#48
“Layla,” I murmured, my voice low, commanding, vibrating through the arm I had pressed firmly across her chest. I leaned closer, close enough for my breath to wash over her flushed face. “You like being treated like this, don’t you?”
Her lips trembled. At first, she only managed this broken little sound—something between a moan and a laugh—that spilled out of her throat and betrayed everything she was trying to hide.
I could see the war on her face, the way her throat worked as if she wanted to say no. To remind me that we were classmates. Before tonight, we’d barely exchanged more than a glance. That all of this was insane.
But her body told me the truth.
Her hands lifted, not to push me away, but to clutch at my arm, squeezing it tight where I pinned her down. Her thighs pressed together restlessly, rubbing with an almost pitiful desperation as she squirmed beneath me.
“I… I…” Her voice cracked. She bit her lip so hard I thought she might bleed, fighting herself, fighting me. And then—like a dam breaking—she inhaled sharply, and the words tumbled out of her in a rush, raw and shameless:
“Yes. I love it. Don’t stop, Alvin—don’t ever stop.”
Her confession shot straight through me, and my cock twitched painfully against her hip.
I tilted my head until my lips brushed her ear, and in a husky whisper that left her shuddering, I promised, “Then I’ll give you exactly what you want.”
The sound she made—the high, trembling moan spilling out as her head fell back against the couch—was almost enough to undo me right there.
Her nod was all the permission I needed.
The moment it came, I crushed my lips against hers, not gentle, not tender—hungry. She gasped into my mouth, and I swallowed the sound, my tongue pushing past her lips, taking everything she had to give. My hand slid down over her chest, groping her breasts rougher this time, kneading until she arched into me and moaned into the kiss.
I pulled back just enough to see her face. Her eyes were hazy, unfocused, her lips swollen and trembling. That shy-girl mask she always wore—the quiet, awkward facade—was shattered. What stared back at me wasn’t the shy Layla I knew, but the personification of raw lust and desire.
“Good girl,” I growled, pinning her harder against the couch. “You like it when I use you like this, don’t you?”
Her body jerked beneath me, a strangled moan escaping her throat. “Y-yes!” she cried, the word tumbling out without thought, without hesitation. Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t hide. She couldn’t.
That crazed look in her eyes pushed me over the edge. I grabbed her thighs and spread them wide, forcing her open beneath me. She didn’t resist—she leaned into it, her breath ragged, her body trembling with need.
I slammed into her with no restraint this time, and she screamed, her voice echoing in the living room. The couch creaked beneath us as I drove into her again and again, my hips snapping forward with raw force. Her hands clawed at the cushions, her back arching as she writhed under me, each thrust wringing another broken moan from her lips.
I bent down, biting at her neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. She cried out, half in pain, half in ecstasy, her legs locking tight around my waist as if to keep me from pulling away.
“Alvin—ahh—harder!” she begged, her voice hoarse, needy. The boyish awkwardness she once carried was gone, replaced by something desperate, unashamed.
I grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head against the couch, and pounded into her harder, faster. She bucked beneath me, her voice breaking, tears pricking the corners of her eyes from the sheer intensity—but her crazed smile told me everything.
She wanted this. Every second of it.
“You’re mine right now,” I growled into her ear, kissing her fiercely, biting at her lip until she moaned. “Say it.”
Her voice cracked, broken and desperate, yet still she obeyed.
“I—I’m yours! Ahnnn—I’m yours, Alvin!”
The sound of it nearly destroyed me. The words ripped through my chest like fire, searing away whatever restraint I still clung to. My body moved on instinct, hips snapping forward, claiming her with every ounce of hunger I’d buried inside. Layla’s body convulsed beneath me, her back arching, voice shattering into a scream as another orgasm tore through her.
I should have slowed down. I should have let her catch her breath. But the way she said my name—the way she surrendered to me—obliterated every rational thought.
My control unraveled, and I drove into her harder, faster, rougher, until she was a trembling mess beneath me.
“Alvinnnnn!” she screamed again, her voice cracking into a sob. Her whole body jerked violently, nails tearing into the couch cushion as her walls clenched tight around me, milking me, spasming with each wave that wrecked her.
