#47
The sandwich lay half-finished on the plate, forgotten.
All I could think about was the way Layla’s soft ass squirmed against my lap, the heat of her bare skin pressed into mine. My free hand slid up her side, cupping one beautiful breast, kneading it through her muffled little whimpers as I kissed her again, hungrier this time.
Her thighs tightened instinctively around my waist when I rocked my hips upward, grinding against her slick heat. A broken moan slipped past her lips, muffled as she clung to my mouth, her breath uneven and shaky. Every gasp she released seemed to ignite something inside me, her chest rising and falling in desperate rhythm against mine.
I pulled back just enough to press another morsel of food to her lips, watching the way her lashes fluttered when she accepted it. She chewed slowly, a soft sound humming in her throat, and I couldn’t resist leaning in again. My lips brushed hers, teasing, before I chased the taste from her mouth with a slow, claiming kiss. She melted against me, her tongue meeting mine, the last crumb dissolving between us as though we were feeding each other more than just food—something raw, something hungry.
We lingered there, kissing and tasting, losing ourselves in the heat of it. Time seemed to blur, each kiss deepening, stretching out the moment as if neither of us wanted it to end. The way she held me—thighs locked, arms wound tightly around my shoulders—made it feel like she was terrified of letting go, and I reveled in that need.
But bliss like that never lasts.
Her body was too warm, too soft, every curve pressed against me like she was molded to fit there. The way her moans trembled against my lips, the way her nails dug into my back as if to anchor herself, made the restraint I was clinging to splinter and shatter. My control, already hanging by threads, finally snapped under the weight of her desperate clinging and the intoxicating taste of her mouth.
I stood abruptly, dragging her with me, her surprised squeak muffled as I pressed her back onto the kitchen table. The plate clattered to the side, crumbs scattering across the wood as I spread her thighs wide and loomed over her.
“Alvin—!” she gasped, eyes wide, cheeks burning, her breath still flavored faintly with bread and butter.
I didn’t let her finish. My mouth crashed onto hers, devouring her lips as my hands gripped her thick thighs, pulling her closer until I was nestled right against her wetness. Her body trembled beneath me, her breasts spilling against her chest as she arched upward, clinging to me with shaking arms.
“I’m sorry, Lay, but I want you now,” I groaned against her lips, grinding my length against her slick entrance.
Her blush deepened, her lips parting in a needy whimper. She wrapped her legs tight around my waist, pulling me in with surprising strength. “Okay, whenever you want…”
That was a promise.
A strange, but dangerous promise.
But I didn’t really care then, nor do I believe she would. What’s important is that that was all the permission I needed. I slammed into her in one hard thrust, burying myself to the hilt.
Layla cried out, her hands scrambling against my back before gripping me tight, nails digging into my skin.
The table rocked beneath us as I drove into her again and again, our food abandoned, our laughter replaced with moans and ragged gasps. I kissed her hungrily, biting her lower lip, tasting her cries as I claimed her right there among the crumbs and half-eaten sandwich.
Her thighs clamped around me, holding me in place even as I thrust harder, faster, losing myself in the feel of her wet heat milking me with every desperate slam of my hips.
The kitchen filled with the sound of flesh against flesh, her soft voice breaking in between moans: “Yes—ahhhnn! More, Alvin—don’t stop, please don’t stop!”
And I didn’t. I couldn’t. The world narrowed to just this—the creak of the table, the taste of her lips, the overwhelming need to bury myself in her over and over until nothing else mattered.
…
Layla’s POV
I couldn’t breathe.
Not because Alvin was crushing me against the kitchen table with every desperate thrust, but because my head was spinning too hard to keep up.
My whole body was alive—burning, shivering, screaming with sensations I’d never experienced before—and yet my mind kept circling back to the same impossible thought.
Alvin.
It was Alvin.
The same Alvin who sat in the front row of class with that calm, untouchable aura that made it feel like he was on a different level from the rest of us.
The same Alvin who never noticed me, never so much as glanced in my direction unless we were forced into the same group by a professor.
The same Alvin I watched from behind my book, pretending to be focused while secretly memorizing the way his jaw tightened when he concentrated, or the way he leaned back in his chair when he was bored.
He was right here. Inside me. Holding me like he couldn’t get enough.
I was supposed to be the quiet one. The invisible one. The girl who blended into the background because it was easier to avoid the noise of everyone else’s lives. People thought I was aloof, but really I was just shy. Too shy to say what I really wanted. Too shy to walk up to someone like Alvin and just… talk.
And yet, somehow, he was the one who pulled me into this amazing dream. He was the one who grabbed me, kissed me, tore down all my clo-, walls in a single night.
I didn’t understand it. Why me? Why now?
It didn’t make sense, and maybe that was why I couldn’t resist.
Because deep down—way, way deep down where I hid all the things I’d never dare say out loud—I wanted this. God, I wanted this so badly it hurt.
Alvin slammed into me again, and my back arched off the table, a helpless sound ripping from my throat. My legs clamped around his waist like they had a mind of their own, pulling him deeper, harder, even as my brain screamed that this wasn’t real.
Was I dreaming? Did I fall asleep over my notes again?
But no dream ever felt this raw, this consuming.
His lips crashed against mine, and I gasped into the kiss, my hands gripping his shoulders like he was the only thing keeping me tethered to earth. His mouth was hot, his tongue insistent, and every time he groaned my name, a shiver shot straight down my spine.
