Good Catch, page 19
Suddenly, I feel him behind me, his hard length pressed against my ass and he whispers in my ear, “I’ve been itching to get back inside you and paint you with my cum, but rest is what you need right now, baby.”
I never thought it could be possible to come from words alone, but it might be time to revisit that belief because, wow.
Before I can respond, he moves my hair and kisses my neck sweetly, then disappears once more into my room. With an unfilled desire, I finish up my routine, apply my hair products, and brush my teeth.
I walk into my room and catch a whiff of my diffuser, the lavender blend filling the room with a calming aura. Miles is relaxing on my bed, his hands behind his head and an ice pack beside him. My side table has a full glass of water and two painkillers.
I climb onto my bed beside him and down half of the water with the pills. I put the glass back on the stand and turn to meet his gaze. His eyes are gesturing me to lie down, and so I do. He gently places the ice pack wrapped in a towel on my collarbone and turns his body to face me so I can see him more comfortably from my angle.
“How does it feel?” he asks tenderly, his fingers drawing lazy circles on my shoulder.
“Sore, but I’ll be okay. Thank you for everything Miles,” I say softly, my eyes unable to tear away from him.
“I take care of what’s mine,” he states, his fingers resting gently over my heart.
He said it so simply, like it was a mere fact, such as the sun rising each morning.
I don’t know how to reply, my mind and heart are in a frenzy. So, I lie there and stare at the man I know without a doubt I’m falling in love with. Feeling vulnerable scares me, but I can either live and love, despite the potential heartbreak, or I close myself off and break my own heart.
I’m going with the first option.
Miles’s hands trail down my arm, over my hip, and down to my thigh. My breath hitches in anticipation, but my hopes are crushed when he stops in his trail. “Your quads must be sore from the wet dirt. Want a massage?”
“Yes,” I reply instantly, suddenly feeling the soreness at his reminder.
Miles gets off my bed, grabs my lotion, and settles back on the bed, nestling between my legs as I spread them to make room. My shirt still covers the area I want him to touch, but part of me is disappointed that it didn’t hitch up higher in the process to tempt him.
Miles squeezes some lotion into his hands, then begins rubbing my right quad, his deft fingers knowing exactly what they are doing. He switches from applying pressure to rubbing softly over my sore muscles.
I sigh wistfully. “How are you so good at everything?”
I regret it as soon as I admit it because, knowing his cocky ass, he will use those words against me one day.
He chuckles. “Did you really just say that? Did the painkillers get to you?”
I wish I could lift and playfully slap his shoulder.
“Don’t forget it because I’ll never admit that again.”
He begins massaging my foot and switches the conversation. “Let’s play twenty questions.”
“What are you fifteen?”
“I want to know every detail about you,” he replies so honestly, it makes me feel bad for teasing him.
He releases a knot in the arch of my foot I didn’t know existed, and with a choppy breath, I say, “I love that. Ava and I used to answer the questions for each other to see who knew the other best.”
He moves to massage my left quad. “Hmm, I like your version more. Explain.”
“Okay, so we go back and forth picking questions. Then, we answer the question, but for the other person,” I explain.
“Think you can prove you know me better?” He challenges, digging into a tense spot on the inside of my thigh.
“Oh, I know I can, I’d be worried if I were you,” I shoot back, trying to suppress the moans and sighs of relief I want to let out.
This man’s hands are magic.
“I only worry about you, not me,” he replies, working his way down to my calf. “Let’s start easy. First question, what’s my favorite food?”
I don’t even have to think twice about it. “Blueberry muffins, specifically your mom’s.”
He always had one for his lunch. They were heavenly, and my mouth salivates at the memory. It has been so long since I’ve had one, eight years exactly.
He squeezes my foot. “Correct. Yours is sour patch kids. Although that’s not really food, the second choice would be pineapple. I remember one summer you ate it all day long. You categorically refused to eat anything else.”
I laugh at the memory. “While you and Ryan teased me that I would lose my tastebuds if I didn’t stop. Jerks.”
He shifts his body to lie on his side. “You were cute when you got mad. I couldn’t help it.”
I shake my head and continue with the next question. “What is something I do that no one else knows about?”
Miles doesn’t even take time to think and says, “You used to write letters to the kids at the hospital, and I’m pretty sure you still do.”
