The Mistress
Page 110
“I’m not going to forget that you’re a virgin, and you better believe I’m going to try to take care of you, too.”
“We’ll take care of each other.”
“I like that idea.”
Wes reached past her and yanked the covers down on the bed. She sat down and scooted back as he crawled in and on top of her.
They kissed again for a long time, long enough for Laila to truly start to relax underneath him. Everything he did to her sent reverberations through her whole body. The kiss he placed on the center of her chest she felt in the backs of her thighs. His hand sliding from her knee to her hip caused her lower back to tighten.
“Anytime you need me to stop or slow down, tell me,” Wes said as he came up on his knees and looked down at her.
“I will. But I don’t want you to stop. Not now or ever.”
“Good.” He gave her a wide grin before raising his hand and crooking a finger at her. She sat up and waited. He gathered the edge of her nightgown in his hands and started to pull it upward. For a split second, Laila froze in a moment of sudden self-consciousness. But she forced herself to raise her arms and let Wes undress her.
Now wearing nothing but her panties, she laid back down on the bed and looked at anything and everything but Wes.
“You have amazing br**sts,” he said. Laughing, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t you dare.”
He took her wrists in his hands and forced them to the sides of her head.
“Wes...”
“I let you see me and touch me. My turn.”
He let go of her wrists and she kept them at her sides as he brought his mouth down to her chest. He kissed her over her pounding heart.
“You’re beautiful, Laila.”
She shook her head. “You’re the pretty one.”
“English lesson, little Danish girl. I’m a guy.” He looked down at her. “Guys aren’t pretty. I am not pretty.”
“So my English isn’t perfect. What are you, then?”
“I’m stunning.” He winked at her and she burst into laughter, laughter that turned to a gasp as he dropped his head and took a nipple into his mouth. The heat from his mouth on her breast caused her entire body to tense. She felt like a knot inside her was tightening with every kiss, every touch, every new intimacy. How did people get anything done when they could be doing this instead? She wanted to do this for the rest of her life, lay in bed with Wes and touch him and be touched by him, kiss him and be kissed by him, give herself to him and take everything he had to give her.
She closed her eyes and let herself drift into the pleasure of his hands and his mouth on her. He stayed at her br**sts for what felt like an hour—kissing, sucking, teasing her ni**les in such a way her hips lifted and a muscle deep inside her twitched with need.
When Wes finally pulled away from her swollen br**sts, her ni**les ached and a light sheen of sweat covered her body.
“Please...” she whispered, not even knowing quite what she begged for, only knowing that whatever it was, no one could give it to her but him.
Some part of her felt a woman’s pride when she felt Wes shaking under her hands, panting with his own need.
“Are you sure?” He pulled her close and she melted against his body. She couldn’t get enough of his skin, his warmth, his touch, couldn’t get enough of him.
“Yes.”
With a ragged breath, Wes rolled back onto his knees again and slowly dragged her panties down her thighs. Laila stared up at the ceiling and tried to stay calm even as Wes stood up and stripped out of his jeans. With every moment that passed it become more and more certain, more real, more irrevocable...they’d gone too far. They couldn’t, they wouldn’t, go back.
Wes lay with her again, this time at her side. He slipped his hand between her legs and nudged her thighs apart.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m going to use my fingers first.”
Laila nodded as she opened her legs more for him.
“I want this so much,” she said as he traced the curve of her hip with his hand. “I’m nervous. That’s all. Please don’t think I want you to stop.”
“I understand nervous. And I won’t stop unless you tell me to stop.”
He cupped her between her thighs and she pressed into the heel of his hand.
“Is there a way you like to be touched?” Wes asked as he made slow circles against her with his palm.
“I don’t know...I’ve never done this with anybody before.”
“With yourself?”
Laila laughed and stared at him.
“Don’t laugh. I lived with Nora for a year and a half. Trust me. I know what you women do in the privacy of your own bedrooms.”
“Okay...so we do. Sometimes. I’m not saying, I do, but...”
“You do. I do it, too.”
“Fine. I do.”
“Good. Then show me.”
“Show you?”
“Show...” Wes kissed her quick on the mouth. “Me.”
Laila sighed.
“Please,” he said. “Use my hand. Teach me how you like to be touched.”
Tentatively she covered his right hand with hers. His hand became her hand’s shadow as she guided his two fingers to her clitoris.
“Does that feel good?” Wes kissed her neck, nipped at her shoulder.
“Yes...so good.”
