“That through the mirrors, we see more than ourselves. We see the world around us. And the worlds beyond, that even our imaginations can’t take us…” I flip to the next page and pause.
Flicking my attention offThe Mirror of Milltonbook in my lap and up to the man watching me with unmistakable, drunken adoration. “You’re not even listening, are you?”
His eyes don’t change. Soft and focused like he’s memorizing every lash against my eyelids. A lazy trail of his thumb grazes over my bare ankle.
He insisted earlier I read the book to him—that he’d never read it before. He plopped down onto the loveseat in his bedroom, arms stretched out on the furniture’s golden frame. For a split second I sat beside him, then he pulled me into his lap. He removed the flats from my feet and flopped them onto the floor as I leaned back against the loveseat’s curved arm, where his own wrapped around the back of my neck. When I began reading, he moved from gentle caresses on my shins to thoughtful, deep massages on the bottoms of my feet. Once he felt he’d adequately worked the tension out, he resumed gentle strokes on my legs. So gentle, I almost wondered if it was something he had to think about doing, or if he just did it naturally. Without thought. Like breathing.
I close the book at his lack of response.
A small smile curls at his lips. “You’re distracting, I’m afraid.”
“Close your eyes then,” I snort playfully and open the book again. Fighting against the smile creeping to my cheeks as he doesn’t follow my suggestion.
“Places that—” I try to continue but freeze as he leans in to press the softest kiss to my cheek.
“Why did you stop?” he mutters against my skin.
“You’re distracting, I’m afraid,” I whisper back.
He smiles wider as he presses another kiss lower on my jawline. I can’t help tipping my head away from him, giving him more access. Already drawn to the feeling of his lips and anticipating the next kiss. You’d think the last month we’ve spent together would be enough to quell my fluttering excitement every time he touches me. That by now it would have lost its initial spark. Or the roaring exhilaration.
Instead it only multiplies.
“Cyrus,” I murmur, slipping my fingers into his hair behind his ear as he trails his kisses down my throat like we have all the time in the world left.
“Keep reading, my love,” he purrs against my neck. “You know I love to hear you speak.”
He’s testing my focus.
Tightening my grip on his hair, I pull him away from my neck so I can press my lips to his. His thumb is still rubbing loving circles against my shin, but he leans into the kiss.
My eyes close as our mouths move over one another, I grab the book and half-slide, half-drop it on the ground. I turn my body into his. Sliding my tongue into his mouth. His hand on my shin glides up my leg, my hip, to cup my ribs just underneath my breast.
But that’s not enough for me. It might be for him.
I straddle him, his hands are on my waist as he’s kissing my bare shoulder. Only my nightgown and his thin lounge pants separate us. As I lower myself on him, I don’t find him hard. Yet. Perhaps his movements earlier were innocent. If so, he was ignorant in knowing what his touch does to me.
But this isn’t just sex. Not for a simple fulfillment of flesh and climaxes. It’s something beyond what mere words can describe.
As he looks up at me, I brush a strand gently off his eyebrow. For a moment, we just look back at the other. Finding a home there. Settling deep within each other.
I don’t know who moves first, but we’re back to kissing again. Slowly we gain speed, friction, and heat. Somehow we’ve gotten his pants shimmied down just enough for me to lower myself onto him. We both share a shaky breath as I inch my way down until I’ve taken him in completely. Slow at first, I ride his cock, a secondary movement to ourkissing. Our hands caress with a tenderness, the sex almost an afterthought.
As I break off our kiss, I trail my mouth across his jaw. Then to his ear where I nibble as he groans. He takes me by surprise, grabbing the back of my head and pulling my face into his shoulder as he wraps the other arm around my back and lifts both of us up.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
He carries me to the bed. Laying me down before he crawls over me. His cock slides back inside me again. He presses a kiss just below my ear before whispering, “Making you come just how you like it.”
I open my mouth for something—a protest, a comment, anything. But it dissolves as he begins to pound into me until it shakes out a loud moan from my lips. He grabs me by the back of my knees and spreads me wider, pinning them down to my chest as he drives himself into me in hard snaps.
I cry out, scrambling to grab onto his forearms for a good hold.
He knows exactly how my body functions. Deep is what I always need. Hitting a spot I’ve never been able to reach with my fingers. It’s not long until I come undone, shaking around him uncontrollably.
Again and again he makes me come. Like he’s making up for lost time. As his rhythm becomes slower, his breath louder, I know he’s close.
I slip my legs out from his grip and lock my ankles over his lower back. “Slow down,” I pant.
