Hot.
He stopped kissing her to mutter, “Yeah, baby,” against her mouth and her reply was simply a breathy, “Layne.”
For some reason, hearing her say his name like that, in that voice, her body soft and warm under him, Layne suddenly lost control. His hands in her shirt pulled it up and he didn’t even notice her arms were already lifted by the time he got it over her head. He tossed it aside and went back to her, kissing her, harder, taking more and he got it, she gave it to him and he knew Rocky had lost control too. He knew this because her hands were urgent on his skin, both of them, moving, pressing in, fingers, nails, then down, sliding inside the waistband of his pajamas then across, then up, down, then inside and the fingers of both her hands curled into the muscles of his ass as her hips pushed up, her back arching, her soft tits pressing into his chest.
“Fuck,” he muttered against her mouth then moved down her chest, not taking his time, his hands slid up her sides and he palmed one of her breasts then cupped it, lifted it, his mouth fastened around it, he took a second to swirl his tongue around her rock hard nipple before he sucked it deep.
Her back left the bed and she fed herself deeper into his mouth as he heard a low, deep moan glide up her throat.
Fucking hell. Beautiful.
His other hand cupped her other breast, thumb sliding across the nipple then tweaking, rolling as he pulled hard with his mouth on the other and Rocky’s hands roamed on him, searching, clearly desperate, one moved around the front and curled tight around his cock.
That felt so good, Layne groaned against her nipple and her back arched again, her hand tightening, she stroked him and pulled him closer at the same time, telling him she wanted more.
He let her go and pulled himself up her body, one arm wrapping around her hips, the other hand trailing down her belly, she stroked his cock and his mouth hit hers.
“You ready?” he asked and she arched her neck. “Baby?” he called, his fingertips sliding into the top of her panties, happy to find out for himself when her body locked, her hand left his cock and shot to his wrist, wrapping around.
“No,” she whispered, she tucked her chin down and pulled his hand up her belly. “I’m sorry.”
He tugged his wrist from her fingers and slid it along her waist, rolling her with him to take them to their sides.
“That’s okay, honey.”
She tucked her face into his throat and nestled into his body, repeating on a whisper, “Shit, I’m so sorry.”
“Rocky, baby, that’s okay.”
Both her hands were on his chest and he felt her fingers curl in so they were held in light fists against his skin.
He kept one arm wrapped tight around her, her body close, and his other hand slid into her hair, the ponytail holder still in it, he gently yanked it out, tossed it to the bed and started to run his fingers through her hair.
When her fists didn’t loosen, he asked gently, “You all right?”
“I’m sorry, Layne,” she repeated.
“Baby, I said it’s okay.”
She pressed her face into his throat and then said so softly he barely heard her, “I’m on my period.”
His hand cupped her head, his arm gave her a squeeze and he understood.
She grew up with two men and no Mom at one of those times when a girl really needed her Mom. She had therefore guarded that fact of nature from the men in her house like it was a State secret. She did the same when she’d first moved in with Layne. Clearly, she’d not moved beyond this which, he had to admit, caused him some uneasiness because she was now thirty-eight years old, she’d spent ten years living with a medical doctor and it was a goddamned fact of nature.
On the other hand, he was fucking thrilled she’d stopped the proceedings because she was on her period and not because she didn’t want them to continue. Not to mention the fact that she’d cuddled into him afterward instead of throwing a conniption fit, bolting from bed, getting dressed and stomping from the house.
Layne didn’t respond and started sifting his fingers through her hair again. He did this until her fists uncurled and her hands rested flat against his chest.
Finally, he whispered, “You gotta get up, Rocky.”
“Yeah,” she whispered back.
“Jas bought you a toothbrush. I’ll bring it up.”
For some reason, her body locked and her hands moved quickly to his shoulders, fingers pressing in as her head tipped back, taking her face out of his throat.
“Jasper bought me a toothbrush?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Layne answered.
Her voice had changed, a lot, when she said, “Layne.”
He grinned in the dark and replied, “I’ll go get it.”
Her fingers curled deeper and she repeated, “Layne.”
“Rocky, you need to get a move on.”
He started to roll away from her but she rolled with him, coming up on an elbow in the bed, she planted the other hand firm in his chest and he saw her shadow looming over at him.
“You asked your son to buy me a toothbrush?” she snapped, sounding hilariously disgusted.
“He was out so… yeah,” Layne answered.
She lifted her hand and smacked his shoulder with it, saying on a quiet shout, “Layne!”
He knifed up to sitting and his arms went around her, he twisted and took her down to her back, his torso pinning her to the bed.
When he got her in position, he informed her, “Sweetcheeks, everyone needs a toothbrush.”
“I can’t believe you,” she hissed.
“Am I wrong?”
“You are not to be believed!”
“Baby,” he murmured sounding only slightly less amused then he actually was.
“Layne,” she snapped back sounding probably just as pissed as she actually was.