Page 16 of Raw & Reckless

She rocks back and forth in a desperate attempt to find relief. I reach out and cup her gorgeous tits, pinching her nipples and groaning as her whole body shivers on top of me. I keep one hand kneading and massaging her breasts while the other reaches between us and rubs her clit, causing her to tense and shout my name.

“I feel you, Layla, I know you want to let go for me,” I growl.

Her thighs tighten around my hips, her pussy pulsing wildly as more of her sweet honey pours down over my dick. She takes in a huge breath of air and goes still.

And then she shatters all around me.

Layla squeezes my cock so fucking tightly it almost hurts as her orgasm ravages her body. It’s amazing watching her come undone for me. She’s so fucking beautiful, shit, I never want to leave her snug little pussy. I never want to stop giving her pleasure.

She collapses on my chest and buries her head in my neck, kissing and nipping at me as her hips continue to roll and stutter. I grab her ass and help her grind down on top of me until she comes again. I feel her orgasm spread throughout her body as I slide one hand up her back so I can tangle my fingers in her hair and pull her lips up to meet mine.

Layla moans into the kiss, driving me absolutely crazy with the way her tongue slides against mine. I flip us over and pound that pink little pussy with everything I have, swallowing her cries of ecstasy.

Leaning back, I throw one leg over my shoulder, and then the other, grabbing onto the headboard as I slam in and out of her. “Mine, fucking mine,” I growl, looking into her eyes, branding her with my stare, my cock, and soon, my baby in her belly. “Fuck!” I roar, feeling my dick swell up inside of her.

"Phoenix, shit, oh shit, I'm…" Layla whimpers and claws at the sheets, thrashing her head back and forth.

“Come for me, Layla, come for me like a good girl.”

Layla screams and lets go of every goddamn thing, snapping her pussy around me again and again as she's hit with never-ending waves of bliss. She's shivering and sweating and moaning uncontrollably.

With one last thrust, I burst inside of her, coming in long, powerful ropes, emptying every last drop inside of her. Fuck, the vision of her round with our kid, her breasts full and sensitive… I release another round of hot cum deep inside of her before rolling off to the side and dragging her limp, sated body on top of mine.

Layla snuggles up next to me and kisses my chest, my neck, my jaw, and finally my lips. “You’re right, that was a pretty good way to wake up,” she whispers before kissing me deeply.

The quiet room is draped in the pale, golden wash of early morning sunlight filtering through the curtains. Outside, the steady crash of the Pacific tide provides a low, rhythmic heartbeat to the stillness.

We are tangled together beneath the heavy sheets, my skin still humming from the way she welcomed me into her life just a short while ago. Layla’s head rests securely over my heart, her soft, even breathing brushing against my bare chest. Her fingers trace lazy, absentminded circles against my skin, light as a feather.

For the first time in thirty-eight years, the noise in my head is entirely gone. There are no club wars, no syndicate ghosts, no looming threats. Just her.

I stare up at the ceiling rafters, tracing the old wood knots with my eyes, knowing it’s time. A man carrying dark secrets can’t build a future with someone like her. Not when she deserves honesty. I’ve kept my past locked behind iron walls for over two decades, buried right alongside the salt and bone of that dying island. But holding Layla right now, the walls feel heavy, suffocating, and entirely useless.

"My old man used to say humans are fragile things," I murmur into the quiet room, my voice a low, gravelly vibration against her ear.

Layla's tracing fingers pause. She shifts slightly, looking up at me with those deep, expressive indigo eyes, waiting.

I swallow the thick, dry lump in my throat, letting out a slow breath. "I grew up on a tiny, isolated island off the coast of Washington. Used to be a thriving fishing town before an oil spill wiped the whole ecosystem out, turning it into a ghost town. A place full of memories that refused to die."

I feel Layla shift closer, her small hand coming up to rest flat against my chest, offering silent, steady anchorage.

"I worked alongside my dad on his boat," I continue, my voice dropping lower as the ghosts of my fifteen-year-old self creep back into the light. "Hard, grueling work that strips the softness right out of you. One day... a heavy net caught his foot. Dragged him overboard straight down into the deep black water. I dove in after him. Nearly drowned trying to fight the current and pull him up, but I couldn't save him. His body was never even recovered."

A soft gasp catches in Layla’s throat, and she presses her palm tighter against my skin.

"My mother was a tough-as-nails woman," I say, staring blankly at the shadows dancing across the ceiling. "Hardened by decades of enduring those brutal fishing seasons alone. But after he died... a piece of her went down into the ocean with him. I watched her wither away, piece by agonizing piece, month after month. I know a broken heart isn't an official medical diagnosis, but I watched her die slowly from it until one morning, she just didn't wake up."

I squeeze my eyes shut for a brief second, feeling the familiar, phantom burn of old grief clawing at my throat.

"At fifteen, I was entirely on my own. I started sleeping in docked boats, trading manual labor for scraps just to survive. I learned the hardest lesson a kid can learn: love is a liability. It only hurts when the other person leaves, and humans are too damn fragile. So I locked my heart behind iron walls. I swore I’d never let myself care about anyone ever again. I moved to Port Royal, found the Rebel Kings, and poured every ounce of my rage and strength into becoming an enforcer. I thought I was content. I thought violence, purpose, and the club were all I’d ever need or deserve."

I look down, meeting her piercing indigo gaze. Her eyes are shimmering, brimming with an overwhelming, profound depth of empathy that undoes me.

"And then you stepped out of that sterile gray house," I whisper, my voice cracking slightly around the edges. "Looking like every single thing I never knew I needed. You shattered every wall I spent twenty-three years building, Layla. You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted. And for the first time in my life... I'm terrified of losing someone."

For a long moment, the room is silent, save for the wind howling softly against the cabin glass.

Then, Layla moves. She slides upward, pressing her soft body fully against mine, and cups my rugged jaw with both of her hands. Her thumb gently strokes across my cheekbone, wiping away a phantom pain I didn't even know I was carrying.