Page 48 of Stuck-Up Big Shot
* * *
The minutewe get in the elevator and the doors close behind us, Miles is all over me. He slides his palms along my jawline and holds me there as he presses his lips to mine. It’s not quick or gentle. It’s feverish and an indicator of how things will go once we are in private.
I want to get closer, to feel his body pressed against me—in the spot I need him most. Lifting my leg, I fold it over his hip, his hard shaft nudging at my entrance, as my panties flood with wetness.
Miles groans at the contact and drops his hands to my ass. He lifts me up, carrying me out of the elevator and down the hall the moment the door opens.
As we pass by my apartment door, I wonder if I should check in on Blackie first, but Miles’s index finger toys with the lace of my thong, and all thoughts of doggie-duty are postponed for the time being.
Miles opens the front door with a set of keys that magically appeared and swings the door shut behind him with a kick of his heel. Then he spins us around, shoving my back up against the door, our mouths still fused together.
“You want to know what my wish is, Button?” he asks huskily, his lips moving against mine.
“What?”
His fingers sneak underneath the edge of my panties, and he yanks them down, the sound of my gasp escaping my throat.
“My wish is to find out how wet you are,” he confesses, jerking the panties off and over my heel as I kick them to the floor. “And find out how sweet your pussy tastes. And then find out how tight you are when you clench around my cock and how loud you get when I bring you to orgasm.”
I make a noise of unintelligible gibberish, grinding my pelvis over his hard cock that’s now pressed against my bare sex. I speak against his lips. “I say let’s grant your wish.”
My breasts heave and lift in anticipation, as Miles drops his hand between us and I choke out a sound as he slides a finger through my wet center, a slow and agonizing glide through my folds.
“Ohh,” I keen, my head flopping forward into the crook of his neck as I hold on to stave off the need to rock.
There is so much promise of sexual satisfaction engulfed in his deft fingers as they dance over my flesh, teasing me with searing heat until he finally—finally—pushes a finger inside, and I cry out.
Our groans mix together in a symphony of sound, relief mingled momentarily until a deep well of need bubbles up for more.
I rock my hips forward, eager for more friction against my clit. He adds a second finger inside me, and his thumb finding the swollen part of my sex, circling over it to launch sparks of pleasure up my spine.
Miles speaks into my hair, biting at my earlobe. “Ah fuck, Button. I knew you’d be so wet for me.”
His fingers piston inside me, as a swell of desire courses through my body, tightening and tensing along the way. I take fistfuls of his hair in my hands, squeezing and yanking hard every time the nerve-endings burst with sensation, and he grunts with mutual desire.
Like riding a rollercoaster at the fair, I feel myself edging higher and higher, knowing the top is just within reach. Knowing that while the ride won’t last long, the high as I careen down off the top will be amazing and earth-shattering.
“Yes, Miles. There. . . so close. I’m. . .”
“That’s right, Button. Fuck my fingers. Come all over them.”
The filth of his words, the image it conveys, has me spasming hotly, grinding down on his fingers as I soar off the top of that coaster, barreling down with a loud, throaty cry.
Pleasure wreaks havoc over my now weakened state, and I sag heavily in Miles’s arms. I throw my limp arms over his shoulders and take slow, shallow breaths in and out of my lungs.
“Miles, holy shit. I’ve never. . .that was. . .”
He chuckles smugly. “Mmm-hmm. I know.”
As if the world shifted on its axis, Miles swings us around, and he walks us back to his bedroom, which I first entered the night we kissed a few weeks earlier.
The room is dark, save for a small desk lamp in the corner, and as he sets me down on my feet next to the end of his bed, reaching inside his nightstand for a condom, he confirms what I already think I know.
“That was just a warm-up.”
27
Miles
