure from his thumb a little more intense.

Our orgasms hit us at the same time, more powerful than I’ve ever had.

We collapse in a heap of sweaty bodies, breathing hard and facing each other.

“Holy fuck,” he whispers.

“I’ve never… that was…”

“I have you at a loss of words?” he asks with a smug expression.

Smiling, I nod.

We lie like this for a few moments but I don’t want to sleep in a sticky mess so I get up as gingerly as I can and use the bathroom.

When I come out, Colt’s gone but I can hear him quietly singing to Poppy through the monitor on his nightstand.

“… You make me happy, when skies are gray…”

I listen as he sings “You Are My Sunshine”to her and want so badly to go in there and watch him but resist the urge. When the song is over, he says, “I’m here, Tootsie Pop. I’m here. Should we keep dancing? Want me to sing you another song?”

“Dada!”

There’s a long pause and I hold my breath.

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