I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
Her flushed face was streaked with tears, sweat dripping down her temples, eyes rolling back in helpless ecstasy. She looked completely undone—shy little Layla, the quiet tomboy who usually avoided everyone’s gaze—reduced to nothing but raw need, clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping her alive.
And then—footsteps.
The creak of the kitchen door swinging open cut through the air. I tensed instinctively, but my hips didn’t stop, not even for a second.
I looked up.
Three women stood in the doorway.
For the briefest heartbeat, shame and panic flared in me. I was caught in the act—sweat-soaked, buried deep inside Layla, her screams still echoing in the room. My mind braced for scandal, for shrieks, for judgment.
But none came.
Instead, the women watched us with interest and amusement, but not judgment or criticism. They even looked…. glad.
“Well, well,” one of them drawled with a laugh, cocking her hip. “Quite passionate, are we?”
The second tilted her head, eyes sweeping over me in a way that made my skin prickle.
“Young blood. So eager. So energetic. Mmhm, makes me feel nostalgic.”
The third stepped closer, not even pretending to avert her gaze.
“Tch. Lucky girl,” she muttered at Layla, smirking.
Layla buried her face in my chest, her whole body shaking—not just from what I was doing to her, but from mortification. Her hands clutched at me, nails digging into my back, as if she could somehow hide us both by holding tighter.
I didn’t stop. God help me, I couldn’t stop.
The women moved around the kitchen like this was nothing unusual. One strolled past us to the pantry, humming as she grabbed a jar. Another leaned down to peek deliberately, biting her lip like she was impressed.
And then I felt it—soft, supple arms sliding around my waist from behind.
I stiffened instantly, a sharp jolt running through me as a second warmth pressed flush against my back. Her breath fanned hot and damp across my ear, her body fitting like a second skin.
“Mmm… strong one, aren’t you?” she murmured, her tone dripping with sultry mischief. Each word curled into my ear like smoke, deliberate and slow. Her fingers traced lazy circles across my chest, nails grazing just enough to make me shiver. “I bet you could handle another…”
My thrusts faltered, my rhythm breaking under the sudden weight of her presence. Heat and alarm tangled together in my veins, and my breath hitched as her teeth caught my ear in a soft nip. She kissed the side of my neck, lips warm and wet, and for a moment I nearly lost myself completely.
I turned my head toward her, a protest—or maybe a gasp—forming on my lips. But she was faster. With a fluid motion, she caught my face between her hands and crushed her mouth against mine, stealing my breath in a kiss that was bold, hungry, and uninvited.
And that’s when Layla snapped.
A sound tore from her throat—a low, guttural growl, more animal than human. The sound vibrated against my chest, a feral warning that froze the air in the room. Her arms clamped around my head, pulling me hard against her, shielding me from the world with her body as if I were prey and she the predator standing guard.
“He’s mine!” she snarled, her voice raw, cracked with jealousy and something even deeper—desperation, need, a claim she couldn’t bear to lose.
The room fell still, the heat crystallizing into silence. For a heartbeat, nobody moved.
Then laughter burst out around us—not cruel, not mocking, but bright and knowing. A chorus of amusement, like they’d been waiting for this to happen all along.
“Alright, alright, dear,” the woman behind me said with a chuckle, her hands rising in a playful gesture of surrender as she stepped back.
“We won’t take him away from you.”
Another voice, lighter, teasing, cut in from somewhere to the side.
“Jena, stop teasing the kids and let’s go back.”
“Eh? I’m serious~”
The others smirked knowingly.
“You’re lucky, you know,” one said to Layla, winking at me before heading to the door. “If you ever get tired of keeping him all to yourself, though… well, you know where to find us.”
The third blew me a kiss before sauntering out, hips swaying deliberately.
“Careful, sweetheart,” she teased Layla. “A catch like him won’t go unnoticed for long.”
Their laughter and playful remarks trailed off as they left, leaving the kitchen buzzing with heat and tension.
