Page 33 of Silver Sinner

"Then let me take care of you."

There's something sweetly adorable about the way she curls her fingers around mine when I take her hand, and it remains as she follows me through to the living room. The couch is where I kiss her again, deeper this time, and use each kiss to press her down onto the cushions. Layla gasps against me, cupping my cheek with one hand while her other seeks out a pillow. As soon as she finds it, she tries to move it between us and I pause, bracing over her on one hand.

"Are you trying to hide yourself?" I ask softly.

Her cheeks flare red and she shakes her head. "Just for comfort."

"For you?" Far be it for me to make her uncomfortable but as she nods, something twists sharp in my gut. She kisses me, accepts my affection, and yet still feels the need to hide herself behind cushions as if there's any part of her I don't want to run my tongue along.

"Then let me help," I say softly. "But only because it makes you comfortable. I suppose you'll need something to hold on to when I'm buried between your legs."

"Oh my God," Layla gasps and both hands fly to cover her face. I follow them and kiss the back of her knuckles while tucking the cushion between her and the back of the couch. She adjusts it by lowering her hand and I snatch that chance to kiss her warm cheek, then her mouth once again.

Coaxing her to open up to me is half the fun, and at some point through our exchange of kisses and my hand wandering over her body, she locks back into the confidence that fueled her initial kiss. Her teeth graze against my lower lip, she slides one hand into my hair, and a sweet moan rises from her chest when I bury into her neck and suckle over her racing pulse.

She's soft and beautiful, with a body that rises and curves in ways I absolutely want to bury myself in. Layla's gasping and panting by the time I make it down her body, her shirt crumpled with several buttons kissed open by my teeth. Both her hands slide into my hair as I kiss along the supple slope of her abdomen to the hem of her pants.

Fabric that's in my way is quickly shed, and Layla shifts the pillows around her as I end up on my knees on the floor, her knee pressed against my cheek and my lips trailing over the silky soft warmth of her inner thigh. Her body rolls and I'm right there with her. One leg drapes over my shoulder and the other falls open to each kiss I trail up her thigh. Every kiss is a promise and praise, every ghost of my breath is a hint, and by the time I reach the glistening warmth of her pussy, my cock strains so painfully in my slacks that I can barely think straight.

My plan remains the same.

"Pierce," Layla moans softly. I close my eyes, letting that sound swirl around my mind over and over until I bury my face against her pussy and sink into a heat just as sweet as the berry across her lips. Her juices soak my chin within seconds and her thighs twitch around my head. Both her hands curl and flex in my hair, almost as if she can't decide if she wants to hold on or guide me. Both are thrilling, so I focus on her slit and nothing else.

My tongue weaves through her damp folds, followed by my fingers to spread her wide and allow me deeper access to her heat. Every flat stroke of my tongue makes her shudder, every flick of my pointed tongue makes her moan, and by the time I dip two fingers inside her heat and curl them, she can't even catch her breath to say my name.

It's fucking hot.

I sink into her, lapping like a parched man and shove my face firmly against her pussy so my lips and tongue can be coated in her heat. Each pump of my fingers ends with a curl as I pull them out, stroking her walls as if I'm trying to somehow entice her closer. Layla's moans fill the air, soft and breathless as if she's scared of being heard. I want to hear it all. I want to taste it all. And most of all, I want to give her that rush to make her feel good after a night from hell.

Soon, Layla's thick thighs close around my head, trapping me in heaven as her core twitches and warmth rushes past my fingers. I can barely breathe, but I'd have it no other way, and her orgasm rocks her so powerfully that by the end, her legs slump off my shoulders, and she gasps like she's drowning. I remain between her legs, lapping at her pussy and then kissing the crest of her mound.

"Good?" I ask, my voice slightly rough.

"Oh… my God…" Layla gasps. She leans up on one elbow; her dark hair is utterly disheveled from her tossing her head. Her shirt is bunched up around her large breasts that spill forward, and a cushion remains hiding her abdomen, but her face is beautifully flushed and warm. "I've never… not like that before.. oh my God."

"Good?" I repeat, gently kissing her knee.

"That thing… with your fingers?" She lifts one hand and mimics the 'come hither' motion I was doing with my fingers. "That was insane. It was so good. So…" Her eyes roll slightly and she groans. "I feel boneless."

"Let me help you to bed." That's torture in itself, as scooping her up easily fuels the hungry warmth in my gut. It would be so easy to hold her up and fuck her until my thighs ached, but I stand by my desire. I want to be more than a bad decision after a traumatic day.

Layla hugs me as I carry her through her apartment, following her guidance to her bedroom. It's much cozier than her living room, with a few movie posters on the wall, a small shelf of books, and a host of toddler toys in one corner. I place her down on the bed and avert my gaze as she covers herself up, but as I turn to leave, she reaches out for my wrist.

"Don't leave."

"I will stay," I assure her, covering her hand with mine.

"Stay in here," she says. "Please? I don't… I don't want to be alone. I won't be able to sleep."

"Are you saying my service wasn’t enough to relax you?"

Layla mirrors my smile and another pulse of red flushes over her cheeks. "It was… it's just…" As she searches for the words, I reach for my phone in my pocket and send a quick text to Moses telling him we'll stay the night, then I move onto the bed with her.

"Alright," I say, saving her from finding an excuse. "I'll stay."

She smiles and the light catches on what looks like tears in her eyes. From relief, I hope. I lean over and kiss her forehead, mindful of her injury, and she uses that to sink into my chest and lay her head near my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her and let her cuddle into me, offering whatever she needs to soothe herself.

Not how I expected the night to go, but I'm not disappointed. Working out my anger on those car thieves, returning Maddie to her mother, and tucking up with a beautiful woman? I've had worse nights.