How the hell does he know that?
As if I voiced the question out loud, he continues, “It was before I stopped talking to you. Ryan and I were looking for your baseball glove because I forgot mine and it happened to be on top of a letter you were in the middle of writing. I couldn’t help myself but read it. You have a big heart, Ry.”
My heart skips a beat. “We had to do it once for an assignment, and for me, it stuck. I wanted to do anything I could to make their time in the hospital a little more enjoyable. Even if it was just for a few minutes as they read my letter,” I explain, my fingers reaching out to grip his forearm.
His hand comes to rest on top of mine. “You radiate sunshine, Riles. I’m sure each kid was touched by your letters.”
“Thanks,” I smile. “Now for you, I know you used to volunteer at the dog shelter. My dad went there one day to drop off a dog he found on the side of the road, and mentioned seeing you working in the back. I was the only one home when he told me, and I was so excited to tell Ryan about it. But, when he got home, I never ended up telling him because a big part of me loved knowing that I knew something he didn’t know about his best friend.”
“I actually went there yesterday. I’ll start volunteering in my spare time.”
Could he get any more attractive? My best friend, a college baseball player, teacher, sex god, and dog lover? Jesus.
“Next question,” he starts. “Where would I like to have sex?”
I burst out laughing. “And there it is, I knew this wouldn’t stay PG 13.” I take a breath and then say, “Hmm, I would say on your parent’s boat. I doubt you’ve taken anyone on it, or at least I hope not. It would be special for you because of how much you love it.”
Miles blinks, his mouth falling open. It takes a second before he finally replies. “You’ve been paying attention all these years. And no I haven’t.”
“I was, for the ones I could,” I whisper, not wanting to make a big deal out of this.
He leans in closer and kisses my forehead. “Sorry isn’t good enough to describe how I feel–”
I cut him off. “It’s water under the bridge Miles, let it go. We’re focusing on the present, okay? Now, tell me where I’d want to get down and dirty.”
His face goes from regretful to sinful within seconds, a knowing smirk forming on his lips. “Bath or shower.”
My mouth gapes open. “How did you–”
His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “I saw how wet you were for me before you got in. I just connected the dots. Do you know how hard it was for me to sit there and not give you everything you wanted?”
“You’re gorgeous beyond belief, and have a dirty mouth that turns me into mush. I can’t help but be turned on every time you’re near me,” I admit, my voice smaller than I’d like.
He closes his eyes for a moment and inhales deeply. “Jesus Ry.” He takes another breath as if it’s a struggle for him to control himself. “Okay, next question. What is my biggest regret?”
My heart sinks in my chest. Why would he ask me this?
I take a shaky breath, then exhale. “Shutting me out of your life for 8 years.”
I don’t want to assume I was his biggest regret, but I know him well enough to know he regrets it.
I get my confirmation when I see the pained look in his eyes.
His face is hard, but his tone is soft. “Yes. Ask me why I went to Arizona.”
My eyebrows narrow. “I already have. You told me it was because you got the scholarship and loved the sunny weather. Right?”
He shakes his head and his hand reaches for mine to place it over his heart.
“That’s partly right.” He pauses. “I had to leave because I loved you. I knew if I stayed, I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you. I’ve loved you since I was 16, and that will never go away. There’s no place far enough to erase you from my mind, and my heart. I thought I was doing the right thing by putting distance between us, but I was wrong. Now that I have you, I wish we had done this sooner.”
Holy hell.
With a shaky breath, he continues. “I love you more than I ever have before, and I don’t think it’s ever going to stop growing. If you ask me tomorrow if I loved you more than today, the answer will always be yes.”
My heart is going to combust. On one hand, I feel like my blood is suddenly honey coursing through my veins, making me feel all warm and fuzzy. But on the other, I want to yell at him in disbelief because how could you leave someone you claim to love?
I stop myself from reeling and remind myself that we were young, and we agreed to move past it. As much as I want to dissect and pick at the past, it’ll only ruin what we have now.
Love. Unconditional, and undeniable. So, I’m choosing to focus on that instead.
My throat feels too raw with emotions, so, instead of talking, I unlace my hand from his, and bring it up to cup his chin, dragging his face towards mine.
Our lips touch tentatively, as if for the first time. His lips feel like they were made for me, the way they mold perfectly to match mine with each touch.
