Chapter 24
LONDON
Miles bites down on my nipple, and I whimper. An actual fucking whimper like I’m in pain. But . . . I’m not.
My body vibrates all over.
The need that has been steadily growing since I stepped into the shower is driving me past the brink of insanity.
I haven’t done this before.
And his cock, now leaking a pearly drop, seems enormous compared to where I know it needs to go. Body trembling, I’m aching for him, despite my heart flinging in my chest.
“Slow, please. It’s . . . I—”
“Beautiful, is this your first?” His face twists a little, those blue eyes tightening.
“Yes.”
His hand slides behind my neck, and my forehead meets his.
“You’re in charge, then,” he rumbles.
Oh fuck.
I—
I drop my gaze to his cock before flicking it back up.
Miles drops his head, his tongue capturing my nipple as it swirls around the aching bud.
“Oh, god. Miles . . .”
Hips moving of their own accord, a moan tumbles through my lips.
He sucks hard, and I feel the sensation all the way down to my bones, the heat sinking to my core sending me higher still.
Just do it, London.
He’s everything I’ve ever wanted.
If I could give this to anyone, it would be Miles.
I hesitate, hands gripping his shoulders. “Help a girl out?”
His hands wrap around my hips, lifting me until the tip of his cock nudges my entrance.
I can’t breathe.
“Look at me, beautiful.”
I don’t even realize I’m staring into nothingness until his grip guides my chin down and to the side. My gaze falls to his face, and he rasps, “Good girl. Down you go, easy now.”
I lower myself onto his cock.
The stretch is too much.
A burn starts up and I gasp, swallowing down the emotion taking me by surprise. I flick my gaze back to the wall before tilting my head up.
“Eyes on me, baby.”
Dragging my attention back to the gorgeous man under me, I utter, “Yes sir.”
He growls at me.
Literally fucking growls, and I still, only his tip inside me.
“London, I need you to keep those words to yourself. At least this first time.”
The hint of a smile tugs at my face with the knowledge I affect this incredible man so much.
That little thrill I will be bottling up for later.
I sink lower, holding my breath as the stretch deepens and the sting starts to subside.
“Fuck, beautiful, you feel incredible,” he rasps, his hands gripping my hips. “Don’t you dare move.”
“Miles?” My chest snaps up and down with each heavy pant.
I’m trembling around him, hands gliding up his neck and into his hair. He tilts his head up as if asking for my mouth.
And I give it to him, devouring him as we sit and wait for each of us to get accustomed to the way we fit together. His parted lips, mine. His tongue, sliding against mine, also belongs to me in this moment.
“Mine,” I whisper against his mouth.
His lips curl into the softest grin. “Yes ma’am.”
Oh fuck.
If there was ever a moment that could make me fall hard and fast and irrevocably deep for Miles Hammond, this would be it.
I need to move.
Dusting a kiss to his lips, I capture his jaw with both palms and rise on my knees.
His eyes shutter closed as a raw, guttural moan works over his throat.
I study his face, taking in the minute changes that happen with every inch I rise higher. It’s fascinating.
Feeling the tip stretching my entrance, I sink, faster than before.
“Fuck, beautiful.” His hips jerk, and I meet the movement.
And god . . . Every inch of me is lit with a spark only he’s ever brought.
I dip my head, claiming his mouth as I rise again. The instant I fall back down, we both groan.
It’s too much. It’s nowhere near enough.
And I’m addicted.
To the way we move together. To his hard angles and warmth. The complete adoration in his eyes when I take up the rhythm between us.
To him.
His grip on my hips turns punishing as he slows my movements. “Easy, beautiful.”
I slow down, taking longer on each rise, settling into each fall like I belong in this very spot.
Miles explores my chest with his hands, cupping each breast before suckling my aching peaks.
And my hips roll on their own accord.
Bliss spirals through my core, and I can’t help but pick up the pace. “I can’t—”
I’m breathless, rising and falling as I continue to roll my hips.
Mouth parted, his head falls back to the headboard. “London . . .”
I think I know what he means. I feel it, too.
I—
The orgasm rips through me, and the moan that slips disintegrates to a sob and . . . “Oh fuck.”
“Good girl, beautiful, that’s it.”
His hips thrust up, sending him into me so deep.
I tighten around him, riding out every wave of pleasure he coaxes me through. Before I can catch my breath, I’m on my back, my hips in his hands as my ass leaves the bed. He thunders into me as my breasts bounce and another orgasm builds.
He’s stunning, every muscle in his body alive with exertion. Blue eyes pin me to the bed where I lie, desperation lining them like lightning through the wildest thunderstorm.
Gliding a hand down my leg, he moves it over his shoulder and picks up the pace. His hand drops to my center as he swirls a thumb over my clit.
Oh god.
I—
“Miles.”
I implode, shattering around him again.
He growls as he pumps hot ropes of release inside me, his jaw flexing. It’s all I can do to watch him unravel, his movements turning sloppy as his face is wrecked.
Lowering my body back down to the mattress, he cages me in, and we’re still joined as he dusts kisses up my chest and over my collarbone before my neck and then a peck lands on my lips.
Pushing up, he studies my face. “Christ, woman, look at you.”
My fingers trace his jaw. “I prefer my view, thanks.”
“Dammit, London. You have no idea how long I have waited for you to walk into my life.”
Emotion clogs my senses, and I scrunch up my throat. “Thanks for finally letting me in.”
