Chapter 35
35
Millie
“I’m going to have to start calling you Eager Ezra.” I laugh as he kicks off his shoes and sprints to my room.
“You can call me a lot of things, honey. Just don’t call me that.” He gives me a quick spank, then tosses his phone onto my bed and heads to the en suite bathroom. From the other side of the cracked door, he says, “Can you look at my phone and tell me Kane’s location? I want to make sure he’s nothing like me at his age and is where he says he’s going to be.”
When I pick up his phone, I’m met with his lock screen. “Uh, it’s locked.”
“It’s 242424.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Giving me your passcode is the modern-day equivalent of giving me a key to your apartment,” I joke. “I’m not sure we’re there yet.”
“I have nothing to hide, Mills.”
I open the tracking app and give him the location, which is met with a sigh and a “thank god.”
We trade places in the bathroom, and when I’m finished, I find him already in my bed. He looks right at home against my mountain of decorative pillows, with his hands behind his head and his elbows out. A wicked grin peeks out from beneath his almost unruly beard, making my skin tingle with anticipation.
“Strip, baby,” he commands.
My heart trips over itself. “Where are your manners, Mr. Miller?” I tease, loving this tug-of-war game we often play. “Or should I call you Principal Miller?”
“Don’t brat me unless you’re serious, sweetheart,” he warns.
I cross my arms, standing my ground. For now.
All the wind is knocked out of me, though, when he hoists me up and tosses me onto the bed. A giggle bursts out of me, but he smothers the sound with his mouth. But not with a kiss. No. He bites my bottom lip before licking the sting away.
I lightly push back on his chest. “I’m so proud of you.”
“I know, baby.”
I’ve only told him a million times since he was offered the principal position two days ago. “Will you let me throw you a party?”
“Absolutely not. You know I don’t like celebrating myself.”
With a harrumph, I push my lower lip out. “How can I show you how proud I am, then?”
“I can think of a few ways…” He drags his fingers down my silhouette and stops at the hem of my skirt. “Do you know what these fucking boots do to me?”
Excitement flashes through me. I thought he might like my thigh-high black leather boots.
“These stay.” He smirks.
He fumbles at my waist to pull down my skirt without success, so I reach behind my back and undo the zipper for him.
“Thanks,” he mumbles.
“Oh, so he does have manners.”
That earns me a pinch to the nipple through my top.
He slides my skirt down my thighs, groaning when my lacy black G-string is revealed. “Fuck, Mills, are these new too?”
Biting my bottom lip, I nod. “Do you like?”
The noise he makes at the back of his throat rumbles through me, followed by a wave of heat.
“Sit up,” he demands.
I oblige, letting my legs hang off the bed.
With his breath tickling the shell of my ear, he unties my top. As the fabric gives, I raise my arms. Painstakingly, Ezra guides the material up my body until my breasts fall, heavy in their escape.
He takes a step back, wiping a hand down his face, his brows pinched in concentration.
“Your turn,” I urge, my breaths coming quicker.
He shakes his head. “I’m just getting started. Lay back and spread those legs for me. And if you sass me, Amelia, I won’t let you come.”
“Yes, sir.” I scramble back to the top of the mattress. As much as I love being bossed around in the bedroom, I really don’t want to be edged right now.
Ezra runs a single digit from the top of my underwear, down to where it disappears between my thighs, eliciting a full-body shiver.
“What are your limits?” he asks. “Anything you don’t want me to do tonight?”
I shake my head. I can’t think of anything but how pained Ezra must be with his erection trapped within the confines of his jeans and how long he’ll make me wait for it.
As if he can read my mind, he straightens and yanks off his shirt, then unbuttons and unzips his pants. Though he doesn’t remove them, he sighs in relief.
The gleam in his dark eyes tells me he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. That fucker .
He hooks his fingers under the strap of my underwear, then releases with a loud thwack . Before the sting registers, he does it again. And again.
When I drop my head back and groan, he soothes my skin with a chaste kiss. His facial hair tickles the sensitive area, making me squirm, but he keeps his lips at my core, pushing the barely there fabric to the side and resting his finger against my cunt. I spread my legs wider, making room for him. Regardless of what he does next, I’m desperate for it.
