Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
He groans as he strokes the outside of my pants, rubbing my underwear against my clit and my folds, my entrance tingling like it’s getting ready for him.
“I can feel how wet you are,” he breathes heavily. “You’re soaked, Layla.”
“It feels so—”
The second we hear the door, he jumps away from me. I shouldn’t be hurt since I don’t want Mom to catch us, but there’s a moment where I almost snap at him. I should snap at myself for letting this happen.
Mom and Noah’s voices reach us, but I can’t hear the words. It’s difficult to focus on anything except Miles standing a few feet from me, his lips red and his hands hanging at his sides like he’s ready to throw his rock-hard body against me again.
“Layla,” he says in his deep voice.
“Yeah?”
“You might want to…”
He gestures at me, and I get the point. It will look weird if they walk in to find me sitting on the counter. I hop down just in time for Mom to walk into the kitchen. Surely she will notice something like Miles’ and my heavy breathing. Both of us are red-faced, our passion burning up, but Mom’s got other concerns.
“What an awful night,” she says with a heavy sigh.
“I’m sorry,” Noah says, walking in behind her.
Mom spins on him. “You have nothing to apologize for. That man was absolutely out of line.”
“What happened?” Miles asks.
He’s behaving so naturally that I wonder if we really just kissed. It’s a feeling I’m familiar with since it’s the same question I’ve been asking myself ever since the wedding.
“Ah, nothing much,” Noah laughs shakily. “There were more guests at the dinner than I thought. One man got blackout drunk and made a pass at Elena.”
“Shit,” Miles says. “That couldn’t have ended well for him.”
Noah nods. “I put him in his place. I managed to keep my cool enough, so I didn’t smash his cocky little face, so that’s a plus.”
“How are things with your boss?” Miles asks.
“Fine, thank God. He understood. This man has a reputation for overstepping when he has a few beers. He’s going to feel awful about it tomorrow. Like I give a damn.”
“I’m sorry your evening was so cruddy,” I say, finally finding my voice.
Noah smiles at me. “It’s nothing, honestly. My job’s fine. This idiot won’t soon forget his mistake.”
“I hope you two have had a better time,” Mom says.
Miles glances at me. I find it difficult, almost impossible, to meet his eye. There’s too much hovering between us. We just betrayed Mom and Noah, and the worst part is I want to do it again. And again… and again…
“Our evening has been fine,” I murmur. “I made some stir-fry.”
“She’d offer you leftovers,” Miles says, “but it was too perfect. I devoured it all.”
Is he talking about the food or me?
Perfect. Devoured.
It could describe what just happened as easily as the meal, though I shouldn’t think this way. There’s nothing perfect about tearing my mom’s life to pieces.
CHAPTER SIX
Miles
I’m not sure what the time is, but it feels late. Early morning maybe. I’ve been lying in bed trying to sleep but unable to stop thinking about the kiss in the kitchen.
I turned forty-three this year, but my body feels far younger, deluged with hot, steamy feelings. My mind is just as susceptible to burning fantasies as when I was twenty-three.
It’s been happening since I came to bed. My manhood is stiff again. I’ll calm down for a few minutes, then the thoughts return.
I remember two things most vividly. The first is how she moaned when we kissed. It was like she was offering herself up to me, letting me know through her moans that she was ready for what I would unleash on her—all my stowed-up pleasure and anticipation.
The second is how wet she was through her pants. Her pussy was burning with desire, screaming at me to take it all the way.
Each time my hand strays to my manhood, I fight it. Masturbating over my step-niece is crossing a line, but I’ve already crossed far worse.
Maybe I fight it because I don’t want to waste the explosion of my lust. I want—need—to drive my manhood deep inside her, to pump over and over until she’s creaming all over my dick, her body’s signal she’s ready to give me a life.
A second later, Noah and Elena would’ve found us.
I roll over, hanging one hand off the bed and shoving the other beneath my pillow. I can’t do it. I have to be strong. This is going to be a long night.
“I thought you already left for work,” Elena says when Layla walks into the living room.
We’re eating breakfast: me, Elena, and Noah. When I returned from my morning run, I thought I got away lucky since Elena told me Layla had already left. Now she’s standing in the doorway, wearing her white kitchen assistant’s outfit. She tied her hair in a tight bun, taming its wildness. Her curves are more pronounced in the chef’s uniform, though maybe that’s a consequence of me being able to remember how she felt pressed against me.