“We need to stop before I lose my mind and can’t stop.” His voice is shaky, and I let go of him long enough to shove my panties to the side and bring his cock right back where it was, this time having no barrier between my wet skin and his hard length.

“Son of a bitch.” He hisses as I move my hips faster and coat him with my arousal.

“We’re not stopping,” I whisper against his lips as I gently bite down on the bottom one and tug it into my mouth.

Without giving him a chance to protest, my hand slides down to the base of his cock and I angle him towards me. I lift my hips, line the tip up with my entrance, and push myself down roughly until I’m seated fully on top of him and he’s deep inside me.

“Fuck!”

Brady lets out a guttural shout as I hold myself still, letting my body get used to having him inside of me so quickly. He’s big and he’s full, and I’ve never felt anything so amazing in my life. There’s a tingle shooting through my core, begging for me to do something to ease the ache, so I pull myself up the length of him and quickly push back down, both of us groaning in unison.

Brady squeezes his eyes shut tightly and lets his head fall back to the headrest as I begin quickly moving up and down on him, riding his cock, and loving every minute of what I’m doing to him. I never knew I could be this assertive or in control, and it’s a heady feeling— one I never want to end. I want to give him pleasure just as much as I want to achieve it.

He lets go of the back of my neck, and his hand joins the first one, clutching tightly to my ass and guiding my movements, pushing me down harder on him and sliding me up faster until we’re both panting and moaning. I smack my hands down on the back of the seat on either side of Brady’s head and use them to hold on tightly and ride him harder.

We’ve long forgotten about kissing at this point. I’m fucking him too hard and too fast for our lips to stay in contact for more than a second, but Brady makes sure to quickly touch my lips to his every single one of those seconds. Staring at his face and watching how tightly he clenches his jaw to keep himself in control is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Unable to help myself, I lean forward to suck and lick the side of his neck, letting my teeth graze his skin. He hums and moans his approval, and I can feel the vibrations against my lips as I move faster and harder, up and down on top of him.

My orgasm is building quickly; I can feel it pulsing just within my grasp, and it makes me take him in deeper, hold him in place, and grind my hips roughly against that perfect pubic bone of his that hits just the right spot.

My lips continue kissing and sucking at his neck until he speaks softly to me.

“Let me see your face. I want to watch you when you come.”

I immediately pull my head back and stare down into his eyes. I force myself to keep my eyes locked on his even though I want to roll them in the back of my head as I push, thrust, and swivel my hips. He's buried inside of me to the hilt, his hands squeezing and kneading my ass as I move.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is breathy and soft as he moves one of his hands off of my ass and brings it between us. His thumb finds my clit, and he immediately slides it back and forth over top of it. “Let me feel you come.”

His quiet, whispered words and his thumb moving in small, frantic circles makes me tumble quickly over the edge, my orgasm rushing through me so strongly it forces my toes to curl and keeps my body frozen on top of him, only my hips jerking slightly against his hand as I come.

I don’t even know if I’m making a sound or if the shouts and exclamations are all in my head because my ears are ringing, and I can’t think of anything but the way my body squeezes and pulses around Brady. He grabs onto my hips tightly with both of his hands and slams me up and down on top of him three more times until he thrusts his hips up and holds himself suspended inside of me while he curses through his own release.

“Fuck, Layla! Oh fuck!”

He pulls out and pushes back in roughly one last time before his ass slumps back down on the seat and I collapse on top of him, burying my face into the crook of his neck.

We remain like that for several long minutes, both of us breathing heavy, not saying a word. He’s still inside of me, and I can feel myself pulsing around him. It just makes me want him even more.

The ringing of Brady’s cell phone cuts through the euphoria, and I push myself up from his chest and off of his lap, wincing as he slides out of me. Brady zips up his pants before lifting up his hips and pulls his cell phone out of his back pocket, wrapping his other arm around my shoulders and pulling me against his side.

