Blade & Layla Bonus Chapter - A Day In Their Life Ten Years Later


Five months after Colt Epilogue



5:23 a.m.


My husband’s deep voice wakes me. Or maybe it’s his hand on my breast. Either way, he wakes me from a sleep I’m not ready to be woken from. Not even for what he wants to do to me.

“I’m still asleep,” I grumble, pushing his hand away.

He grinds his hard dick against my ass and brushes his lips against my ear. “You’re awake.”

“I promise you I’m not.”

His hand finds my breast again. “Let me wake you up.”

I desperately want to keep sleeping. I’m exhausted after a weekend of celebrating our son’s eighth birthday. Between hosting a birthday party for him and twenty of his friends on Saturday morning, attending a Storm barbeque at their clubhouse on Saturday night, spending most of yesterday with Donovan’s mum, and having a sleepover here last night with Keaton, Sawyer’s cousin and best friend, I’m not ready to face today yet.

“What time is it?” I ask, squeezing my eyes so they stay closed. My husband is the most determined man I know. He’ll do everything in his power to fuck me this morning. And since I love sex with him, I know I’m not getting any more sleep. But I’m still sleepy enough to be in denial over that. If I can just keep my eyes closed, maybe I can keep my legs closed too.

Donovan kisses my neck, giving me some teeth too because he knows that never fails to turn me on. “Almost five thirty.”

When he moves his hand down my body to find my clit, I say, “I’m divorcing you at the end of this life and finding a new husband for my next life.” The arch of my back as I say this, along with the moan that escapes my lips after, tells him another story though.

He circles my clit over and over before sliding his finger through my wetness. “Sweetheart, we both know I’m never allowing you to leave me. In this life. In our next life. In any fucking life.” He lightly bites my neck again as he pushes a finger inside me.

My eyes open, right alongside my legs.

I reach up to grip the back of his neck as I turn my face to his. “I’m going to try. It’ll be a fun game at least.”

The growl that comes from him right before his lips crash down onto mine is almost enough to make me orgasm.

I begin to roll to face him, but he’s already got his hands all over me and is taking charge of getting me where he wants me.

I’ve gone from not wanting to open my eyes to desperately wanting him inside me. Ten years of being with this man and I still can’t get enough of him.

Today, he spreads me out under him, his intense gaze all over my body, unleashing a torrent of need through me. That need only intensifies when his eyes land on my pussy and stay there.

I know what’s coming next.

And it can’t happen fast enough.

Hands flat to the bed either side of me, he dips his mouth to my chest and kisses my breasts. He takes his time with each nipple, giving me his lips, his tongue, his teeth. He then moves slowly down my stomach, giving me the same until he reaches my pussy, at which point he stops giving me anything except his eyes.

I allow him a few moments here. Donovan’s a visual man. He likes to watch me. To imagine what he’s going to do. To think about all the ways he’ll make me scream his name. But I’m always impatient for him, this morning being no different.

I sit up and reach my hands around his neck while bringing my mouth to his. Our kiss is rough, needy. Like our kisses always are. We’re unable to only go half in on anything that involves our bodies together.

When I let his lips go, I keep hold of him, my face close to his. My eyes search his. Breathlessly, I say, “I want you inside me and I don’t want to have to wait until you’ve tasted me.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, gripping my neck. Tightening his fingers around me, he says, “Lie down. I’m tasting you.”

“No. I need your dick.”

His eyes flash with fire. I’ve worked my husband up. A specialty of mine. One I hope never changes. “You’ll have my dick when I’m ready to give it to you.”

I feel all those words and the way he says them deep inside.

I might want his cock, but I want this more.

This push and pull that is always there between us.

This darker side of him.

I do as he says and a moment later, his fingers are on my clit.

“Spread your legs,” he orders, and when I do, he places his hands to my thighs to keep them wide and pressed to the bed while he bends his face to my pussy and licks me.