“Good,” he said, and slipped a finger inside her.
“We’ll take care of each other.”
“I like that idea.”
Wes reached past her and yanked the covers down on the bed. She sat down and scooted back as he crawled in and on top of her.
They kissed again for a long time, long enough for Laila to truly start to relax underneath him. Everything he did to her sent reverberations through her whole body. The kiss he placed on the center of her chest she felt in the backs of her thighs. His hand sliding from her knee to her hip caused her lower back to tighten.
“Anytime you need me to stop or slow down, tell me,” Wes said as he came up on his knees and looked down at her.
“I will. But I don’t want you to stop. Not now or ever.”
“Good.” He gave her a wide grin before raising his hand and crooking a finger at her. She sat up and waited. He gathered the edge of her nightgown in his hands and started to pull it upward. For a split second, Laila froze in a moment of sudden self-consciousness. But she forced herself to raise her arms and let Wes undress her.
Now wearing nothing but her panties, she laid back down on the bed and looked at anything and everything but Wes.
“You have amazing br**sts,” he said. Laughing, she crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t you dare.”
He took her wrists in his hands and forced them to the sides of her head.
“Wes...”
“I let you see me and touch me. My turn.”
He let go of her wrists and she kept them at her sides as he brought his mouth down to her chest. He kissed her over her pounding heart.
“You’re beautiful, Laila.”
She shook her head. “You’re the pretty one.”
“English lesson, little Danish girl. I’m a guy.” He looked down at her. “Guys aren’t pretty. I am not pretty.”
“So my English isn’t perfect. What are you, then?”
“I’m stunning.” He winked at her and she burst into laughter, laughter that turned to a gasp as he dropped his head and took a nipple into his mouth. The heat from his mouth on her breast caused her entire body to tense. She felt like a knot inside her was tightening with every kiss, every touch, every new intimacy. How did people get anything done when they could be doing this instead? She wanted to do this for the rest of her life, lay in bed with Wes and touch him and be touched by him, kiss him and be kissed by him, give herself to him and take everything he had to give her.
She closed her eyes and let herself drift into the pleasure of his hands and his mouth on her. He stayed at her br**sts for what felt like an hour—kissing, sucking, teasing her ni**les in such a way her hips lifted and a muscle deep inside her twitched with need.
When Wes finally pulled away from her swollen br**sts, her ni**les ached and a light sheen of sweat covered her body.
“Please...” she whispered, not even knowing quite what she begged for, only knowing that whatever it was, no one could give it to her but him.
Some part of her felt a woman’s pride when she felt Wes shaking under her hands, panting with his own need.
“Are you sure?” He pulled her close and she melted against his body. She couldn’t get enough of his skin, his warmth, his touch, couldn’t get enough of him.
“Yes.”
With a ragged breath, Wes rolled back onto his knees again and slowly dragged her panties down her thighs. Laila stared up at the ceiling and tried to stay calm even as Wes stood up and stripped out of his jeans. With every moment that passed it become more and more certain, more real, more irrevocable...they’d gone too far. They couldn’t, they wouldn’t, go back.
Wes lay with her again, this time at her side. He slipped his hand between her legs and nudged her thighs apart.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m going to use my fingers first.”
Laila nodded as she opened her legs more for him.
“I want this so much,” she said as he traced the curve of her hip with his hand. “I’m nervous. That’s all. Please don’t think I want you to stop.”
“I understand nervous. And I won’t stop unless you tell me to stop.”
He cupped her between her thighs and she pressed into the heel of his hand.
“Is there a way you like to be touched?” Wes asked as he made slow circles against her with his palm.
“I don’t know...I’ve never done this with anybody before.”
“With yourself?”
Laila laughed and stared at him.
“Don’t laugh. I lived with Nora for a year and a half. Trust me. I know what you women do in the privacy of your own bedrooms.”
“Okay...so we do. Sometimes. I’m not saying, I do, but...”
“You do. I do it, too.”
“Fine. I do.”
“Good. Then show me.”
“Show you?”
“Show...” Wes kissed her quick on the mouth. “Me.”
Laila sighed.
“Please,” he said. “Use my hand. Teach me how you like to be touched.”
Tentatively she covered his right hand with hers. His hand became her hand’s shadow as she guided his two fingers to her clitoris.
“Does that feel good?” Wes kissed her neck, nipped at her shoulder.
“Yes...so good.”
“Good,” he said, and slipped a finger inside her.
