Chapter Twenty-Two Milo
Twenty-two
Milo
I have never moved faster in my life. I’m Usain Bolt being shot out of a cannon to get to Prue’s door. I punch in the wrong code number to her lock twice before making my heart and hands slow down long enough to get it right.
Then, all bets are off. I lock the door behind me, kicking off my shoes and tearing off my shirt as I continue running toward the stairs of her loft.
I nearly die on them, simultaneously climbing and attempting to take off my sweatpants before giving up and deciding to keep them on until I’m standing in front of her.
But when I am standing in front of her, somewhat dazed, out of breath, and hot-faced, I cease to exist.
Prue is a goddess, sitting on the edge of her bed just as I told her to stay.
She’s covered in goosebumps, her pale skin lit by the moon from the skylight above.
Her hair is wild as ever, falling over her shoulders.
And she’s entirely, flawlessly, magnificently bare head to toe.
Every inch of her body is available to view and stunning me into silence.
I cannot help but fall to my knees and crawl over to her, without a word spoken. It’s official, this woman will be the death of me. My rusalka . My killer. My awakening. The love of my fucking life.
I decide at this moment to no longer care about what may come.
That this, whatever she allows us to be, will fulfill and sustain me for the rest of my days.
That I’ll live a thousand lives between her sheets, in her presence, with her laughter, if she’ll let me.
Damn the rest of the world. Damn everyone else.
She is where I want to be and I’ll build my life next to hers, if she wants me to.
Hell, I might do it anyway.
“Why was that so hot?” she whispers, once I’ve crawled to her feet and rise to place myself between her knees.
I kiss her from knee to thigh to inner thigh, my hands gripping on to the wooden base of her bed until it creaks under my grasp. She moans, tossing her head back as my eyes flick up to see her face.
“Can I taste you?” I ask, already approaching with my tongue dragging along her skin.
“Yes,” she whispers.
I don’t waste another moment, pressing my thumbs into the soft flesh of her inner thighs to push her legs farther apart.
I breathe in the sweet, meadowy scent of her pussy before I swirl my tongue on every inch of available skin, already glistening with her arousal.
This taste, her taste, is a salve to both my swollen tongue and weary heart—a heady, salty yet sweet flavor belonging only to Prue.
I cannot help but moan pathetically when I press the tip of my tongue inside of her and feel her pulsate around me, giving me more of her sweet nectar.
My hands find the skin of her hips, curling around them in a desperate grip, tugging her closer to the edge of the bed, nearer and nearer to me until a portion of her weight is supported by my shoulders and I feel properly suffocated by her.
God, to die like this would be a dream come true.
“Mi,” she hiccups, tightening her hold in my hair. I growl in response, knowing she wants me to slow down. “Mi, it-i-it’s too mmm-much.”
She knows what to do if she needs me to stop, we’ve said it every time we’ve been together in the past few weeks. Two taps and I’ll stop. I glance up to her, seeing the reddish hue across her tits, neck, and cheeks that makes my cock twitch in my pants. Push through it, I tell her with my eyes.
“Fuuuck!” She squeezes out the word, high-pitched and aching as I relentlessly fuck her with my tongue.
“I’m coming!” she cries, both hands pulling at my hair as I glance up at her, watching as she comes undone.
Seeing her like this, panting and pink and ringing out like a bell, is a gift I’ll never deserve. But I will try to earn it.
I kiss her everywhere, softly brushing my lips over her as she shakes, writhes, and begins to come down.
I lick up the crease of her thighs, the wet flesh of her cunt, and every other spot below her waist that I dream of night after night, until she pulls me upward with that ever-tightening grip on my hair.
I don’t go willingly but when she tugs me upright, my back straight, on bent knees, my face perfectly lines up with her tits. I thank whatever god designed us both, and her bed too, for that. She cradles my head in both arms when I suck her nipple between my lips, flicking it with my tongue.
“So good.” She mewls. Then, releases a whiny, shaking, quiet moan as she strokes my hair.
My girl really does love having her tits played with.
I give them all of my attention until I notice one of her hands is missing from the back of my head and has found its place between her thighs.
