Slay - Page 42/75

I rolled my eyes at him.  “I’m not sure how the fuck Jess and I will cope without you.  I mean, you spend half your time checking guys out and the other half annoying the crap out of us.  It’s gonna be so hard to replace you,” I said, cocking my head and winking at him.

“Yeah, fuck you, too, boss.”

I grinned.  “Right, I’ll leave you to it for a bit.  I want to check on Annie and pay some bills.  Call out if you need me, yeah?”

He nodded.  “How’s Annie doing?”

“She’s retreated a little back into herself after doing well to begin with.  I need to find ways to draw her out and get her involved in life again.  She wouldn’t get out of bed this morning, not even for bacon and eggs, which, I’ve gotta say, I would never say no to.”

“Has she started seeing that psychologist?”

“Yeah, she had an appointment last week, and I think it went alright.  She’s got another one tomorrow afternoon, so fingers crossed it goes well, too.”

“I think you’re doing all you can, and I also think what you’re doing is amazing.  I know people who wouldn’t do half the shit you’re doing, not even for their closest family members.  You’re good people, Layla.”

I shrugged.  “I guess my family showed me how not to love people.”

“Yeah, sad but true.  And I guess at least you have one thing to be thankful to them for.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

I left him and headed upstairs to find Annie.  Deep in thought about my shitty family, the ringing of my phone startled me.

Donovan.

“Hey you,” I murmured into the phone, my tummy fluttering.

“Hey.”  His voice was soft, and that caused my tummy to progress from flutters to somersaults.

“How’s your day going?” I asked.

“Yeah, getting through stuff.  Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I was until one of my staff quit on me.”

Silence, and then, “You want me to help you find someone new?”

Oh god, could this man get any better?

“Sure, thanks.  I don’t know anyone I would ask.”

“Leave it with me, I’ll ask around.”

“I owe you.  Come over tonight and you can collect.”  I bit my lip thinking about how I could repay him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled.  “It’s only lunch time.  You can’t say that shit to me this early in the day.”

Oh, this is gonna be fun.

“Sorry,” I said, sweetly.  “I guess I also can’t tell you that I’ve been imagining your mouth on my pussy all morning.”

“Jesus,” he muttered.  “How the fuck did I find a woman with such a dirty mouth?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“Depends how you look at it.  I’m sitting here with a fucking hard-on at eleven thirty in the morning and no way for it to be taken care of.  Doesn’t sound fucking lucky to me.”

“Baby, you’ve got a hand, haven’t you?” I breathed into the phone.

“Fuck, Layla, don’t fucking tempt me,” he rasped.

“Wrap your hand around your cock and imagine it’s my hand.”  My voice was husky with the desire consuming me.

The only sound I heard was his heavy breathing, and then the sound of his zipper in the background.  His breathing picked up a second later, and he grunted something unintelligible into the phone.

“That’s it, baby.  Now shut your eyes and picture my tits, naked in your hands.  I’m pumping your dick in my hands while you’ve got your hands full of me.”

“Fuck,” he groaned in between ragged breaths.

My pussy clenched, and I walked into my bedroom and closed the door behind me.  Leaning against the door, I unzipped my jeans and reached my hand into my panties.

“I’m touching myself.  Imagining it’s your hands on me,” I told him as I fingered myself.

“Tell me how wet you are,” he grunted.

Oh fuck.

I ran my finger through my wetness, and squeezed my eyes shut at the intense pleasure I felt.  “I’m so fucking wet for you, Donovan.  I wish it really were your fingers in me.  Wish your mouth was down there, eating me.”

“Fuck!” he roared, and I knew he’d come.

My fingers frantically worked to give me the orgasm I craved, and a couple of moments later, I cried out his name as I came.

We were silent except for our heavy breathing.  And then he murmured, “Fuck, Layla.  I need more.”

I do too.

“I’ll be there soon.  Tell me your address.”

He gave it to me, and I ended the call so I could deal with the stuff I had to do.  I needed to get to Donovan as fast as possible.

***

An hour later, I entered the warehouse at the address Donovan had given me.  Looking at it, I realised I didn’t even know what Donovan did for a living.  Time to fix that.

A beefed-up guy met me at the front door and escorted me up to Donovan’s office.  We passed lots of offices, but their doors were all shut so I had no clue what they held.  When we got to the end of the corridor, the guy knocked on the door.  “Blade, Layla’s here.”

I waited silently.

The door opened and Donovan stood on the other side, a formidable force staring back at us.