CHAPTER 15
SHERIDAN
This man is really testing my limits, but I’ll bite, if not for any other reason than I don’t think I’m currently physically capable of saying no. Pathetic, I know, but that’s apparently my new state of being whenever Myles is in the vicinity.
Completely and totally pathetic.
I try to suck in a breath as subtly as I can. “Who’s going first?”
His smile is blinding and beautiful. “Ladies first. Always.”
I turn my first card over, placing it between us on the sofa cushion.
Queen of Clubs.
Myles follows suit, slapping his on top of mine.
Queen of Diamonds.
“Snap.” He grins.
I let out a pained sigh. “Shit shuffle.”
He sticks his tongue out at me while he collects the cards and adds them to his pile. He starts again, turning over the 3 of Spades. I cover it with a 5 of Clubs, and on and on we go.
Out of maybe ten pairs, I get two snaps in before him. It really is not my game, and my heart is rioting in my chest because of it. I’m not made for games like this. The anxiety practically slaughters me.
For some reason, I think downing a glass of wine will help me, but if anything, it makes me worse—my inhibitions are low, my reaction times slower.
And I’m pretty sure he’s cheating.
“Snap!” I shout, as he does at the same time. “Fuck off, that was mine!” My heartbeat is thudding in my ears, mouth dry, fingers shaking.
“No, it was mine,” He insists, trying to push my hand away from where it’s quite clearly on top of the pile.
“Myles!”
“Sheridan,” he says with the coolness of a freaking cucumber.
“You’re cheating,” I accuse.
“I’m doing no such thing.”
As if I’ve forgotten I’m a grown woman, and not a scorned eight year old, I try to pry them out of his grip. “Give them to me.”
“No chance, Birdie.” He holds them high above his head.
Wine fully soaked into my bloodstream, forgetting where I am and who I’m with, I lunge forward in a farcical attempt at getting them back from him. Having seen him standing next to my twin brothers, I know Myles has an inch or two on them height-wise. Which means he towers over me. So, when he lifts his arm higher, I do the only thing I can do and use his shoulders as an aid to help me stand up on the sofa.
He starts laughing. “What are you doing?”
I grab his wrist and bring it to my chest, prying the cards free with my other hand. “These. Are. Mine,” I growl.
Suddenly my legs are swept from under me, and I fall back into the sofa cushions with a helpless yelp. “Myles!”
The culprit covers my mouth with his large hand, because I’ve lost the ability to control the volume of my voice now, as well. He hovers over me, his other hand on the back of my bare thigh. His thumb begins a lazy stroke of my skin.
Heat engulfs me like a burning flame. The intensity in his gaze now is severe, a complete contradiction to the way he touches me.
Lord, help me…
“I thought you weren’t competitive, Sheridan.”
The use of my first name like that, spoken all dark and silky has my insides ready to internally combust. I’m aware I must look like some kind of startled, deranged bird when he removes his hand from my mouth, and I’m staring at him with an open mouth and wide eyes. “I’m not. I don’t like cheating.”
“Birdie, that wasn’t cheating.” He tucks a strand—one rogue curl—of my hair behind my ear.
I can hardly breathe. “I won that round.”
“I don’t think so.”
I can feel it—that calloused hand of his—moving north up the back of my thigh at a pace that shouldn’t be legal. It’s torturous. Cruel, even.
Goosebumps are rising all along my limbs.
His eyes never leave mine, not even when he starts stroking my cheek with the back of his index finger. His tenderness is debilitating, and I am no longer in control. At least my brain isn’t. My body is, because my fingers do whatever they want. Like, trailing the hem of his T-shirt.
“Mine,” I mutter, but I’m not sure if I’m talking about the cards anymore.
He sucks in a breath. “Agree to disagree.”
His touch on the back of my leg grows tantric, and my breath catches before I breathe out, “Myles.”
“Yes, Birdie?”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I do know I’m tired of waiting. “Kiss me, please.”
