20. The Price of Admission
20
THE PRICE OF ADMISSION
Veronica
Twenty minutes and a quick shower later, I’m rushing to the door to answer Milo’s knock.
When I open it, he’s looking like he freshened up too. The ends of his hair are wet. His dark blue eyes lock with mine. I stare at his inviting mouth for a beat, but my eyes are eager to check out all of him, so my gaze takes a stroll. He wears a trim maroon T-shirt and skinny shorts that make me want to rename him Mister Sexy Shorts too. But off with his clothes, I say! I am going to strip him naked so damn soon.
But first, someone has to say hello.
StudMuffin bounds over, all springy as he jumps up and down on his little back legs, barking happily. Milo bends down to stroke his head. “Hey cutie,” he says. Satisfied, my dog trots away to his cuddle cup and curls into a tight ball.
Now it’s my turn for attention. In the doorway, my visitor stares at me with obvious approval in his eyes. I’m wearing a simple yellow sundress and no bra. The hitch in his breath tells me he noticed the lack of confinement for the girls. “Nice dress,” he says.
I gesture to his clothes. “Nice everything. But I have a question for you.”
“Hit me up,” he says.
“What would you have done if I hadn’t found your paper airplane?”
He smiles wickedly. “I winged it your way twenty-eight minutes ago, so I’d have . . . wait for it . . . called you in two more minutes.”
“Good answer,” I say, then check out his hands. They’re empty. I tilt my head to the side. “Where’s the sandwich though?”
“Is that the price of admission?”
“I was promised a sandwich. I want a sandwich.”
He wags a finger at me. “You dirty little liar. You pretended you didn’t love sandwiches. Many times over. I offered you sandwiches; I confessed my love of sandwiches. And all along, you were loving on sandwiches too,” he says, grinning like he’s won a prize.
The prize of me. “A girl’s gotta have some secrets,” I say then I grab the neck of his shirt, tug him close, and shut him up with a kiss.
“Mmm,” he murmurs.
The man shows off his multitasking skills next when he kisses me as he pushes into my apartment, then slams the door with his foot.
Oh, yes.
That is such a wind-me-up move. I break the kiss. “That’s on a list somewhere,” I tell him. “What you just did.”
He cups my cheek possessively. “Good. I want all your lists, and I’ll make you a sandwich later, I promise,” he says, then sweeps a hot, demanding kiss against my lips.
My stomach flips. My knees weaken. I grab the neck of his shirt to hold on tighter.
He pushes me against the wall in my foyer, then drops his face to my neck, dragging his nose along my skin, drawing in a deep hit of me like he did yesterday. “Your scent is in my head,” he says, rough and hungry. “All day long. Is it your lotion? Or shampoo? Or just you?”
“Lotion,” I murmur, my hands traveling up and down his chest, exploring his pecs over the fabric of his shirt. I want him to take me against the wall. Slam my wrists over my head, yank up my skirt, tear off my panties . . .
But there’s something wet on my ankles.
Familiar too.
I break the kiss, dropping my gaze. Hot Stuff is licking my ankles. Milo chuckles as the cat finishes his feast, then sashays away, tail twitching saucily as he disappears into the living room.
“He likes your lotion too,” Milo says.
“He also loves my hair. He rubs against my head whenever he can.”
Milo wiggles a brow, then slides up against me, rubbing his face against my hair. “Smart cat.”
“You might think that’s funny, but your face in my hair turns me on,” I whisper.
“Everything you do gets me hard,” he says.
I gasp. Heat pools between my legs from his base words.
He pulls back, looks me in the eyes. His gaze is electric but vulnerable too. “Want to know why I took off so quickly this morning at work?”
“I do.”
“I didn’t want to make it too obvious at work that I was dying to see you. I wasn’t sure if you wanted anyone to know. And once I saw you, I had to get the hell out of there or everyone was going to be able to tell how much I want you,” he says, making my silly heart dance.
“I get it,” I say, playing with the hem of his shirt.
“And I didn’t want to explain all that over text. I just wanted to tell you in person.”
“We had a big flower order today,” I say, adding a confession of my own. “I wanted to tell you over text, but I didn’t know . . .”
“If I wanted to see you again?” he finishes, his tone gentle.
“Yes,” I admit softly. He’s easy to talk to. He’s so open, so non-judgmental.
He lifts my chin. “Have I mentioned I thought about you all day?”
“Maybe,” I say, fighting off a smile.
