“I haven’t been with anyone since.”
“You’re kidding.”
Amusement creases his eyes. “No.”
“You haven’t had sex for two months?”
“Longer, actually.”
“But…” I take a second to process this. “Really?”
“Look, it hasn’t been awhole year,” he says, a smile dancing on his mouth, “but yeah, it’s been a while.”
“Huh.” I reach out to take hold of him again, trying to make sense of this as I slowly stroke my hand up and down. I mean, he flirtsconstantly. I trust what he’s saying about being clean, but the rest of it? Hmm.
But as I see the need grow in his eyes, I don’t care. Unable to wait anymore, I lean forward and lower my mouth over his thick length. His breath hisses out between his teeth, followed by a low roar in the back of his throat. I wait for him to put his hands on my head and push me down onto him, like most guys do. But when I glance up and see his arms draped down on the pillows beside him, I’m surprised. He’s watching me still, his eyes darker than ever, but he’s not trying to control me, and this makes me want to please him even more.
I slide my free hand up over his stomach, loving the feeling of hard muscle under smooth skin. All that yoga has done amazing things for his abs.
But actually, I need both hands for this.
I take my time, listening to his breathing become ragged, waiting to feel him let go. I can tell he’s holding back, I can tell he doesn’t want to give in, and I hope he doesn’t, not now. Because the longer I have him in my mouth, the stronger the desire building inside me.
“Cat,” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper, “I want you.”
I stop, drawing away from him. There’s something about the plea in his tone, about the longing on his face, that makes my heart beat erratically. It’s such a powerful, unfamiliar feeling that I quickly shake it off, pushing to my feet to grab a condom from my purse. When I turn back, he’s stripped his pants off and is just standing there, totally naked, gazing at me.
Christ, he’s beautiful. I make no attempt to hide the fact that I’m enjoying the view as my eyes feast on the muscular contours in his torso and arms, the detailed pattern of ink over his skin, the proud jut of his erection. He grins and puffs his chest out, full of confidence, and I come to, handing over the condom with a laugh as I flop onto the bed. I watch him roll it on, then he settles himself beside me on the mattress.
“Come here,” he murmurs, reaching out to hold me close. I shake my head, even though I’d like nothing more than to climb onto his lap and lose myself in his mouth. Instead, I nudge him onto his back and straddle him, positioning him between my thighs. I meet his expectant gaze, loving the little flush on his cheeks, the way he’s holding his breath, waiting for me. Slowly, I ease him inside me, breathing out as I adjust to the thickness of him.
Oh,wow. I’d forgotten how good sex feels. I let out a blissful sigh at the way he fills me so completely.
His head drops back onto the mattress, his hands sliding up my thighs. “Oh my God,” he groans, pressing himself up deeper into me. “Cat.”
I grin, gently rocking my hips over him, letting a little whimper escape me. Pleasure ripples out from my center, hitting every cell in my body, and—oh,God. I don’t remember sex beingthisgood. There’s something about the feeling of him, the way he fits me just right. There’s no way I can hold back. I want all of him. Hard. Now.
I lean forward on my hands, bracing myself above him, rocking faster. It’s not long before I feel the build-up again, gathering low and deep as I grind my hips against him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s saying, his hands on my waist, his eyes watching me with raw hunger. “You need to slow down, now.”
I lower my mouth to his ear. “No way. I’m not stopping for anything.” My tongue slides out and dips along his earlobe, then I push right back until I’m sitting up straight, feeling his whole length fill me.
I roll my hips, watching his face, aching to feel his release. He raises his hands, threading his fingers through mine, and something about that nudges me over the edge. But it’s not just me; I watch his face contort with ecstasy, and a loud moan tears from his mouth right as my own body slips into oblivion.
A moment later, I find myself lying forward on him, trying to catch my breath. His chest heaves under me, his fingers still laced with mine. He turns his head and kisses my cheek, my neck, my shoulder.
“Jesus, Cat. I wanted to last longer than that.”
I chuckle, lifting myself up and collapsing onto the sheets beside him. I still can’t quite breathe right, I’m still getting my bearings.
“I wanted to give you—”
“You did,” I assure him. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold back. I wanted—” I stop myself. I’m not going to say how much I wanted him. Because I did—Ido—and…
Shit.
I’m lying in bed with Myles—with his sweat all over me, with the imprint of his hands on my skin—and unease creeps up my spine. Not because of him, or what we did, but because of how much I wanted it. Because of how much I want to do it again.
