“Mami, this is the Salsa. You have to get up and dance.” One suitor persisted.
“I will.” She told him without opening her eyes. “I’m waiting for someone.” She sensed when Brett walked up and her body tensed slightly. She could feel his energy as it rolled in front of him and bombarded her with his essence.
“And here he is,” she said. She opened her eyes to see Brett standing behind her would be dance partner.
“You’re late,” Layla said with a smile, as she leaned against the padded back of the bench. Without warning he leaned over and kissed her. Not the pecks and quick touches to the lips he had done in the past, but a real kiss. His hands slipped behind her back as he pulled her tighter to him. She moaned into his mouth and his tongue slipped between her parted lips. Her hands clutched the front of his shirt as she held on for balance. He smiled against her lips as the other man muttered a curse in Spanish before walking away.
“I missed you.” He said, pulling back to peer down at her.
She smiled, “Really? You live down the hall and you have my number, you could’ve had me anytime you wanted.”
He leaned over and kissed her neck. “Really? Anytime I wanted?”
Layla laughed and lifted an eyebrow at his intentional double meaning. “Yet, you didn’t call or visit?”
He leaned back and captured her hands, holding then to his chest. “I got tied up with work.” He kissed her knuckles. “Am I forgiven?”
She looked at his piercing green eyes and rolled her eyes. “Sure, but next time,” she paused, and pulled a hand free to make a slash across her throat, “you’re going down.”
He winked at her before he jumped up to grab a drink.
Layla watched him as he walked over to the bar. He was easily one of the tallest and most attractive people in the club and the bartender, a feisty Latina, thought so as well as she flashed him a flirty smile.
A few other ladies noticed him and he smiled at them before grabbing the two drinks the bartender made and making his way back to Layla, ignoring the napkin with the phone number written in pencil that the bartender had slipped under his drink.
She smiled at the unmistakable envy on the women’s faces before he sat down, leaned over and kissed her again. He handed her a drink and she took a sip, feeling the cool liquid wash over her tongue.
“Thanks.” The drink was delicious and refreshing and she started to feel a bit more of the alcohol. “You know, I know so little about you.”
He looked at her, “What do you want to know?”
She shrugged, “I don’t know, something more than I know now?” She laughed and then held up a finger, “Well, I know you’re from Carolina—.”
“North Carolina.”
“Right, North Carolina.” She held up another finger, “You’re 26 and a bartender.” She shrugged, “I don’t know if you have any parents, where you grew up, went to school, what you’re studying here, what you want to be when you grow up. There is so much I don’t know!”
Brett studied her. “Why rush it? As we get to know each other, we’ll get to know our pasts.” He smiled and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It’ll happen, don’t worry.” He took her drink from her hand. “Hey, let’s get out of here. There’s a movie with your name on it at my place.” He pulled to her feet.
Layla caught Shawna’s eye and pointed to Brett before waving bye and motioning that she would call. She ignored Shawna’s crude hand gesture and laughed. She followed Brett outside. “Did you drive?”
He shook his head. “Nah…took a cab.”
Layla dug into her purse and handed him her car keys. “Well, you’re driving now.”
The ride home took less than five minutes but in that time Layla thought about how she responded to Brett. It didn’t matter how many people were in the room. She just knew when he was there. She was silent as they pulled up to the apartment complex and Brett took her hand. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” he said as he pulled her closer. His mouth covered hers and she felt the heat behind his kiss. His tongue probed her mouth and she opened wider, let him in deeper. His hands ran up her back, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her head back as his lips sought her throat.
She pulled back and smiled at him. “You know what? Forget the movie. I know a few things we could be doing that would be a lot more fun than any movie.”
“Really?” He breathed into her mouth.
“Yeah, really.”
Layla wrapped her arms around Brett as she walked him up the stairs to her apartment. She quickly unlocked the door before she pushed him against a wall. Her mouth zoomed in on his and his arms tightened around her. He paused, pulling back from her as her hands tangled in his hair.
“Are you sure?” He asked, as Layla groaned pulling him into the bedroom and pushing him down onto her bed.
“Yes.” She had never been more sure of anything ever before in her life. She felt hot. Not just sexy as his eyes raked her body, but an internal throbbing fire that threatened to burst out of her chest. She straddled his lap and found a strength she didn’t know existed as she pulled his head to her breast. She threw her head back and groaned as he rained kisses over her body.
Brett raised his head. “Layla—?”
“Yes,” she breathed again. “Now stop talking and kiss me.”
Brett looked at her through eyes heavy with passion. “Layla, anytime you want to stop, just say the words,” he said thickly as her hands tangled in his hair.
Layla groaned and arched her back, desperate to feel his body next to hers and his erection pressing through his jeans was making it hard for her to concentrate.
Brett felt her desperation and need. He wanted her just as much as she did him—perhaps more—but he knew he could not lose his head or his focus. He needed answers, but tonight he needed Layla. He closed his eyes as Layla’s hands gripped his hair. His lips sought hers and their tongues dueled for dominance.
