Astoria’s hands came up to frame Miller’s face, and Miller’s fingers slid into Astoria’s hair. Miller let her eyes fall closed and sink into the warmth of Astoria’s mouth and the soft sound she made when Miller’s fingers found the curve of her waist.
When they finally broke apart, their foreheads touching, Miller’s skin was buzzing and she was breathing hard.
“Hi,” she managed.
Astoria laughed. “Hi.”
“I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too.” Astoria’s hands dropped from her face to her shoulders where she twirled Miller’s hair around her fingers. “Every day, in fact.”
“I’m sorry I left.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I know why you did.”
“I won’t leave again.”
“I know you won’t.” Astoria kissed her again this time, full of tenderness.
Then she took Miller’s hand and led her down the hallway. The bedroom was more of the same beautiful emptiness, but Miller barely noticed the decor. All she saw was Astoria, backlit by the windows and looking at her with a yearning that made Miller’s chest ache.
“We don’t have to rush,” Astoria said. “We have time now.”
Miller stepped toward her. “I know. But I don’t want to wait anymore. Do you?”
Astoria shook her head slowly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “No, I really don’t.”
Miller’s pulse thrummed in her ears as Astoria’s words hung in the air, that slow shake of her head pulling Miller closer like gravity itself. She closed the distance between them, her fingers brushing Astoria’s cheek, tracing the sharp line of her high cheekbone. The room smelled faintly of lavender from some hidden diffuse, a subtle anchor.
Astoria’s blouse hugged the curve of her torso, the top button already undone. Miller’s own white shirt was still tucked into her slim pants. Astoria’s eyes, deep and steady, locked onto Miller’s. Her aura that had always made Miller’s pulse stutter softened now into something inviting.
“I’ve missed this,” Astoria murmured, her voice low, as if the words were a secret just for them.
Her hand slid to Miller’s waist, pulling her closer, their bodies aligning in a way that sent a warm spark through Miller’s core.
Miller leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that started soft and exploratory, like rediscovering a familiar path. Astoria tasted of mint and the faint bitterness of coffee, her mouth parting to deepen the connection. Miller’s hands roamed up Astoria’s arms, feeling the firm muscle beneath the blouse’s fabric, a reminder of those hotel nights where urgency had blurred into desperation. But this was different, slower. Astoria’s fingers worked the buttons of Miller’s shirt with unhurried motions, exposing her skin inch by inch, her touch delicate.
They moved toward the bed, a wide expanse of white linens that looked untouched. Astoria guided Miller down onto it, her pants shifting against the sheets as she knelt beside her. Miller’s shirt fell open, and Astoria’s gaze lingered, appreciative, beforeshe shrugged off her own blouse. The cream fabric pooled on the floor, revealing a simple black bra that accentuated her toned shoulders and the subtle swell of her breasts. Miller reached up, unhooking it with a flick of her wrist, and Astoria let it slide away, her skin warm and inviting under Miller’s palms.
“You’re beautiful,” Miller said, her voice catching as she traced the line of Astoria’s collarbone, down to the soft underside of her breast. Astoria shivered and leaned in for another kiss, this one hungrier, their tongues sliding together in a rhythm that built heat low in Miller’s belly. Astoria’s hands were everywhere: unbuttoning Miller’s pants, easing them down her hips, along with the lace of her underwear. The cool air of the room kissed Miller’s exposed thighs, but Astoria’s body heat chased it away as she settled between her legs.
Miller watched, breath hitching, as Astoria’s fingers trailed up her inner thigh, teasing the sensitive skin there. Her touch ghosted over Miller’s folds, already slick with anticipation, and Miller arched slightly, a soft gasp escaping her.
“That feels so good,” she whispered, her hands tangling in Astoria’s loose hair.
Astoria smiled against her skin, pressing a kiss to Miller’s hipbone before dipping lower. Her breath was warm as she parted Miller’s thighs wider, exposing her completely. Miller felt vulnerable and alive, the kind of openness that had scared her once but now felt perfectly right.
Astoria’s tongue flicked out, tracing a slow circle around her clit, and Miller’s hips bucked involuntarily, pleasure coiling tight in her core.
“Easy,” Astoria murmured, her voice vibrating against Miller’s pussy, sending fresh sparks through her. She licked again, broader this time. Her fingers joined in, one sliding inside with gentle insistence, curling it just right to brush that spot that made Miller’s toes curl. It was tender, the way Astoria moved—slow thrusts, matched by the flat press of her tongue, building the pressure without overwhelming her. Miller’s breaths came in shallow pants, her body responding eagerly.
The sensation built like a wave gathering strength, and Astoria’s free hand stroked Miller’s thigh, grounding her. Miller’s fingers tightened in her hair, guiding, lost in the wet heat of Astoria’s mouth.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed, her voice rough.
Astoria hummed in response, the vibration pushing Miller closer to the edge. Another finger joined the first, stretching her gently, the rhythm steady and unyielding. Miller’s world narrowed to the slick slide, the building ache, and the way Astoria’s body held her steady.
Pleasure crested suddenly, sharp and sweet, Miller’s body tensing as she came with a low moan, her pussy clenching around Astoria’s fingers. Waves of it rolled through her, leaving her trembling and spent. Astoria didn’t pull away immediately. She continued to lap softly until Miller’s shudders eased, then kissed her way back up.
