I should be tired from the long drive or the sheer exhaustion of traveling across the country in four days, but the only thing wearing me down right now is trying to avoid this desire I have for Laila. I cannot get her out of my system, and I almost wish this trip could be over so I wouldn’t have to see her every time I opened my eyes.
But the thought of being without her is almost worse. The sight of her toes on my dashboard, the smell of her perfume, the sound of her singing next to me. This road trip has gotten to my head.
After taking my credit card information, Rhetta politely handed over the keys to the cabin before Laila even came back from the jukebox, flirting with that burly man like it was some kind of joke. Maybe she knew that she was playing with fire. Maybe she knew that’s exactly how to get me to lose all of my will power because seeing someone else put their arm around her just made me snap.
I have no idea what sort of cabin situation we’re about to walk into, but if it’s safe and clean, I don’t care. All I know is that I’m done playing games with this girl. When we get into that bed, all bets are off.
I’m done playing games.
The drive to the cabin is short, but it’s all uphill. The snow is piled up on the shoulder, and I realize that if the weather doesn’t improve, we may be stuck here longer than one night. But it feels as if the destination of this trip doesn’t exist. Just as it feels like it’s been more than three long days with this girl next to me, going through the roller coaster of emotions with her.
And maybe it’s the beer or maybe I’ve just given up with caring about the consequences, but I’m not listening to a thought in my head tonight, other than the mental image of her perfect hips in my lap.
I don’t know what I was expecting when the bartender brought up her cabin, but I was definitely not expecting this quaint row of tiny cabins on the hillside, but that’s what it is. With copper roofs and red front doors. The one on the very end is ours, so as we pull up and park in front, neither of us says a word.
That kiss at the bar said enough.
Grabbing our bags from the back, we reach the front door at the same time, and our eyes meet as I turn the key in the lock.
The inside of the cabin is modern, basic, clean, so it does nothing to distract us from the thoughts running through our minds. I have to keep mine under control because my dick wants to tear through my pants every time I think about the way her tongue felt against mine.
You could cut the tension between us with a knife as we walk inside. Her eyes flit over to me every few seconds like she’s waiting to see what I’m going to do next. But this is all about Laila taking charge. About her learning to go for what she wants in bed. Not to mention, I’m more fucking nervous than I’ve ever been with a woman before. This is so unlike me.
She disappears into the cabin, and I hurry behind her, not liking her walking into rooms of a strange house. Am I being paranoid? Yes. Is this normal for me? Fuck no.
“Oh thank God, the bathroom is clean.” She flips on the master bedroom light, illuminating the clean white ensuite with a large glass shower and fresh towels hanging from the bar. “I need a shower so bad,” she whispers.
Then our eyes meet for a moment.
I don’t recall moving in for a kiss, but the next thing I know my mouth is on hers and she’s against the wall. My hands latch onto her face, just under her ears and travel into her hair as she lets out a high whimper.
Our kiss is frantic, desperate, starving. I take brutal bites of her lips and tongue like I’m literally trying to devour her, but she squeezes me closer with every nibble. It’s not clear how long I go without taking a breath, but by the time we pull apart, we’re both gasping for air.
“In fifteen minutes, come in,” she whispers before she tears herself away from me and shuts herself into the bathroom.
As soon as she’s out of my touch, my skin crawls. Turning toward the bed, I run my hands through my hair.
Don’t think, Henry. Don’t dwell on her being your daughter’s friend. It doesn’t fucking matter.
Laila is so much more than that. She cannot be summed up in one simple statement. The beauty and bravery of this girl far outweighs the forbidden nature of our relationship. And for the first thing in my life, I don’t want to fuck a girl just for the sake of fucking her. I want to explore every inch of her body. I want to hear her pant my name. I want to be closer to her, as close as possible—inside her. I want to bury myself in her and stare into her eyes, and—what the fuck is happening to me?
I lose track of time. I don’t know why she needs fifteen minutes, but I’m going to assume she wants a moment to clean or shave since we’ve been stuck in a car for three days. I want to tell her that I’d take every inch of hair on her body and I don’t give a shit about makeup or perfume. I want the real Laila.