Layla felt Brett’s mood change. Any reservations he had were gone. Good, she thought. She was wild with need. She needed him; to feel him inside her and around her. His essence was overwhelming and she wanted all of it. She wanted all of him. She cradled his head as his lips found her throat and moved hotly over her chest. He grabbed the little flap of her dress and snapped the jeweled button that held it closed. She sighed as his seeking hands spread the material apart and his mouth descended on her lace covered breast.
Brett groaned as he opened Layla’s dress; unwrapping her as easily as he would a gift. He salivated at her slightly darkened nipples straining against the light green fabric. His tongue laved her breast, his teeth grazing her nipple lightly causing her to gasp.
Layla’s eyes closed and her head rolled as Brett reached up and pinched the tender tips of her nipple. He blew on them and they hardened erotically before he grasped them again between his teeth; biting and then sucking them into his mouth. She couldn’t speak, her thoughts a jumble of pleasure and pain. He slipped a hand into the lace covering her most private parts; his fingers delving to play with the jewel he found there. Layla moaned and arched against him as he slipped a finger into her honey.
As Layla’s heat closed around his finger, Brett found that he was slowly losing control. He wanted to rip her clothes off, slip into her and pound her in a way that would have them coming so hard she might break. He pulled his finger slowly out of her, feeling the reluctance of her walls to let him go. As she watched, he put his finger into his mouth and licked the sweet slick off his finger. Brett moved her off his lap, ignoring her moans of protest and laid her onto the bed. His hands traced her body, removed the soaked panties, and found her core again before being replaced with his mouth.
Layla’s breath hitched as his cool lips pressed against her. She could feel his breath entering her and his hot tongue pushed its way into her. She felt her legs start to tremble as a fire began to burn in the pit of her stomach. His dark head moved back and forth, his hands tenderly holding her thig
hs apart. He looked up at her and she saw the need in his eyes before he quickly stood up, shed his clothes, grabbed a condom from his back pocket and moved back to her.
“Your body is so beautiful,” Brett whispered as he looked down at her.
Layla blushed; a burnished red that traveled the length of her body as he watched. She saw the slight smile and felt a heady sense of feminine power. She arched her back, an open invitation that Brett recognized and accepted. She felt him move between her legs, his hands quickly rolling the thin piece of latex down his length. His rounded head prodded her before pushing into her honeyed heat. Layla sighed, amazed that he could fit. She felt…full; almost bursting, but as if sensing her need to go slow, he stilled, allowing her to adjust to his length. Before she could catch her breath, she felt him move; slowly pulling out to push back in, his hips pumping and flexing rhythmically.
Layla’s hands wandered to his hips and she pulled him tighter. Her breathing became shallower as she moved higher and her chest heaved with the effort to bring air into her lungs. His hands gripped her hips as he moved faster and deeper, pounding into her and her moans of pleasure escalated. She felt her body start to throb, a low resonance that built as her cries did. Layla felt the tightness of her body; her stomach grew taut, her teeth clenched and toes curled as her body struggled to find release. The throbbing built more and more, mimicking the throbbing of his blood, moving her higher and higher until she came, growling her pleasure, her legs trembling.
Brett continued moving, setting Layla on edge as her highly sensitized body cried out against the continued onslaught. She felt helpless, simply hanging on to his broad shoulders as her traitorous body accommodated him once more.
“Bite me,” he growled; his voice throaty and hoarse.
Layla complied without question. She wanted to feel the saltiness of his skin under her tongue. She bit down into his shoulder and felt the shudder that rocked his body as he came inside her. She smiled as she licked the spot on his shoulder, soothing her mark on him, perfect indentions of her teeth against his skin.
Chapter 3
“Layla? I need those reports by the end of the day. We have counselors who are leaving this week to go on the road and they need those contacts.”
Layla nodded and continued typing, her eyes focused on the computer screen in front of her. “Coming right up.” She pressed print on her computer and listened as the printer across the room warmed up. She walked across the room and grabbed the stack of papers.
“Layla, I need those reports.”
Layla stood with her back to her supervisor and rolled her eyes. She took a deep breath before turning around with a wide smile. “Here you are.” She handed the stack of papers to Mrs. Cantrell and headed back to her desk.
“Layla, where is the rest of the report?”
Layla turned around. “It’s all there, Mrs. Cantrell,” she said, a puzzled tone in her voice.
Cantrell sighed and Layla felt the headache start. “No, you’ve only given me the information for the US students. I also wanted the information for the International students.”
Layla frowned, “You didn’t ask me for that.”
Cantrell tapped a foot against the carpet. “When I ask you for all the reports on transfer students, I mean all the reports on transfer students, including the internationals.” She turned and walked away. Before Layla could move, Cantrell stuck her head out of her office. “I want the international students by the end of the day.”
Layla glanced up at the clock. It was a bit after two o’clock. There was no way she was going to be done by four. She bowed her head and said a silent prayer before sitting heavily at her desk. Her cell phone buzzed and Layla quickly grabbed it. “Hello,” she said a bit breathlessly, as she recognized Brett’s number.
“Hey gorgeous.”
