Golden Trail (The 'Burg #3)(243)

Layne’s body went still and he looked down at the thick, embossed card in her hand.

“What?” he asked.

She flipped the card back and forth. “A Farrah Gerald or Andre Washington,” she repeated. “This is their wedding announcement. I have no clue who they are but…” her head turned, she flipped the thick, cream envelope over and studied the address then looked back at Layne, “it’s addressed to us.” She went back to the card, flipped it over too and then twisted again to look at Layne. “And there’s a note, sweetheart. It says,” her eyes dropped to the card, “‘Don’t worry, he reminds me of you. He’s a badass but he’s got a soft spot too.’”

Layne stared at the card. Then he looked at Rocky who’d tipped her head back to look at him.

Then he grinned.

Three blasts from the past in five minutes, one expected, one inconsequential, one unexpected, none unwelcome.

Layne got close and locked eyes with Rocky then he slid his hand up her back, under her hair, his fingers curling around her neck.

“Marissa Gibbons, baby,” he whispered, watched her eyes grow wide then her head dropped and she stared down at the announcement.

Then he watched the dimple hit her cheek.

* * * * *

“Layne.”

Breathy, beautiful. Fuck.

Layne kept driving his c**k into his wife.

“Baby,” she whispered into his ear through her pants.

“Don’t hold back,” Layne grunted into her ear, one of his forearms in the sectional, the other hand between them, finger at her clit.

“God, oh my God. Don’t stop,” she begged, lifting her h*ps for him, all her limbs wrapped around him, her wrists under her ankles, her fingers curled into his ass.

“Stop holding back, baby,” Layne ordered, she did as she was told, her h*ps surged up, her neck arched and a low moan slid from her throat as her pu**y pulsed around his cock.

His finger left her clit, his hand went to her hip, he pulled her up to keep taking him as she kept coming underneath him and he thrust into her, hard, deep, fast and then his mouth found hers and he groaned down her throat as he exploded.

He came down and Rocky kept him trapped in her limbs as he kept stroking, slowly, through their combined wetness inside her. As he did this, his mouth explored her neck and hers returned the favor.

Then he rolled to his back, keeping their connection. He did an ab curl, grabbed the throw then laid back pulling it over his wife and his na**d bodies.

“It’s summer, Jas is home,” Rocky said in his ear.

“Yep,” Layne replied, not knowing where she was going with this.

She lifted her head and told him. “That means we have to stop f**king on the sectional, Layne,”

Layne f**ked Rocky on the sectional a lot. It was comfortable, it was cozy and there was room to move. It wasn’t as big as their bed but it felt like it was.

“They’re all at a late movie, sweetcheeks,” he reminded her.

“Yes, but –”

“They come home, we’d hear them.”

“I wouldn’t,” she told him and he grinned.

“Well, I would.”

“Hmm,” she mumbled, her nose wrinkling and her eyes narrowing, “I thought I had your undivided attention when you’re inside me.”

“Yeah, well, they came home when I was inside you, that would be very bad timing,” Layne remarked, her eyes got big then she burst out laughing.

Layne grinned but he didn’t laugh with her. He savored the golden trail her laughter sent gliding through him, lifted his hands to pull her hair away from her face and he held it back as he watched.

She sobered but kept grinning at him. Then she caught the look on his face and, still grinning, she asked, “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?”

He pulled her down to him, touched his mouth to hers then pushed her back an inch.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispered.

“For what?” she whispered back.

“A beautiful life.”

Her mouth got soft, her eyes went half-mast and her gaze grew intense.

Then she lifted a hand, laid it against his jaw, her thumb sweeping across his lips as her eyes watched it move.

Then they lifted to his and she gave him the dimple.