His eyes flare with something carnal and joyous. In the next instance, he snatches the cards out of my hand, tosses them away, and grabs the backs of both my legs to yank me closer to him.
Then his mouth is on mine, and I learn what it’s like to be kissed by a real man. By a man that really wants me.
Myles pulls no punches. He’s eager and direct and downright punishing. His tongue plunders my mouth after barely licking the seam of my lips, and I let out the feeblest moan imaginable.
He growls in return like some kind of starved animal, and his grip on my leg tightens.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and smooth my hands down his back, applying a light pressure so that he sinks his body onto mine. I want to feel his weight on me—to feel his strength and mass suffocate my own.
“You’re unreal,” he grunts, pulling my lip between his teeth. It hurts but I like it.
“I’m quite real.” I assure him, pushing my fingers through his hair.
A shiver rolls through him, so I scratch his scalp with my nails. He produces a strangled whine, and God if that doesn’t boost my ego a little bit.
“Sheridan, I’m pretty sure you’re something out of a fantasy.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I mutter and shove my tongue into his delicious mouth. He tastes like beer and chocolate—an interesting combination, but not totally awful. Definitely not a reason to stop.
“Is praise not your thing, Birdie?” His voice is like pure gravel, and I feel it straight to that sacred place between my legs.
“Not particularly,” I admit. Because it’s true—I don’t need a man to tell me I take him well, or that I feel good. “But your voice is an aphrodisiac by itself.” And I mean that. He could probably read a weather report and it’d make me wet.
Myles groans, and I feel his already stiff length get harder against the inside of my thigh. Shameless, I lift my hips a little to feel him against my core. He hisses, and I smile into our kiss.
“Baby,” he chokes, and that is like a shot straight to my veins.
I can feel the slickness between my legs. I can’t remember the last time I was this wet for a man. “I like that,” I tell him.
“Like what?” His breathy question is like heaven to the ears.
I slide my hands beneath his T-shirt to feel his warm skin against my palms. “When you call me baby. And Birdie.”
He starts moving his kisses south, and while I mourn the intimacy, my body lights up under the attention. “Anything else?”
Before I know it, he’s lifted the skirt of my dress up and is sucking on the skin of my stomach.
Oh God, I’m so wet. “That,” I gasp. “I like that a lot.”
“This?” He asks, before leaving a new mark just below my belly button.
“Yes, that.” I squirm, shoving my hands through his hair again. He practically purrs at the touch. “Anything with your mouth.”
I see the smirk on his mouth. I see it when he lowers himself further and pushes my legs wider apart. And I watch him with rapt fascination when he pulls the seat of my knickers aside and stares at my glistening pussy with damn stars in his eyes.
“Even here?” His breath whispers there, and I almost choke.
“Fuck—God yes.”
Once again, Myles saves any preamble for another time, and dives right in.
I sink into the sofa cushions, writhing with pleasure from the skill of his tongue. And what gets me even more is that he’s clearly enjoying himself as much as I am. Plus, he’s fucking good at it. I didn’t think such a man existed, contrary to all those romance novels my sister has me read.
A real man is here and wants to eat my pussy.
“Yes, Myles,” I pant, gripping his hair tightly. “Yes, that’s so good.”
He makes another growling sound as he feasts on me—dauntless and devouring. “You are good,” he says into my core. “You taste incredible.”
I squirm again, wrapping my thighs around his head so he can’t go anywhere.
He doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seems to spur him on. He readjusts himself and it”s like his face disappears between my legs. His arms wrap around my hips. One hand playing with my clit while the other presses down on my stomach.
“Oh God,” I whimper, “Oh God. Please tell me you have a condom.”
He pauses with his work, head popping up. His mouth his covered in me, beard glistening, and yet doesn’t seem to give a fuck. “I’m… You want that?”
“Yes, Myles. I want you inside me. Like, ten minutes ago.”
