What She Deserves Page 6

  He kissed her hard, hungrily, as if this might be the last time he had a chance to taste her mouth. Their lips and tongues moved over each other in a sloppy kiss that reinforced their passion and uncontrollable need for each other.

  When the kiss ended, Rashad pulled Layla on top of him, and she experienced the full length of his body spread out beneath hers. She slid her hand between his legs and held his solid length in a snug clasp, stroking slowly at first and then increasing the pace, forcing him to let loose a growl of approval. His breathing grew choppy, so she knew he enjoyed her touch. When she swiped her tongue across the tip of his length, his body jerked and he grabbed her by the neck, forcing her gaze to meet his.

  “Get on top of me,” he demanded.

  She followed his instructions and flung one leg over his hips. She sank down on top of him, gasping as she was stretched by his girth and impaled by his length. They both stilled, absorbing the moment—reveling in the sensation of being locked together. His nostrils flared and his dark eyes narrowed to slits. Rashad placed both hands on her hips and then began to move, undulating his long body in a sexy wave of movement that made her respond in kind.

  Layla forgot everything that came before this moment—the doubts she had about Rashad, the uncertainty and pain of the past that forced her to make a clean break. All of that disappeared as she rode him. She moaned as his pace quickened and listened to the corresponding tufts of air that discharged from his lungs. Her breasts jostled as she bounced up and down on his shaft and fiery need built and coalesced into a perfect storm of desire.

  The tender muscles between her thighs quivered around his length, and a very noticeable tightening in her lower abdomen signaled a pending orgasm. With only a few more thrusts from his hips, she’d be coming. She was so turned on by his scent and touch that she leaned forward and kissed his mouth, sucking on his plump lower lip as her hips made erotic circles, and she continued to ride him.

  Rashad pumped up into her, each stroke deep and powerful. She let him take control, her hands braced on either side of his head, her weak elbows wobbling in a valiant attempt to maintain her position because she didn’t want to lose one iota of this feeling of complete and blissful delirium.

  “That’s my girl,” Rashad said, one hand roughly squeezing her ass while the other remained in place on her back. “You feel so good. He missed you, sweetness.”

  He being his dick. Heaven forbid that he tell her again that he—Rashad—had missed her. That moment on her street was long gone, but she wouldn’t let that spoil this moment and take away the orgasm that was tantalizingly close.

  Sitting upright, Layla cupped her breasts and tweaked her nipples to heighten the pleasure. “I’m almost there,” she whispered brokenly.

  “Go ahead, sweetness. Use me however you like,” he grunted, the muscles in his neck corded tight as he fought to hold back and make sure she came first.

  That did it.

  She came unglued, falling apart at the seams, giving herself over to an orgasm that constricted her loins and made her body feel like one large nerve ending.

  Rashad’s hips moved faster, and Layla tossed back her head and closed her eyes to sink deeper into oblivion. The hand on her bottom moved to her left breast and Rashad alternated between squeezing the fullness of her flesh and tweaking a tight nipple between his fingertips.

  She came again, hips working overtime as her body convulsed around him, loud moans spilling from her lips over and over again like a sorcerer’s incantation. Rashad pulled her down and captured her cries with hungry kisses, a hand at her waist holding her in place as he continued to thrust, pulling out yet another orgasm that depleted her energy and spun the room.

  When she felt she had nothing else to give and her body was drained of the ability to move, he rolled her onto her back and continued to drive into her. Now he was on top, and his knees splayed her legs wide, the full weight of his body pressing her into the soft mattress with a flurry of thrusts. His stamina was unbelievable, but so was her body’s ability to respond to his. He was so damn good and multi-tasked like a boss, kissing and sucking sensitive spots on her skin while knowing the right angle to slice into her body so that he hit her G-spot over and over.

  “Three years. Three goddamn years you been right here,” he growled in her ear. “How dare you keep this from me.”

