Page 18 of Miles Apart
“Touch me, Miles,” she pants, spreading her legs as wide as the chair allows. With my eyes on her, I toss the vibrator, glide two fingers inside, and curl to reanimate her G-spot. “Yes,” she moans through a kiss, rolling her hips into the pressure building between her legs. “Right there.”
My tongue drags up the center of Emma’s throat as her head falls back. “There’s nothing wrong with toys, kitten, but when you have the right partner, you won’t rely on them so much.” I lick my way back into her mouth. “Come for me again.”
Emma’s muscles tense, parting her lips to set free a moan. My eyes roam over her face with pride. It takes several breaths for her to come down from the high. When she does, she looks behind me. I follow her eyes to find multiple faces in the distance. We’re not alone.
My body is wide enough to cover her from voyeurs, but I make quick work of the restraints and lower her cloak. Once she’s covered, I secure her mask and help her out of the chair, grabbing wipes nearby to clean off the leather surface and the toys we used.
A couple holding hands approaches. “You are exquisite,” the blonde says to us. “Any interest in joining us back in our room?” She nods to the man next to her, who’s eye-fucking me. “He likes to watch.”
“Thank you, but we have to go.” I take Emma’s hand, and soon I’m moving so fast, I have to slow down for her to keep up.
“What’s the rush?” She’s speed walking to keep up.
“Em, I’m all for adventure, but I have limits. Fucking around with them extras fromThe People Under the Stairsis a good way to never to be seen again.” I smile at her snort. “Plus”—I steal a glance—“I’m not done with you,” I say with a wink.
Chapter 8
Emma
“Remind me to kill you later for only packing thongs!”
I smile and shout right back at Justice from my room, “Thank me after a man helps you take them off!” She’ll survive ninety minutes in jeans on a horse. I’m no better in leggings I had to buy in the gift shop. Trotting in leather pants is stylish but foolish. In my rush to get this trip ready, I did not pack accordingly. I don’t own a pair of jeans or leggings, and usually my closet is just fine for it.
Jay clowns me all the time for my wardrobe, but I am who I am. The same way she could be the face of Target, I love high fashion but draw the line. Yes, overpriced jeans are a thing, but I’ll be damned.
I pull my hair into a low ponytail and button the rest of my blouse to meet Justice in the living room. We head down to the back of the resort for our excursion.
Jay has been in pretty good spirits since speed dating last night. She and Terrence wished each other the best in an attempt to move on, one I doubt either will uphold. Some people are perfect matches, and these two are it.
What about your match?
I hold back a groan at my vagina pulsing from the reminder of last night and pop on my sunglasses.
“You okay?” Justice peeks at my profile on the way to our small group near the stables.
“Mm-hmm!” My answer is too bouncy for my personality. Jay is the chipper one, not me.
I called Miles full of shit when he told me he’d put me to bed. I wanted to even the score after our time in the red room. I’ve never came so fast from a hand job. It’s usually impossible for me, like licking your own elbow. The way Miles read me and commanded my body without breaking a sweat is shameful.
In the heat of passion and frustration, I challenged him to another go, away from curious eyes and the possibility of running into one of our best friends.
We put every toy in my bag to use.
Never once did Miles make me feel guilty for my “arsenal of power tools,” as he called them. He took digs at the men who’ve failed to bring me pleasure but never felt threatened putting my toys to work. I wouldn’t give a damn if he did have something to say. A healthy sex life doesn’t guarantee that the person I’m with will get the job done. Half the time, I’m directing men to my G-spot like I’m landing a damn 747.
Not Miles.
We spent the better part of three hours with my toys, taking breaks in between for drinks and snacks. Miles promised not to use his mouth or fingers, which I assumed would give me the advantage, but he made a liar out of me once again. A screamer and a squirter too.
By two a.m., Miles was ready to tap out, but then he switched up and used my rose. I creamed all over the damn thing, rode out the aftershock for twenty minutes, and fell asleep in a pool of my own sweat.
I had every chance to end our game and go upstairs to my suite, but I didn’t, and I don’t know what that says about Miles and how I feel when I’m with him.
Men like West are easy: flirt, fuck, and leave. There are no attachments, no second thoughts, and no feelings. Last night was different. Ifeltlike staying, not because of the potential for more orgasms, but because I was comfortable.
I woke up alone. The other side of the bed remained untouched, like Miles didn’t sleep. Maybe he did, but not with me. I was back in my suite in time to grab lunch with Justice and push away all thoughts of him. It shouldn’t bother me that he left, but it does. More than I’d like to admit.
What happened is over. We got each other out of our systems, and now we can move on.
