Page 37 of Rebound

“You okay?” I can barely get my voice under control. She’s soft and so hot that I might explode in underthirty seconds.

“Yeah. You can move,” she says. I thrust slowly and let myself enjoy the journey to the finish line. I close my eyes and live in the moment. Her scent, the taste of her skin as I run my tongue along the base of her neck, and the carnal sounds she makes are things I’ll never forget. Then I remember that I get to experience this as much as possible because she’s my wife now.

She starts to move underneath me. With every thrust, she fucks me right back. She wraps her legs around me, pulling me deeper into her. I kiss her as I love her slowly. She comes undone again, and I feel moisture ooze out of her.

Unable to make it last any longer, I come inside of her. My release seems to go on forever. I close my eyes and lose all control of my body as I empty myself inside my wife. She moans underneath me, and I feel her hands caress the skin on my back.

Chapter 22

Layla

Hours later, I’m still basking in the sex glow. It took me thirty minutes until my breathing returned to normal, and I was able to get up. There was blood on my thighs, I was sweaty, and my pussy hurt from Wakowski’s huge dick. After a hot shower, I wrap one of his plush towels around me and step out. He’s in nothing but his boxers and is putting new sheets on the bed. He sees me and smiles. I find myself smiling back at him. He takes the towel off me and dries my body. He orders me back to bed and to lay on my stomach. Once I do, he massages my back.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Just a little sore,” I admit. I thought I’d be embarrassed, but I’m not. Laying here naked with him rubbing my back feels like the most natural thing in the world.

“Get under the covers. I have a surprise for you,” he says.

“Put it away, Whorekowski. I’m sore.” I pretend to be annoyed and shoo him away.

“Oh, please. I know you can’t handle any more of this. Just get under the covers and relax. I’ll be right back.” He slides out of the bed.

I get up to stretch, and I already know I’m going to hurt in the morning, but for now, I climb back on the bed and get under the soft down comforter.

Seth returns a few minutes later carrying a tray. There’s water and a fruit bowl. He gets in bed next to me and feeds me strawberries and kiwi slices. Once we’re done, he puts the tray on the nightstand, and we go into the bathroom together to brush our teeth.

There are double sinks and he points to one and says, “That one is yours.” It doesn’t feel strange for him to say that to me. When we’re done, we go back to bed. I turn to my side like I always do, and to my surprise, he gets in bed and spoons me.

“Jesus,” I mutter as I grab my vibrating phone.

The room is still dark, but according to my phone, it’s after nine o’clock in the morning. I rub the sleep from my eyes and blink twice. There are about a dozen missed calls from my mother and June Bug. There are several text messages demanding that I call immediately.

The bed is empty and Seth’s side is cold, but the house is quiet. I don’t even hear Jasmine’s gibberish or footsteps. I let out a yawn, then my heart drops at the thought of something happening to Gaga. I hit my mom’s number, and she answers immediately.

“Layla Jackson,” my mother says into the phone. I relax at the tone of her voice. This is the voice she uses when she’s mad at me. If she’s upset with me, that means Gaga is okay. “Where the hell are you?”

“I’m with a friend,” I say, letting out a yawn. Mom was never strict about where I went as a kid, and she sure as hell doesn’t try to control or monitor my whereabouts now.

“Friend my ass,” I hear June Bug say in the background. “You went and married that fool.”

My stomach drops. I planned to tell them today. My phone vibrates in my hand and it’s a text from my mother with an article titled‘Is the leader of the Sethheads taken?’

I put her on speaker and open the article. There’s a picture of us going inside the courthouse, a couple taken of us from the back and one of us coming out holding hands. There’s another picture zeroing in on my left hand, and the huge rock on my finger is circled.

My phone suddenly goes crazy with incoming calls and text messages.

“You have two seconds to start talking because the last thing you told me was that he wasn’t your boyfriend when we all knew you were lying. My question is, how did he go from non-boyfriend to husband?”

“You better talk, girl,” June Bug says before I get a chance to open my mouth to respond.

“June Bug, you’re not my father so shut the hell up.”

“Don’t talk to him that way,” my mother says. “And answer my damn questions.”

“Yes, we got married, but—”

“Nope. You are not going to tell me over the phone.” I want to tell her she’s the one who asked me over the phone, but she speaks first. “Get your ass home and bring your husband with you. You have one hour.” She ends the call before I can ask her ‘or what.’

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