In a rush, I click on the heat to get the room nice and toasty for when we get out of the shower. Then, I peel off my clothes, not bothering to take my time. Then, I step into the bathroom, the steam from the shower already clouding the space. I can barely see her through it, and I almost feel a little self-conscious being so naked as I step up to the shower.
Our eyes meet for a moment before she steps back, giving me room to join her. I didn’t think it was possible for her to be more beautiful, but with her wet hair and droplets of water hanging from her brows, bringing out the green in her eyes, she’s stunning.
My hands make their way to her waist as I pull her closer. As she stares up into my eyes, the moment feels so fucking delicate. We’re really going to do this. We’re going to put every doubt and fear behind us and just do what we want. It feels fucking good.
“Don’t start something if you don’t plan on finishing it,” she says, her shoulders back and her chin high.
“Laila, it would be smart of me to push you away again. I could deny this attraction and sleep in the other room until we get to Vegas and we can eventually part ways, but I have to be honest with you right now. If I start something now, I can’t promise I’m ever going to finish it. I may just want to keep you after this trip is over.”
A small smile spreads across her face as she leans forward and places a kiss on my neck. Wrapping my arms around her, I kiss the top of her head.
Then, wrapping my hand around her hair closer to her scalp, I tilt her head back and attack her mouth with mine. Her warm breath on my lips only drives me forward. By now, my cock is hard and pressing against her belly. Pulling her closer, I squeeze our bodies together.
As her hand skates down between us, she takes a grip of my length, giving gentle tugs that pull low moans from my throat. Working my way down her chin to her neck, I pepper her body with kisses. I need to taste every inch of Laila. I need to know her, make her mine.
She doesn’t like it much when I take her hand off of me, but I want to take things slower tonight, and I want to know she had at least one orgasm before we have sex, and it’s going to be over a little too quickly if she keeps touching me. When I reach her tits, I suck one nipple between my teeth and love the way it makes her moan.
“Fuck, I never even knew that could feel so good,” she gasps.
Pushing her against the wall, I go to work on each side, watching the way it makes her breath hitch and her toes curl. Then, I go to my knees in front her, the hot water landing at my back. I’ve wanted to do this to her since we met, and now I’m waiting for someone to pinch me. As I reach her lower belly, I glance up to see her biting her bottom lip.
“Henry,” she says breathlessly.
“I haven’t even touched you yet, baby. I’ll have you screaming my name in a moment.”
Then I place a kiss against the small, soft tuft of hair between her legs. She gasps in response, and it only urges me on. I lift a leg of hers and place her foot on the lip of the tub to give me better access.
Everything about Laila is beautiful. Everything about her hits me differently. Normally when I’m pleasuring a woman it’s because I want to hear her cries and moans. But when I lap my tongue across Laila’s glistening sex, it’s because I want her to feel good, so fucking good. I want her to associate pleasure with me. I want to be the face that pops into her head every time she touches herself. And fuck, does it turn me on.
She lets out a throaty moan as I suck on her clit, burying my face between her legs. One hand clutches my hair for dear life while the other holds onto the shower wall, grinding her nails against the tiles.
“Don’t stop,” she cries.
Darling, you couldn’t stop me if you tried.
Lapping up every ounce of her arousal, I keep up the flick of my tongue and the suction of my lips until I feel her thighs clench around my ears. It takes me a moment to realize the low growl is coming from me, like an animal between her legs.
But I can’t stop until I feel the undeniable pulse of her orgasm. Just then, she screams.
“I’m coming!” Her head hangs back, her thighs squeeze around me, and her legs tremble in my arms. It’s fucking heaven.
Giving her sensitive spot a break, I kiss her hips and stomach, then I look up at her as she strokes my wet hair out of my face.
“Henry, you’ve got me feeling something I can’t describe.”
I’m on my feet in a second, capturing her mouth, pouring every ounce of emotion into this kiss. I can’t describe what I’m feeling either. It feels like something I don’t deserve but want more than anything. I can’t even think the word, but I know what this feeling is, and I don’t even care that it’s way too early to be feeling things like this. I’m feeling it anyway.