He blows out a breath and my pussy contracts from the feel of it. He notices it, and a dirty smirk crosses his pretty features. “I don’t know. I wasn’t exactly planning on having sex this week.”
He starts to lift up after giving me a sharp nod, but before I let him run off, I drag him towards me again so I can kiss my mess off his face.
The look I’m met with when I pull away is dazed.
“Woman of my dreams,” he mutters as he stumbles away.
I take my dress and my knickers off before he comes back, because even if he doesn’t have one, he’s not getting out of this now without both of us coming.
“Jesus Christ,” Myles chokes at the sight of me.
I sit up straighter. “Have you got one?”
He flashes a foil square at me, and I could squeal with relief. I stand up, ready to strip him down, and he drags me toward him, my naked body flush against his.
Myles kisses me as I undress him, and then he sits back on the sofa and tugs me with him onto his lap. We both look down at the weapon he’s carrying, and my mouth goes dry. It’s big.
My breathing becomes laboured when he takes it in his hand. He’s leaking from the tip, so he runs his thumb over the crease, and then he holds it up to me. I take it in my mouth without hesitation, which earns another groan.
“This is not how I pictured my week going,” he admits as he watches me suck on his thumb with rapt attention.
“Me neither.”
Myles rips the foil packet open. In one swift movement he rolls the condom on, and then he takes me by the hips. He gives me a look so determinedly confident that I’m soaked all over again. “Ride me until you come, Birdie.”
I grip his shoulders and sink onto his length, choking as he fills me. “Fucking hell, Myles.”
His grip on my hips tightens. “Baby, you’re so tight.”
I knew I would be. It’s been a while since I slept with someone and I’m not one for dildos at home. I feel like I’ve been impaled. “Doesn’t help that you’re packing a fucking weapon of a cock.”
He leans forwards, his arms wrapping tightly around me. “Stop stroking my ego and fuck me, Sheridan.”
I’m still adjusting. “I don’t think I can.”
“Bullshit.” He grips my hips and lifts me up, “Just like…” then slams me back down, “that.”
He muffles my scream with a kiss but repeats the move like I’m some flimsy doll. He is the master, and I am his tool for pleasure.
Eventually, I get the hang of it. My hips move of their own accord, and Myles explores my chest, tits and throat with his mouth. He worships me, and I am utterly here for it.
I drag my fingers through his scalp and down his back while he bruises my chest with his mouth and my hips with his fingers.
We’re rough with each other—a side I didn’t expect him to have, and yet it makes me like him just that bit more.
I bounce and bounce on him, until he lifts me up and turns me around to face the room.
I’m suddenly reminded of where we are and what we’re doing, and yet I find myself not caring. That’s not like me. But the thought of someone, anyone, coming in here and catching us, sends a strangely delicious thrill through me. I’m wet all over again.
Myles drops me back on his dick and slides an arm around me, the other hand still on my hip. He whispers filthy nothings in my ear—not praising but just delicious to listen to.
He lowers a hand to play with my clit again and wraps the other around my throat. When the slightest bit of pressure is added, paired with his lips on my shoulder, I come apart like a cheap fucking tent.
I try to contain my cries as my body spasms in Myles’s strong grip, and I feel him coming right along with me.
“Fucking hell, Sheridan,” Myles pants, pressing his lips to my back, right at the top of my spine.
All I can do is nod.
He laughs breathily. “Forgotten how to speak?”
I just nod again.
He eases me up off him, legs like jelly, and stands behind me. He wraps his arms around my middle, hard dick nestled against my backside, and starts walking us through the hall.
“You’re so beautiful,” Myles whispers, his teeth nipping at the lobe of my ear.
I hum, because apparently good dick turns me into a useless heap, but I cling to him like a lifeline.
He chuckles again, his fingers delicately stroking my abdomen where he’s left a litany of little purple love bites. “Let’s get cleaned up, baby.”