Page 25

25

Layla

This is not a side of Luca I’ve seen before. He winks at me, I’m still holding his face, and I can’t help it, I relax in his touch.

I’ve never admitted out loud that I hurt myself, not to anyone.

I worked out that scalding myself in a hot shower is easy to hide under the layers of clothes. As I’ve gotten older I do it less, but every so often, when it’s close to the anniversary and my head gets too busy, I do it to take control. To feel in control, if only for a second.

“Next time your head is busy, promise me something.”

“Hmmm.”

“Find me. Wherever I am, just find me and tell me, and I’ll make it stop.”

I let out an incoherent moan as he adds a finger inside me, then another one and works me to the brink of falling. Shutting my eyes tightly against the onslaught of pleasure, I cry out as he slams his mouth to mine in a kiss that I feel in my bones before he repeats, “Promise me, sunshine.” Ecstasy runs through me, my muscles clenching as an orgasm comes from nowhere.

My eyes fly open as I cry out, “Yes. Fuck, yes.”

He stares at me, and I stare right back, determined not to break away from his dark lust-filled eyes. “Now promise me again, when you’re not coming all over my fingers.”

“I promise.”

“I mean it, Layla. The fact that you hurt yourself, is—” He stops himself, his jaw clenching. “It’s abhorrent to me.”

“I don’t do it often.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“I promise.” I drop my head.

“Don’t be ashamed for doing the thing you need to do to survive, but please tell me next time.”

“Okay.”

He nods, pleased with my response, leaning forward kissing me before pulling back. “The car is picking us up at 7.30.”

“Will there be food?” I ask, my stomach already complaining.

“It’s a gala dinner, Layla, yes, there will be food.”

I shrug. I’ve not been to one of these before.

“Did you get a dress?”

“No.”

His eyes flash with annoyance.

“I made Roman drop me here, he said he’d sort it,” I say quickly, not wanting the usual Luca to make an appearance. I like seeing this side of him. He seems more…Present.

Bearable.

“You sent Roman dress shopping?” His grin is roguish, and I grab the bottle of shampoo. He watches me as I squeeze it in my hand and then return the favour and wash his dark hair. “I bet he loved that.” He moans, closing his eyes. “Harder.”

“Always harder.” I dig my fingers into his scalp scrubbing.

He peels an eye open, “Are you flirting with me, Miss Johnson.”

I gasp, looking affronted at such a ridiculous thing to say. “I’d never do such a thing, Mr Knight.” Then I smirk at him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes, I like rough sex, no, we haven’t got time.”

I pull at his roots, and he hisses, his eyes opening wide.

“That’s not what I was going to ask, get your head out the gutter.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, little lamb, my cock’s been rock hard since stepping foot in this shower—”

“I noticed.”

“Around you my head is always in the gutter. You’re lucky that I haven’t pushed you to your knees.”

My hands still grip his hair, when I do something that surprises me, I drop to the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“I think it’s fairly self-explanatory?” The tiles are uncomfortable on my knees, but as soon as I’m eye level to his huge pulsing cock any coherent thought falls out of my head.

I lean back, my eyes meeting his, and bite my lip. Wrapping my hand around his shaft I grip it, squeezing gently.

“Fuck.”

“You don’t have to push me to my knees.”

I don’t let him respond, instead I take him in my mouth. Sucking him cock so deep it hits my gag reflex, I choke on his girth as it restricts my throat.

“Oh, Jesus.” Luca moans.

I hollow my cheeks, and take him deeply in and out once, twice, three times, before the gagging gets too uncomfortable, and I pull him back out. Taking a deep breath through my nose, my eyes watering, I swallow. Peering up under my lashes to appreciate the moment of watching the magnificent Luca Knight lose control.

“I’ll go to them willingly,” I say, my eyes meeting his.

I take him again, gripping his tight arse in my hands and pulling him to me at the pace I want. This is going to be a killer on my gag reflex, but at this moment, I want the control.

I want to feel like I could make this man fall to his knees.

I want to fuel myself with the pain of my life.

I know that even as tears stream down my face and my throat constricts, fighting against the onslaught of his thrusts. I know that as I suck his cock, and he fucks my mouth over and over again, I know that at that moment, he’s not in control.

I am.

And I will bring Luca Knight to his knees.

I turn around and take a moment to look at the full-length mirror. Luca dressed in one of the other rooms, giving me free rein of the master suite to “faff.” And that’s what I’ve been doing.

Faffing.

Nerves and excitement are making me antsy.

It took me a while to pluck up the courage to peek inside the dress bag that was miraculously hanging on the dressing room door, along with shoe boxes, and other bits and pieces.

Even tit tape.

Roman bought me tit tape.

Who would have thought it?

The dress on its hanger looked simple, elegant, and classic. But now that I’ve got it on, I can appreciate the black sheer material that covers the top, with intricate lace detailing that runs from the main skirt over my breasts to the shoulders and down my arms. Hiding everything that should be hidden under beautiful lace, including my neck, which will be under the high collar.

It fits beautifully, the dress accentuating my curves. I don’t recognise myself; I’m standing in the huge expanse of a multimillion-pound penthouse apartment, the burnt orange sunset of London long gone, replaced with the twinkling of lights starting to come on in the surrounding landscape.

And I look…breathtaking.

My hair is pinned back in a messy low bun, tendrils of blond falling around my face. My makeup, which has been applied by someone who arrived an hour ago, and has since left, has made my eyes stand out by applying greys and black, making the blue sparkle when the light hits them. My fair skin has soft highlighter accenting my cheeks and blusher to give myself some colour. My lips are cherry red.

There’s a knock on the door and I turn around to be greeted by Luca.

A very attractive looking Luca.

“Jesus,” I say.