“Oh god,” I moan, reaching for the sheet. Grasping it, my back comes up off the bed as Donovan’s tongue pushes inside me.

He fucks me with it for a few moments before sliding out of me and sucking my clit into his mouth. Using his tongue, he does that thing he does that I wish I could have more often than the few times a week we manage to find time for.

In our next life, we’re not having kids or jobs.

We’re just having Donovan’s tongue and my clit.

Oh, and his stubble.

I never encourage him to get rid of that because it feels so damn good when he’s got his mouth between my legs.

I let go of the sheets and move my hands to his head. Donovan started shaving all his hair off a year ago and I can’t get enough of his bald look. I also love the feel of it and have my hands all over his head every time he gives me his mouth like this.

He loves my hands on him, and the growl that comes from him when I touch him almost tips me over the edge. I hold my orgasm back, though. I’m not ready for it yet. I need more of his tongue.

He spends another couple of minutes on my clit before looking up at me. “Touch yourself while I finish you off.”

I comply with his order. Donovan watches my fingers for a few moments before licking my clit again.

We’re all fingers and tongue together while he pushes two of his fingers inside me.

Pleasure reaches every inch of my body.

My skin is alive with it.

I rock my hips and move with it as he fucks me.

The world ceases to exist while my husband gives me everything I need.

My body jerks and my pussy clenches as my orgasm hits.

I’m lost to it, barely aware of what’s happening around me while I let it consume me.

And then, a scream pierces the morning and I’m completely aware of everything.

My eyes snap open as Donovan curses and jolts up off the bed. A second later, he’s pulling on pants and striding out of our bedroom.


I move off the bed and find my underwear and one of Donovan’s T-shirts. Dressing quickly, I leave the bedroom and make my way into our daughter’s room.

Elizabeth, our four-year-old, has been having nightmares the last week and often wakes screaming. When I reach her room, I find Donovan with her in his arms while she clings to him sobbing.

“You’re okay,” Donovan says quietly, soothingly as he strokes her hair gently. “It was just a dream, baby girl.”

My heart constricts.

I hate that she’s having these bad dreams and feeling them so deeply.

I move to them and place my hand on her back while pressing a kiss to her cheek. “You’re okay, baby.”

She lifts her face and looks at me. Heaving through her sobs, she gets out, “There was a scary dog. It was mean.”

Donovan continues stroking her hair and I continue rubbing her back.

When she appears to have settled, I ask, “Would you like me to make you a hot chocolate, baby?”

She nods her head a couple of times before burying her face back in her father’s neck and clinging to him tighter.

Donovan meets my gaze and I nod at his wordless communication. He’s going to spend another five or so minutes in here with her and then bring her out for her drink. This has become our standard routine whenever she has one of these nightmares. Elizabeth only wants her father when she’s this distraught and I don’t blame her. Donovan has a reassuring presence when I’m upset too. He calms with a touch. A look. A press of his lips to the forehead.

I leave them and go into the kitchen to make a hot chocolate. An odd choice of drink in the middle of the December heat, but it is always Elizabeth’s request when she’s looking for comfort. Probably because her father introduced her to it after she fell and hurt her arm badly last year.

Our daughter is a true daddy’s girl. Anything he says, does, or teaches is gobbled up by her. I’ve learned that if I want her to do something, the quickest way is through him.

It takes him longer than five minutes to coax her out of his arms this morning. Ten minutes pass before they join me in the kitchen.

Donovan’s eyes find mine as he enters the room still holding her. Then, looking at her, he shifts his hands to take hold of her and deposit her on the floor. She comes straight to me. Reaching her little arms up, she says, “Mummy.”

I smile as I lift her. Wrapping my arms around her, I say, “Did Daddy scare the dreams away?”

She nods. “Yes.”

“Good.” I kiss her cheek. “Are you ready for your drink?”

At her nod, I put her down and say, “Sit at the table, baby.”

