“Do you have a condom?” she asks.
How the fuck did I forget about that? Ineverforget. I haven’t had sex without one in years, not since my ex.
“Shit. Yeah. In my wallet.”
She leans over me to grab it before I can, rooting through the discarded pile of clothes. Then she resumes her position, tearing the foil and handing the condom to me.
She plucks something else from my wallet as I work, holding it up to the light. My license.
“You had longer hair.”
“Yep. Cut it a few months ago.”
Her brows furrow. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t remember you.”
“Or maybe because we only met once, briefly.”
She looks back down at me, eyes softening. “I would’ve remembered you, Miles.”
My chest does that weird thing where it feels both too big and too small at the same time.
I pull her down for another kiss and toss the wallet onto the floor. Our lips connect, and the feeling only gets worse. That, or it’s just all the blood in my body is currently in my dick.
I prop a pillow behind my shoulders and ease her up my torso until her tangerine-covered tits are in my face. I bring her nipple to my mouth, sucking through the fabric, then push the cup aside to taste her skin. I’m sure I’m losing my mind, but she even tastes sweet. Citrus and honey.
My hips thrust up, my cock sliding through her wetness.
“Can you come like this?” I ask, grabbing her ass with both hands and guiding her over me. “Because the odds of me coming as soon as I’m inside you are high, and that won’t do for my three-orgasm quota.”
“Yes.”
I hiss as she increases the pressure and starts to move, grinding down while I suck her nipple into my mouth.
She folds over me, fingers digging into my hair, as she comes again, trembling. Her hair sticks to her forehead as she eases back, one hand wrapping around my length to hold me steady.
I grip her hips as she lowers onto me, torturously slow.
I run through my usual gamut of unsexy thoughts to calm myself down, but I can’t hold onto any of them. My focus is locked on the woman in my lap, who I didn’t see coming and, right now, never want to look away from.
Her cheeks are flushed, stubble burns on her breasts, her skin sticky with sweat.
Perfect.
So goddamn perfect.
When she’s fully seated, she clenches, and my eyes slam shut so hard I see stars. She shows no mercy as she moves, lifting and sinking, taking me to the hilt each time. She’s so tight. This feels too good.
“You’re missing the show,” she says, voice low.
My eyes snap open.
And fuck.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
FIVE
Miles King is wrecked.
