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66

LAYLA

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SATURDAY

We should stall. Slow down. I twitched at the bump. Why does he have so many clothes on? What happened to shirtless Aiden? Who gave him a fricking shirt? Can I strangle said person?

“Take it off.”

I murmured, turning sideways, and tugging at a free button.

“Layla.”

“Stop talking,” I whisper, pressing a finger against his lips. My back would hurt from these movements.

I took my head off his lap, sliding to sit beside him, steadying my body with a firm grip on his arms.

“You’re drunk, love.”

“Do you enjoy blow jobs?”

I grazed my bottom lip as my eyes trailed to his shorts.

“No. This isn't good..."

“No, you don’t enjoy blow jobs?”

I squirmed, batting my lashes at him. He was so close; I reached out and kissed his lower lip.

“Fuck.”

Palming him through his shorts, I cupped a fist full and pumped gently.

“Layla. You’re drunk.”

“Forgive me if I’m sloppy."

I palmed his face with the other, my lips tracing his cheeks. I guess I can kiss his whole face.

Crystal Oduwa

A/N: Eiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Thoughtssssss?(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

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