I watch Donovan leave the kitchen as Elizabeth hops up on a chair at the kitchen table. I hear him talking with Sawyer and Keaton in the lounge room and sigh. I should have woken up faster this morning. I’m not getting sex now.

I spend the next fifteen minutes occupying the kids with a cartoon in the lounge room and thinking about what I’ll make them for breakfast while Donovan showers and gets ready for work. I’m not working today due to the school holidays. I’m taking the kids to the beach with Harlow, Madison, and their kids. I’m both looking forward to it and wishing we were just staying home. It’s a massive effort taking that many children to a busy beach in the December school holidays. Especially when I’m already exhausted and could nap for a thousand hours today.

“Save some energy for me tonight,” Donovan says against my ear when he comes back into the kitchen and hooks his arm around my waist.

My core wakes the hell up at his touch and his words.

Placing my hand over his at my stomach, I ignore the arguing I hear happening in the lounge room and say, “You’ll be lucky if I’m not passed out by the time you get home.”

He turns me to face him. “Do you need me to take the day off?”

I smile at him and shake my head. “No, I’m good. Just tired after the weekend.”

His brows pull together. “You’ve been tired a lot lately. What’s going on?”

I place my hands to his chest. “We’re both tired. Kids. Work. Life. I think we’re going to be tired for a good decade straight. I’m just strapping in for it. You don’t need to worry about me. You’ve got enough on at work to worry about.” It’s true. He does. I do not need to add to his worries.

He moves into me. “It’s my job to worry about you, Layla, so let me.”

I slide my hands out across his hard chest and around his sides to wrap my arms around him. Donovan’s body is still as sculpted and built as it was when I met him, and the sheer size of him never fails to make me feel safe. Protected. Loved.

“Honestly there’s nothing to worry about. As far as me saving energy for you today, I’m not sure that’s going to be possible. Your children are going to wear me out at the beach.”

“Maybe you should cancel today.”

My eyes widen. “Are you serious? I mean, you can tell the kids it’s off and see how well they take that news.”

The serious look in his gaze intensifies. “They could wait until tomorrow.”

“Ah, no. Tomorrow we have swimming lessons and a playdate with Velvet and Zeke. Wednesday, we have haircuts and lunch at your mum’s. Thursday, we have the day at Dreamworld with Chelsea, Christian, and Georgia. Friday, I’m doing Christmas shopping while Harlow has the kids. And then on the weekend, we’ve got all the things we’ve planned with you.” I release a long breath. “This week is hectic. There’s no room for postponing anything.”

I see his brain processing all this, trying to figure out how he can ride on in and save me from myself and all the fun things I’ve planned for our children during their holidays.

“No,” I say.

He arches a brow questioningly. “No?”

“No, you can’t do anything to help me. You’re busy with work and I won’t have the busy schedule I brought upon myself interfering with that. So stop trying to figure out how to fix it all for me.”

He watches me silently for a few moments before saying, “I’m sure I knew how argumentative and stubborn you were before I married you, but I seem to keep forgetting.”

I smile. God, I love this man. “Well, I’ll just keep reminding you, okay?”

He bends his face to brush his lips over mine. “I have no doubt you will, sweetheart.”

I tighten my arms around him when he makes a move to let me go. “Kiss me properly. That wasn’t enough.”

His lips twitch while his eyes flash with approval.

He then slides his fingers through my hair and gives me his mouth.

I melt into him, body and soul, as he deepens the kiss, his tongue seeking mine.

We soon become a mess of need, Donovan’s hands moving to my ass to lift me up onto the kitchen countertop. Taking hold of one of my legs, he curves it around his body where he prefers it and grinds himself against me.

The house is filled with the sounds of children arguing and morning cartoons on the television, and now, our desperate desire for each other in the kitchen.

“Fuck,” he rasps, pulling his mouth from mine. He’s as breathless as I am. “If we don’t stop now, I won’t be able to.”

I nod, biting my lip and gripping his shirt. “I know.”

He doesn’t move, though. He stays right where he is, with my leg around him, his hand on my breast, and his eyes all over my body.

