“You,” I answer truthfully.
He lifts off of me, just enough to have his face above mine. “Oh?” His lips pout. “Want to share?”
“Oh,honey,I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings,” I tease.
“Jerk,” he says, burrowing his face into my neck and biting softly.
I mime putting a pin in the corkboard behind his back, as I doanytimethese pesky feelings remain undiscussed. It’s getting very, very full.
A minute or so later, we’re kissing again, practically fucking through the sheet as Milo twists and presses himself against my needy center, grunting as he does. We share breaths, gasping as the other inhales, blowing out through pursed lips as it gets to be too much. I tell himnowhen he asks to touch me. I tell himnowhen he asks to go down on me. But the wordyeskeeps slipping out in between. It’s not that I don’t want him to do those things, because I do. It’s just…I want to be riled up. I want to be so wildlygonefor him that I gather the courage to try something new. To check another item off my list.
“Prue,please,” he begs against the pulse point on my neck. “I can feel how soaked you are through the sheetandmy boxers, Killer. This is fucking torture, beautiful. Please let me—”
“I want to use my mouth on you,” I tell him, so quiet that I’m not sure he’s heard. That is, until he freezes above me. “I wantyouto use my mouth.”
He groans next to my ear then swallows tightly.
I catch my breath, looking up at the ceiling over his rigid, tense shoulder. “Mi, I thought…I thought you’d want—”
“I want,” he cuts me off. “Fuck, Prue, do Iwant.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
He moves to his knees between my legs, offering his hands to help me sit up beside him. I let him pull me, folding my legs to sit crisscrossed in front of his lap. “Did I do something—”
Milo’s jagged laugh, accompanied by his reddened cheeks, cuts me off. “No, no. I just needed a second to cool off. I almost…lost it. From your words alone.Thatis how much I want it.”
“So, it’ll be easy, then?” I tease, smiling coyly. The fire behind his eyes casts a deadly heat over my lips, making me lick them to cool off.
“I’ll always be easy for you.” His chest rises, the tattoos along his collarbone and pecs flexing. “How do you want me, Prue?”
“Sitting on the edge of the bed.”
He moves without hesitation, planting two feet on the floor. I crawl over the bed and stand between his parted knees.
I look down to his lap and the outline of his erection through his black boxers. I bite my lip, feeling the heady, desperate urge to make him feel good that he told me would come, when I was ready. He was so right. It’s so obvious now. I didn’t know I’d want it this much. “Boxers off, please.”
He smiles wickedly up at me, lifting his hips to slip his underwear off. When they’re down, he kicks them toward my bedside table before leaning back to rest on his palms against the mattress. “You feel it now, don’t you?” he asks, voice verging onI-told-you-so.“That need to give that we talked about?”
I lower to my knees in front of him, my hands skating across his thighs as I do. I press my thumb into the tattoo on his hip.Mywords on him. I tremble with need, reading over the words forever inked on his skin.
“Yeah, you do,” he answers for me. “Fuck, Killer, you look so perfect on your knees.” Milo reaches down, curling one finger under my chin. “You’re going to be so good, Prue. I know it. I can feel it in my fucking spine. Tell me that you want to do this.”
“I want to do this,” I say, rubbing my lips together after wetting them with a flick of my tongue.
He smiles down at me, as if he’s proud. “You can still stop atanypoint, okay?”
I nod, moving so the finger he’d placed under my chin rubs against my cheek. He begins brushing my face delicately. “God, you’re beautiful,” he says, exhaling. “So fucking beautiful.”
I move to kiss his hand, bringing my kisses from the warm heel of his palm to the tips of his fingers, that feel as if they’re buzzingwith electricity against my skin. Looking up at him with wide-open eyes, I bring his fingers into my mouth, sucking as I run my tongue along them.
The noise that falls out of Milo is half a moan and half a shocked sort of laugh that increases my confidence tenfold. “A preview?” he asks, smiling. I nod, flicking my tongue around his calloused fingertip. “Dirty girl…”
Milo shifts his weight on the mattress. Out of the corner of my eye I see him move to stroke himself, and I react instinctively, releasing his fingers with a wet pop as I move to grip his wrist.
“No,” some new, deep, territorial part of me responds. The second Milo releases himself, I put both hands on his erection and begin working him over.
“Whoa,” he says, his thigh muscles tensing next to me. “S-sl-slow down,” he begs, nearly lifting off the mattress.
