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Chapter 6: Daniel's Next Week

The week started on Monday with Layla's taste still on Daniel's tongue, a musky sweetness that lingered like warm honey and the faint tang of her release, even after he brushed his teeth twice. As the first light of day spread across the sheets, Elena got up for yoga, her body a graceful outline in the golden glow. She leaned over him, her dark hair brushing his chest, and pressed a slow, mint-scented kiss to his lips. He could smell the chamomile tea she had earlier, warm and earthy. "Be good, darling," she whispered, her Italian accent low and soft against his skin. Her fingers traced down his chest, nails just grazing him enough to raise goosebumps, before she left the bed, which felt cool and empty, his body already reacting to the promise in her smile.

By nine, the kitchen hummed with quiet domesticity: the rich, bitter perfume of dark-roast coffee curling from his mug, steam rising in lazy spirals that caught the sunlight. Layla's arrival was a soft click of the door, then the rhythmic tap of her shoes on tile. Her uniform clung like liquid shadow: black fabric stretched taut over the swell of her high, full breasts, buttons pulling with each inhale, the skirt whispering against her thighs as she moved. Citrus shampoo wafted ahead of her, bright lemon zest cutting through the coffee's depth and blending with the subtle vanilla warmth of her skin lotion. She wiped counters with deliberate strokes, the cloth sighing wetly against granite, but when she bent to load the dishwasher, the hem crept up, revealing thighs like fresh cream, soft inner skin flushed pink from the morning warmth.

Daniel's pulse thudded in his ears, a low drumbeat. His jeans tightened painfully as his cock swelled, the denim rough against the sensitive head. "Layla," he said, voice gravel-rough, thick with command.

She straightened in slow motion, ponytail swaying, turning with eyes that gleamed like polished sapphire. "Yes, Mr. Calder?" The title purred from her lips, formal yet filthy, igniting him.

He walked over and set his mug down with a clink. Standing over Layla, he held her waist, his fingers pressing into her softness, and lifted her onto the counter. The cold granite touched her bare thighs, making her gasp. Her legs parted, and her dress slid up, revealing white cotton panties damp with arousal. The scent of her, sweet and musky with hints of citrus and vanilla, filled his senses.

Fingers traced the panty edge, cotton warm and slightly sticky, then slipped beneath. Slick heat coated his digits instantly; he circled her clit with slow, firm pressure, feeling it swell and throb under his thumb. Her breath hitched, ragged little pants. "You've been thinking about this," he murmured, lips brushing her ear as he inhaled her deeply.

"All night," she confessed, voice trembling, hands clutching his shirt, knuckles brushing his nipples through cotton. Their kiss exploded, hungry—tongues sliding, tasting coffee bitterness on him, faint mint and her own sweetness on her. He freed his cock: zipper rasping, thick shaft springing free, veined and hot, precum beading salty at the slit.

He pulled her panties aside, the fabric scraping her sensitive skin, and entered her in one long, smooth motion. Her body stretched to take him, and she cried out, nails digging into his scalp. He moved hard and deep, one hand steadying her back, the other gripping her thigh. Her breasts bounced free as buttons popped, nipples dark and hard. He took one in his mouth, tongue and teeth teasing, while she moaned, the sound vibrating through both of them.

"Deeper... fuck me deeper," she begged, voice cracking, hips rolling to meet him.

He changed his angle, pressing deeper against her most sensitive spot. Her body shook, muscles tightening around him. The kitchen filled with the sounds of their bodies, her cries growing louder as he moved with her. She climaxed first, her body releasing in waves, soaking the counter. The scent of sex and sweat grew stronger. Daniel groaned, moving in slow circles as he finished inside her, then rested his forehead against hers. They caught their breath together, fingers tracing gentle patterns on each other's skin, a quiet tenderness

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