I eagerly watch her toy with her clit while I kiss, flick, bite, and suck at every part of her breast. My hand is draped along her jaw and neck as she sucks my thumb into her mouth and moans around it.
“You’re a dirty little slut, aren’t you?
Just like me. You may have everyone fooled, making them all think you’re so sweet and innocent, but I know better, Prue.
I see you. I see how badly you want it. You’re insatiable.
I fuckin’ love it. I love—” I say aloud, caught up and beyond controlling the words spilling free.
I’ll have to be careful or else three far more dangerous words could easily spill out as well. “You want my cock, don’t you, Killer?”
She nods, nipping at the tip of my thumb with a devious smirk.
We make eye contact as I bite down on the side of her breast, sucking as much of her flesh into my mouth as I can.
She hisses, exhaling a quickened breath as her eyes drift shut.
I remove my thumb from her mouth and bring my hand slowly to the base of her throat.
“Get me ready,” she commands. I feel her deep swallow against my palm. “Touch me.”
I release her nipple with a wet pop, move to stand, then remove my sweatpants as she watches me with lust-filled eyes.
As soon as I’m naked, I reach down to lift her into my arms, one hand under her knees and the other along her back.
Prue giggles, smiling up at me as she braces for me to toss her onto the bed as I have so many times now.
But, instead, I curl her in close to me, covering every inch of her face with kisses as I move onto my knees on the mattress.
I lay her down softly, then brush her hair out of her face before pressing my lips to hers.
We kiss like it’s all we need, our mouths and noses pressed against each other with such force that I struggle to catch my breath. I come alive, feeling the fullness of her lips, the scrape of her teeth, the effortlessly coordinated give-and-take of tongues that riles me up like nothing else.
“Jesus, Prue…” I sigh against her lips. “You’re—”
“Ready,” she interrupts me, twisting and arching underneath me to bring me closer. Both of her hands press on my shoulder blades, attempting to meld our chests to each other as she winds her hips against mine. “Give it to me.”
“Slow down, Killer,” I say between her feverish kisses on my neck, stealing my words.
She drags a hand down the side of my abdomen toward my hip, her short fingernails teasing between soft and sharp.
“Love,” I choke out when she wraps her perfect hand around my cock.
“Prue,” I correct, “you’re not ready for me yet. ”
“Mmm,” she moans, twisting so my tip lines up with her entrance. I can feel how wet she is, and any moron could see how desperate she is as she mindlessly moves to bring me nearer, closer, inside of her.
“Prue, wait,” I tell her, pressing my lips to her jaw.
“Let me, okay?” I lower my weight onto my forearm next to her, then grab her wrist with my free hand and squeeze it until she releases.
“It’ll feel better this way,” I promise, then feel a surge of urgency.
“God, I’m going to make you feel so, so good. ”
“Promises, promises,” she whispers, her hands falling onto the pillow next to her, palms up. I raise myself, look up and down her perfect, relaxed body, totally bare and malleable. I realize that Prue trusts me, which is exactly what we’ve been working toward, but I want more.
Prue trusts me with her body, but could she trust me with her heart too?
“You’re perfect,” I tell her, letting my fingers drift from her lips to neck to chest to belly to the most tender, needy part of her.
I drag two fingers over her clit, soliciting a gasp from her, and then bring them to my mouth, coating them in my saliva before pressing them against her entrance. “Yes?” I ask.
“Yes,” she whispers in a breath.
I slide two fingers in slowly, letting her adjust as I’ve done a few times now. The feel of her is maddening— the ridges of her are tight and so, so sensitive. I let Prue lead, only spreading my fingers wider apart when she starts to rock her hips and moan against my shoulder.
“More?” I ask and she nods, kissing my biceps before, with a soft moan, she rolls her neck the other way.
I love how freely she gives herself over to pleasure.
It’s genuinely beautiful. I’ve drawn her orgasms from memory dozens of times now, the look of pure bliss that comes as she does is a mesmerizing sight.
I turn my wrist, curling my fingers upward to tap against the underside of her clit, and the reactive nerve endings that live there. Prue starts soaking my fingers and palm, writhing next to me and whimpering whenever her lips aren’t stuck between her teeth.
