I needed more.
Putting a hand on either side of his face, I brought him closer so I could fully seat myself in his lap and rock against his cock while not letting his mouth break away from my chest. This rumbling growl filled the space, and my chest purred as he encircled the bud with his lips. I slid my hands into his short hair and tugged, moaning as he drew back. His mouth and my chestwe shiny with spit, and I whimpered, pushing my panty-covered pussy against his cock.
“Dirty fucking girl,” he hissed, tightening the grip on both my nipples. The corners of his mouth tilted up as he watched me, already out of my mind with sensation. A choked gasp left my lips as he let go, the blood flowing back to my nipples, making my entire body shake.
“Needy little thing, aren’t you?”
To drive the point as much as I needed his touch, he bit my collarbone, letting his teeth dig into the flesh, then soothing the sting with his tongue.
“What made you think you could ever live without my hands on your body? Just. Like. This.” Each word was punctuated with a nip or lick until the entirety of my chest was riddled with goose bumps and red, raised flesh.
My fingers grappled for purchase on his shoulders, tugging at the material of his shirt until he felt pity for me and pulled it over his head.
“Are you getting there already?”
His hands moved to my ass, and he dug his fingertips into the soft flesh, working me back and forth against his cock.
“You want to come just like this? Soaking my pants with that desperate little pussy? I want to feel it, baby.”
He helped me move, spreading his legs and adjusting his hips so that with every pass of my pussy, his cock nuzzled against me. I pulled him close, too far gone to care about how desperate I looked, writhing on him. With one last gasp, I fell forward, my vision exploding in a Technicolor rainbow as I came—and came.
This orgasm was soul-shattering, setting each nerve ending on fire and my body clinging to the only tangible force I cared about—Miller. He held me as I shuddered, shamelessly rubbing myself against him until I was wrung dry and a sheen of sweat covered my body. I slumped against him as his fingers trailedup my spine and brushed my hair away from my neck. My skirt was too constricting, not letting me feel him like I needed to, and I tugged on the side zipper, huffing that the fabric wasn’t cooperating.
“Are you ready for more?” he asked, that gravelly voice rumbling along the nerve endings in my body. He set me aflame, and my sluggish, post-orgasm brain lit up like a Christmas tree with the prospect of his touch.
I lifted my head from his chest, pressing swift kisses along his collarbone and to the side of his mouth. “Yes.”
“Then say it, good girl. Tell me.”
My core clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled, as I whimpered, framing his face with my hands to kiss him thoroughly. He tasted like spearmint toothpaste and sweet coffee—comforting, warm, and making my lower belly tighten with arousal.
“Miller. Touch me. Please.” My voice was quivering and desperate.
“Oh. You’ll know I’ll touch you, Emma. I’ll touch you until you forget everything but my name.”
I buried my face in his neck as he grasped my waist and stood, tucking my legs firmly around him as he strode to the bedroom, hopefully, to deliver every filthy promise that passed his lips.
Chapter 16
Istared at thebead of garnet, watching the droplet grow on the tip of my finger as if the roses I’d bought had turned sentient and mounted an attack against the innocent digit.
“Fuck,” I grumbled, sucking on the spot where the thorn had taken out its vengeance. The garish bouquet mocked me, and I squeezed the stems, taking my frustration out on the flowers.“You’re supposed to show her how a real man should act, not stab me. Freaking uncooperative nature.”
Perhaps I should feel bad about cussing at the roses, knowing they were only acting in self-defense, but it was difficult when I knew my hostile reaction was a symptom of my nerves.
Still, that stupid thorn hurt.
I gripped the railing as I navigated the stairs that led to her place, letting the cool metal seep into my skin to calm my racing heart. This was such a stupid idea. Emma could navigate the dating world fine without me showing up with flowers larger than her head to prove a point.
So, she’d had a few bad dates? What was that to me?
Everything.
Her happiness had become an integral part of my life, and seeing how little pieces of her personality had been chipped away because of those dates was maddening. I blamed Magnum; that idiot put the idea in my head about dating her for real.Right?
Nope.The idea had been stewing—burrowing under my skin like an irritating itch just out of reach. Like that song you sang in the shower one Tuesday, only to have it repeat in your brain five thousand times. She was my itch—my song. The more I thought about making her mine, asking her to be mine, the more I needed it.
It had become the thought always present, like a second pulse, thudding in sync with my own. The cellophane around the flowers crinkled as I shifted them to my opposite hand and rapped my knuckles on her door.