He looks truly edible.

Fuckable.

I flush at seeing how stunning he looks.

Can you call a man stunning?

His tall frame is in a beautifully tailored Tuxedo, the trousers with a perfect crease down the front. His suit jacket done up at the waist, the trim in a shiny satin material, his bow tie black. My slow perusal ends on his handsome face.

He’s shaved his usual stubble, but his hair still looks like he just rolled out of bed.

He crosses the carpeted master suite where I stand frozen, watching as he glides elegantly and stops before me. I tilt my head. Desperate to touch his clean-shaven skin.

“You look” He frowns. “I am rendered completely speechless, you’re that beautiful.” Stepping forward, he gently kisses my cheek, and my greedy fingers stroke his smooth face. His smell engulfs me, and I know this evening is going to be torture.

In that tux, I want to touch him, I want to smell him all over me.

“Whatever you’re thinking to make you blush like that, I want to make it a reality,” he says, placing a chaste kiss on my lips pulling back on a grin. He puts his hand out to me, and I take it. He looks at his watch and nods.

“Right on time. I’m impressed.” His grin is mischievous, and I swoon at this new side of him.

Who is this man, and what has he done with the arsehole?

My heels click on the marble hallway floor and he leans forward, calling the elevator. “You look ridiculously hot.” I finally find my words as the doors ping open.

We travel down in silence, both of us taking in the other’s outfit, silently perusing each other. His hand is the only thing that touches me, but I feel it everywhere.

The tension is unreal.

Being this close to him, I’m having to physically hold myself back from touching him. I’ve never had such a physical reaction to anyone before. I feel breathless.

His eyes darken, and he shifts, then before I know it, his hand is on my lower neck as he pushes me into the wall with his body, kissing me savagely.

I return the onslaught, our mouths entwining, tongues dancing as my arm reaches around his shoulder pulling him to me more, the glittering clutch bag smacking the side of his face, but he doesn’t stop. We devour each other, it’s messy, it’s branding, it’s animalistic. We both try to take control, our teeth clash. He groans, but we don’t stop.

Couldn’t if I wanted to.

He only pulls away when the elevator door pings again. We step apart, both breathing heavily. Hands trembling, I tug at his bow tie and straighten it, then wipe at his mouth rubbing at the lipstick mark that I’ve left behind.

He returns the favour, tucking my hair behind my ear as I run my hands over my dress. Smirking, he offers his hand to me. Taking it, he leads me across the glamorous lobby of his building, my heels the only sound in the silent, lust filled atmosphere.

He nods once at the security guard sitting behind the reception desk, staring at a row of cameras, and marches us out into the crisp London evening. A black limousine sits idling at the kerb, its black paint so polished and clean that the lights of London dance along its smooth surface along with the distorted reflection of us.

“Good evening, sir.” A man dressed in a smart black suit with one of those driving caps nods and opens the door for us. “Miss Johnson, Mr Knight, you both look radiant tonight.”

I smile politely, thanking him, before climbing carefully into the backseat with Luca.

The leather is white and rich, with wood trimmings around the door panels. A privacy screen separates us from the driver, igniting butterflies in my stomach.

Luca takes a bottle of expensive champagne resting in a sunken bucket by the door; I pull the two glasses from the same area and hold them out to him. Uncomfortable silence stretches between us.

I take a large gulp of champagne.

“I wanted to give you something,” Luca says reaching into his pocket and passing me a simple white card. “The telephone number of my lawyer. As agreed, he will review your parents’ will and go through anything that you want to go through with him … free of charge.”

I take the card, and our hands briefly touch as I look at the elegant writing and wonder if it’s his.

“Thank you.” I clear my throat. Care Home debt, his lawyer: he’s doing everything he said he would, he’s keeping his word.

“If you can pull together anything that may assist him, do it,” he replies, completely unaware of just how much these things mean to me. He has changed my life.

I mean sure let’s park everything else for now.

“It would mean going home. Are you sure I’m allowed?” I say petulantly.

“Now, now, don’t make me bend you over.” Something flares in my stomach as his eyes darken; he takes a sip of champagne and watches me. “You look beautiful.” He says after a beat. “Tonight is going to be…difficult.”

“How so?”

He grabs my hand and pulls it towards his crotch. “Because looking at you in that dress makes me rock fucking hard.” My hand rests on his straining cock, and just because I’m feeling bold I squeeze, trying desperately to hide the bite of a smile as he hisses and nostrils flare.

“Layla.” His tone is clipped. “Don’t start what you can’t or won’t finish.”

“Who says I won’t finish it?”

“Sunshine.” He groans. “You’re killing me.” He leans over quickly; his hand wrapped forcefully around my head and pulls me to his lips.

“I’ll pass the compliment on to Roman. I must say he has quite the taste.”

His hand wraps around the front of my neck and he pushes me back suddenly. “Don’t say another man’s name when your lips are on mine, sunshine.” He slams his mouth back onto mine. He thrusts his tongue into my mouth, but I don’t submit, my tongue lashes against his as we kiss violently.

“Stay close to me tonight.” He whispers against my mouth, “Do what I say.”

“Yes, dear.” That gets me a bite of my lip in return.

I yank back, licking my throbbing mouth. “Ouch. That was unkind.”

“The sooner you realise I’m unkind the better. I mean what I say when I say I’ll protect you as much as I can—”

“Let me guess, I can’t protect you from me, blah bullshit blah. Yes, Luca, I know.” He grips my throat and tilts my head. “I would say I’m scared. But I can’t tell you how much your throttling me turns me on.”

Something’s changed this afternoon. I’ve come to the realisation that Luca doesn’t have control. He has proved to me and the world that I’m his weakness.

And me being his weakness, gives me something.

It gives me power.