We explore each other’s like an R&B love song, slowly, passionately, lovingly. I add a hint of dirty by prodding my tongue at the seam of his lips, demanding entrance.
His lips part, and I take advantage, my tongue stroking his, tasting the mint he had earlier. I moan into his mouth and it causes Miles to pull back, breathless.
“Baby, we have to stop,” he says, sounding ragged.
I whimper and pout. This man just admitted his love for me after caring for me when I got hurt and he expects me to not want him?
Sometimes I forget how irritatingly rational he is.
He smirks. “I’ll take extra care of you when you’re better, deal?”
I huff. “Fine.” I roll over to lie on my uninjured shoulder, my back to him.
He chuckles quietly and moves his body to cradle me. His arm wraps tightly around my hips, pulling me to his chest, and I instantly feel how hard he is against my ass.
“You okay over there?” I tease, a yawn escaping my throat.
“Just because I am saying no, doesn’t mean my dick got the same message.”
I hum, liking the idea that he’s torturing himself as much as he’s torturing me. The last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep was that I have never shared a bed with a man before, and how I’ve never felt more at peace in my entire life.
I love Miles Anderson.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Rylee
I stir in bed, the chirping of the birds and sunlight peeking in through my blinds telling me it’s early in the morning. Too early for my liking, especially on my day off.
Ava texted me while we were driving home yesterday to let us know they’d won, and that she canceled our camp day today. I felt awful about having to cancel on our kids because I knew they looked forward to it each day, but I knew she secretly loved it.
My collarbone isn’t throbbing like it was last night, and I am pleased with the bearable soreness of it. But, what I am not pleased with, is the ache between my legs from waking up in Miles’s arms.
It started last night and only seemed to amplify throughout the night. I press my thighs together, hoping to relieve some pressure, but of course, it doesn’t help. I squiggle out of his embrace and sigh quietly.
The ache is becoming unbearable. I reach over to my nightstand, slowly pulling the drawer open, and grab my vibrator. I know it’ll probably wake him up, but part of me is counting on that.
If this doesn’t get him to touch me, I don’t know what will.
I spread my legs under the comforter and press my vibrator on my clit. I take a breath and turn it on. The sound is somewhat muffled, the fan in my room blocking out a decent amount of the noise.
The relief is instant, and my other hand travels further south to insert two of my fingers inside of me. I stifle a moan as I begin riding my fingers while pressing the vibrator harder against my clit.
“Ry, what is that noise–” Miles rasps, his voice raw from sleep.
He pauses once he opens his eyes and sees me—my parted lips, the flush on my cheeks, and the way my knees are spread under the blanket.
He rips the comforter off the bed within the next second to get a better picture of exactly what that noise is.
I hear his sharp intake of breath, and he curses under his breath and mumbles something about Jesus. I look at him and see the tight set of his jaw, the way it ticks when our eyes meet.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Taking care of what you wouldn’t.”
I moan, the pressure building within me. I am so close to coming.
He snaps, and suddenly, he’s lying between my legs. “I’ll be the one earning all of your moans and orgasms, Riles. Turn it off and let me take care of it,” he demands.
I want to make him beg and push him to the edge, just like he did to me. So, I ignore him and keep going.
His features turn murderous as he watches me, his hands clutching the sheets.
Good. I shove a third finger inside me and moan, thrusting them in and out.
“Baby, you’re killing me. I need to touch you, ” he growls.
“Now you know how I felt last night,” I breathe out, on the edge of coming.
Miles must sense it because, within a second, he rips the vibrator out of my hand, turning it up a notch and pressing it firmly against my clit. I buck under the pressure. He removes my fingers and brings them up to his mouth, licking them clean. The vision shoots sparks up my spine.
“You’re only allowed to come on my tongue, fingers, or cock, got it?” he orders.
“Make me,” I challenge because I love this feistiness between us.
This constant back and forth, two competitive people trying to one-up the other. My words are his undoing and suddenly he’s face first into my pussy, the vibrator still pressed on my clit.
Miles gets right into it, with no build-up or slow teasing strokes. His tongue is vicious as it sucks and licks. My nerves are on fire, and when he removes the vibrator, and replaces it with his mouth, sucking hard, I nearly explode.
My fingers pull on his hair, tugging the brown mess as he brings me to the edge of insanity with his tongue.
