‘Just humour me. Because right now, the fact that I have you completely bare and so beautiful, and I’m fully dressed, is really turning me on. And I was hoping it might turn you on, too. Besides.’
He lifts the end of his tie and brushes the silk up my stomach so, so lightly before flicking it over one nipple and then the other. His breath is hot in my ear. ‘I thought you liked my tie.’
Oh. Oh. Oh. Good Lord. The pulse between my legs is hammering away, and that entire area is slick with wetness. I try to sayokay, but it gets stuck in my throat. I grip his shoulders.
So strong under that crisp white cotton.
So big.
He’s right.
He has me naked, in his bedroom, and I’m so exposed, and frankly, he can do whatever the hell he likes to me right now and I’ll be melted butter in his hands.
He kisses me, harder than before, as his hands roam everywhere. Squeezing my bum cheeks, kneading them, sweeping up my back, clawing at my hair. I’m glued to his front, the most sensitive part of my body pressed against his erection.
I stand on my tiptoes to get him between my legs and squeeze. The fabric of his trouser leg is coarse enough to deliver a shot of friction that, right now, feels like a breadcrumb from heaven for my sensitised skin.
He jerks and pants. ‘Fuck, baby. I’m trying to hold on here. Phew.’ He leans his forehead against mine and exhales. ‘Okay. Bed.’
I lie back on the cool sheets. The skin all over my body prickles with anticipation. Miles admires me for a moment.
‘Look at you. Just lookat you.’
He nudges my legs apart and climbs onto the bed so he’s crouching over me on his hands and knees. His tie pools around my breastbone as he bends to kiss me and tickles my skin.
Oh, golly.
He was right.
He shouldnevertake this tie off.
It shifts as he moves, so close to my nipples that I may scream with frustration. His tongue sinks deep into my mouth. Its feverish laps give him away: he’s as desperate as I am. I grab at his hair, his neck, his shoulders, my back arching, my bum lifting off the sheets.
And then, thankfuck, he pulls his face away and drops his mouth to my nipple. His fingers trail down my stomach, over my hip, down my thigh. They brush back up my inner thigh. Almost all the way. And stop. I squeak in frustration. My nipples are aching, but that’s nothing to the throbbing between my legs.
He releases my nipple and smiles down at me. ‘You’re very patient. And you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Look at you, spread out on my bed, just for me. I’m going to reward you.’
He scoots down the bed. His head lowers. His tongue dips between my legs andbam, he’s there, exactly where I need him, his strokes firm and rhythmical and perfect.
There’s no teasing now.
Thank God.
I wouldn’t be able to take it.
He slides two fingers inside me and adds a third, a moment later. The intense pressure of his fingers and his tonguecombine in what must be a bloody miracle of nature. This is everything.
The heat builds and builds and builds, and I scrabble at the sheets. Push down against his fingers and that blessed tongue as hard as I can. Open my legs wider and ride the wave of ecstasy inside me as it crests, and shatters, and fluid warmth suffuses my entire body from the inside out. I’m vaguely aware that I’m crying out a string of nonsense as Miles’ fingers and tongue work as hard as they can.
As soon as my orgasm subsides, he’s back on top of me in a flash, a wonder of starched cotton and hard muscle and warm mouth as he holds me tightly.
‘Jesus.’ He sounds agonised. ‘You are—that was—you’re delicious. Perfect.Perfect.’
I’m wrung out.
I’m limp and useless and seeing stars.
But if I have any motor skills left, by God, I’m going to use them to get this man’s clothes off.
