believe it when i see it. in the meantime, i have some ideas
His idea, once I had seen a tour physio and closed my eyes for the entire cab ride home, was to be waiting in my apartment with plate of assorted cakes and a large vase of brightly coloured flowers. He was lying the length of the couch, my e-reader in hand, and it took him a few seconds after I opened the door to drag his gaze from the page he was reading.
“Hey, Champ,” he said, dropping the reader and pulling himself upright.
“Champ? Really?”
He flashed me a grin. “I can go back to Princess if you prefer.”
“Such choices!”
As I dropped my tennis bags, his phone buzzed on the arm of the couch.Dadflashed up on the screen, and after one glance, Miles declined the call and pushed the phone until it landed with a thud on the carpet.
That was the opposite of an invitation to ask about it, so I pointed to the flowers instead. “You bought flowers?”
Miles looked at them like he’d forgotten they were there. “Yeah.” His cheeks reddened a touch. “Although, if you don’t like flowers, then they’re for Katie, and you just get cakes.”
“And if I do like flowers?”
“Then I got you flowers.” He shrugged, leaning on the arm ofthe couch. “Your apartment always looks sad, and since you’re now here for a little longer, I thought it could do with some life. You’ll have to cut the stamens out of the lilies when they open though, or they’ll drop polleneverywhere.”
It hadn’t until that moment occurred to me that perhaps no one had sent Miles the flowers in his apartment. That perhaps he had bought them for himself because he liked them – a realisation somehow even more profound than him buying some for me too.
Stepping close, I dropped a knee either side of him and settled on his lap, chest to chest. “And if I love them?”
“Then I’ll buy you more,” he said, his fingertips sliding lightly up my back, and by god it had been a stupid question because now my heart was thundering. But this was just Miles being Miles, a generous gesture like bringing Katie a mountain of sushi and tipping the courier so much the man had felt compelled to thank him.
I knew it, yet my heart went on racing and I forced out a laugh. “Every time I win, perhaps. Victory flowers. Drenched in the blood of my enemies.”
“That may be taking it a little too far, Princess.”
I lowered my lips to his – kissing him the best way to hide my face. He tasted faintly of pastry, and smelt like clean laundry and sun-warmed skin, everything about him from the soft waves of his blond hair to his sleeveless shirt like a perfect summer’s day. He leaned back against the couch, pulling me with him, our slow kiss deepening as he tightened his hold. I might have succeeded in hiding my face, but the intimacy of sitting wrapped around him, of being held like a precious thing he didn’t want to relinquish, now sliced me open. It had been a tiring week, I told myself, this just more of Miles Callahan’s generous heart, but I needed to shift us into something hotter and easier before I drowned.
Thankfully, it was easy to get Miles going, needing little more than to strip off my shirt and rub against him, and I soon had both our cocks out, stroking them together in one hand. Like a man running away and refusing to look back, I was thinking of nothing but getting us off as fast as possible, but while I worked, he pulled a tube of lube from beneath a cushion.
“Oh, prepared, were you?” I laughed, far more comfortable now this was about our dicks.
“I did tell you I had ideas. No, you keep . . .” He let out a soft groan. “. . . doing that. You’re very good with your hands.”
It was embarrassing how much I liked his compliments, and that I adjusted my grip to hit even more sensitive spots in the hope of earning another. But his attention was caught by the task of slicking up his fingers, of pushing down the waistband of my shorts, of running his palm around the curve of my arse. The brief moment he paused was left for me to object if I wished, before he slid in a finger.
“Oh, fuck,” I said, my hands suddenly far less skilled than before. He was gently rubbing inside me and I was gently losing my mind. “Another. Please.”
Miles groaned, his expression a wild, amazed thing as he said, “fuck you’re hot when you ask for things,” and added another finger.
Caught between the desire to rock back against his hand and keep working us both, my rhythm faltered. He closed his free hand over mine, our fingers entwining as he picked up my pace and thank fuck he did, because my attention was fast narrowing to nothing but the sensations racking my body. Losing myself to the moment, I was soon lying on my back while he fucked me with one hand and stroked me with the other, my fingernails clawing at the couch as I came with a cry torn all the way from my toes.
After the day’s stress, I’d desperately needed it, but the moment it was done, an apology for getting so absorbed in my own pleasureleapt to my tongue. Only to be swallowed when he took hold of himself and unloaded onto my stomach with an expression I wanted to capture for eternity.
“Oh my god, watching you let go like that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, slowing his stroking to a few final, lingering pulls of his amazing dick.
“I could say the same about that.” I nodded to where he’d added his cum to mine. “That happened pretty fast.”
His laugh rasped out as though from a roughened throat. “I thought I was going to come without even touching myself for a moment there. Your idea was much better than mine.”
“It wasn’t an idea. Just . . . something that happened.”
“Things that just happen, happen a lot around here.”
