Why I Invited My Ex-Girlfriend To My Wedding . . .a short story

Everything in Layla told her to ignore him and keep her seat.  She was there to do a job. Write the story, get back to DC and forget about Reed’s touch, his kiss, his smell and his taste. She was a professional. She was taking his hand like a chump.  They walked out of the studio and into a corner office. Reed didn’t bother turning the light on, he simply pressed Layla against the wall.

                “I need you, Layla,” he moaned.

                “No,” she breathed, not meaning a word of it. He placed his hand in the center of her chest, her heart thumped like a bass line underneath his touch.

                “Say yes,” he said, spreading her legs apart with his knee. “You need me too.”

                “N-yes, yes,” she cried as he licked the side of her neck slowly, deliberately, sensually.  Next, he pushed the sleeves of her tunic down and took those breasts into his hands. Massaging them, stroking them, getting her nipples hard and ready to taste.

                “Tell me what you want,” he said.

                “I-I. . .” Words failed her. She, who made money from words, couldn’t think of a thing to say as his fingers danced across her nipples.

                “Then I get to do what I want,” he said after a beat. Reed drew her nipple into his mouth and Layla stifled a scream as his tongue made circles around it. With his free hand, he sought out her wetness, slipping inside her leggings, pushing her panties to the side. He pulled his mouth from her breast. “You’re so wet.”

                “Yes.” That seemed to be the only word she could say. Layla kicked off her shoes and helped Reed remove her leggings by shimmering her hips. Reaching forward, she unbuttoned his jeans and shoved her hand in his boxers.

                “Oh!” he cried as she stroked his erection.

                “I’m wet, you’re hard and engaged,” she said, continuing to stroke him. “Why is it so important for you to fuck me?”

                “I’m not going to fuck you. I fuck Zora. I’m going to make love to you,” he said as he pulled her hand away and then lifted her into his arms.

                “This is so wrong,” she said. “I have a job. . .”

                Reed cut her off with a hot and relentless kiss. He sucked her tongue until her words died in her throat. Then he laid her on the top of his desk. For a moment, he stared at her body. She was beautiful. Real. Why had he let her go?

                “Reed,” she called out. “Reed.”

                “I’m here, Layla.” He spread her legs apart and blew against her inner thigh. “Is this where you want me?”

                “Ye-yes,” she cooed as he licked her wet folds of flesh with a feather light touch. “Yes.” He spread her lips apart, holding her open as he sucked, kissed and licked her throbbing bud. Layla was sweet, sticky and delicious. He wanted her to explode for him. Wanted her to leave her scent, her essence right there. One more lick was all it took for her to climax. Layla screamed his name.

                “I need you inside me,” she breathlessly exclaimed.

                Reed pulled his desk drawer open and removed a condom. With lightning fast reflexes, he ripped the package open and sheathed his erection. Without a word, he plunged into her awaiting body and she clamped down on him. That was the Layla he knew and loved. Tight. Milking him. She met every thrust, every stroke as she wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck.

                Slow down, Reed told himself. He’d wanted her so badly that he hadn’t wanted to climax – ever. Reed wanted to become one with Layla, wanted to feel her heat, her wetness and never let her go again.

                “Umm,” she moaned, reaching a third or was it a fourth orgasm. “Reed!”

                “Layla. My La-La,” he groaned as he finally exploded. “My La-La.”

                When he collapsed on top of her, Layla closed her eyes and cried silently. What in the hell had she done?