God, he said my name. Like it belonged on his tongue.
The way his hands gripped my thighs—like they were perfect, like they were his. The way he bent over me, pressing his forehead to mine between kisses, his breath ragged against my lips. The way he whispered my name like a prayer, over and over, as if he was afraid he’d forget it otherwise.
It was too much. My chest ached, my throat burned, and yet I couldn’t stop clinging to him.
Because for the first time, I didn’t feel invisible.
I didn’t feel like the shy background character in someone else’s story.
I felt like the main character of his.
And maybe that was why I couldn’t refuse him.
He could’ve asked me anything—hell, he didn’t even need to ask—and I would’ve given it to him. I would have given him everything!
I tilted my head back, moaning his name, my hands sliding down to grip his back. His muscles flexed under my touch, his body straining with every thrust, and I realized with a dizzy kind of awe that I was making him lose control. Me. Quiet, awkward, hoodie-wearing Layla.
He bit my neck, groaned against my skin, and I almost laughed again because I didn’t know what else to do with the flood of emotions crashing through me.
God, if my friends could see me now.
If they could see Alvin pounding into me on the kitchen table, my legs wrapped around him, my shy little whimpers spilling into the air with every thrust… they’d never believe it. Hell, I barely believed it myself.
Was this a mistake? Was he going to regret it when the sun came up? Would he look at me tomorrow the way he used to—like I was nobody?
The thought hurt, sharp and sudden, but I shoved it down.
Because even if this was just for tonight—even if he went back to ignoring me tomorrow—I’d still have this.
I’d still have the memory of Alvin kissing me, touching me, fucking me.
And God, it felt so good.
His thrusts grew rougher, faster, the table creaking beneath us with the force of it. I clung to him harder, nails digging into his skin, my voice breaking into messy moans I couldn’t hold back anymore. My body betrayed me, shoving away all doubt, all fear, until there was only this. Only him.
Every second felt etched into my skin, burned into my memory. The way his hips slammed against mine, the way his tongue tangled with mine, the way he groaned low in his chest like he couldn’t stop himself. I wanted to bottle it up, keep it forever, never let it fade.
Even if this was just a dream.
Even if tomorrow came and nothing changed, even if he never looked my way again, I wouldn’t regret this. Not for a second.
Because tonight, Alvin saw me.
And tonight, he wanted me.
For someone like me—for the quiet girl who was always overlooked, who acted like she didn’t care when really she cared too much—that was everything.
And I… I didn’t want it to end.
Not ever.
…
My legs were still trembling when Alvin grabbed my hand.
I couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out of him—low, breathless, almost mocking, and yet it made heat pool low in my belly.
Before I could catch my breath, he tugged me away from the counter. My body followed without thought, without protest, because what else could I do? My thighs shook with every step, my knees weak, but I didn’t resist. I didn’t even want to.
There was no hesitation left in me. Only blind, obedient lust.
When we reached the living room, Alvin didn’t bother with gentleness. He spun me around sharply, his hand firm on my shoulder, and shoved me backward onto the couch. I gasped when I landed, the cushions dipping under my weight, my hair falling into my face in messy strands.
I should’ve been embarrassed by how I looked. But when I met his gaze, all that shame was swallowed up.
The way he stared at me—like I was prey pinned under his hands—made my stomach flip. His arm pressed hard against my chest, holding me down against the couch. His face hovered just above mine, close enough that I could feel the ragged heat of his breath brushing my lips.
I felt small. Weak. Exposed.
And God help me… I loved it.
“Layla,” he said, voice low, commanding, vibrating through my chest where he pinned me. “You like being treated like this, don’t you?”
My lips trembled. My throat worked, but no real words came at first. All I could manage was this sound—a breathless half-moan, half-laugh that betrayed me completely.
I should’ve said no. I should’ve pushed him back, reminded him that we were classmates, that we barely even talked before tonight. That this was insane.
Instead, my hands betrayed me. They lifted, not to push him away, but to clutch at his arm where it pinned me down. My fingers tightened around him, holding him there.
My thighs rubbed together restlessly, a pitiful attempt to relieve the ache building between them.
“I… I…” My voice cracked. I bit my lip so hard it hurt, trying to stop the words from spilling out. But then I inhaled sharply, and everything tumbled out in a rush, raw and shameless:
“Yes. I love it. Don’t stop, Alvin—don’t ever stop.”
The admission tore out of me before I could take it back. And when I saw the flash in his eyes—the hunger, the satisfaction—it made my pulse slam harder in my veins.
He pressed down harder, his whole weight crushing me into the couch, and my body arched up to meet it without my permission. I whimpered in pain.
It’s a little painful. The way he tried to fold me, the way he pressed me hard, thrust inside me… it hurts. But hurts so good, yes! There’s no way I’m complaining!
His cock twitched against my hip through what little space was left between us, and I nearly lost it. My fingers dug into the cushions, nails scraping at the fabric as if I could anchor myself in this storm of sensation.
Then his lips brushed the shell of my ear, his voice a husky whisper that sent goosebumps down my neck:
“Then I’ll give you exactly what you want.”
A shudder tore through me. My head fell back against the couch, my moan high and trembling, spilling out before I could swallow it down.
Because he wasn’t just taking me.
He was unraveling me.
And all I could do was cling to the edge and pray he didn’t stop.
…
