236. FOREVER

236. FOREVER
"Can we call him Loki, please? Pretty, pretty, pretty please?" Lilly clasped her hands together, eyes wide with hope.
"Name it whatever you want," Zaley said, watching the little fur ball tumble in the sand. Others called it a puppy, but to him, it was just another piece of joy in his daughter’s hands.
Lilly grinned. "Loki, then!"
Raya burst into tears again, and Hari, who had been her patient shadow all evening, quickly comforted her.
"What happened to her?" Zaley asked, brow furrowed, while Layla was busy laughing with Spencer.
"She’s pregnant," Layla whispered, covering her mouth so no one else could hear.
"Why’s it a secret?"
"Because it’s Lilly’s day. She wanted to wait until tomorrow. But I have a sharp eye." Layla smirked.
That smirk was all it took. Zaley pulled her in and kissed her hard.
Spencer rolled his eyes. "Call it a night and get a room."
Layla and Zaley shared a mischievous grin, his hands circling her waist as they swayed to the faint music.
"She’s a good friend," he murmured.
"She’s the sister I never had," Layla replied softly.
Later, Zaley muttered under his breath, exhaustion pulling at his voice. "Is she ever going to sleep?"
Clearly, sleep had been erased from Lilly’s dictionary.
She was sprawled on the floor in her frock, giggling while trying to teach Loki the alphabet in her best schoolteacher voice.
Layla sighed. "I want to freshen up."
Zaley tilted his head. "Baby, we agreed we’d do that together."
Layla nodded, then tried again. "Lilly, it’s ten o’clock. Time for bed. Loki’s sleepy, too."
That worked. At once, Lilly curled into bed, hugging her puppy, drifting off with a smile still pressed on her lips.
The second her breathing softened, Zaley and Layla collapsed into each other, as their clothes slipped away, their backs met the mattress in a rush, their legs tangled in frenzy, and it wasn't until his weight pressed her further into the matress, his cock slipped inside her pussy, wet and ready, he couldn't breathe.
Zaley stayed there like that, his forehead against hers as they took a deep breath and then, as if they had all the time in the world, they kissed.
Slowly. Liesurely. Surely.
They have been running till now in life.
And now, everything began to fall into place.
Everything slowed down.
Almost every part of them healed.
Almost.
He pulled himself from her face reluctantly to look at her, to take in her delicate features, her hungry eyes, her scattered red locks.
A satisfied smile stretched across his face as he dived in again, capturing her mouth, pushing his tongue.
This time, a little bit fast. A little bit harder. A little bit rougher.
She gasped into him, her fingers gripping the back of his neck as if to keep him there forever. Her breath mingled with his, ragged and uneven, but neither of them cared.
Her hands trailed down his chest. He smirked against her lips, feeling her shiver under his touch.
“Isn't my fiancé too impatient?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his own restraint was fraying with every second.
Her answer was another desperate pull of his mouth back to hers, her body arching into him as if she couldn’t stand a single inch of space between them.
And just like that, he lost the battle with himself. His kisses became a trail, moving from her lips to her jaw, down to her throat, leaving fire in their wake.
And when she whispered his name, breathless and broken under him, Zaley lost the last thread of control. He gave her everything, his strength, his need, his fire, until nothing else existed but the two of them, tangled and burning, chasing each other into the dark.

A ragged gasp tore from Layla’s throat as his fingers pinched her nipple, a sharp, bright pain that instantly melted into a throbbing ache deep in her core. There was no teasing, just the blunt, knowing pressure of his calloused fingers on her swollen flesh.
He did it again, and her back arched like a drawn bow against his chest. A low groan rumbled through him, into her, a sound of pure, selfish satisfaction. Her head fell back against him, every muscle going slack except the ones clenching with need low in her belly.
"Will you stop it?" The words were slurry, thick with a sleep she didn't want.
"No can do."
"Leon?" A question this time. A plea for what, she didn't know. Mercy? More?
"Layla."
"Let's go to sleep," she whispered, but her hips were already canting back against the hard ridge of him, begging.
His answer was a guttural noise. One hand clamped over her breast, possessive and almost rough, as the other guided himself. Not a slow slide, but a single, blunt, claiming thrust that buried him to the hilt inside her. The breath shot from her lungs in a punch. Full. She was so full of him.
"Stay like this," he growled into the sweat-damp skin of her neck, his teeth grazing her shoulder. "Stay with me."
She flashed her diamond ring. "You can't get rid of me now."
It was the truth. This was her addiction. Not the diamond, but this: the brutal fullness of him stretching her, the crushing weight of him when he pinned her down, the way her body didn't feel like her own unless it was connected to his. Sleep became a foreign country without his cock inside her.
He didn't move. Just stayed buried, his breath hot on her neck, while his hands palmed her breasts, squeezing and releasing, a relentless rhythm that kept her teetering on the edge.
"Leon." Her voice broke on the second syllable, a raw sound of pure need.
"Hmm?" The vibration of it travelled straight to her core.
His hand slid from her breast, down over the quivering plane of her stomach, and clamped on her hip, his fingers digging into her flesh. He used the leverage to pull himself almost all the way out.
The cold air on her wet skin was a shock. She whined desperately.
Then he drove back into her. Hard.
This wasn't rhythm. This was punishment. This was possession. Each thrust was a jolt that shook her entire body, stealing her breath, rewriting her nerve endings. The bedframe slammed against the wall in a time-keeping beat of their own making.
"Tell me," he grunted, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "Tell me who you belong to."
The words were torn from her. "You. You."
He fucked her like he was trying to brand himself inside her, to leave a permanent mark her body would never forget.
Her climax hit her not like a wave, but like a seizure, a violent, uncontrollable shattering that ripped a scream from her throat. She clenched around him, milking him, pulling his own release from him with a force he couldn't control.
He came with a raw, broken shout, his body slamming into hers one last, final time as he emptied himself deep inside her. He collapsed over her, a dead weight, his sweat-slick skin glued to her back.