Page 51 of Stuck-Up Big Shot
“Miles, I have to go,” I say half-heartedly, offering up a paltry attempt to escape while I thread my fingers through his messy bedhead hair and whimper. “Blackie needs me.”
He peers up at me, one thick brow quirked, his blue eyes the color of the ocean this morning.
“I need you, Button. One more time before I let you out of my bed.”
How the heck do I resist when Miles scoots down my already flushed body, his lips working their way past my ignored protests until he reaches my core. His hands coast over the curves of my body, finally taking up residence between my thighs, his fingertips curling around the meaty flesh, parting me wide. Something hot and tight clenches low in my belly the minute he licks a swath over my belly button, tracing an invisible line down to my clit.
With the first flick of his tongue over my swollen nub, I know it’s useless, and I writhe under his focused ministrations in defeat.
His fingers part my folds, and the tip of his tongue breeches my entrance, slipping inside with devastating skill and practice.
His skillful talents render me speechless, murmuring only unintelligible words or lusty moans with every lash of his tongue or slide of his fingers.
While my sexual experience is limited to three men, one of which was a fairly drunken and fumbling hookup in the bathroom of a fraternity house my sophomore year in college, it goes without saying that Miles has far more expertise in this area.
Especially given how easily he can turn me into a limp and completely biddable bed partner.
Miles’s head pops up, his eyes scanning my face. “Don’t tell me you’re still worried about the dog. He’s fine, Button. We let him out late last night, he’s fine for a little while longer.”
I prop myself up on my elbows and stare down at Miles over my breasts tinged pink from the scrape of his stubble, his gorgeous body splayed out between my legs. His own legs dangle off the end of the bed, the perfect bubble of his butt visible from my vantage point.
My God, this all feels so surreal. An unbelievable twist of fate that normally would have only been in my dreams.
“I’m not worried. I’m perfectly happy.”
He swipes the back of his hand over his wet mouth, covered in my essence, and he grins.
“Glad to hear it. Let’s see if I can extend that happiness a bit further, shall we?”
And then he returns his face between my legs and continues to do just that.
Making me a very happy and satisfied woman, one orgasm at a time.
* * *
“Hey,I have an idea if you’re open to it,” Miles says from beside me in the kitchen where we finish cleaning up the breakfast dishes, bellies full and Blackie’s needs attended to after that amazing round of morning sex.
I reach up, standing on my tiptoes to return a plate into the cupboard and feel the curl of his hands as they circle around my waist, hoisting me up and then setting me back down. I peer over my shoulder at him, my eyes lighting with piqued interest.
“What idea is that?”
Miles spins me around to face him, returning his palms to my lower back, just above the curve of my ass and tugs me in close. I crane my neck back to look into his face, seeing a new, unexpected expression.
The affection in his eyes projects contentment, which is the first time I’ve seen it since our reunion. It gives me pause, thrilled to know that I might be the reason for that, but also curious whether it’s the aftereffect of sex hormones.
“I know you have to work for a few hours today to open the shop, but maybe afterward, we can pick up lunch and head back home to see Granny.”
The shock on my face is probably evident, my eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Really?” I can’t contain the smile that erupts on my lips as I throw my arms around Miles and jump up and down like a kid on Christmas. “That would make me so happy to see her. It’s been so long. . . since–” I stop abruptly, noticing the dimming of Miles’s eyes that grow dark with grief, shaded by loss.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Miles. I know it’s uncomfortable for you to talk about Melodie’s funeral.”
He closes his eyes, agony etched over his brow line, and a prolonged silence falls over us. Melodie’s life and death have seemed to be an off-limit topic in conversing with Miles, so I’ve treaded carefully, avoiding that landmine and staying on relatively safer subjects.
But I walked right into this one when he mentioned his grandmother. A woman I knew and loved as a kid, and the woman who raised Miles and Mel after their mother died.
The shutters seem to lift as Miles opens his eyes, and his compressed lips part slightly, signifying his resolve.
