Make Me Yours (9 page)

  
Shit,
this is harder than it looks. Taylor moves on top of me, spreading my legs wide. He leans back on his knees, and brings my naked ass on to his thighs. He begins to move, rubbing his erection onto my sex. The fabric of his jeans, touching my most sensitive place. Before I can let my eyes roll back in my head, he pushes back and dips his head between my legs.

   “Shit,” I mumble, gripping his hair. He slides his tongue against me, flicking at my clit
with his tongue ring. I grip his dark brown hair, moving his head to a rhythm I know I can’t stand much longer.

   “Does th
at feel good?” he asks, continuing to stroke me softly with his wide tongue. I nod, and push my sex into his face. He groans, lapping at me, until I’m shaking on the edge. The cool medal ring sends sensations I’ve never felt into the pit of my stomach. It won’t be much longer, until I’m completely undone in front of him…again.

   Before I lose myself in his mouth, he comes up, replacing his mouth with his fingers. At the impact of something entering me, I convulse, my sex muscles wrapping around the two fingers he has in me. I keep my eyes open, and Taylor watches me, biting at
his lip. It’s the longest orgasm I’ve ever experienced. I close my eyes and lean my head back. I can’t dare look at him, I know I’ll want him to take me, slip inside me.

   I feel him shift on the bed. “Your fucking min
e now, Layla,” his whispers into my ear. “You just don’t fucking know it.”

   He knows it’s not right, I told him. But, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me onto his chest. The last thing I remember thinking is that I’m too far gone.
Too far to be helped.

Chapt
er Six

   It’s warm. More warm than I expect Taylor’s spare bed to be. I stretch, arching my back and I feel something hard. Wait. I slightly open one eye. I’m not in the spare bedroom. Everything rushes back to me, my cheeks growing warm. Taylor’s hand flops over me, moving me closer to his front.
Definitely hard.

   My eyes pop open. Taylor’s morning wood is pressed into my ass. I fight the urge to be utterly turned on by it. I’m not supposed to be in this predicament. I’m supposed to be in the spare bedroom. Scratch that, in my bed with Mittens at home. I’ve lost my dignity. I came with Taylor’s fingers inside me, making me look at him. I roll my eyes.
Fuck, I do the stupidest stuff when I’m horny.

   Lifting my weight from the bed, I try and ease out of Taylor’s death-like grasp.
He doesn’t let go, not even a little. “Trying to pull a morning run on me, woman?” his muffled voice comes from close behind me.

   “Morning runs happen when
you have sex the night before.” I shift so I can look over at him. Bad idea. His hair is muffled against his forehead, his smile is lazy and I can’t help but remember the morning wood he has going on underneath the covers.

  
Taylor smiles. “Or come,” he whispers.

   I huff and try and hide my heated cheeks. “Don’t be ashamed,
Lay. I wanted to make you come. The look on your face is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

   I press my
lips together to keep from smiling. “Doubt that, but thanks for the effort.” I smile and sit up. His room is mostly bare, a bed, TV, a dresser and that’s about it. There are no pictures on the wall, photos, trophies or anything. I furrow my brow. “Where are your things?”

   Taylor sits up on his elbow and cocks a pierced eyebrow. “What do you mean? This is it. You’re sleeping in my bed. That’s my dresser, there is my TV…catch the drift?”

   I shake my head. “Where are your pictures?”

   Taylor’s face twist into a
painful glance, but he replaces it quickly. He taps his temple. “Photographic memory. Why would I need pictures? I know what people look like.”

  
Odd.
I have pictures of Dad, Mom and myself all around my room. It’s normal. Why doesn’t he have at least one? “Stop overthinking things, Lay.”

   I shrug and stop when I see the door burst open.
“Rise and shine…Ah!” Cindy yells, throwing her hands in the air. A pile of folded clothes now lies on Taylor’s floor. “What the fuck…” she shakes her head back and forth in an effort to exit the room.

   Brett comes up behind Cindy
. “Oh…our bad,” he says.

   Oh fuck, they think we’ve been screwing
. “No!” I yell. “We haven’t!” I grab my burning face with my hands.

   Cindy is as pale as a ghost, but when Taylor throws his head back laughing, she winks at me.
Nasty ass
. “So, we were just bringing you some clothes, Lay. Is there anyway, I could see you in the bathroom really quick? I had to ask you a question about rent.”

   I know it’s a lie. Hell, everyone does. I toss back the covers and quickly cover myself back up. “Why are my pants off?” I ask.

   Brett snorts. “Normally they have to come off, Layla.”

   I give him a
go to hell
look. “Could everyone just exit the room, besides Cindy, please?”

   “Are you kicking me out of my own
room?”

   I nod. “Yes, get the hell out.”

   He smiles and stands up, unashamed that he has a major hard-on. He walks out chatting with Brett like everything is peachy.

   Cindy floods to the bed, and starts sniffing where he was lying. “God, he smells
delicious.”

   I pop the back of her head. “Stop being fucking gross, Cindy.”

   She smiles and flutters her eyelashes. “So, tell me, is he hung like a donkey? He is, isn’t he? He just looks like he can deliver some cock.”

   “Who talks like this?” I ask, shaking my head. “I don’t know the answer to those questions, because we haven’t had sex.”

   Cindy gasps, placing the back of her hand against my forehead. “Are you feverish? Because, your pants are off right now.”

   I almost laugh. I stand up and grab the pair of jeans that fell from Cindy’s outburst. “Well, because he took them off, Cindy.”

   She widens her eyes, pushing a curly blonde ringlet behind her ear. “And you didn’t give him any nookie? You’re the strongest woman I know.”