I know my husband well. He’s trying to figure out how to fuck me with three kids in the house who are likely to come looking for us any moment.

When he removes his eyes from my body to search mine out, I know he’s figured out we don’t have a hope in hell of having sex right now. With one long exhale, he says, “Tonight. I don’t care if it’s the fastest sex we’ve ever had. I need you.”

It’s those last three words, said with Donovan’s signature intensity and darkness, that cause me to nod in agreement. Because even though I know I’ll be almost dead with exhaustion tonight, my husband’s need for me always pulls me in.

I kiss him. “I love you.” One last kiss. “Tonight.”



11:10 a.m.

I send my husband a text as I sit on the beach watching the kids make sandcastles.

Layla: I’ve been thinking.

Layla: We should cancel all our plans for this weekend, ask your Mum to have the kids, and you should take me away somewhere, just the two of us.

Layla: I want to spend the weekend naked with you.


11:20 a.m.


Layla: I’m thinking about all the filthy things your tongue is capable of.


11:30 a.m.


Layla: Is that a no?


11:40 a.m.


Layla: Too bad if it’s a no from you because it’s a yes from me and I just called your mum and organised her to have the kids from Friday night to Sunday afternoon. You’re taking me away. To the beach. And you’re going to fuck me for 48 hours straight. Just FYI.



12:30 p.m.


Layla: I’ve booked a hotel. Tell me you can get away from work by lunchtime on Friday. I may start without you if not. I’ll be sure to keep you updated with videos until you get there. I know you like to watch.


12:45 p.m.


I check my phone to see if Donovan has replied to my messages. My husband is not a fan of texting, so I never really expect him to reply to my messages. I just like sending them and imagining him reading them. He’ll always respond if it’s something important, but I didn’t really expect him to respond to the ones I’ve sent him today.

There’s no reply from him.

That doesn’t bother me. I know he’s busy. I just like knowing he would have been thinking about me each time he received a text.

“So, J’s on the couch tonight?” I say to Madison who has just spent ten minutes telling me about the fight they had this morning that she’s still annoyed over.

“If he comes home in the same mood he was in this morning, yes,” Madison says. I don’t doubt her. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to sleep on the couch, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. I don’t know any other couple with as much fire between them as these two.

She looks at me. “How has Blade never had to sleep on the couch? My brother can’t be that perfect.”

I laugh as I reach for the sunscreen in my bag. “Trust me, he is far from perfect.”

“But still, no couch?” she says.

I arch a brow. “You seriously think I could get away with telling Donovan to sleep on the couch?”

“You have a point,” she says.

Donovan and I have had many fights over the years, but I know better than I know anything that there’s no way he’d stand for us going to bed separately. Even after one of our worst fights, I woke to his arms around me, and although I didn’t like him very much that day, I wanted his arms right where they were.

“Oh, shit,” Madison says, jumping up from the sand where she and I are sitting under a beach umbrella. “Something’s happened.”

Madison and I have been watching the girls while they make sandcastles, and Harlow has been with the boys. She took them up to the park to play on the swings and is now coming our way with Keaton and Sawyer who is crying and holding his arm.

I stand and run to them, my eyes firmly on my son who appears to be in pain.

“He fell off the swing,” Harlow says, her voice filled with worry. “I’m concerned he’s broken his wrist.”

I crouch in front of Sawyer and find his eyes. “It’s going to be okay, baby.”

He nods through his tears. There aren’t a lot of tears, though. My son is like his father: made of stone at times. And always fiercely brave.

I look at the swelling in his wrist and note the tenderness I can see simply by the way he’s holding his arm. “I’m going to take you to the hospital.”

Sawyer nods again, swallowing hard.

I stand and look at Madison and Harlow. “Can I leave Elizabeth with you guys while we go to the hospital?”

“Of course,” Harlow says. Then, pulling a pained face, she says, “I’m so sorry this happened.”