Miles inserts two of his fingers inside me, fucking me with them relentlessly. His pinky finger prods the hole below, seeking permission. I moan my response, and he gently eases it inside.
It feels different and new, but so fucking good. I love being filled with him. The sounds of my wetness slapping against his fingers, his pinky breaching the tight hole below, and his tongue devouring my clit, cause me to release an ear-piercing orgasm.
I come violently, my legs shaking. He removes his fingers but continues licking my release as I orbit into a new planet from my orgasm.
Before I have time to come back to earth, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into his lap, my legs wrapping around his hips. I can feel his dick poking beneath me, begging to escape its confines.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he lifts us off the bed.
“Fulfilling my girlfriend’s fantasy,” he says casually. “How’s your collarbone?”
Shower sex. I don’t care if my arm is broken, there is no way I was passing this up.
“Good, I’ll let you know if it hurts too much,” I reassure him, giving him a quick kiss as he shuts and locks the door behind us.
Miles puts me down gently, then removes his sweats in one swift motion. God, he is perfect– long, hard, thick, and all man. He removes my shirt just as quickly while being careful enough not to raise the arm that is attached to my sore bone.
I drop to my knees, and before he can protest, I put him in my mouth, tears pricking at my eyes once he hits the back of my throat. I release him and kiss the tip before spitting on it, and swirling my tongue around his slit.
His thighs tense beneath my touch, and a moan escapes his lips. I love knowing I’m turning him on. I lick his length up and down, before giving his balls an appreciative suck.
“That fucking perfect mouth of yours was made to suck my cock, wasn’t it?” he groans as his hands fist into my hair.
I suck him more deeply into my mouth. He takes over control, fucking himself into my mouth, and I love every second of it. I love seeing him lose control and give himself to me.
“Up,” he orders hoarsely.
I obey and stand. He takes my hand and drags me into the shower, turning it on. We both jump from the initial chill, but the heat of our bodies allows us to ignore it as we ravage each other’s mouths.
Miles pulls back from me. “Are you on the pill? Because I’m clean and want to take you raw. I want nothing between us, baby.”
I never understood why girls were into this until now because I wanted nothing more than for Miles to fill me up with his cum, and claim a part of me.
I never thought it could be possible to come from words alone, but it might be time to revisit that belief because, wow.
Before I can respond, he moves my hair and kisses my neck sweetly, then disappears once more into my room. With an unfilled desire, I finish up my routine, apply my hair products, and brush my teeth.
I walk into my room and catch a whiff of my diffuser, the lavender blend filling the room with a calming aura. Miles is relaxing on my bed, his hands behind his head and an ice pack beside him. My side table has a full glass of water and two painkillers.
I climb onto my bed beside him and down half of the water with the pills. I put the glass back on the stand and turn to meet his gaze. His eyes are gesturing me to lie down, and so I do. He gently places the ice pack wrapped in a towel on my collarbone and turns his body to face me so I can see him more comfortably from my angle.
“How does it feel?” he asks tenderly, his fingers drawing lazy circles on my shoulder.
“Sore, but I’ll be okay. Thank you for everything Miles,” I say softly, my eyes unable to tear away from him.
“I take care of what’s mine,” he states, his fingers resting gently over my heart.
He said it so simply, like it was a mere fact, such as the sun rising each morning.
I don’t know how to reply, my mind and heart are in a frenzy. So, I lie there and stare at the man I know without a doubt I’m falling in love with. Feeling vulnerable scares me, but I can either live and love, despite the potential heartbreak, or I close myself off and break my own heart.
I’m going with the first option.
Miles’s hands trail down my arm, over my hip, and down to my thigh. My breath hitches in anticipation, but my hopes are crushed when he stops in his trail. “Your quads must be sore from the wet dirt. Want a massage?”
“Yes,” I reply instantly, suddenly feeling the soreness at his reminder.
Miles gets off my bed, grabs my lotion, and settles back on the bed, nestling between my legs as I spread them to make room. My shirt still covers the area I want him to touch, but part of me is disappointed that it didn’t hitch up higher in the process to tempt him.
Miles squeezes some lotion into his hands, then begins rubbing my right quad, his deft fingers knowing exactly what they are doing. He switches from applying pressure to rubbing softly over my sore muscles.