His kisses the top of my head before he answers, and I have to smile to myself at the sweet gesture.

“Um, yes. She’s right here. Would you like to speak to her?”

I tilt my head back to look up at Brady’s face and he mouths, “Your mother.”

I roll my eyes and sigh, holding my hand out for the phone. He gives it to me and I bring it to my ear, regretting that decision as soon as I do it.

Chapter 16

I roll onto my side and check the clock on the nightstand, realizing it’s only one in the morning. I’ve been lying in the king size bed in Layla’s spare bedroom, staring up at the vaulted ceiling for what feels like days, but it’s only been about a half hour.

I flop onto my back with a groan, scrubbing my face with my hands.

Normally during a case, I would be restless from thoughts about the job and what I could be doing better, who I need to talk to the next day, and follow-ups that need completed.

Not this time. This time, my thoughts are occupied with a blonde-haired, blue-eyed enigma of a woman. Every time I drive my truck from now on, I’m going to picture her sitting on my lap, taking me inside of her. I’m going to remember the way she felt wrapped around my cock and the noises she made when she was close to coming.

I don’t know what the hell got into her tonight and I don’t care. I just know that I want to do whatever I can to make that Layla—the confident, sexy, take-charge one—come out to play every single day. Watching her own that stage and the smile that lights up her face makes my dick swell and my chest ache. She doesn’t look anything like that when she does a concert. I haven’t known her very long, but I’ve become very well acquainted with the two different Laylas. One only acts confident and happy. The other actually is.

When I first walked into that bar, I had no idea what to expect. I assumed June invited me there to keep an eye on Layla while she drank away her troubles. Fuck, was I wrong. I walked through the door just as she sat down on the stool behind the microphone. I stayed to the back and kept to the shadows so she wouldn’t see me. I have no idea why I did that. I could have just walked right up to her and asked her what she was doing, but something told me to hang back and watch what unfolded. It looked like she was having words with Finn at first—angry words. I cheered a little inside because she was giving him hell again after the shit he pulled with her that morning. I saw her grab the guitar from his hands and turn around to face to the audience, looking like a deer caught in the headlights, and it killed me to not know what was going on in that head of hers. As soon as she began playing the guitar and the first couple of words left her mouth, I sagged against the back wall with my eyes bugging out of my fucking head and my mouth gaping open and shut like a fish out of water. I remained that way for the entire thirty minutes that she sang.

After the third song, a cover of Hurt by Nine Inch Nails, June walked over to me.

“Ah, you made it. Good to see you again, Mr. Marshall,” June said with an easy smile as she patted me on the shoulder and brought me out of my stunned stupor.

“What the fuck is that?” I asked dumbly, my hand gesturing to the stage where Layla currently thanked the crowd and told them she’d be doing a little Sheryl Crow next.

“That, my dear man, is our girl doing what she was made to do.”

I had to forcibly remove my eyes from the woman on the stage to turn and look at June.

“If she can sing and play like that, why in the hell does she put on concerts like the ones she does?” I demand.

June let out a huge sigh and shook her head sadly as she stared up at Layla belting out the first line to Strong Enough.

“I’ve asked myself that exact same question for years, son. I used to think she really liked what she did. I mean, it’s not exactly what her father had in mind for her, but I figured she found her niche in life and ran with it.”

I cocked my head and looked at her quizzically, thoughts of what I’d read in the tabloids and the research Gwen did on Layla coming to mind.

“What do you mean it’s not what her father had in mind for her? He was a record executive mogul who had a talented daughter. Why wouldn’t he have wanted to cash in on that?” I asked.

June took a minute to ponder my question before finally answering me.