Layla’s whole body trembled beneath me, her face still buried in my chest, her usual shy, boyish awkwardness stripped raw. She clung to me tighter, her breath shaky, voice muffled.
“They said I’m quite the catch~” I said, playfully.
“I, already know that.” Layla’s eyes darkened. She didn’t say anything and just hugged me harder.
I stared at her expression and smiled faintly. If this were back in my previous world, I might have really fallen in love with her. Or maybe, even force her to be with me.
Unfortunately, even if I do like her now. There’s no way I can go out with her.
Cruel, probably. But I know she knows that too.
I cupped her flushed face, forcing her to look at me. Her eyes were hazy, wet, desperate. I kissed her—hard, hungry, reassuring.
“Say you are mine,” I murmured against her lips.
Her nails dug into my skin, her voice breaking as she cried out, “I’m yours, Alvin. Only yours!”
I held her wrists pinned above her head, my body driving into hers without pause, without mercy. My lips pressed against her ear, and I felt her shiver with every ragged breath I exhaled.
“That’s right, you’re mine, Layla,” I growled, my hips slamming into her again, forcing her overstimulated body to take more.
Her eyes snapped open, wide and dazed, disbelief flooding her features.
“I-I c-can’t—” she whimpered, but her legs betrayed her, locking tighter around my waist, pulling me in as if her body knew better than her mouth.
The couch creaked beneath us, the room echoing with the sound of flesh meeting flesh and her broken, desperate moans. She was already breaking—her second orgasm had left her weak, trembling, barely able to breathe. And yet, she clung to me, begging wordlessly for more.
I kissed her fiercely, swallowing her cries, biting her lower lip as I drove her deeper into the cushions. My control was gone, my hunger absolute—but my dominance was clear. She wasn’t just giving in. She was mine.
And as her body convulsed under me, a mess of pleasure and exhaustion, I knew this was only the beginning.
She wrapped her arms around my head, pulling me into a kiss that began soft, almost timid, as though she wasn’t sure how much she could give. But that hesitation lasted only a heartbeat. Soon, her lips pressed harder, her breathing ragged, her tongue brushing against mine with growing hunger. What began as shy affection turned quickly into need.
I slid my hands back down to her hips, fingers digging in just enough to make her gasp as I started moving against her, short thrusts that made her cling tighter. Her whimpers melted into our kiss, her whole body trembling as if she couldn’t decide whether to pull me closer or beg for mercy.
“Does… does it feel good inside me?” she breathed, voice shaky but eager.
“Yes,” I groaned against her lips, my breath hot between us.
“R—really?” Her eyes flicked open for a second, searching mine, desperate for reassurance even as her body already knew the truth.
“It feels so good inside you,” I told her, the words slipping out low and rough.
She rewarded me with another kiss, hungrier than the last. My tongue tangled with hers as I moved within her, deliberately slow, dragging myself out until she whimpered, then sinking back in with a deliberate pace that made her shudder.
Her walls clenched tightly around me, every stroke teasing both of us. I could feel her body surrendering, opening, inviting more. The sound of her broken whimpers filled the room, soft but desperate, every one like fuel poured onto a fire I could barely control.
“Oh my god…” she whispered, voice breaking as her hips rocked down harder against mine. Her breath caught in frantic bursts, her movements no longer shy but demanding, as if she couldn’t stop herself from chasing the next wave. She leaned forward, bracing herself with her hands on either side of my head, her breasts bouncing with every thrust of her hips. The sight nearly made me lose it.
“Layla…” I groaned, my hands gripping her hips tighter. “I’m going to cum.”
“Do it,” she urged, her voice lower now, deeper, almost feral in its demand. “Cum for me, Alvin. Please—cum inside me!”
Her words shattered what little restraint I had left. I drove up into her, harder, faster, until release hit me like lightning, tearing through my body in violent waves. She screamed, throwing her head back as her own climax took her, body trembling around me, gripping me so tightly it felt like she was pulling my soul out with my release.
We collapsed together, sweaty and breathless, our hearts hammering in sync. My forehead rested against hers, both of us gulping down air like we’d just run a marathon.
…