Prue whines when I remove myself, but I don’t make her wait long before I press three fingers against her entrance and help her stretch around them.
“Mmm,” she releases, her torso tensing.
“Should I stop?”
“No,” she says quickly, her expression taut before she takes a sharp inhale.
“Good job, Killer,” I whisper. “Breathe through it.”
After a few deep breaths shared between us, she relaxes once more, and I ease into her as gently as I’m able. “How does that feel?” I ask, holding as still as I can manage once all three fingers are fully seated inside of her.
“Tight,” she responds, her eyes blinking open and finding mine. “But…good.”
I kiss her forehead, then her eyelid closest to me as it drifts closed once more. “Perfect,” I whisper against her cheek, pressing my forehead to hers as I start to slide my fingers in and out of her. “Tell me to stop if you need me to.”
“Don’t stop,” she says hoarsely, craning her neck to kiss me.
Her lips are swollen and warm and the second I slide my tongue against them my heart begs to leap out of my chest and live next to hers.
We kiss in a way I’ve never kissed anyone before.
Like two bodies fusing together. Like two souls searching for a lifeline.
Slow and purposeful and yet totally without thought.
It’s not until she breaks our kiss to cry out that I even realize she is coming. And the guttural sound she makes, primal and raw, promises to play in my memory forever.
I press kisses to her cheek and neck while her breathing slows.
When she’s fully present with me, her eyes open once more, looking toward me with expectation, I remove my fingers and immediately wrap them around my dick, coating myself in her release.
I can’t help but attempt to feel her wetness there, knowing there will be a condom between us soon.
“Do you need some time?” I ask. “Or to stop? We can end here.”
“No,” she whispers, shaking her head softly as I tuck hair behind her ear. Prue turns so her lips find my wrist, and she holds them there, whispering her next words into my veins so I hear them everywhere. “I want you to be my first, Milo.”
I am the luckiest bastard alive. Yet, I cannot help but instinctively wish to hear her say and last too. Apparently, I’m the most selfish bastard as well.
“How do you want it to be?” I ask her, rubbing my thumb along the underside of her cheekbone, taking in how gorgeous she is, how right being with her feels.
“Face-to-face,” she answers. “Unless you didn’t mean position, then, I guess, just, um, lovely?”
“Lovely?” I ask her, unable to conceal my crooked smile.
“What? Is that silly?”
“No, no, it’s just not the word I was expecting.”
“Well, the word gentle doesn’t feel right, and I don’t really know how I’ll like it, right? I, I just want to feel, well, I want it to feel like you and I, I don’t know, like we do, or we could —”
I cut her rapidly spiraling words off with a delicate kiss, my chest squeezing upon her last word too tightly to allow her to go on. “ Lovely, ” I repeat. “Easy,” I whisper before kissing her again. “So easy.”
We kiss until we lose ourselves once more, then, I reach toward the nightstand for the unopened box of condoms she’s had out for a few weeks now.
I open the package, take out a purple foil wrapper, and open it with my teeth before turning onto my back and rolling it on.
Prue watches me, clearly fascinated, with a hand in her hair and her elbow against the mattress propping her up.
“You can do it next time,” I tell her. “If you want to try.”
She nods eagerly, reaching out toward my hip.
I notice her press her fingertip onto the tattoo there, the one in her writing, as she has a few times now.
I want to ask why she keeps looking at it as if she’s afraid the ink will somehow fade away.
I want to tell her that I plan on adding her initials underneath it as soon as I can. But I do neither.
Instead, I turn my head to face her, the tips of our noses nearly brushing once she lowers herself onto the same pillow. We stare into each other’s eyes for what is probably seconds, but feels more like minutes. “Are you ready?” I ask her.
“Ready,” she assures me, resting her palm on my cheek. “Are you?”
No, something deep within me cries out. No, because I’m already deeply, hauntingly, in love with you and I’m afraid. I’m afraid of you…What you could choose to do or not do with this exposed, inexperienced heart of mine. “Yes,” I answer anyway.