Page 207 of Broken Brothers

“Chance… Chance… oh… fuck….”

She actually pushed forward so much, feeling so good, that the couch tipped over on its back. Layla gasped and started to say she was sorry, but I pulled her up, grabbed her by the neck, and came right up to her face.

“No apologies,” I said. “Just fucking.”

She nodded, still riding the high of sex, as I moved her toward a wall, where I again slammed into her. Remembering what had happened during one of our first sexual encounters, I found a window, pressed her up against it so her breasts were smushed into it, and drilled her some more from behind.

I wanted all of the city to see the woman I had reclaimed and reconquered. I wanted all to understand that Chance Hunt got what he wanted, even when he denied himself that pleasure. I wanted anyone who doubted me to realize that I could have it my way, no matter what anyone wanted.

I felt Layla’s third orgasm hit a few moments after I had her against the glass, and she begged me to stop. Finally, having achieved my goal, I decided to give her a little bit of a respite. I pulled out of her, letting her catch her breath, which went fromlight gasps to heavy breaths to the growl of someone aroused beyond control.

“Oh, Chance,” she said.

This time, I didn’t stop her from letting her go to her knees. She grabbed my cock with her left hand, fondled my balls with her right, and wrapped her mouth around me. And let me tell you, she sucked and she stroked like she had never done before.

She had always been great at giving as much as she did receiving, but this was very different. This was unlike anything I had ever felt before; I’d always been able to control when I would come, to some extent, but this wasn’t going to happen now. Layla, shockingly, had flipped the script; she was in control of my orgasm, not me.

“Oh, Layla,” I said as my knees started to buckle.

I grabbed her hair as my cock stiffened to its hardest amount. The cum swelled and rose in my shaft, reached my tip, and then exploded all the way to the back of her throat. I groaned loudly, the sound of my orgasm echoing across the room, as I begged her not to stop.

And then, when it got to be too much, I begged her to stop, but like I had done to her, she didn’t until she was satisfied to her own content. And when she did, she leaned back, made a gulping sound, and smiled sheepishly at me.

“Jesus,” I murmured. “That… that…”

“You still want to have your second rule?” she said.

I just cackled, but it turned into a gentle moan.

“I’m not sure I even remember my second rule after what you just did to me. Hell, if sex is like that all the time, I’m keeping you here in New York City.”

I chuckled and walked toward the bathroom as I said that, but when I looked back, instead of seeing a happy, cheerful Layla, I saw one who looked concerned. She had a sad look etched on her face, one that was very unbecoming of sex. Inevertheless stepped into the bathroom, but all of the bliss and euphoria of sex was now starting to fade away. Had I said something wrong? Had I mentioned something that triggered her?

When I went out of the bathroom, I saw her putting her clothes back on.

“Hey, everything all good?” I said. “What’s going on?”

“Hmm?” she said, but I could see she was faking a good mood.

“Layla,” I said. “We just had some of the best sex we’ve ever had. We had an amazing dinner. And now, it’s like you’re distant and trying to leave. Can you let me know what’s going on?”

The pained expression of sorrowful eyes and downturned lips remained, but she eventually found her voice.

“OK,” she said. “Part of the reason tonight was so wonderful, Chance, is I was able to let go of expectations. I just went along with it, not thinking that things would get so heavy, but here we are.”

She sighed.

“That job I told you about in Chicago, the one I interviewed for on Monday?”

“Yeah,” I said, already knowing where this was going and feeling sick.

“I’m probably going to take it. I’m probably going to move to Chicago.”

83

This is what I get for moving too slowly.

I tried to do something that wasn’t me. Chance Hunt isn’t someone that moves slowly. He’s someone who makes bold, decisive actions He’s not going to pussyfoot around something. He’s going to take charge and go for it.