I sigh wistfully. “How are you so good at everything?”
I regret it as soon as I admit it because, knowing his cocky ass, he will use those words against me one day.
He chuckles. “Did you really just say that? Did the painkillers get to you?”
I wish I could lift and playfully slap his shoulder.
“Don’t forget it because I’ll never admit that again.”
He begins massaging my foot and switches the conversation. “Let’s play twenty questions.”
“What are you fifteen?”
“I want to know every detail about you,” he replies so honestly, it makes me feel bad for teasing him.
He releases a knot in the arch of my foot I didn’t know existed, and with a choppy breath, I say, “I love that. Ava and I used to answer the questions for each other to see who knew the other best.”
He moves to massage my left quad. “Hmm, I like your version more. Explain.”
“Okay, so we go back and forth picking questions. Then, we answer the question, but for the other person,” I explain.
“Think you can prove you know me better?” He challenges, digging into a tense spot on the inside of my thigh.
“Oh, I know I can, I’d be worried if I were you,” I shoot back, trying to suppress the moans and sighs of relief I want to let out.
This man’s hands are magic.
“I only worry about you, not me,” he replies, working his way down to my calf. “Let’s start easy. First question, what’s my favorite food?”
I don’t even have to think twice about it. “Blueberry muffins, specifically your mom’s.”
He always had one for his lunch. They were heavenly, and my mouth salivates at the memory. It has been so long since I’ve had one, eight years exactly.
He squeezes my foot. “Correct. Yours is sour patch kids. Although that’s not really food, the second choice would be pineapple. I remember one summer you ate it all day long. You categorically refused to eat anything else.”
I laugh at the memory. “While you and Ryan teased me that I would lose my tastebuds if I didn’t stop. Jerks.”
He shifts his body to lie on his side. “You were cute when you got mad. I couldn’t help it.”
I shake my head and continue with the next question. “What is something I do that no one else knows about?”
Miles doesn’t even take time to think and says, “You used to write letters to the kids at the hospital, and I’m pretty sure you still do.”
How the hell does he know that?
As if I voiced the question out loud, he continues, “It was before I stopped talking to you. Ryan and I were looking for your baseball glove because I forgot mine and it happened to be on top of a letter you were in the middle of writing. I couldn’t help myself but read it. You have a big heart, Ry.”
My heart skips a beat. “We had to do it once for an assignment, and for me, it stuck. I wanted to do anything I could to make their time in the hospital a little more enjoyable. Even if it was just for a few minutes as they read my letter,” I explain, my fingers reaching out to grip his forearm.
His hand comes to rest on top of mine. “You radiate sunshine, Riles. I’m sure each kid was touched by your letters.”
“Thanks,” I smile. “Now for you, I know you used to volunteer at the dog shelter. My dad went there one day to drop off a dog he found on the side of the road, and mentioned seeing you working in the back. I was the only one home when he told me, and I was so excited to tell Ryan about it. But, when he got home, I never ended up telling him because a big part of me loved knowing that I knew something he didn’t know about his best friend.”
“I actually went there yesterday. I’ll start volunteering in my spare time.”
Could he get any more attractive? My best friend, a college baseball player, teacher, sex god, and dog lover? Jesus.
“Next question,” he starts. “Where would I like to have sex?”
I burst out laughing. “And there it is, I knew this wouldn’t stay PG 13.” I take a breath and then say, “Hmm, I would say on your parent’s boat. I doubt you’ve taken anyone on it, or at least I hope not. It would be special for you because of how much you love it.”
Miles blinks, his mouth falling open. It takes a second before he finally replies. “You’ve been paying attention all these years. And no I haven’t.”
“I was, for the ones I could,” I whisper, not wanting to make a big deal out of this.
He leans in closer and kisses my forehead. “Sorry isn’t good enough to describe how I feel–”
I cut him off. “It’s water under the bridge Miles, let it go. We’re focusing on the present, okay? Now, tell me where I’d want to get down and dirty.”
His face goes from regretful to sinful within seconds, a knowing smirk forming on his lips. “Bath or shower.”
My mouth gapes open. “How did you–”
His thumb brushes my bottom lip. “I saw how wet you were for me before you got in. I just connected the dots. Do you know how hard it was for me to sit there and not give you everything you wanted?”
