Page 113 of Fighting Chance

Her hand snaps out, gripping my thigh as she squeezes, her breaths growing labored as she moves closer, our lips dancing along each other’s and yet not in the way we both want.

“I’m desperate for it,” she confesses.

“Beg me.”

Her eyes snap up. “Beg?”

I nod, my index finger brushing over her underwear ever so softly. The touch is barely there, but she whimpers all the same. Her other hand reaches out and fists my shirt again as her hips begin to seek out friction.

I tsk, moving my hand away. “Give me what I want, sunshine.”

She’s panting against my lips as the hand fisting my shirt tugs me closer. “Please, Kieran.”

“Please what?”

“Touch me.”

No sooner have the words left her lips are my fingers are dipping into her panties and brushing across her swollen clit. Her hips buck off the couch, her eyes closing as she moans into my mouth.

With my thumb on her clit, I slowly slide a finger inside her, feeling how snug she is and savoring the warmth surrounding my fingers.

“You’re so beautiful like this. So carefree.”

Her head is nodding, our foreheads pressed against each other as I whisper, “How does it make you feel to know that anyone could walk by, that anyone could see me finger fucking you on this couch?” She sucks in a deep breath, her eyes fluttering open to lock on mine as I smirk. “Look at how wet that makes you.”

I wasn’t lying, she’s completely drenched. My hand is soaked, and by the way her muscles are clamping, she’s close.

“That’s it, baby, ride my hand. Show me how good I make you feel.”

A deep moan leaves her lips and those gorgeous eyes squeeze tightly shut again.

Sliding my free hand along her neck and into the back of herhair, I gently grip it, holding her to me as I whisper, “That’s it, Layla. Rock against my hand, come on my fingers, baby, and moan my name as you do.”

She’s groaning into my mouth, her hand fisting my shirt pulling me closer as her hips rock relentlessly against my hand, but I can tell she needs something, just a little push over the cliff.

Reaching forward I dart my tongue across her lower lip and whisper, “You have to be quiet, sunshine, otherwise someone’s going to come walking around the corner to check what’s happening.” My voice is gravelly, my thighs tense as I try my fucking hardest not to come in my pants. “Wouldn’t want a stranger to get turned on seeing you come on my hand.”

Layla throws her head back, exposing her neck on a scream, her core convulsing as she comes. She holds me close to her as she does, her moan long and loud, the sound drawing a smirk from me. I lower my head and pepper kisses along her neck, savoring the way she shivers from my touch. “Good girl, baby,” I murmur. “Look at how radiant you are when you come.”

Fuck me it’s a miracle I didn’t come right along side her, if she so much as touched me though, I would in a heartbeat.

The sound she made will be playing on a loop in my mind for eternity, especially when I go home and wrap my hand around my cock.

Layla’s heaving as she slowly comes back down to earth. As I slide my finger out from between her legs, she examines me with hooded eyes and it gives me immense satisfaction to watch them widen as I bring my fingers to my lips and suck.

A shiver rolls down my back and I have to adjust my jeans, averting my eyes.

I’m seriously a second away from fucking coming.

Especially after tasting her.

I fucking tasted Layla Carson.

Oh my god, I’m going to come.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I think of everything I can to stop my orgasm before I embarrass myself—fucking baseball, cooking shows, muffins, a zebra.

But it’s hard, so fucking hard, because thisis Layla.