He continues kissing the perimeter of my panties, teasing me with nips and quick kisses. All the while, his finger remains torturously still at my opening.
Then, in one fluid motion, he sinks in deep.
“Yes,” I sigh. About damn time. “More,” I beg without shame. “More.”
He slips a second finger inside and curls them, hitting the perfect spot in repetitive movements. It’s a surefire way to get me to come quickly, and he knows it.
I pull the fabric farther to the side to give him better access, and he instantly laps at me.
“Fuck.” I arch my back. “That feels nice.”
He blows against my clit. “Make that pussy purr for me.”
My toes curl as much as they can in my boots, and as euphoria builds inside me, I dig the stilettos into the bed. The ecstasy gathers at my core, coiling tight and teasing me with the promise of its inevitable release.
“So close,” I whisper. With my hands in his hair, I hold him exactly where I want him, grinding my pussy against his mouth, smothering him. “There. Theretherethere .”
On cue, he does that thing with his tongue I love so much, the one he usually saves for the finale.
“Fuck,” I scream.
He rides out my orgasm with me, his fingers still buried inside me and his tongue on my clit, and he doesn’t let up until the last waves and flutters of my orgasm settle.
I’m spent, but by the way he’s stroking himself, it’s clear he’s not done with me. Moving with confidence, he shucks his pants and tosses them to the side. Then he removes my boots one at a time. He hovers over me, his body radiating heat, as I fist his cock and guide his length between my thighs, using him as a personal dildo.
“Stop,” he croaks, his eyes squeezed shut.
Holding my breath, I freeze and peer down between us, discovering that one of his piercings has snagged on the lace of my G-string.
“Oh, shit. Don’t move.”
His arms tremble on either side of me as he holds himself up, his breaths becoming choppy.
It’s too dim to make out the details of the situation. I worry that without light, I’ll make it worse. “Can you reach your phone? I need the flashlight.”
Sighing, he turns his head only. “It’s a little out of reach.” He lowers himself gently, trapping his tangled cock between us. “Scoot with me. On three. One, two…”
On three, I lift my hips to stay flush with him. I don’t even want to consider the worst-case scenario. But he’s taken me to the emergency room, so I suppose I’ll return the favor if I must. At the thought, I can’t help but imagine rolling up to the front desk and reporting the incident.
Despite my best efforts to rein it in, a giggle slips free. It’s a small nasally noise at first, but if I’m not careful, it could easily turn into a full-on belly laugh.
“Amelia,” Ezra reprimands, his brows furrowed and his expression stern. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s kind of funny.” Another giggle escapes me, so I bite my tongue and force myself to breathe evenly.
Balancing on his left arm, he reaches for his phone with his free hand and passes it to me.
I shine the light between our bodies and tuck my chin to assess the situation. “Can you hold it up a bit?”
When he pulls his crown back a fraction, I can make out the place where the lace has snagged. As Ezra breathes heavily above me, I pray to the sex gods that I don’t mess this up. Very gently, I pinch the thread and unwrap it from the metal. His dick bobs, and after he’s confirmed it’s free, he collapses to the bed beside me.
“Oh, thank fuck,” he exhales, his hand resting over his half-hard cock and his eyes closed.
I take a moment to study every peak and valley of his chest and abdomen, paying close attention to the swirling patterns of the hair on his thighs.
When I rest a hand on his chest, his body vibrates with laughter.
“Oh, so you can laugh, but I can’t?” I pinch his nipple.
“It wasn’t your dick that was literally hanging on by a thread.”
And now we’re both flat on our backs, cackling up at the ceiling.
I shed the villainous undies and fling them across the room dramatically. “There. Who knew lace could be so evil.”
Eventually our laughter tapers off to a comfortable silence, and we migrate to our sides so we’re facing one another.
“Did we totally kill the mood?”
Propping his head up with his hand, he swirls his fingers around my nipple, leaving goose bumps in his wake. Then he drags them down my body, pausing at the crease at my thigh. “I’m always in the mood when it comes to you.”