She smiled. “Hey yourself.” She could hear glass clinking in the background and assumed he was at work. “What are you up to?”
“Taking a break at work. Was thinking about you.”
Layla felt her heart speed up. “I was thinking about you too.” She smiled again.
“Wanna hang out after work? I’m leaving early today so we can go catch a movie or something after your class.”
Her heart dropped. “Can’t. Cantrell is making me do all this extra work that she never asked me for,” she complained. “It’s not right. She treats me like I’m her freaking bitch.” She scowled as she saw Cantrell walking out the door, purse in hand and knew that her boss was leaving early, again. She bit her tongue to avoid telling her boss to have a nice day, knowing Cantrell would be able to detect the sarcasm in her tone. However, she couldn’t stop the stream of expletives that came out of her mouth.
“Um…did I do something?” Brett asked confused.
Layla dropped her head to her desk. “No, not you. Cantrell just left early, but I have to stay late to finish a report.”
“Well, call me when you are done and we can hang out then, okay?” Brett said to her before he rang off, making her promise to call the minute she was done with class. Layla looked at the clock again. If she hurried she might be able to finish by five, and get to class a few minutes late. She hoped. She cracked her neck, turning her head from side to side and started typing. A little after five, the printer whirred to life as Layla finished the final report. She put the report in a manila folder and slipped the package underneath Cantrell’s door. She grabbed her purse and books, already more than a few minutes late for class.
At five-twenty, Layla pushed open the door to her Statistics class. She silently moved to a seat at the back of the classroom as to not disturb any students and sat down. Her professor was in the middle of explaining a particularly difficult analysis and Layla knew she would have to stay after class or come back and see him during office hours to understand the concept. She dutifully copied down her notes and the equations on the board, hoping that by copying each step, she would be able to duplicate the process. Her head was throbbing in earnest now and Layla felt pressure starting to build. It was getting more difficult to concentrate. She dug in her bag for a bottle of pills, popping two with a sip of water before returning to her work.
A cell phone went off behind her and Layla jumped, dropping her pen in the process. The student behind her apologized profusely and Layla smiled in response.
“Ms. Donavon. It’s so nice of you to join us. And with your own fanfare, I see.”
Layla looked at the front of the class where the professor and a few students had turned around to stare. “Wh-what? No. That wasn’t me,” Layla said, confused. “What?”
“As usual, you have a wealth of information to share with us.” He continued. “Please see me after class.” He dismissed her and went back to his lecture.
Layla turned around and stared at the student with the cell phone. He shrugged. ‘Sorry’, he mouthed. Layla turned back towards the front of the room, fuming and slouched into her seat. This was going to be a long class.
Two hours later, Layla walked down the auditorium steps to the professor’s podium. There were about five students ahead of her, so she sat down to wait. She pulled out her notes and tried to analyze one of the problems he’d given as homework and found she was clueless.
“Ms. Donovan.”
Layla approached the professor as if she were in high school all over again. He raised his head to stare her in the eyes, and then spoke.
“First you come to my class late, and then don’t have the decency to turn your phone off?”
“Professor Hart, honestly, that was not my phone. I always have it turned off in here. And I am sorry I was late, unfortunately I had to work late, again.” She looked at him and saw his lack of concern and belief. “It won’t happen again.”
He gathered his papers and spoke without looking at her. “I know it won’t because as of tonight, you will no longer be in my class.”
A few straggling students still in the room raised their heads at this but Layla ignored them
.
Layla felt her breath hitch. She needed this class. Not only to graduate, but if she was dropped from this class, she would be considered a part-time student and her financial aid would decrease, drastically. She couldn’t afford to pay for the semester. “Professor Hart, what are you talking about?”
“I am talking about, Ms. Donovan, is your constant flaunting of my rules. You are consistently late, you are teleconferencing in my class and I bet you have no idea what we did today.” He sighed. “There were students who tried to get into this class who truly wanted it and you took that spot from them.”
Layla started to panic. “Professor Hart, I was not on my phone! It was not me! It was the kid behind me! Ask anyone. Why the hell would I lie about this?” She was almost shouting. “I need this class to graduate.”
“It is offered again during the summer. Hopefully then you will be better prepared.”
Layla could feel the temperature rise in the room. Her blood was pounding in her ears and she saw spots behind her eyelids when she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, “Professor Hart.” She paused, choosing her next words carefully. She could feel the rage building inside her. “Professor Hart. For the last time, I was not on my phone. It really was the student behind me. I have never flaunted your rules; I have always respected you and your rules.” She took another breath. “I really was working late. If you would like, I can have my boss write a note, proving that I was there until five o’clock.”
Professor Hart sighed. “Ms Donovan, I rather doubt that a note from a boss I have never seen and will never have cause to see is a valid reason to excuse your tardies. You have no drive and no ambition. In fact, you are probably only taking classes because the school allows you to take a few classes each semester for free.” He placed his papers in his briefcase. “It’s done. You have been dropped from the course and hopefully, I will not take up too much of your time this summer.” He picked up his briefcase.
Tala Page 5