Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet Book 2) Rowe, Lauren (read aloud TXT) 📖

after getting myself covered, I rest Laila’s calves on my shoulders, pin her wrists against the wooden table, and plunge myself inside her, balls deep. As my tip slams her farthest reaches, we both moan with relief and excitement. As I start thrusting, and my tip slams her repeatedly, Laila grunts and moans with each and every movement.

It’s a special kind of bliss, fucking Laila on this table. Knowing I’m going to be fucking her every day for the next three months. Knowing she’s mine, all mine, at least for now. Finally. It feels so good to be railing Laila, in fact, after not too long, I have to slow my thrusts, and then pause altogether, to keep myself from coming too quickly. Nobody feels as good as this woman. Nobody tastes as good. Nobody looks as good. She’s in a league of her own, in every way.

I didn’t know I could feel quite this turned on—like I’m literally under a spell. As I pause with myself inside her, I massage her clit, slowly, methodically, relentlessly—and then resume fucking her, also slowly—while whispering dirty-talk to her. I tell her she feels amazing. Tastes amazing. That her tits are incredible. Her body perfect. Until, finally, Laila comes again, this time with my entire cock buried inside her, all the way. And there’s no way to describe the ecstasy I feel as her body milks mine.

Somehow, I manage to hang on by the barest of threads through Laila’s orgasm. I run my palms over her splayed body as she moans and writhes, and then begin fucking her, much harder. Harder and harder, I fuck her, my thoughts spiraling along with my pleasure. Why didn’t Laila come to my room in Vegas, or any other city after that? Why didn’t she break up with Malik in New York, when she knew I wanted her? Yeah, I mentioned Kendrick on that sidewalk, but Laila’s not stupid. She knew I wanted her for myself. She knew. And she picked Malik over me. I slam her, over and over again, angry with myself for not saying what needed to be said back then. For not saying what needs to be said now. Fuck! I’ve wanted this woman so badly, for so long, but there’s always something or someone standing in my way! Well, now I’m going to make her want me, as badly as I want her, even if I have to fuck her into submission. Even if I have to make her addicted to fucking me to get what I want.

When I’m on the cusp of losing it, I pull out and turn Laila around, bend her over the kitchen table, grab a fistful of her thick, sandy hair, and with one hand lodged against her scalp and the other reaching around to massage her clit in slow circles, I fuck my woman raw, with deep, unapologetic thrusts that make it impossible for her not to scream.

“I’m gonna come!” she shouts, her ass jerking and jolting against me.

Through sheer force of will, I pull out and kneel behind her, sensing her climax will be a straight-up gusher. A geyser of delicious goodness. The ultimate trophy. I eat her gently for a moment, letting her come down. Teasing her. Making her beg for more. And when I feel her ramping up again, I slide my fingers inside her and stimulate her G-spot as I eat her. When I feel her inner muscles shudder and tighten, I pull back and tease her again, until she’s literally whimpering and begging me to fuck her. Over and over again, I take her to the edge and then back away. Over and over again, I pull her strings, letting her know I’m in control here. That every breath she takes, every moan she makes is exactly as I’m commanding.

Finally, I finger her while eating her with gusto. And when her body begins tightening sharply, when her moans become primal and pathetic, I let her go, pushing through those initial shudders without stopping, until I get what I want—a torrent of sweet, warm fluid gushing into my face. With a loud growl, I lick up my prize like a rabid dog, off her lips and inner thighs, the very taste of my trophy sending me to the bitter edge of ecstasy, without so much as a single touch to my cock.

When I’ve licked up the last drop of Laila’s cum, I pick her up and carry her slack body into the living room and straight to the couch. On the night of the hot tub, Laila mentioned she likes being on top. Well, then, let the woman ride my cock until we’re coming together.

I guide her on top of me as I lie on the couch and she immediately slams herself down and begins riding me like a feral animal. As she fucks me, I devour her breasts and nipples. Her neck and lips. I whisper into her ear that she’s mine now. That I own her body. I tell her she’s a dirty little freak who’s going to come for me again. And that tonight is just the beginning of what I’m going to do to her, while we’re living here together. I tell her she turns me on like nobody else. I whisper all the things I can only say out loud while fucking her. The things I can pass off as dirty talk, even though they’re the things I should have said on that sidewalk in New York. Or during the last month of the tour. Or backstage at the awards show. Or today in the fucking SUV. I say it all. And she groans and moans and throws her head back and fucks me hard.

When Laila starts making her most primal sounds, the ones I now recognize as the precursor to her losing control completely, I press down on her clit with my thumb while twisting her nipple, hard, with my other hand, and grit out, “Come,