He huffs a laugh and picks me up off the bed, huddling me to his chest as my legs wrap around his waist.
“Now we’re both in need of a shower, beautiful.”
How can a girl argue with that?
I’m tangled in warmth. Tangled in my new favorite scent.
Miles.
All woodsy and masculine spice.
I wiggle closer until our bare bodies are woven around each other.
It’s still dark out, or maybe it’s the blackout curtains. Either way, I don’t care. We have two more days off, and I don’t intend on leaving this bed for anything short of starvation.
I lift the sheet a little way and duck underneath it. I work my way down his body, exploring with my hands, tongue, lips, and teeth. By the time I reach his cock, he’s hard and stirring, small, rough noises leaving his throat.
Good.
I trace a fingertip over the tip.
It’s so incredibly soft but hard all the same.
I run my tongue over the opening, and he flinches, strong legs tensing with every flicker I make.
“London, baby, fuck.”
“Good morning, sir.”
I lift the sheet to see narrowed blue eyes. But despite the apparent hour, they’re lined with mirth.
“Come here, brat,” he rasps.
“Nope.” I pop the p and sink my mouth over his tip, letting the sheet fall back down around me.
The sheet flies off my back and hands slide under my arms, hauling me up. “That’s an order, beautiful.”
“I’m ignoring your orders today, Cap.”
I chuckle, dipping my head so my hair curtains our faces as they almost touch. Nipping his bottom lip, I spring from the bed and rush for the kitchen.
“Oh, London, now you are in so much trouble,” he rumbles, padding into the living room. Naked. Absolutely strung out.
Perfect.
I duck behind the kitchen counter and grip the edge.
Petal lifts her head from her bed and blinks before tucking her head back under her leg. She is unfazed by our little game. I have no idea where I was going with this, but Miles chasing me sends a special kind of thrill through me.
“I catch you, I fuck you, London.”
My breaths crash out.
I’m going to hold him to that.
I make a run for the couch, and he tries to cut me off. I escape his hold, giggling like an idiot the entire way.
I put the long seat between us. “Come on, sir. Gotta be quicker than that.”
He folds his arms over his chest and widens his stance like he does at work when he staring down a challenge.
Today that’s me. I’m his challenge.
And I fucking love it.
We stare each other down when I realize I have little room to play here. My options to get around him and make it to the bathroom, or anywhere else for that matter, are limited.
So, I change my tactic.
He wants to catch me. I want him. Period.
I step away from the couch, testing his reaction. When he doesn’t move, I step forward.
“Come here, London. Now.” The gravel lining his voice sends a shiver through me.
I shake my head, but I have no intention of running this time.
Instead, I drop to my knees.
His head tilts, his jaw feathering.
“Your turn to come to me, Miles.”
His hands fall to hang by his sides, his chest snapping up and down.
I close my eyes and tilt my head back, palms out, as I offer up the last thing I can. My trust.
For the longest time my life was stained by the pain and lies of my father. Wayne. Mama has taught me to reserve my trust, to hold it close to my heart. To stay safe. It’s the last thing I’m releasing, the reservations and fear I have, conscious and unconscious.
He steps toward me, and I breathe through each lungful like they are counting time and space. Something thuds on the floor in front of me before warmth, hands, and huffy breaths engulf my face.
“I will always come to you, London. Every damn time, beautiful.”
I drop my chin and open my eyes to find his big blue eyes, his jaw flexing, and his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“Always, okay?”
My throat thickens, but I manage, “Okay.”
“Fuck, baby, you have me in every way.”
“Good,” I breathe.
“Good.”
“Now you’re in charge.” The words are threadbare.
But I don’t need to explain myself or repeat them. He gets it.
“You sure? This is the one thing I have little control over, London.”
“I’m dying for it,” I utter, closing my eyes and exposing my throat to him.
His hand closes over my thundering pulse and heat flares in my core.
“Christ,” he rasps. “Bedroom, baby.”
I open my eyes and pin his gaze when I reply, “Yes sir.”
I’m whisked off the floor and into a carry hold we use on scene.
But I can’t wait. I can’t be that far away from him.
I grip his face and drag his mouth down to mine.
Eyes closed, I groan as we run straight into a wall before Miles curses and reroutes, eyes on the bedroom as I nip and suck his lips.
We’re a frenzy of hands, limbs, and heaving breaths as we tumble onto the mattress.
I reach for him again, and he grunts, “Not this time.”
I’m flipped onto my stomach before he drags my hips up, my ass canted in the air and close to the edge of the bed. My aching nipples drag over the duvet, and I whimper.
“Please, Miles. Please.”
His fingers find my clit. I bury my face into the duvet and release a moan that should rattle the windows.
“Fucking dripping for me, London. Look at these pretty thighs, all slick with your need.”
I turn my head back until I meet his gaze. “Ruin me.”
He leans down, bundling my messy locks in one hand. “Yes ma’am.”
My thighs are nudged wider and the tip of his cock presses against my entrance. And just that is enough to make my mouth water, a strangled sound slipping through my lips.
“There’s no going back for us, London. This is it for me. You’re it.”
The air in my lungs burns out and doesn’t return.
Face twisted, I curl my fingers around the duvet, tamping back a sob. I needed him to meet me where I’m at. Needed him to be solid. He has met me where I am, swept me off my feet, and his hold has no sign of letting me fall.
Ever.