   If she only knew he makes me want to unravel. If she only knew it’s because I
’m afraid for him, she would understand. But, I don’t tell her. I shake my head. “What did you two do then, if you didn’t’ have sex.” She lies back on his bed, making fake snow angles against the covers.

   “We made out.”

   “And?” she asks, gesturing for me to continue.

  
“Touched each other.”

   “And,” she says, sitting up like she has to know what happens.

   “He went down on me,” I whisper. “He wanted to see me come.”

   She burst up into the air, fist pumping like a mad woman. She stands up and jumps up and down. “
Layla, got a nut!”

   I start swatting at her legs. The door pops open both Brett and Taylor are watching us. Cindy sits down and smiles over at me. “Well, there are your clothes. Brett and I are heading to class. If you two don’t come to Lit of the South, we’ll see you at Fight Night.”

   I nod and watch them walk out of the apartment.

   Taylor glances over at me. “Hungry?”

   My gaze drops to his abs.
You have no fucking idea.
“Yea.”

  
Taylor doesn’t practice
the day of the fight. He insists that I go with him to the shop where he works. Apparently, he has a car that he is working on, that he wants me to see. Taylor stops in front of an old garage downtown. There are medal chairs outside, an old sign that says Dave’s Garage hanging outside. They’re closed, but he pulls out a key and unlocks the door. It squeaks. There are old seats as places to sit, and an old wooden desk. You can tell they do not clean, and it’s in a major need of one. An old 50s station is playing lightly in the background. It’s not my type of music, but it’s soothing.

   “Come on, this way,” Taylor says, lacing his fingers with mine. He leads me to the back, he flicks the switch and the light come
s on. The florescent lighting flares and flickers above us. Like most garages, there are tools, cars and a giant TV settled over the wall. “This is my baby,” Taylor points toward a midnight black 65 Mustang Flashback.

   I lift an eyebrow and let him lead me to it. I reach out to touch, sliding my finger against the paint. “It’s beautiful,” I say.

   “It’s a 65 Mustang Flashback,” he says, a smile riding on his lips.

   
“What’s wrong with it?”

   He furrows his brow and shakes his head. “I’m not sure. I just got
her a few weeks ago and my boss hasn’t had time to take a look. I’m still learning.” He shrugs. “I know the basic stuff, but I’m still learning all the mechanics.”

   “Let me look,” I say, walking toward the front. I pop the hood and glance under at the perfection.
It’s really nice, and in good condition.

   Taylor laug
hs and tries to shut the door, but I push it back up. “You know about cars?” He lifts a pierced eyebrow.

   I stick my hip out to the side. “I do, for your information.”

   He smiles. “Did your dad teach you that, too?”

   My smile fades. He did. He taught me most things. A pain crawls up my stomach to my throat. I want to push back the memory, but it’s clawing at me.

***

   “Remember what I told you?”
Dad asked. He reached out and slid a greasy finger against my nose, before wiping his hands on the towel hanging from his pocket.

   I nod
ded, wiping at my nose, and watched as Dad reached under the hood. “Older cars need proper tuning, and the timing on the ignition is key. Also, fuel delivery. Those old Mustangs will give you the hardest time with ‘em,” he said, stretching to grab something.

   I watch
ed and took in everything he did. “You get that?” he asked. He gave me a crooked smile and I shook my hand through his graying hair.

   “Better watch it. You
gotta know how to take care of things, in case…” he trailed off, focusing on the car. His brows furrowed and his lips pressed into a hard line.

   I lean
ed against the cherry red car. “In case what, Dad?”

   He opened his mouth like he would say something, but then closed it. “I bet you didn’t listen to a word I just said.”

   “You bet?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, and wiping my hands at my jeans.

   He laughed
. “I’ll bet you a twenty at pool?”

   I laughed. “You’re going down.”

***

  
“Layla?” Taylor says, shaking my shoulders. “You okay? You just zooned out on me.”

   “Yeah, sorry,” I say, gripping the edge of the car, “have you given it a proper
tuning? Maybe make sure the timing is right on the ignition and then make sure the fuel is delivering properly.”

   Taylor laughs, leans in against the car, and wraps a tattooed arm around it. “Well, maybe I’ll check into that.”

   “I would, if you want it to start. Can I look on the inside?” I ask, stepping around him. He opens the door and gestures for me to get in and look.

   The interi
or is almost in prime condition. I slide against the leather, and run my hands over the softness. “Wanna take ‘em for a test ride?” I ask.

   Taylor shuts the door and glances over at me, eyebrow lifted.

   “Oh, no, I didn’t mean like that kind of test drive.” Damn, I look out the window and pretend to be interested in the tools hanging on the wall.

   “
Shh,” Taylor says, resting a finger on my lips. “I think that’s exactly what you meant to say,” he whispers, mouth trailing along my jaw.

   My body freezes. “What are you doing, Taylor?”

   He laughs into my neck and pulls me to straddle him. “I’m giving you what you want, Layla. I’m tired of you acting like you don’t want me. I want to give you
exactly
what you want.” He leans in and presses his mouth to mine. With a groan, he threads his fingers through my hair and pulls me harder onto his growing erection.
   My body responds to his kiss before I can even think to say anything. My pulse races, roaring in my ear. A lightening effect of blood starts soaring through my veins. Hands fisting large chunks of his hair, I pull myself down on him, making him moan into my mouth. Between the naughty words he is whispering into my ear and the experienced way he kneads my ass, I’m on the verge of exploding. “Fuck,” I whisper. My lower stomach aches, I need him in me, more than I need air.