“Until you…” My voice is barely a breath between us.
“Until you orgasm on my tongue.”
And the way he says it, soft, deliberate, and almost innocent, hits me directly between my legs. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Across the hall.”
I take his hand and lead him out of his office. The hallway light spills into the room in a soft, intimate glow. I spin around, curl my fingers into the front of his shirt, and yank him to me in a bruising kiss. With our lips still fused together, I shimmy out of my leggings until they pool at my feet. This kiss is messy. Rushed. The kind that steals your breath and erases every sensible thought you had five minutes ago. I walk us backward until my knees hit the edge of the bed. He pulls away, and his heated gaze moves over me slowly, from head to toe and back again. His hands dangle at his sides as mine slide to the hem of his shirt and pause. He nods. I lift the fabric slowly, my knuckles brushing his stomach on the way up. His muscles tighten as he sucks in a breath. The shirt disappears over his head and lands on the floor. My gaze lingers on his bare chest. His skin isn’t a colorful canvas of ink, and he doesn’t have any big, bulky muscles. Instead, he’s lean, fit, with a light dusting of hair across his chest and a trail from his belly button into his waistband. But either way, he feels right.
“Still okay?” I fixate on the bob of his Adam’s apple.
“Yeah. Very.”
I step closer, my hands sliding to his shoulders, then down his arms, memorizing him by touch. When I reach his waist, I hook my fingers into the waistband of his jeans and tug him closer—not to take them off yet. I rest my forehead against his chest for half a second, and he lets out a quiet, breathless laugh.
“Are you doing this on purpose?” he murmurs.
“Maybe.” I smile against him.
I finally unbutton his jeans, easing them down just enough for gravity to take over, and they hit the floor. I unclasp my bra, letting the straps slide down my arms before it falls at my feet. Lowering myself to the bed, I scoot back until my elbows rest against the pillows, my legs drifting open.
“Come here.” I motion him closer.
He crawls up the comforter until he’s hovering over me. His cock strains against the black fabric of his boxers. He reaches up, fingers brushing his glasses.
I catch his wrist. “Glasses on. They’re sexy.”
He lets them be and slides his hand down my stomach until his fingers hook under the waistband of my lace thong. His gaze meets mine, but my words get lodged in my throat, so I nod. With precision, he eases them down, and I lift my hips to help. His tongue peeks out, eyes fixed on my pussy.
“There’s foreplay to this. Kiss my thighs.” The moment his lips touch my inner thigh, my breath hitches. “Now the other one.” He follows my instructions. “You can lightly nip,” I add. “And suck.” He does, and my back arches off the bed as anticipation coils tight. I’m already desperate for his mouth on me. “Oh—just like that, Miles.” My voice breaks. “Use your fingers. Spread me open and… run your tongue over my pussy.”
The instant his tongue makes contact, I moan his name. The sound spurs him on, his movements growing more confident. My breathing turns into uneven pants. “Fuck me with your fingers.” He obeys, sliding them in and out of me.
“How’s this?” he asks.
“So good,” I gasp.
He continues to spear me with his fingers, varying his speed and pressure on every thrust. He draws his lips over my inner thigh. “Oh yeah. You like that? Does it turn you on?” he whispers. “Tell me how much you like it.”
My brows pinch together and I push up onto my elbows. “What in the bad eighties porn video was that?”
He freezes, then lifts his head to meet my gaze. “Dirty talk?” It comes out more like a question than a statement.
“That’s not dirty talk. Whatever you think that was supposed to do isn’t doing it. In fact, it’s doing the opposite.”
“Oh.” His face falls.
“We’ll workshop your dirty talk more later. Just keep doing what you were doing before you said any of”—I circle a finger at him—“that.”
“Okay.” He returns to thrusting his fingers inside me, finding their rhythm again. When he curls them just right, the last two minutes vanish from my memory.
“Keep doing that,” I breathe, “but use your tongue at the same time.” And he does. “Oh god, Miles. That feels so fucking good.” My fingers claw into the comforter. “Lick my clit too. Roll your tongue around it. You can even suck.” He continues to finger fuck me as his lips close around my clit, his tongue swirling just the way I asked. “Oh—God. Just like that.”
The sensations build fast, his tongue and fingers driving me higher and higher until white-hot heat explodes through my body. My hand flies to his head, fingers tangling in his hair, guiding him exactly where I need him.
“Fuck—yes. Don’t stop.” My voice shatters. “Oh, fuck—” The orgasm rips through me, my entire body shuddering. I grip his head and gently pull him back. “Oh—That was… so good” I breathe. “Come here.”
Slowly, he climbs up the bed, settling his weight on top of me, his cock brushing my thigh. I press my mouth to his, tasting myself on his lips. My hand slips between us, and he lifts his hips so I can wrap my fingers around him. A deep groan rumbles from his throat as I stroke him slowly through his boxers.