  She had no defense against such masterful lovemaking. Lifting her whole body into each thrust, she hooked her arms around his neck as he buried his face between her jaw and collarbone. The coil of tension in her loins snapped like a weakened rubber band, and she succumbed to another orgasm. At the same time his hips accelerated, her vaginal walls clenched around him and Rashad let out a hoarse, wounded sound that seemed to be torn from somewhere deep inside him.

  He followed with a stream of F-bombs through gritted teeth and slammed his fist into the bed.

  Their lower bodies crashed into each other over and over to unleash the full power of the climax, their muted cries mingling together in a chorus of raw, unadulterated pleasure.

  10

  Rashad exited the bathroom into the bedroom. Noting Layla’s still body under the navy-blue sheets, he smiled to himself. No doubt, he’d put her ass to sleep. She always wanted to sleep after they made love.

  So much for your no-spending-the-night rule, he thought with a silent chuckle.

  He slipped under the cool top sheet and carefully placed an arm across her waist. A beat later she stiffened and eased away.

  So, she wasn’t asleep.

  Layla sat up on the mattress and threaded her fingers though her rumpled tresses. Rashad caught his breath, eyes glued to her. All her lipstick was gone, leaving only bare lips, slightly swollen from his amorous kisses, and her hair tumbled around her shoulders in a halo of midnight strands against her tawny-gold skin. Damn, she was gorgeous.

  She tucked the sheet under her arms to protect her breasts from exposure. “It’s late,” she said, covering a yawn with one hand.

  Rashad reclined with his arms folded behind his head. “Yeah, it is.”

  Layla flung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. At first he thought she might be headed to the bathroom, but then she picked up her jeans from the floor.

  He lifted onto his elbows. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting dressed. I’m going home,” she said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  He sat all the way up. “You’re leaving now?”

  “Yep.” Her flippant tone landed like a slap in the face, and when she went into the bathroom with her purse and the rest of her clothes bundled in her arms, his eyes followed her in disbelief.

  What the hell?

  Layla couldn’t seriously be planning to leave his bed in the middle of the goddamn night. Granted she’d said no spending the night at each other’s place, but come on. When they first dated, he’d fallen asleep and woken up plenty of times with her in his arms. Leaving at—he glanced at the clock—almost midnight was ridiculous.

  Rashad swung his legs over the side of the bed and waited for her to exit the bathroom. Minutes later, she came out fully dressed, hair brushed into a polished ponytail and her lipstick freshened.

  “Listen, I know we had an agreement we wouldn’t spend the night at each other’s place,” he began, “but you don’t have to rush out. Relax. You hungry? I could make us something to eat or order in.”

  “It’s late, and I ate earlier. Thank you for tonight, though. The sex was amazing. Exactly as I remembered.”

  A soft, almost benevolent smile touched the corners of her mouth and irritated the hell out of him. She was treating him like a charity case. Layla walked over and pecked him on the mouth, but his lips firmed, refusing to yield to hers.

  She stepped back, a frown of surprise marring her forehead. “Something wrong?”

  Yes! She rolled out of his bed in the middle of the night after ‘amazing’ sex. Everything was wrong.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Let me grab my robe, and I’l
l walk you out,” Rashad muttered, standing.

  He didn’t have a stitch of clothing on, and she bit her bottom lip, her admiring gaze crawling down his naked body. “I’m so tempted to slide back into bed with you and go another round, but I better get out of here if I plan to get up at a decent hour in the morning.” She lifted her Chanel purse onto her shoulder. “No need to walk me out. Call when you want to hook up again. Bye!”

  She waved and stepped across the carpet in sky high stilettoes, hips swinging, stride confident—and dare he say it—a bounce in her step.

  Rashad stared at the now empty doorway. Disoriented. Speechless.

  Layla was in a helluva good mood, and considering he just had mind-blowing sex with her, he should be too. Instead, he was grumpy. Cranky. Annoyed. He rubbed his brow to ward off a headache and climbed back into bed.