“You’re gorgeous beyond belief, and have a dirty mouth that turns me into mush. I can’t help but be turned on every time you’re near me,” I admit, my voice smaller than I’d like.
He closes his eyes for a moment and inhales deeply. “Jesus Ry.” He takes another breath as if it’s a struggle for him to control himself. “Okay, next question. What is my biggest regret?”
My heart sinks in my chest. Why would he ask me this?
I take a shaky breath, then exhale. “Shutting me out of your life for 8 years.”
I don’t want to assume I was his biggest regret, but I know him well enough to know he regrets it.
I get my confirmation when I see the pained look in his eyes.
His face is hard, but his tone is soft. “Yes. Ask me why I went to Arizona.”
My eyebrows narrow. “I already have. You told me it was because you got the scholarship and loved the sunny weather. Right?”
He shakes his head and his hand reaches for mine to place it over his heart.
“That’s partly right.” He pauses. “I had to leave because I loved you. I knew if I stayed, I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you. I’ve loved you since I was 16, and that will never go away. There’s no place far enough to erase you from my mind, and my heart. I thought I was doing the right thing by putting distance between us, but I was wrong. Now that I have you, I wish we had done this sooner.”
Holy hell.
With a shaky breath, he continues. “I love you more than I ever have before, and I don’t think it’s ever going to stop growing. If you ask me tomorrow if I loved you more than today, the answer will always be yes.”
My heart is going to combust. On one hand, I feel like my blood is suddenly honey coursing through my veins, making me feel all warm and fuzzy. But on the other, I want to yell at him in disbelief because how could you leave someone you claim to love?
I stop myself from reeling and remind myself that we were young, and we agreed to move past it. As much as I want to dissect and pick at the past, it’ll only ruin what we have now.
Love. Unconditional, and undeniable. So, I’m choosing to focus on that instead.
My throat feels too raw with emotions, so, instead of talking, I unlace my hand from his, and bring it up to cup his chin, dragging his face towards mine.
Our lips touch tentatively, as if for the first time. His lips feel like they were made for me, the way they mold perfectly to match mine with each touch.
We explore each other’s like an R&B love song, slowly, passionately, lovingly. I add a hint of dirty by prodding my tongue at the seam of his lips, demanding entrance.
His lips part, and I take advantage, my tongue stroking his, tasting the mint he had earlier. I moan into his mouth and it causes Miles to pull back, breathless.
“Baby, we have to stop,” he says, sounding ragged.
I whimper and pout. This man just admitted his love for me after caring for me when I got hurt and he expects me to not want him?
Sometimes I forget how irritatingly rational he is.
He smirks. “I’ll take extra care of you when you’re better, deal?”
I huff. “Fine.” I roll over to lie on my uninjured shoulder, my back to him.
He chuckles quietly and moves his body to cradle me. His arm wraps tightly around my hips, pulling me to his chest, and I instantly feel how hard he is against my ass.
“You okay over there?” I tease, a yawn escaping my throat.
“Just because I am saying no, doesn’t mean my dick got the same message.”
I hum, liking the idea that he’s torturing himself as much as he’s torturing me. The last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep was that I have never shared a bed with a man before, and how I’ve never felt more at peace in my entire life.
I love Miles Anderson.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Rylee
I stir in bed, the chirping of the birds and sunlight peeking in through my blinds telling me it’s early in the morning. Too early for my liking, especially on my day off.
Ava texted me while we were driving home yesterday to let us know they’d won, and that she canceled our camp day today. I felt awful about having to cancel on our kids because I knew they looked forward to it each day, but I knew she secretly loved it.
My collarbone isn’t throbbing like it was last night, and I am pleased with the bearable soreness of it. But, what I am not pleased with, is the ache between my legs from waking up in Miles’s arms.
It started last night and only seemed to amplify throughout the night. I press my thighs together, hoping to relieve some pressure, but of course, it doesn’t help. I squiggle out of his embrace and sigh quietly.
The ache is becoming unbearable. I reach over to my nightstand, slowly pulling the drawer open, and grab my vibrator. I know it’ll probably wake him up, but part of me is counting on that.
If this doesn’t get him to touch me, I don’t know what will.
I spread my legs under the comforter and press my vibrator on my clit. I take a breath and turn it on. The sound is somewhat muffled, the fan in my room blocking out a decent amount of the noise.
