I slide up her body and pull her hands apart to see her face. She looks up at me with unease.
“No, never been with a mom.” She rolls her eyes, and I catch her arms to keep her from covering her face again. “Scars aren’t ugly, Layla.” She startles, the sound of her name from my mouth getting her attention. But I need her to know how dead fucking serious I am about what I’m about to say. “They’re badges. Reminders of the experiences in our lives that were important enough to leave a mark.” Gazing down the length of her perfectly naked body, I skate my finger from her throat straight to the scar. “This is a reminder of what you have and what you went through to get her here. Not a damn thing ugly about that.”
Her eyes sparkle, and she reaches up to run her hand over my hair and behind my neck. “Yeah, I like that.”
“I like it too,” I whisper and slide my hand lower.
“I’m glad—oh, gosh.”
I catch her breathless gasp with my mouth.
Everything I learn about her—the good, the bad—only makes her more attractive. I told myself to stay away from women with children for so many reasons. But I’m finding that some of her sexiest qualities revolve around her being a mom. Her patience and determination to right her wrongs with her daughter. Her concern for Axelle’s stability. And her capacity to love. I’ve never met anyone so complex and yet so simply beautiful.
I want her. All of her.
Trailing kisses down her body, she moans as I pass my lips over her scar again. But this time, I don’t stop there. I press open her thighs and wedge myself between her legs, throwing one of them over my shoulder.
And then, I’m gone.
I dip down and open my mouth between her legs. Mmm. Pure, sweet heaven. She takes a sharp breath, tensing for a moment, and then relaxes as I gorge myself on her. Unable to pull my eyes away from her arching body, I’m staring openly. Her hands grip the sheets, and her moans encourage me deeper. My hands dig into her ass, tilting her hips for a better angle. Harder, deeper, more.
She’s breathless, and her supple breasts rise and fall faster and faster. “Snake…”
My dick throbs at the breathy way she says my nickname. I’ve never wanted to be inside anyone so badly in all my life. My skin feels tight, and the pressure of what’s building below the surface threatens to rip free. I pull one hand from her ass and thrust my fingers inside her. She gasps with a drawn out mewl. Her hips roll, pressing against my hand, and I increase the pressure of my tongue. I focus on the cues her body gives. She’s so damn close, but unlike last night, she’s not fighting it. Two more seconds of this and my woman’s going to ignite.
I pull back, not at all ready for this to end, but desperate for her gripping heat to engulf me. She lifts her upper body from the bed, and I climb over her. She grasps my head and kisses me. Pressing her back to the bed, I drop to the side and roll, taking her with me so she’s on top. She sucks my tongue into her mouth and groans. The taste of her floods both of our mouths.
Reaching over, I open the top drawer of my bedside table. In record time, I’ve got my board shorts off and a condom on.
“Sweetheart?” I say between kisses. There’s no way I’ll go any farther unless she begs. “Ask me.”
“Please.” She buries her face in my neck.
“Say it, Mouse.” I slide my hand between her legs. “I need to hear you say it.”
She grinds down on my fingers. “Yes, I want you inside me.”
“I want that too.” Gripping her hips, I position her over me. “Beg me.”
“I’m empty without you.” She pulls at my earlobe with her teeth. “Please, Blake.”
She pulls back, and we lock eyes. Straddled over me, she pushes up to her knees and lowers her body down, slowly taking me little by little. She rolls her lips between her teeth and her eyebrows pinch together.
I hold her hips to still her. “Talk to me.”
“I’m okay. You’re just really big.”
“You sweet talkin’ me, Mouse?” I grin and pull her down for a long, wet kiss. “Feels so good, wrapped tight.”
She pushes back, controlling the penetration until we’re completely connected. I wait for her to adjust, taking that time to move my hands and mouth over every available inch of her body. Her hands roam over my shoulders, arms, and chest. After a few minutes, she starts to move. Slow rolls of her hips alternate between long slides up and down.
My chest gets tight, something intense welling deep. This goes far beyond a couple of consenting adults playing around in the bedroom. What’s happening here is binding. Permanent. It’s in the way we don’t take our eyes off each other. The visual stimulation of her petite body taking mine is more than I can handle. Her narrow hips are set wide across mine. Her delicate frame is braced above me, moving in rhythm with my thrusts.