  With his back against the padded headboard, he sat in the dimly lit room and pondered what had occurred between them minutes before, unable to adequately define the odd sensation in his chest. All he knew was that having her rush out so soon after they made love left a bitter taste in his mouth. Layla had treated him as if he were simply an object for her sexual gratification. A dick to ride when she was horny, but she didn’t need him for anything else.

  He picked up his phone from the bedside table. Layla used to send him videos all the time. Sometimes to simply check in and say hello. Other times to update him on her day’s activities. He had dozens of videos, which could be as simple as thirty seconds of her excited whispers about a delicious meal, to asking his opinion about new makeup she was trying from her friend, Tamika, who owned TamCam Cosmetics.

  One of his favorites was a video of her wearing a white bandeau top and beige wide-legged linen pants. He clicked on the image.

  “Hey, baby,” Layla said in the video. “I know you’re busy, so that’s why I didn’t call. Hopefully, you’ll get a chance to see this and give me your opinion. I bought this outfit for the weekend in Miami with my sisters. What do you think?” She wrinkled her nose. “I like it, but I’m not sure.” She and her sisters were going to Miami to celebrate her older sister’s birthday and take advantage of a weekend she had without her husband and kids.

  Holding up the phone, she twisted and turned so he’d get a good look at the outfit. Smoothing a hand over her hip, she continued to talk, pointing out what she liked and didn’t like, but he hadn’t seen anything he didn’t like and told her as much when he sent a text back. He pointed out how the top hugged and lifted her breasts and the crop top showed off her flat belly. The wide-legged pants were just right. Overall, she looked sexy without looking like she was trying too hard.

  He set aside the phone and stared across at the closed bedroom door. What had happened to that Layla? The sweet, fun-loving woman he’d adored. The sex was still good, but she’d changed, and he couldn’t recall ever feeling dirty after sex. Not once, and certainly never with her.

  Sex with Layla had always been euphoric, emotional, and tension-relieving. Tonight was different. For the first time, he felt as if his skin and the very core of his being was covered in grime.

  Sliding lower in the bed, Rashad tugged the covers up to his chin.

  He’d never felt so… used.

  A wide grin on her face, Layla pressed harder on the Cadillac’s accelerator as she drove away from Rashad’s building.

  Wow. She’d actually done it. She’d had sex with Rashad and left.

  Gripping the steering wheel, she let out an exultant laugh.

  Granted, affecting a disinterested voice as she dressed had been difficult because the temptation to remain in his bed was very real. She’d suffered a moment of weakness while he was in the bathroom. Lying in the dark, she’d been completely lethargic and unable to move. That always happened whenever they had sex.

  Under the covers, with a soft pillow cushioning her head, sleep had dragged down her eyelids, and she was fairly certain she’d dozed off for at least a few minutes. When he put his arm around her waist to cuddle, she’d wished she could stay like that forever.

  Seconds later, alarm bells went off and common sense returned, but pulling out of his arms had been extremely difficult. That’s why she’d moved so slowly, taking her time more out of reluctance than politeness. But getting dressed and splashing water on her face had rejuvenated her.

  She could definitely get accustomed to a sex-only relationship. Though she didn’t admit her reservations to her friends, she’d privately had doubts. Tonight proved those doubts were ill-placed, and simply hooking up with Rashad was doable. She was already looking forward to the next time.

  Great sex without the heartache. What more could a woman want?

  11

  Rashad had made up his mind that he and Layla needed to talk about where this relationship was headed. Since she came over five nights ago, he’d had plenty of time to think, and there needed to be an adjustment to their no-strings affair.

  Tonight, he was going to show her that they were not simply sexually compatible, but compatible, period. Before he had opened his big mouth and told her he wanted to slow down, they used to have fun together, laugh together. They’d attended comedy shows and gone to basketball games and nice dinners. Then of course there were the conversations about everything under the sun that sometimes lasted well into the night before exhaustion tugged them to sleep. Back then, they had good-natured arguments about a variety of topics—from business to politics to the latest pop culture gossip.