The relief is instant, and my other hand travels further south to insert two of my fingers inside of me. I stifle a moan as I begin riding my fingers while pressing the vibrator harder against my clit.
“Ry, what is that noise–” Miles rasps, his voice raw from sleep.
He pauses once he opens his eyes and sees me—my parted lips, the flush on my cheeks, and the way my knees are spread under the blanket.
He rips the comforter off the bed within the next second to get a better picture of exactly what that noise is.
I hear his sharp intake of breath, and he curses under his breath and mumbles something about Jesus. I look at him and see the tight set of his jaw, the way it ticks when our eyes meet.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Taking care of what you wouldn’t.”
I moan, the pressure building within me. I am so close to coming.
He snaps, and suddenly, he’s lying between my legs. “I’ll be the one earning all of your moans and orgasms, Riles. Turn it off and let me take care of it,” he demands.
I want to make him beg and push him to the edge, just like he did to me. So, I ignore him and keep going.
His features turn murderous as he watches me, his hands clutching the sheets.
Good. I shove a third finger inside me and moan, thrusting them in and out.
“Baby, you’re killing me. I need to touch you, ” he growls.
“Now you know how I felt last night,” I breathe out, on the edge of coming.
Miles must sense it because, within a second, he rips the vibrator out of my hand, turning it up a notch and pressing it firmly against my clit. I buck under the pressure. He removes my fingers and brings them up to his mouth, licking them clean. The vision shoots sparks up my spine.
“You’re only allowed to come on my tongue, fingers, or cock, got it?” he orders.
“Make me,” I challenge because I love this feistiness between us.
This constant back and forth, two competitive people trying to one-up the other. My words are his undoing and suddenly he’s face first into my pussy, the vibrator still pressed on my clit.
Miles gets right into it, with no build-up or slow teasing strokes. His tongue is vicious as it sucks and licks. My nerves are on fire, and when he removes the vibrator, and replaces it with his mouth, sucking hard, I nearly explode.
My fingers pull on his hair, tugging the brown mess as he brings me to the edge of insanity with his tongue.
Miles inserts two of his fingers inside me, fucking me with them relentlessly. His pinky finger prods the hole below, seeking permission. I moan my response, and he gently eases it inside.
It feels different and new, but so fucking good. I love being filled with him. The sounds of my wetness slapping against his fingers, his pinky breaching the tight hole below, and his tongue devouring my clit, cause me to release an ear-piercing orgasm.
I come violently, my legs shaking. He removes his fingers but continues licking my release as I orbit into a new planet from my orgasm.
Before I have time to come back to earth, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me into his lap, my legs wrapping around his hips. I can feel his dick poking beneath me, begging to escape its confines.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he lifts us off the bed.
“Fulfilling my girlfriend’s fantasy,” he says casually. “How’s your collarbone?”
Shower sex. I don’t care if my arm is broken, there is no way I was passing this up.
“Good, I’ll let you know if it hurts too much,” I reassure him, giving him a quick kiss as he shuts and locks the door behind us.
Miles puts me down gently, then removes his sweats in one swift motion. God, he is perfect– long, hard, thick, and all man. He removes my shirt just as quickly while being careful enough not to raise the arm that is attached to my sore bone.
I drop to my knees, and before he can protest, I put him in my mouth, tears pricking at my eyes once he hits the back of my throat. I release him and kiss the tip before spitting on it, and swirling my tongue around his slit.
His thighs tense beneath my touch, and a moan escapes his lips. I love knowing I’m turning him on. I lick his length up and down, before giving his balls an appreciative suck.
“That fucking perfect mouth of yours was made to suck my cock, wasn’t it?” he groans as his hands fist into my hair.
I suck him more deeply into my mouth. He takes over control, fucking himself into my mouth, and I love every second of it. I love seeing him lose control and give himself to me.
“Up,” he orders hoarsely.
I obey and stand. He takes my hand and drags me into the shower, turning it on. We both jump from the initial chill, but the heat of our bodies allows us to ignore it as we ravage each other’s mouths.
Miles pulls back from me. “Are you on the pill? Because I’m clean and want to take you raw. I want nothing between us, baby.”
I never understood why girls were into this until now because I wanted nothing more than for Miles to fill me up with his cum, and claim a part of me.