I place my hand on her arm. “There’s no need to apologise. These things happen.”

I gather my bag and my son, and we make our way to my car. I send a text to Donovan to let him know what’s happened.

Layla: Sawyer fell off a swing and hurt his wrist. I’m taking him to the Gold Coast hospital to get them to check him out. I’ll keep you updated.

He calls almost instantly.

“Hey,” I say as I help Sawyer into the car.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital. I’m about forty minutes away.”

His voice calms me like it always does. I didn’t realise I was tense until this moment. “I know you’re busy today. I can keep you updated with texts.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Donovan, you don’t have to come. Sawyer’s okay. It may not even be broken.”

“I’m not just coming for Sawyer.”

I finish helping Sawyer buckle in, close his door, and release a long breath. “Thank you.”

“I’ll see you soon,” he says and ends the call.

I exhale another breath.


This is why I love my husband and will love him until the day I die.

He always knows when I need him, even when I don’t know I do.



2:20 p.m.

I stride into the Children’s Emergency Department, scanning for Layla and Sawyer. Traffic was horrendous on the way here, so it took me longer than the forty minutes I anticipated.

When I don’t see my wife or son, I speak with a nurse at the desk and am told Sawyer is being seen by a doctor. The nurse directs me where to go and a few minutes later, I locate them.

Layla’s eyes meet mine the way they always do. I always know she’s happy to see me. “Hey,” she says softly.

“I’m sorry it took me so long. There was an accident,” I say as I move next to her at the bed. I shift my gaze to Sawyer whose face reveals his relief to see me here. “Hey, buddy. How are you doing?”

Layla always says Sawyer is a mini me. She’s not wrong. Sawyer keeps his emotions to himself most of the time and doesn’t like to show any pain he’s feeling. Over the last decade, I’ve worked hard to let Layla in on mine but doing this doesn’t come easily to me. I know my son is always watching and learning from me, so it doesn’t surprise me to find him trying to remain strong and unaffected right now.

“I’m okay,” he says, like he’s simply here to chat to a doctor about something inconsequential. His voice wavers, though, giving me the full picture.

I sit on the chair next to the bed. “Your wrist hurts?”

He shrugs. “No. They gave me some medicine for that.”

“Right. But it was hurting before the painkillers?”

He shrugs again. “A little.”

I take hold of his hand. “It’s okay to tell people when you’re in pain, Sawyer. We need to know so we can help you through it.”

He nods but doesn’t say anything.

I squeeze his hand. “Are you worried about what will happen next?”

This time, he shakes his head no. But he swallows hard.

“If you get worried, I want you to know Mum and I are here for you. We’ve been through hard things like this and can answer any questions you have. Or if you need a hug, we can do that too, okay? Whatever you need, we’ve got.”

His big brown eyes stare back at me, filled with so many emotions he’s trying hard to handle himself. I don’t expect him to say much right now, but he surprises me when he asks, “Does it hurt to have an X-ray?”

My heart fucking squeezes.

This is the stuff no one tells you about parenting.

I remember the first time I realised that having a child was the same as ripping your heart out of your chest and handing it to the world to do what it will with it. Sawyer was barely born when I had that moment of clarity, and fuck if it didn’t hit me hard.

I’m not the kind of father I thought I’d be.

I imagined I’d be stricter, harder, tougher on my children. And while Layla and I have set good boundaries for Sawyer and Elizabeth, and expect certain behaviours from them, I am far softer than I envisioned.

Thank fuck for that.

I know without a shadow of a doubt that if I wasn’t the father I am, Sawyer would not have asked me that question. He wouldn’t have the trust and faith in me that he has. My son knows that he can come to me with any question, any thought, anything, and I will not judge or belittle him for it. I will hold his heart with care and love him exactly how he is while doing my best to guide him through life in the way he chooses to live it.

