Page 43 of Seeking Vengeance

The door is pushed wider by a kid barely in his twenties, his eyes bugging at the sight of us before quickly lowering to the tiled floor. “Umm. Where would you like your order, sir?”

Layla remains stiff against my chest, her fractured breathing brushing my ears.

“You can bring it over here.” I relax my legs around her and loosen my hold on her thighs, gently running my fingertips in circles a bare inch from her pussy.

She flinches, her spine snapping rigid.

I grin into her hair, loving her unease, as the trolley is wheeled closer.

“Here?” The kid stops a foot away from the tub, his gaze cautiously flicking from me to Layla then back to the floor.

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” I trail my touch closer to her heat, over the smooth softness of flesh leading to her pussy, as I murmur against Layla’s neck, “Would you like him to open the champagne?”

She moans and shakes her head. Fast. Fucking rigid.

It’s a chore not to laugh.

I kiss her shoulder and tilt my hips, nudging my cock against her ass. “You sure? It will only take a second.”

She remains quiet, her chest rising and falling in a rolling wave.

“Just open it.” I meet the guy’s gaze. “It’ll save me having to get out of the water.”

The kid nods and reaches for the bottle seated in a metal bucket, the slush of ice filling the energetic silence.

Layla’s breathing quickens, the rapid cadence shifting to a gasp when my touch skims her pussy lips.

Her virginal jitters are a drug. The tension. The sharp nails piercing my skin. I close my eyes and press my face into her hair, focusing on those breaths, letting them fuel me as I trail a teasing swipe right down the middle of her sex.

She shifts against my cock, and I could groan from the exquisite friction.

I could fucking come.

I’ve imagined this for weeks. Pictured every scenario. Daydreamed a bucket list of sordid ideas. But they didn’t live up to this. They weren’t even close.

Thepopof the champagne startles us both, the bath bubbles slushing against the upper curve of her breasts.

“Matthew,” she whispers, her legs clenching.

“Mmm?” I inhale the floral scent of her shampoo. The sweetness. The purity.

She doesn’t respond, not with words, only fractured inhales as she remains statuesque, not portraying the depravity going on below the surface.

“Would you like the bottle down there?” the kid asks. “Glasses, too?”

I tease a fingertip around Layla’s opening, circling wider and wider. “What do you think,amore mio?” I edge deeper, gliding slowly inside her, that delicious pussy clamping down around me in an instant. “Do we need glasses?”

“No.” The response is nothing more than a rushed breath while she shakes her head. “Nothing. We don’t need anything.”

“It sounds like we’re all good here.” I jerk my head at our guest. “If you check the pockets of my pants on the floor you’ll find a tip.” I sink my digit all the way inside her, making her shudder as I smirk into her hair.

“Ahh… Sure thing.” He backtracks toward my clothes, chancing a glimpse at the beauty in my arms, before snapping his attention away. He rummages through my pants while I slowly twist my finger inside her. Teasing. Dragging out her pleasure.

Her fingers claw at me. Her core clenches. And those hips I love so much, they fucking jolt oh so slightly. Not once does she protest my advances. Her digging fingers are a pleading sign for more.

“Want me to get him to hang around?” I whisper in her ear.

She whimpers as the guy straightens from bending over to pull the clip of cash from my pants pocket, his attention returning to the bath.

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