Chapter 26
By the time I hit Miles’ bathroom, he’s run a full bubble bath in the gorgeous tub, found and lit masses of tea lights in glass votives, and put Bing Crosby on the speakers. And best of all, he’s already in his boxers. Surely life can’t top this moment?
I slide my arms around those broad, sculpted shoulders of his. ‘Bing, eh? You must be planning one heck of a seduction.’
‘You have no idea. I’m using every trick in the book.’ He’s already tugging off the Christmas jumper I put on when we got home from The Savoy.
‘I don’t want to ruin your fun,’—I pull off my t-shirt—‘but I’m a sure thing tonight.’
‘Best. News. Ever.’ His mouth is on mine, and he groans out the words. His fingers move to the back of my bra, and he unhooks it. His whole face creases into a grin when he sees my boobs.
I laugh. ‘Is this Big? Are you actually a thirteen-year-old boy, pretending to be a grown man? Because I could swear you’ve never seen boobs before.’
‘There are boobs, and there are these. These are masterpieces. I can’t wait to soap them up.’
‘Come on, then.’ I pull down my leggings and pants in one go as he loses his boxers.
Wow.
He’s already very much in the mood.
The water is fragrant and bubbly, and so hot it seeps through my cold skin and warms my bones within minutes. Lying against Miles, his arms tightly around me, is as good as going back to the womb.
I should bottle him.
This would solve everyone’s problems.
And this bath is epic. Matte white marble, lightly veined with grey, and perfectly oval. It’s a far cry from the tiny bath in our Park Royal flat, which is encrusted with limescale. The hard water is definitely one of the worst things about London. No hard water here—they must have softeners.
Nope. The only hard thing here is Miles sticking into my lower back. I squirm.
‘Sorry.’ He kisses my temple.
‘Don’t be sorry. It’s a compliment. And it’s hot.’
‘Is it?’
‘Yep.’ I arch my back and reach into the space I’ve created behind me to take hold of him. God, he feels amazing. So hard, and long, and smooth in the water. He sucks the air in sharply through his teeth as I slide my hand up and down his shaft.
‘Give me a minute,’ he tells me. ‘I don’t want this over too soon. Just relax for a sec.’
I let go and settle back against him, his torso cradling my back.
What a heavenly place to be. It’s even more heavenly when he begins to kiss my neck gently.
He takes a flannel from a pile on the shelf inset next to the bath and wets it.
With gentle strokes, he glides it over my collarbones.
Around my shoulder. Down my arm. Then back up, and down the other side. Softly. Slowly.
‘Mmm.’ I nestle my head more heavily into his shoulder, and he rewards me with another kiss to my temple. He really is the sweetest man.
The flannel goes on a little jaunt around my boobs, circling one, then the other, avoiding my nipples.
Okay. They’re starting to ache now, to beg for some attention.
He brushes a line with the cloth down my stomach.
Circles my belly button and comes back up.
Down further, brushing my bikini line. I let out a gasp and open my legs a little, but the flannel moves back up.
‘Does this feel good?’ His voice is quiet, his breath hot in my ear, and I can tell by the dent his hard-on is making against my coccyx that he’s struggling too.
‘Yes. It’s amazing. Don’t torture me too much, Miles.’
He laughs softly and rewards me with a swipe against one nipple.
Then the other. He spreads the wet flannel out over both of my boobs and massages them through it.
The cotton pile is coarse, and it feels great.
Really great. This is definitely a trick to hold on to when he’s buggered off to the Caribbean and I’m alone in my grotty bathroom in Acton.
Except that it will never, ever feel as amazing as when he does it.
Oh. And I would never have the self-control to make it last as long as he’s doing.
I’m breathing heavily now, and I try to spread my legs wider, to plant my feet on the outside of Miles’ legs, but I start to slip downwards. He clamps an arm around my middle and pulls me up.
‘I’ve got you.’
He rubs the cloth over my boobs again, and I writhe.
‘I can’t bear this. It’s torture.’
Another kiss. ‘I know.’
And, thank fuck, he pulls the sodden flannel off my chest and wads it into a ball. He moves it down between my legs and starts to rub, and the pleasure and relief are so extraordinarily great that I cry out.
‘Miles!’
‘Is that good?’ He rubs at the most sensitive part of me, and the friction causes the little fires that are breaking out all over my body to ignite some more. ‘Not too sore?’
‘No, it’s perfect; it’s perfect!’
I’d definitely be underwater right now if he wasn’t holding me up. My feet are scrabbling along the bottom of the tub.
He rubs in rhythmical circles, and the heat builds, and the pressure builds, and I push back as far as I can on his shoulder, twisting my head to lick and suck his neck.
‘Good girl,’ he mutters into my ear. ‘Good girl. Give it to me.’
And his good girl sends me over the edge as I push into his flannel-wielding hand. Shock waves of heat shoot out from my core, spreading all over my body.
‘Ohmygod. Holy shit, Miles. I can’t… I can’t… don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop.’
He keeps up his rhythm until my orgasm subsides and oversensitivity kicks in. I pull my legs up, and he immediately takes his hand away. I’m not sure where I found this man, but he is a keeper.
My head lolls in the crook of his neck. He’s still holding me around my waist.
‘Miles. Ohmygod. That was… bloody hell. That was incredible. Ahhh. Not sure my legs work anymore.’ I wiggle my toes ineffectually.
He laughs, and it’s a gorgeous, husky, sexy laugh. ‘I loved doing that to your beautiful body. I’d rather have felt you come on my fingers, but I had a hunch the cloth might add… a little something.’
‘You are a magic man.’ I lift my face, and he lowers his to kiss me.
In the candlelight, it looks as though his eyes are actually shining at me.
And he still has a huge erection that I’m looking forward, very much, to tackling.
His tongue is taut and hungry in my mouth, and I engage every abdominal muscle I have to pull myself up and closer to him, to bring his mouth closer.
After a few moments of intense kissing, I take pity on this poor man who looks after my pleasure so selflessly. Twisting my wet body away from his, I kneel down in the bath so I’m facing him.
‘Your turn now. You can look at my boobs while I do it.’
He’s already looking. He swipes a mound of bubbles and smooths them over my chest, massaging them in till they disappear into a wet lather on my boobs.
I grab a mini bottle of shower gel and dump a load into my hands.
Rub them together, and reach under the water for his dick.
Swirl the soapy lube over the tip of him and down his length.
My other hand soaps up his balls, which, once again, feel like they’re on the verge of turning blue.
I slide my hand up again and withdraw. Sit back on my heels and smirk at him.
He moans at the withdrawal. He’s still running his fingers over my boobs, rubbing my nipples. His bottom lip is between his teeth.
‘Remember when you made me wait? Not so funny now, is it?’ I raise my eyebrows.
He leans forward and hooks the nape of my neck.
Pulls me to him.
Kisses me hard.
‘You. Are so fucking sexy. I can’t bear it.’
He is too. He is too! I can’t bear it either. I shuffle forward and straddle him, bringing our bodies flush together so I can kiss him while I reach back down with both my hands and start to move them up and down his shaft.
Harder now.
Faster.
I cup his balls.
His hand is still clamped to the back of my neck. His other hand kneads my nipple. He’s breathing hard into my mouth.
I increase the length of my strokes as he goes rigid and lets out a moan of ecstasy and anguish into my mouth. And then he shudders and empties himself into the water.
When he’s done, I manoeuvre myself further up his thighs, wrap my arms around him, take his heavy head into the crook of my neck, as he did with me, and hold onto him for dear life.