“Well, I’m not that girl,” I retort and step in closer to him, reaching my hands out to touch his forearms.
“I know you’re not,” he nearly cries. “But before we do anything, you need to know this about me. I’m overprotective. Overbearing. Over arrogant. Pretty much everything I do is to the extreme.”
“Okay,” I reply slowly and swallow a knot in my throat as he cups my face in his rough hands, looming over me like some sort of caveman staking his claim.
His voice is deep and melty as he adds, “And I fucking lose it if I think a guy is moving in on my property.”
Okay, I shouldn’t be turned on by that. I’m a modern woman. I’m independent. I think I could be a feminist if I ever knew exactly what the fuck that all entailed. But personally, I don’t think feminism belongs in the bedroom. I think feminism is having license over your own desires, and Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I think I just felt a gush of liquid between my legs, and I am so not mad at that!
I shake my head, trying to refocus my brain on the main point here. “But I’m not your property, Miles!”
“In my mind, you are,” he replies, his jaw tight, his lips pinched. “And I really need you not to do things to make me jealous.”
“Why?” I nearly sob.
“Because if you make me jealous, then I won’t be able to stay friends with you.”
“Why?” Good God, man, just fucking take me!
“Because it’ll make me want to fuck you, so you don’t ever want to look at another guy again.”
Heavy breaths.
Thunderous heartbeats.
Noisy party downstairs…the real downstairs. That wasn’t a euphemism for my pants, though, now that I mention it, I think I heard his dick grow. Like literally, I think I hear his jeans stretching between us.
I reach out and touch him with my hands and oh my God, yes. He’s hard, and I’m hard, and I want him to just…“Prove it.”
He shakes his head, severity to his brow that has a knot forming in my throat. “I hope you know what you’re asking for.”
With a feral sort of growl, he slams his lips to mine and plunges his tongue straight into my mouth. Deep. So deep. As if he’s looking for tonsils deep. It isn’t exactly sexy—it’s uncontrollable. Heady. Toxic. I can’t get away from him, and I don’t want to. My arms wind tightly around his neck, holding him as if it’s possible to merge our bodies together.
No more dead fish kiss. God, this is living!
Miles bends over, running his hands down my ass to the back of my thighs. He grabs me tightly and hoists me up, and my legs instantly wrap around his waist. I can’t quite hook my ankles around his massive frame, so I just squeeze. Squeeze him into me as hard as I can because good Lord, this is what I’ve been missing. Strong, masculine, territorial heat!
I want his heat all over me. If he could unzip his skin and tuck me inside him, I’d want that. I want to be consumed by him in every possible way.
He combs his hands through my hair and yanks my head back so he can drag his tongue along my throat. I swallow against it, panting and writhing just from his wet tongue. He’s ravishing, punishing, and claiming me with his mouth, and fucking hell, it’s bliss.
He turns us toward the bed, and his hands drift down to my ass, his fingers greedily digging into the crease of my butt. “You said you liked anal play?”
I cry out loudly when his fingers slide along the lace of my shorts, and he presses hard through the fabric right on my puckered hole. “Jesus, I don’t know. I just like writing it!”
He laughs, and it vibrates his whole body. I squeeze my legs tighter around him, trying to get that sensation inside me because fucking hell, I need to be fucked right now.
“Plenty of time for that later,” he says, dropping me on the perfectly made bed and falling down on top of me, covering me with his warm, delicious weight.
“God, Miles,” I moan, as he peppers my collarbone with kisses and bites. I kick my wedges off as my body rolls under his, my pelvis pressing up into the big hard appendage stuck behind his annoying jeans. “Take your jeans off. I want to see you.”
“You first, babe,” he husks and stands up, pulling me with him so he can pull my tank top off over my head. My braid flops back down over my bare breasts, and he drags his fingers along the texture of it. “Would you undo this?”
I nod absently. I’m pretty sure he could get me to run through that party naked if it meant I’d be getting laid by him tonight. I yank out the twist and shakily comb my fingers through my hair.
“I fucking love your hair.” He slices his fingers through the thick tendrils and gives them a big sniff. God, he sniffed me!
“Now lie back,” he says, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my shorts and sliding them down my legs as I do. He chucks them to the floor and grabs my lacy white thong. I moan as he pulls it down tantalizingly slow, his rough fingers caressing my legs with their descent.
When he slips the thong off my feet, he holds it out for me to see, then presses it to his nose and inhales deeply.
“Jesus fuck,” I cry at just the sight of him sniffing my goddamned panties. “How are you real?”
“I’m completely fucking real, babe. And you’re not getting these back.” He tucks the slip of white fabric into his jeans and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, retrieving a condom from the inside flap before dropping it down on the bed.
He reaches behind him and pulls his shirt off over his head, and my eyes glaze over at the sight of him. He has lines in places that men were meant to have lines. A perfect outline of a six-pack, broad ribs hinting under his huge, meaty pecs. And then there’s that V. Jesus God, the V that arrows down to his dick is enough to make me forget every man who ever came before him.
Miles could be on the cover of every last one of my books. In fact, maybe I should re-cover my books. I’d probably sell more copies. I want this man’s perfectly sculpted body plastered all over my fucking world.
And if I thought his top half looked good, it is nothing compared to the bottom. He slides his jeans and boxers down, and the giant cock that bobs out has me more than a little terrified. Extremely aroused, but terrified.
It’s a beautiful dick. Strong and proud. Straight and thick. But about twice the size I’m used to.
I clear my throat and say, “The cliché line you should say right now is, ‘Don’t worry baby, it’ll fit.’”
He laughs at my man voice imitation, and his thick abs contract in a really sexy way. After he rolls the condom on, he steps between my legs and drapes his warmth over me. Our nakedness slides against each other like the most deliciously heated silk sheets.
Miles teases his covered tip against my slit. “But what if I like it to hurt a little?”
In one fast push, he slams into me so fast I can’t catch my breath for a moment. My hands grapple around the bed for purchase, for something to squeeze and hold as I fight this sudden, welcomed invasion between my legs. He offers up his own hands, sliding his fingers between mine in a gentle way that is at complete odds with the merciless tightness between my legs.
He squeezes my fingers and presses our hands to the mattress beside my head. “You okay?” He drops a soft, tender kiss on my lips.
I groan loudly, the tight ache building and begging for more. “I will be once you start moving.” I grind my hips up to meet his with frantic need. “I need you to fuck me, Miles. Please, just fuck me.”
“With pleasure,” he replies, releasing my hands and sitting back on his knees. Throwing my legs up on his shoulders, he skims his rough hands down them at the same time. “God, these fucking legs are sexy.”
And with that belly-flipping compliment, he begins thrusting into me so hard and fast, I can’t even utter a moan. It’s just a lot of strangled sobs that seem to bypass my voice box and come out straight from my lungs. He grinds and digs and punishes my pussy, and the orgasm that rips through me is completely ignored—like it’s one of many he plans to give me tonight, so he’s not even going to give it any attention.
A second orgasm climbs on top of the first, and I swear I can’t take another when he reaches down and rubs his rough fingers on my swollen clit. My voice box finds itself at last, and I scream out in pleasure.