Chapter Twenty-Three Prue
Twenty-three
Prue
Milo strokes himself twice as he sits on bent knees between my legs.
Then, he reaches onto my bedside table once more for the small bottle of lube I bought at the pharmacy alongside the condoms. He pours it out onto his fingers, closes the bottle, then tosses it aside.
He then strokes himself once more, coating the condom with the lubricant.
Quickly after that, he uses it on me, making sure he warms it in his hands before pressing it to my entrance.
I like the sensation of it, the slight cool of it against my already sore, heated flesh.
Then he lowers himself over me and kisses me once more.
I get lost in our kiss, as I always seem to. My hands dig into his hair while my teeth ache to be let loose on his lips. My tongue glides with his like a well-choreographed, memorized dance. Milo’s kisses are the kind of thing poems are written about. And I intend to write some of my own.
Eventually, Milo adjusts his hold to spread my legs wider. I hook my knees around him, the heels of my feet pressing into the backs of his thighs. Then, he presses his forehead against mine, reminds me to breathe, and positions himself against my entrance.
I take a deep breath, as told, but my heart begins pounding in my chest just the same. I feel myself tense all over, the awareness of which only makes me do it more.
“Hey,” Milo says, pressing a kiss to my nose. “Open your eyes for me,” he whispers tenderly.
I do, only to realize I’d had them shut so tightly my eyelids had started to tremble.
“You’re safe.” He reminds me of what I already know, his dark eyes finding mine. “Stay here with me.” I look into his eyes, now so familiar and yet still breathtaking, and nod. “We’re going to do this together, ” he says solemnly.
“I’m ready,” I say, hoping my body hears the words and relaxes some.
“It might hurt a little at first, that’s normal. If it hurts too much, let me know and we will stop right away. I will never hurt you, Prue.”
“I really want this,” I reassure him. “And I do trust you.”
“I know, beautiful. It’s okay. You’re doing everything right.”
“Thank you,” I whisper shyly as I nod, my lips parting on a soft gasp as he begins to press the tip of his erection inside of my entrance.
“I should be thanking you, ” he says, smirking.
The smirk, his usual carefree, teasing expression, sets me at ease some more.
“I am the luckiest man alive to be here with you,” he says, gliding himself farther in by the smallest amount.
“This time with you has been”—his voice cuts when he slides in some more, and his eyes roll back ever so slightly—“ incredible. ” He finishes his words with a sigh.
I force a deep breath, feeling my lungs contract from his words and the pinching, stretching sensation between my legs.
“You are…” Milo adjusts his weight over me, then wraps one of his arms under my shoulders, his hand moving to grasp the top of my arm.
“The most beautiful,” he says as he slides deeper, “generous,” deeper still, “kindhearted,” deeper still, “funny,” deeper still, “talented,” almost there, “person I’ve ever met.
” His voice trembles as he brings our bodies as close as they physically can be.
“Oh…” I shudder, tilting my head back as he lowers his face toward mine.
His forehead falls against my jaw, and he breathes into my neck as we both seem to adjust to the feeling of being so wholly connected.
I can feel him deep inside of me, my lower stomach clenched and heavy as my muscles quiver and flutter around him.
Milo whispers something in Russian two or maybe three times. While I don’t fully hear him, or understand it, I can sense the phrase’s heaviness all the same when he curls himself into me and breathes like he too can feel the axis of the world shifting from underneath my bed.
I wrap my arms around him, linking my fingers against the middle of his back and holding him tightly.
“Is it…” I start to speak, then fall silent after a moan as he rolls his hips against me.
“Is it always like this ?” I ask, digging my fingertips into the sharp edge of his shoulder blade.
Despite the cool autumn air outside, warmth continues to fill the room.
A bead of sweat makes its way down next to my ear, my entire body heating to what feels like a dangerous degree.
“Never,” he answers sternly, rocking into me once more with his grip tightened on my shoulder and hip. “It has never been like this for me.”
“Oh,” I say, unconsciously licking my lips as my eyes drift closed. “Oh,” I repeat, feeling Milo carve his name against parts of me previously left untouched. “ Oh, ” I begin to chant with each of his long, languid, rolling thrusts, over and over and over again.
“That’s it,” he whispers in my ear, his cheek pressed against mine.
“That’s my girl.” He angles his hips, hitting a new spot that makes me cry out in his steadfast hold.
“Tonight is all about you. Take anything you want from me.” He says it as if he’s offering up more than sex.
Like he’d hand me his heart or soul if I asked him to.
God, I want to ask.
“Yesss…” I whimper, feeling the good kind of pressure in my lower belly build toward something new and daunting. But I trust Milo to take me there, wherever it may be. I really, really trust him. “Milo, it feels so good.”
“I know, Killer. I’m here with you. You feel unbelievable. You’re doing so, so well. Are you ready for more or not yet?”
“Yes, please,” I answer, quietly. “Milo”—his name is a plea—“I…I’m so glad it’s you.”
He roars wordlessly, a rolling, deep, appreciative moan from the back of his throat set free.
“Thank you,” I tell him as he begins fucking me at a steady pace, softly sliding out but urgently returning with thrusts that echo throughout my bedroom. As my pleasure builds to what feels like a point of no return, I have no choice but to offer up one more foolishly hopeful truth.
“I-I feel like yours, ” I whisper while he sucks the skin above my collarbone into his mouth.
Milo’s forearm under my neck flexes, tightening his hold across my shoulders. He buries his face into my neck, breathing shakily. “Fuck, Prue. Say that again,” he says, his voice low and uneven.
“I feel like yours,” I repeat, beginning to tremble.
