Page 59 of Miles Apart
“Oh my—”
“Let it drip.” Miles sucks his fingers before diving between legs. He traps me in his arms and curls me to his mouth.
I don’t know what school of eating pussy Miles graduated from, but I will create a scholarship in his name. He sucks on my vagina like it holds the meaning of life and never once comes up for air. The massage to my clit with slow drags of his tongue is my undoing. I try to wiggle free, but he doubles down, burying his face with a satisfied groan.
I need his dick. Now.
“Top drawer on your right,” I push out between breaths. Miles frowns until he opens the drawer to find the stash of condoms I keep inside. Most are upstairs, but I have a few down here in case I’m in a rush.
He pulls out a gold wrapper he rips open with his teeth, his eyes trained on me. My body hums in anticipation. The muscles in his abs contract when he pulls down his sweats. His dick bobs, his head thick and angry. He sheaths himself, and I lick my lips.
Our gazes tangle when he reaches for me and steals my breath with a single thrust. We kiss at a lazy pace to match the rhythm of his hips grinding against my thighs. Miles pulls back to take in our bodies and rubs his thumb over my clit. He slides in and out with deep strokes before leaning over me. The tempo changes,and his ab muscles contract as he comes with my name on his lips.
“Fuck, kitten.” Darkened eyes reconnect with mine as Miles stands. I move to get up but remain fixed on the marble by his hand. “I want to see you.” His tone is soft, barely above a whisper.
I unravel my robe and pull the lapels open to bare myself to him. Miles’s gaze is a gentle caress over my face before it travels the curves of my breasts, over my nipples, down my navel, and to my parted thighs. He’s seen all of me countless times but relishes in every dip and arch of my body like it’s the first time he’s bearing witness.
Miles bends to inhale my nectar scenting the air and groans before taking a long swipe with his tongue. My body is vibrating, still high off the ecstasy we created on my kitchen counter, but I’m ready for another round. He tongues down my other lips while he replaces the old condom with a fresh one and sends us soaring until we both need water and a shower.
We clean up and say goodnight on our way to our rooms.
I remind myself sex is all this can be.
Chapter 27
Emma
Why did I agree to a date with Miles?
The request caught me off guard on Monday, and it still does now that Wednesday has arrived. I held back my curiosity tinged with excitement, because dates shouldn’t excite me. They’re not supposed to. They’re a means to an end for a purpose that starts and ends with penis.
Any physical arrangement I’ve had is temporary and without any fillers to incite confusion. I don’t need fine dining with candles or flowers to have sex. That’s a good way to have a man following you home and crying all night on your doorstep. It happened before, with Mark, a transplant from Silicon Valley who was all too eager to tour the inside of my bedroom like he had a right to. I may not have a flamethrower, but I keep a Taser in my pocketbook, and Mark met it after following me home. It was the one time my father flew out to see me. I filed a restraining order as a precaution.
Miles isn’t the type to lose his shit like that, but the fact we’re living together and he still wants my time gives me pause. I haven’t stopped thinking about last night when he held me in hisarms after sex. We never spoke about it and carried on like kinda friends with benefits—more like friends adjacent—who are still figuring out what the hell they’re doing. Miles left for work this morning before I made it downstairs. I was grateful for the distance, not that it helped clear my mind.
He’s changing my rules like they were meant for him to break.
Miles texts at four to meet him at the Santa Monica Pier in an hour. Strolling around carnival games outside in February wouldn’t be my first choice for a date. He’s lucky it’s not raining.
I shake my head and gather my things, still in disbelief that these heels will touch a boardwalk. On adate.
The drive takes less than ten minutes. I find parking and head to the ticket kiosk, where Miles stands. His back is to me, giving me time to take in the full muscular frame that sends a jolt to my clit. Miles is fine—there’s no debate—but the way he wears a suit should be illegal. His hands in his pocket stretch the fitted fabric hugging every hard-earned muscle. And that ass. I love to dig my nails into his smooth flesh every time he rolls his hips into—
“There you are.”
Miles turns with a smirk, like he caught me reliving last night on the kitchen counter. I was, but I won’t admit it. His eyes glide up my figure, and he bites his lip. “You good in those?” He nods to my platform heels.
“They’re comfortable.”
“Alright, but if they start to hurt, I’m buying you sandals. Can’t have you fucking up those pretty feet.” He extends his hand. “Come on.”
The wind chooses that moment to pick up the scent of his musk cologne. Against my better judgment, I smile and put my hand in his for our adventure.
“Wait ’til I get your ass! Shit!” Miles’s bumper car spins in a circle. It resets, and I push my handle forward to ram him again.
“Aye!” is all he yells before his car spins out again.
If I laugh any harder, I’ll pee on myself.