I keep hold of his hand. “X-rays don’t hurt, but it can be hard to hold still sometimes. It might be a little uncomfortable, but the actual X-ray doesn’t hurt. They’re just taking a picture of the inside of your body. You know how Mum likes to take a million photos of you? And asks you to smile or stand differently for the photo?” At his nod, I continue, “It’s like that.”

He swallows again while nodding. “Okay.”

“I can stay with you during the X-ray. Or you can take Mum in with you. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

I watch him visibly relax with that information. I should have led with it.

“Okay,” the doctor says, joining us in the cubicle. “We’re almost ready to go up to X-ray.”

I watch Sawyer while the doctor gives us all the information we need, making sure to keep his hand firmly in mine while he listens to it all. After Layla asks a few questions, the doctor leaves, telling us that someone will be in soon to take us up to radiology.

My phone vibrates with five messages throughout this, but I ignore them all. Nothing is more important to me right now than my son and wife. Not even the work situation I know those texts are likely in relation to.

“You should check those,” Layla says softly after giving Sawyer her phone to play the game that she knows will help distract him from any anxiety he’s feeling.

I stand and turn to her. “They can wait.” I narrow my eyes, taking in the worry lining her face. “Are you doing okay?”

She nods. “Yes.” She moves into me, clutching my shirt. “I’m glad you’re here now.”

Layla doesn’t do well in hospitals. It was one reason I was adamant about coming. “I’m not going back to work today.”

She frowns. “You’ve got so much on at the moment—”

“I’ve got you and Sawyer on at the moment, and that’s it. The rest can be dealt with later.”

Her frown eases and she gives me one of her smiles. I fucking live for those smiles. “Thank you.”

“This isn’t something you have to thank me for, sweetheart.”

More of that smile. “I know, but I want you to know it means a lot to me that you’re here.”

We’re interrupted when a guy comes in to take Sawyer to have his X-ray.

On the walk up to the next level, I talk with Sawyer about the game we’ve been playing on his X-box and about the games he wants to get. It helps keep his mind off the X-ray, but I can hear in his voice that he’s not fully distracted from thoughts of that.

He opts for Layla to go in with him for the X-ray and I wait patiently outside. I take the opportunity to check my messages and reply to them. I let Merrick, my right-hand-man, know to handle everything he can and that I’ll be back on deck tonight once Sawyer goes to bed.

Sawyer finishes getting his X-ray and tells me it didn’t hurt, just like I said. He also mentions that I was right that it might be uncomfortable but that he was okay with that. I see the new piece of trust in me he files away. It’s these little bits of trust I’ve been gathering for eight years that I strive for. My father never gave me any pieces of trust to store. I’ll be damned if I don’t create a different experience for my children.

We’re taken back down to the emergency room and wait for the doctor to come back to us with the results. She arrives half an hour later with the news that Sawyer has a buckle fracture of his wrist and will have to wear a splint and sling for it to heal.

We spend another hour and a half at the hospital getting his splint sorted. Layla keeps in touch with Harlow who offers to have Elizabeth sleep over at her house tonight, an offer we take her up on.

We arrive home just after seven p.m. Sawyer is exhausted and goes straight to bed after we have dinner of leftovers from last night. I read with him for fifteen minutes at which point he’s fast asleep.

I switch off his light and go in search of my wife. I find her in our en suite, undressing to take a shower.

“He’s asleep?” she asks as I run my gaze down her naked body. Layla’s curves never fail to catch my attention. She works out but only enough to stay fit and healthy, not enough to steal all the softness from her body that I love.

I rest against the door frame. “Yeah. Hopefully, he’ll sleep through the night okay.”

“Oh, God, I hope so. I’m exhausted.” She exhales a breath, and my eyes are drawn to her chest as it rises and falls with that breath.

“If he wakes, I’ll go and sleep in his room with him.” Sawyer might be good at keeping his emotions in check during the day, but he sometimes has the kind of nightmares that require one of us to stay with him during the night.

“Baby,” she says, “You need to stop looking at me like that. I seriously don’t have the energy for what you’re thinking you want to do to me.”