Milo presses his bared teeth into the side of my jaw with a heady groan. “Again,” he commands.
“Yours,” I whisper a dozen times, my voice far-off and entranced, as he nips and bites at my jaw, releasing loud, greedy moans in my ear.
“Fuck, Prue.” Milo slams into me, retrieving a high-pitched squeal from me. He rotates the angle of his hips once more, tilting upward to pierce a deep, deep part of me I’d not previously known.
I whine out his name, my chest too tight to take a full breath.
“You tell me to stop if you need me to,” he says, retreating slightly just to rut into me once more. “I’m—”
“Don’t you dare stop.” I cut him off with my tongue against his lips, begging to be let in. I cannot contain this feeling. This urgent desperation for more. I need more of him, everywhere. His tongue, his dick, his hands. I need him closer, somehow. Closer than my own skin.
Milo matches my needy chaos, our wet, sloppy kiss turning feral as he continues to fuck me over the edge of mindless oblivion.
“Yes!” I cry out, then cut myself off as I bite down into his shoulder.
Milo groans out in pain and then releases a breathy laugh.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say, removing my teeth.
“Don’t be,” he whispers raggedly, his wild eyes finding mine. “You’re my fuckin’ dream girl. Give in to all of it, Prue. Feel everything. Let me hear you. Feel you.”
A smile overtakes my face, quickly bent out of shape by a burst of pleasure as he drives into me once more.
“Oh, you like hearing that?” he teases, his voice cool in striking contrast to his stern expression. “That you’re the woman of my dreams?”
“Yes, yes I do,” I tell him between panting breaths as that coiled ring of pleasure continues to twist and wind inside of my lower belly, threatening to spring free.
He hums darkly, sliding his lips against mine as he crooks his hips once more, pausing to let me catch my breath after impact. “I’ve never wanted anyone like this…Never—”
I tried to keep it in, truly, but the jittering moan escapes anyway, cutting him off. I feel myself climb one rung farther up the ladder toward what seems to be a newfound type of euphoria.
“That’s it, Killer. You’re so close.” Milo kisses a tear falling down my cheek. “Prue, you’re perfect,” he says hoarsely. “Your pussy is fucking strangling me. Does it feel good? Show me.”
I inhale, sharp and urgent, before I release a moan from the back of my throat.
“Yes, Prue, there we go! Let it all out for me. I’ve got you. C’mon, baby, give it to me. I can feel you about to come around my cock. It feels so fucking good. You’re doing such a good job.”
I gasp raggedly, struggling to inhale as my muscles go taut and a broken version of his name falls past my lips.
“Good fucking girl,” Milo growls, holding my hip down with his flattened palm as I begin to writhe and tremble. “Let yourself feel it, gorgeous. Feel everything….”
I yell out, my climax taking over and stealing the breath from my lungs. I shatter underneath him, and he holds me steady as he fucks me through what feels like a never-ending wave of ecstasy.
Milo moans, rutting into me as his movements become short and sporadic. “One day…” he says, his breathing louder than his voice. “I’m going to fuck this pussy full of come,” he whispers, as if to himself, then stills and tenses all over, groaning out through bared teeth.
With panting breaths, our lips meet again, kissing feverishly as we both fight to take in the air we so desperately need. The kiss turns lazy and languid, brushing lips and soft tongues melding in the dark.
“That was…” I whisper as he grips my face tightly, his thumb next to the corner of my bottom lip as he presses another kiss there.
“Please find the right word,” he begs, brushing his thumb under my lip as he continues to catch his breath. “Because I know I won’t be able to.”
“Words? What are words?” I joke, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead.
He stares at me— really stares at me. With eyes equal parts mesmerized and wounded.
Like how someone stares in the ten seconds before they say something big, revealing, and uncharacteristically vulnerable.
I brace for it. I prepare my heart to hear the three words I’ve been foolishly imagining him saying to me for weeks now.
But, instead, he reaches into my hair, plucks an imaginary pin from above my ear, and mimes putting it into our ever-filling board of things we won’t, or shouldn’t, talk about, to his left.
And, despite the way my stomach drops, I know it’s for the better.
So, I hold his eye contact and do the same in return, reaching into his ’stache to remove a pin of my own and placing it next to the spot where he had placed his as our shared gaze holds the weight of all the things we’re not saying.
I think it’s as close as we’ll ever get to admitting how we feel. We are just two afraid people in a dimly lit room agreeing with our eyes that no good can come from offering these pesky feelings to each other.
That once spoken, those words would only make the memories of our time together hurt more when we have to say goodbye. And we will have to say goodbye.
I’m new to it, sure, but I know love when I see it.
Love has surrounded me all my life. Love has danced in my kitchen and mowed the lawn and painted back steps and tucked me into bed since I was a child.
And there’s no denying that look in Milo’s eyes.
Mine either, no doubt. Reflecting this cracked-open, yet overflowing sensation in my chest like golden, warm honey coating every muscle, bone, organ, and vessel.
We both sigh, somehow in tandem, then Milo kisses my chin before he removes himself and rolls onto his back next to me on the bed.
We both lie flat, staring up at the stars through the skylight above, our breathing in perfect unison.
He reaches for my hand in the dark, without a word, and holds on to it tightly.
With tears in my eyes, I smile up at the moon. Because I, Prudence Welch, against all odds, have fallen in love. Love waltzed into my tiny town, found my very doorstep, let himself in, and miraculously managed to find me in a home I’ve never left.
So, yes, Milo and I are in love.
And, no, we’ll probably never admit it to each other.
But how wonderful and tragic and lucky is that?