  Time to remind her of what they used to have.

  When the doorbell rang, he immediately checked his appearance in the mirror, smoothing a hand down his face and grinning. He looked great in a long-sleeved black and gold leaf shirt with black slacks. The diamonds in his ears flashed against his skin, and after a last-minute shave, a splash of aftershave made him smell good.

  Rashad swung open the door. “Hi,” he said.

  “Hi.” Layla rushed in, tugging off moleskin gloves that matched her taupe-colored coat. “Sorry, I’m late. I had a last-minute emergency to take care of.”

  “No worries. I just stepped out of the shower a few minutes ago.”

  “Good, then I’m right on time.”

  “Care for anything to drink?”

  Rashad took her coat and hung it in the closet near the door. Underneath, Layla wore skinny jeans and a Big-Bird-yellow long-sleeved blouse with a low-dipping neckline. Exquisite, as always.

  “I’m fine. Honestly, I don’t have a lot of time. Only about thirty minutes, so we’ll have to hurry. I have to be in Ethan’s home office by nine for a Zoom meeting. He’s still overseas and needs me to pull some files that he needs.”

  She moved quickly toward the bedroom, and Rashad followed. He watched her kick off her heels and lift her blouse over her head, placing it carefully on the chair across from the bed. For a moment he became distracted by the way the black satin bra pushed her breasts high and together, creating a tempting cleavage. But sanity returned, and he became more annoyed than aroused, perturbed by her nonchalant attitude.

  “What are you doing?” Rashad asked.

  Layla’s hand stalled on the snap on her jeans. “What do you mean what am I doing?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  A frown wrinkled the space between her eyes. “No, I don’t.”

  “What the hell, Layla. Why are you treating me like a damn ho?”

  Her eyes widened. “I’m not. I thought you called me over here to—”

  “Yes, I called you over here to have sex, but that’s not the only reason. I thought we could spend time together. Do something other than have sex.”

  He didn’t think it was possible, but her eyes went wider, and she took a step back.

  “That’s not what we agreed to.”

  “Well, I’m changing the parameters of this arrangement. Put your blouse back on.”

  “Are you serious right now?”

  “Yes, I’m serious. Get dressed.”

  Hands on
her hips, she placed a gentle arch in her back so her breasts stuck out more. “Are you sure?”

  Rashad’s mouth went dry. No, he wasn’t. In fact, he was downright struggling because he’d been reacquainted with her soft skin, sexy curves, and that tight, wet spot at the juncture of her hips. Heaven. Nirvana. Hunger ravaged his body, and he valiantly fought the urge to shove control to the side and press his face into her tempting breasts. But he’d made a promise to himself and intended to keep it, dammit.

  “Yes, I’m sure.” He fisted his hands, fingers pressing into his palms.

  “I don’t have time to go to dinner or whatever you have planned. We have to do this now or forget it.”

  He gritted his teeth but spoke calmly. “Then let’s forget it and get together tomorrow night or later this week.”

  “I might have other plans. How do you know if I even have time to do that?”

  He moved closer. Big mistake. The alluring scent of her perfume filled his nostrils and made the struggle to keep from touching her even harder. “Make time, Layla.”

  She glared up at him. “What game are you playing, Rashad?”

  “This isn’t a game. I want to spend time with you doing something other than fucking. Is that so crazy?”

  Several beats passed as she eyed him with narrowed eyes. Then she flung her hands in the air in exasperation. “I don’t get it. I thought this was what you wanted.”

  “I did, but after the last time you were here…” He shook his head, upset about the memory of how she’d screwed him and left. “I didn’t like your behavior, okay?”

  “My behavior? You’re something else.”

  “I want to start over with you. I want to go to movies and dinner and do all the things we used to do together.”