I move into her, sliding my arm around her waist. “I’m not thinking I’ll do any of these things to you tonight, but that doesn’t mean I’m removing my eyes from your body.” I drop my lips to hers, taking the kiss I’ve wanted all day.

Layla sent me enough texts today to ensure she was on my mind most of the day. She often sends me dirty texts that I don’t reply to but that she knows I like receiving. I don’t reply to them because if I did, I’d have to spend time I don’t have taking care of the hard-on she always inspires. Today, before Sawyer fractured his wrist, I thought a lot about the things I want to do to her with my mouth and tongue, this kiss being first on the list.

By the time I’m finished with her mouth, she’s got her body pressed hard against mine, her arms around me, and her fingernails digging into my skin.

“If I thought you could fuck me quickly, I’d be into that,” she says, “But since we both know you’re not a quick-fuck kinda guy, I’m taking a raincheck.”

She’s right in that I like to take my time with her, but I also like giving her what she wants.

Curving one hand around her neck, I shift my other hand to her cunt. “Fuck, you’re wet.” She always is, but tonight, she’s more than ready for me.

Her body arches against mine as she grips my biceps. “I’m wet because you’re fucking hot when you’re in protector mode.”

I dip my face to her throat to kiss her there.

Her grip on me tightens. “And I was already turned on and desperate for your cock this morning. I mean, I planned out an entire weekend of how I want you to fuck me while I was sitting on the beach with Madison and the kids. I certainly don’t deserve a Mother of the Year award this year. Not when half my mothering time is spent thinking about your dick.”

I find her clit as I bite her neck. “We’re taking that weekend and you’re going to detail for me all those ways you want me inside you.”

“Donovan,” she moans when I rub her clit, “I was serious that I don’t have the energy for one of your marathon sessions.”

Before she knows what’s happening, I spin her and press her against the wall. I flick the button on my jeans and unzip myself, freeing my cock. “Spread your legs for me,” I growl, pushing my dick against her ass. “This is going to be fast and rough.”

Her legs are spread faster than they’ve ever been spread.

Her cheek is against the tiles.

Her hands are braced there too.

Layla knows that rough means rough, and she’s fucking panting for it.

I take hold of her hips and thrust inside of her.

As deep as I can.

As hard as I can.

The groan that leaves my lips is matched by the sound she makes.

She needs me filling her like this as much as I need it.

“Touch yourself,” I order, but I don’t have to. She’s already got her fingers on their way to her clit.

I pull out and thrust back in.

I do this so roughly that Layla’s entire body is shoved up the wall.

I do it over and over, harder, and with more urgency each time.

Layla’s cunt is so fucking tight around my dick.

This is going to be the fastest sex we’ve ever had, and nowhere near enough for me.

“Oh, God,” she cries out, orgasming while I continue pounding into her.

It takes me another minute or so before I come.

After, I circle my arm around her waist while pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. “I’m going to need more than this tomorrow.”

She reaches a hand back to curl around my neck and keep me where I am. “I love you, Donovan.”

I pull out of her and turn her to face me so I can kiss her. I take my time with this kiss. I use up more of her energy than she probably has to give, but I’m unable to stop myself from being selfish here.

I don’t need anyone as much as I need Layla, and that has been true since the day I met her.

She’s been my rock.

My shelter.

The lover I never imagined having.

She matches me perfectly in all areas, even the areas we differ in because fuck do I need her alternate stance sometimes. Her different way of loving and protecting.

She’s made me a better man simply by knowing her.

Being loved by her has been the greatest gift in my life.

I end the kiss and cup her cheek. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

She smiles up at me. “Just FYI, we’re cutting sugar and fat from your diet.”

I arch a brow. “Are we?”



She stands on her toes and brushes her lips over mine. “Because I need you to still be able to fuck me like that in your old age.”

With that, she untangles herself from me and steps into the shower, leaving me needing her again in ways I’m convinced not even another fifty years of having her will satisfy.