“I’ve known Layla her entire life. I’ve been around for her highs, and I’ve been around for her lows. I never butt in or gave my two cents because I always just assumed she was doing what made her happy, and that was all I’ve ever wanted for her. She’s not the type of person to complain or do the whole ‘woe is me’ bull crap, but I figured if things were really bad, she would tell me. She would tell someone,” June explained, wringing her hands together nervously. “This is the first time I’ve seen her in person in over a year since she’s been on tour, and I’ve got to tell you, something is wrong with that girl. I can see it all over her face, and I can practically feel the misery coming off of her.” I watched the emotions play across June’s face: sadness, worry, and fear. Her eyes got misty and she turned away from me towards the stage. I wanted to reassure June that Layla is okay, but I couldn’t.

I glanced up at Layla as she sang about being broken down and not able to stand. She asked the audience, who listened with rapt attention, if they were strong enough to be her man, and I wanted to run up to that stage, grab her by the shoulders, and tell her that I’m strong enough. Pick me.

I knew that was a lie, though, so I turned my attention back to June.

“You’ve heard about what’s been going on with her and the crazy fan, right? Maybe she’s just overwhelmed by that right now,” I told June, knowing as soon as the words left my mouth that I didn’t believe them. Layla was a fighter, even if she didn’t believe it. Jesus, the night he attacked her she demanded that I teach her how to fight back. Thinking back over all the concert videos I watched of her before I even took this job, I realized now that what I saw on her face wasn’t a diva attitude or the look of someone who was bored with her charmed life. It was the look of someone unhappy and searching for a way out.

“I wondered that myself,” June replied. “But that’s not what it is. She doesn’t look like herself anymore. She doesn’t smile easily and that scares the hell out of me. She’s a beautiful girl, inside and out, with the biggest heart out of anyone I’ve ever known. She’s closed herself off, and I don’t know why. Her father never wanted this life for her. He knew how stressful and demanding it could be, and he always told her that as soon as it became a job, you shouldn’t do it anymore. You should only do it if you love it. If it’s a passion that burns inside of you, and you feel like you’re going to die without it. She doesn’t love what she’s doing, and it makes no sense to me.”

Layla closed out the song to a roar of applause from the bar, and even though I didn’t know that much about this June person, I could tell she really cared about Layla. She was genuinely concerned about her well-being, and it occurred to me that Layla really had no one in her life like that right now.

“I think it’s because of Eve. She treats her like shit, and Layla just takes it all without batting an eye. I tried questioning her about it, but she got really defensive and just shut down,” I explained to June as Layla takes a small bow.

“I always hated that woman. She got her claws into Jack and never let go no matter what he did. He was miserable with Eve, but she didn’t care. She just wanted his money,” June seethed angrily, her eyes narrowing and her lips pursing.

“I don’t mean to be so forward, June, but it’s my job. Mind if I ask how well you knew Layla’s father?”

Her face immediately reddened and she rubbed the back of her neck with one hand nervously.

“Jack was a good friend. He used to come in here a lot to get away from Eve. He’d bring Layla when she was just a little girl, and I took to both of them right quick. What happened to him was shameful, and I will always regret not telling someone about my suspicions.”

June’s words set off warning bells in my head but before I could ask her more about what the hell she was talking about, what she meant about having suspicions, one of the waitresses rushed over and grabbed June’s arm telling her two of the kegs were empty and new ones needed to be tapped immediately. June walked away with a promise to talk to me again soon.

The conversation with June slips away as I hear the click of the bedroom door handle being turned. I hold my breath as I watch the door slowly open revealing Layla, her long, wavy hair wild around her face and shoulders, her body barely covered in a short, white satin nightie. She steps into the room, and I can’t take my eyes away from her full breasts spilling out of the black lace edging of the top. The nightie stops a few inches below her hips, and I lick my lips as my eyes trail down the front of her body and the smooth skin of her legs as I watch them walk towards the bed.

She hesitates shyly at the edge of the bed, and I can see that she’s not sure if she’s doing the right thing. I don’t want her to leave, but I can’t find my voice to tell her that, so I reach over and pull the covers back, holding them up above the bed for her.