“Okay,” she breathes.
“That’s a good lass.”
It takes less than a minute for us to shed our clothes before we fall back on the bed. Our movements are hurried, full of searching hands and frenziedkisses, like we’ve been waiting ages for this moment and can’t get to each other fast enough. Layla’s fingers dive into my hair as I grip her thigh, looping it over my hip. In one swift thrust, I’m inside her. We both groan, our kisses settle into deep, languid strokes of our tongues. I thrust leisurely, savoring the way her lips part with every gasp. Rolling us, I’m graced with the incredible view of Layla riding me, her body undulating with each rock of her hips. She cups both of her breasts, squeezing them and pinching her nipples. One of her hands slips down her soft stomach where her fingers find her clit. I’m simultaneously turned on and jealous. Watching her take her own pleasure is nearly as hot as giving it to her. When her breath starts to come out in short pants, I’ve reached my limit, no longer willing to share.
“That’s my job, Cailín,” I growl. Grabbing her fingers, I suck them into my mouth, tasting the sweetness of her arousal.
“Then hurry up and get to work, Papí.”
I clutch her hip in one hand, pinching her clit between the fingers of my other.
“Fuck!” She cries out, her body jerking at the contact.
“That’s right, baby.” I grunt as I punch my hips up harder. “The only one who makes you come is me. If you use your fingers, it’s because I’m guiding them. If you use a toy, my hand will be wielding it. Your. Pleasure. Is. Mine.”
I emphasize each word with a hard thrust, never pausing my assault on her clit. She’s babbling in Spanish, head thrown back far enough that the ends of her hair tickle my thighs. The sensation brings me closer to the edge.
“Papí,” the whispered plea falls from her lips, and I refuse to deny her.
“Come for me, Layla.”
She shatters, calling out my name as the waves of her orgasm roll through her. When I feel her pussy clamp around my cock, my head falls back and presses into the pillow. I spill into her with a strangled cry. I pull Layla down to me, wrapping my arms around her tightly, while air saws in and out of our lungs. Soft and full lips kiss my chest while her fingertips trace the pattern of the tattoo on my bicep.
“I love you, mo chroi.”
Layla sighs happily. “Tú eres mi todo.”
I’m internally berating myself for not knowing Spanish when I ask, “What does that mean?”
“You are my everything.”
I’m already gone for this lass, but when she says things like that? It feels like my heart is going to burst inside my chest.
“Tú eres mi todo.” The words feel awkward in my mouth, but I want to say them back to her.
Layla carefully slides off of me to nestle into my side.
“I didn’t get to tell you about the conversation I had with your mom and sister.”
I grimace, considering all the things that could have come up. “Do I even want to know?”
“Yes,” she says, kissing my chest. “I think you do.”
She relays everything that was said, and once I got past the part where my sister loves sheep, I reach across the nearly nonexistent space between us. I draw her close, holding her flush against me. She snuggles into me, tucking her head under my chin, and I’m overwhelmed with gratitude for the woman who loves me enough to face my familyandfight for my happiness.
“Thank you, Lovely,” I murmur, swallowing the lump in my throat.
Layla raises her head, and just like the day I met her, I’m lost in those brown eyes. She kisses me softly before she speaks. “I’m on your team, Teagan. Even the goalie needs defending.”
Epilogue
One Year Later
Layla
“Baila conmigo hermosa.”
I look up from the book I’m reading to see Teagan leaning against the door frame of our bedroom, arms folded across his chest, and a lopsided grin on his face. His beard is a little longer these days, and I don’t hate it. Makes him look more rugged—like a lumberjack or mountain man.
