Oh my god. I have a thing for Miller. #6
Miller grins. “It is, isn’t it?” Then he heads toward the living room, and I follow him. We fall into the couch together, this time thigh to thigh. I take a sip of my soda to gather my thoughts and lower it to the ground by my feet.
Rip off the bandaid, Delane. Let’s do this . I don’t even know why I suddenly feel… nervous?
“Okay,” I say, pretending my confidence is soaring inside me. “Let’s start with the kiss.”
He nods eagerly, eyes going wide with anticipatory excitement. And his expression does things to me. Makes me really not want to lead him astray or disappoint him.
“Your kiss was good,” I start, and he immediately cinches his brow.
“Good doesn’t sound very good,” he says quietly, and there it is. His insecurities in himself shining through brighter than the sun. I let my hand rest on the spot between his knee and thigh and give a squeeze.
“That’s not what I’m saying. It was a really good kiss, Miller. Seriously. It’s me. Would I blow smoke up your ass?” Everything in me desperately wants him to believe me like I can’t take a full breath until he agrees. I squeeze him again. “Would I?”
His smile is small and shy when he shakes his head. “No.”
“Right,” I add. “So believe me when I say… your kiss was very good.”
Then our eyes lock, and silence twists between us as I remember the kiss and wonder if that’s what he’s thinking about, too.
“But you need to know that a good kiss doesn’t always mean taking control. There’s a time when you grab a face or hold a lower back.”
“Okay,” he draws out, scratching the side of his jaw.
And before I can let my insecurities or inexperience creep in, I swing my leg over his hips and take a comfortable position straddled in his lap.
Taking his face in my hands–his stubble intensifies the wet warmth between my legs–I bring our mouths together, kissing him aggressively, sweeping my tongue into his mouth.
He tastes so good, like candied fruit or something.
Not what I expected, yet somehow better .
As I kiss him, my fingertips sink into his face, and he moans, his lips vibrating against mine. I have the strongest urge to grind my hips against him. Right as his hands come to my thighs, I break our kiss and get drunk off the lusty look on his face.
Pink-tipped nose, cheeks flushed, lips parted and swollen. He blinks and swallows, and I laugh a little.
“It was so hot to have you let me take control. It shows you’re not trying to prove anything; you just want to enjoy it.”
He nods. “I do sometimes feel like I have to control everything since I’m the man.”
“You can find a relationship like that, Miller. That’s out there.
Women that want their man to lie them down and spread their legs and fuck them until the condom is full and that’s all sex and love is to them.
” My thumb strokes his cheek a little because I’m still holding his face. “Is that what you want?”
He shakes his head but doesn’t speak, and it’s then I feel him.
Rising up at my center is Miller’s cock, hard beneath his jeans.
My eyes widen at the discovery, and he starts to squirm back against the couch, presumably to give our laps space, but I don’t want that.
I drop my hands from his face to his shoulders.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, my clit pulsing and my groin tightening with how fucking bad I want to have an orgasm with him right now. “It’s just the friction.” I stroke his cheek a little more. “Miller, we’re kissing. You’re getting hard. That’s okay.”
He swallows again, and I feel a little bad that his shyness is a turn-on, but goddamn, it really is. I take another soft kiss from his lips.
“This is what it’s going to be like between us, okay? I’m going to show you how to enjoy a woman without stressing about your performance. And when we’re done, you’ll be so comfortable with your body and hers that confidence will be second-nature, and you won’t second guess any of it.”
He nods, clearing his throat. His voice is husky when he speaks, and I wonder if his voice is smoky and raspy like this when he comes, too. I should not think about Miller coming while his cock is pressed to my crotch, but how can I not? It feels... Good. Being with him at his place feels good.
At that thought, I unseat myself from him and grab my soda, lifting it to take a sip. When I turn to face him, he’s doing the same, but his can is empty in a matter of moments.
“You okay there, bud?” I tease, tapping his hollow aluminum .
“Thirsty,” he rasps, his eyes locked on mine so intensely that I wonder things I shouldn't be wondering. Like… is he imagining what just happened between us as him and the blonde from the shop the other day? Is he already getting lost in the fantasy of taking these lessons to other women?
I shove the can down into my purse and get to my feet.
“I parked pretty far away because I wasn’t sure how the assigned parking in your complex worked, but…
is there a place I can park closer? I was going to pull my car up and see if you could show me where the drive shaft is.
Unless it's something we have to do at the shop.”
“We could do it here, but we’d need to jack it up.” The can cracks and pops in his hand. “If you can get to work a little early tomorrow, I will too, and we can use one of the bays and get underneath it. I can show you.”
I nod. “Sounds good.” Outstretching my fist, I wait for him to bump mine. But he looks confused as he stares at my curled knuckles.
“Feels weird to fist bump after we made out.”
I open my curled fist so that I’m holding half of a handshake out to him. He laughs as he shakes his head, and all his strawberry blonde hair catches my attention again, taking my breath away. Hot with a hat, hot without… he’ll have no trouble finding a girl.
“A shake feels even worse,” he laughs, finally rising to his feet.
Unexpectedly, he loops both arms around me and tugs me into his chest. Hard and warm, smelling like a boyfriend would, he holds me tight to him for a few seconds, dropping a soft “thanks, Laney” into my ear.
Those two words melt into me, filling my veins and bones with quaking, pulsing heat. I break free from his hug.
“No problem,” I force out casually. “See you in the morning.” I turn to face Salsa, who has been sitting on the edge of the couch glowering at me for the last ten minutes. “Later, Pico.”
The cold evening air seizes my lungs, making it hard to breathe.
It’s definitely not the evening with Miller that has me gasping and holding my chest as I walk to my car.