Beauty from Pain(88)

She slinks toward me flipping a foil package between two fingers. She uses her palms to push me down on the bed. “I’m putting it on this time.”


“No argument here, baby.”


She opens the packet and I’m such a guy. I lift my head because I want to watch her put it on me. It’s hot watching her hands touch me like that. When she finishes, she shimmies her panties down her legs and steps out of them. She climbs one knee at a time onto the bed and straddles me. My hands are splayed over her hips as she watches my face. “So, you don’t want Swinger Chris to have me?”


Ugh, I need that image out of my head. “No f*cking way.”


My tip is at her wet entrance, but she doesn’t slide down on it. She’s rocking her hips back and forth, teasing me. “Can anyone else have me, or is Swinger Chris the only one who can’t?”


“No one else can have you, Laurelyn. I’m the only one.”


She smiles. “Then show me.”


35


Laurelyn Prescott


Lachlan comes up from the bed and flips me onto my back. He’s kneeling between my legs and hooks them around his arms so he can push them back. He’s not gentle about it. He drives into me without mercy, but that’s the way I want this. His mouth is against my ear.


“You’re mine. Do you understand?”


“Yes!” I scream partly because it’s my answer, but mostly because what he’s doing feels so good.


“I want you to say it.”


We’re sideways on the bed and each thrust shoves me farther across the mattress until my head is hanging off the edge. “I’m … yours … and … no … one … else’s.”


He releases one of my legs and his hand slides down so his fingers can stroke me above our point of fusion. “No one else touches you here like this.”


I’m panting as I lift my hips against him and his fingers. “Only you, Lachlan.”


He hits my sweet spot perfectly and I feel myself contract around him, detonating his orgasm. I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs, so I do because no one’s around to hear me. “Ah, ah!”


“Ah, Laurelyn.” There’s my name, just like always when he comes.


He rolls off me and collapses onto the bed. My head is still dangling off the side so I scoot back onto the mattress. I’m on my back and I stare up at the beautiful sheer panels draped over the canopy above us with one thought—this bed was meant for making love, but that isn’t what we just did. It never is.


The bedroom fills with bright sunlight despite the curtains. I smell breakfast—definitely bacon—maybe pancakes. I’m hungry, but I’m sleepier, so I pull the sheet up over my head. It was a late night.


I get a few more minutes’ sleep before I feel Lachlan reach under the sheet to tickle my nose. I wiggle it to relieve the need to scratch, but give in and reach under the covers and rake my nails across it. “I thought you got to sleep in on vacation.”


“This isn’t vacation for me. It’s work and I have to leave soon, but I wanted to have brekkie with you for your birthday.”


How does he know? I lift the covers to see him. He’s grinning because he’s so proud of himself. “How did you know it’s my birthday?”


“You told me on our second date.”


“I don’t remember that.”


“Well, you did, and I remembered, so get up for your birthday breakfast.”


I can’t believe he remembered. He has such an eye for detail. Did he tell me when his birthday is? If he did, I forgot.


I walk into the kitchen and there is a huge breakfast buffet across the counter. There’s no way we could eat all of it. “Did you do all of this?”


“Would you think less of it if I didn’t?”


“No.”


“I had it catered from one of the local restaurants.”


“It smells delicious.”


He passes a plate to me. “Birthday girl goes first.”


While I’m plating my food, he pours me a glass of juice. He puts it on the dining room table and then joins me with a mile-high stack of pancakes. “Hungry much?”