“Veronica,” he begins. “I want you so much.”
Those words are a blast of lust. I nibble on the corner of my lips as desire swallows me whole. “Will you fuck me tonight?”
He growls a yes .
One minute later, we’re on my balcony, my ass up against the brick wall, my fingers roaming over his scratchy beard. Milo cups my tits as we kiss ruthlessly, him grinding against me. It’s mind-blowing, the friction. Everyone should be kissed like this. Hell, the skyscrapers are jealous. The Brooklyn Bridge is getting turned on. The stars are horny.
He squeezes my nipples, and I am liquid everywhere. My bones melt right along with my panties. I need them off, like, yesterday.
“Milo,” I murmur.
Breathing heavily, he pulls back. “Yeah?”
“Go down on me,” I instruct, feeling powerful as I tell him what I want, feeling grateful that he’s the right man to give it to me.
His eyes pop. They twinkle with wows . “You’re killing me, sunshine,” he mutters, then sinks to his knees.
No one can see him. With the solid brick wall, I’m only visible from the waist up.
He pushes up the skirt of my dress, and drops his head back, laughing.
He hooks a finger through the waistband of the white cotton. “Skulls,” he says, admiring the cartoon illustrations on the fabric. Then he whispers the word again— skulls —as he presses a kiss to the cotton. I moan when he pulls off my panties, tosses them behind him on the patio, and brushes the softest, most tender kiss to my center.
The sound he makes is devastating. It’s better than a fantasy. It’s all real, and soon he’s exploring me with his lips and tongue.
I’m not sure how I’m standing. I ache tremendously between my thighs. But he soothes the ache with an eager mouth and strong fingers that dig into the flesh of my ass.
Soon, I’m louder than an ambulance siren in New York City.
“Yes, that, so good,” I say, like a dirty chant as I clutch at his hair.
As he consumes me, he brushes his beard against my thighs, then sucks on my clit.
I can’t take it. I can’t withstand the pleasure, the decadent assault on my senses, the utter intensity of his soft, insistent mouth.
It’s too much, and I’m gone, spiraling into a terrific orgasm. I whimper and moan quietly. I don’t want the neighborhood to hear me come.
Just him.
Only him.
This handsome, clever, caring man kneeling before me, worshipping my body with his wicked mouth.
When I come down, I exhale several staggered breaths, then offer him a hand to pull him up. “Rolling off the tongue is so important,” I whisper as he stands.
“It’s a vital skill that must be practiced daily,” he says with a smirk.
Daily practice with him is dangerously enticing. I think I want that. But first, I need the rest of tonight. “Inside. Now. I want you naked.”
He scoops me up, tosses me over his shoulder and carries me inside. When he drops me on my bed, he braces himself on his palms and gazes down at me. “Look, sunshine. This is going to be fucking amazing for me no matter what. So I want you to tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you. Tell me what position you want. How hard, how gentle, how dirty. I’ve read every single word in every single column of yours. I’ve loved them all. I know you’ve got a million fantasies in that beautiful mind of yours, and I want to give them to you,” he says. “Every. Last. One.”
I do have countless dirty dreams, but Milo’s just given me a new one—I want a man who studies my desires and is devoted to delivering them. I loop my hands around his neck. Feeling free and fearless with him, I let him deeper into my mind. “In my head, we’ve fucked so many times,” I say.
He grunts, low and carnal, then crushes his lips to mine. We kiss in a frenzy, making out as we tug at clothes, toss garments on the floor.
Then, he stands and he’s naked in front of me. He’s down to nothing, all toned and inked and steely hard.
I sit up, my breath coming fast.
This is real. This is happening. I’m about to do something I’ve only ever thought about. I swallow roughly, a little uncomfortably. Sex in my head has been hot and electric with perfect moves, no pain, no consequences.
But Milo’s a real man, with a heart, and a mind. Will I like it? Will it hurt? And will I make him lose his mind? I want him to feel incredible too. That’s why my heart is beating rabbit-fast. He’s so much more than a distant crush.
And I don’t know what to do next.
As if he’s reading my nerves, he reaches for my hand. “You okay, sunshine?”
I nod nervously, taking his offer. Our fingers thread together. “Mostly,” I answer.
“Then we’ll wait till you’re completely ,” he says.
I can’t handle all the feelings flooding me, so I zero in on the physical as I pull him down on top of me. “Kiss me nice and slow,” I say, hoping a kiss erases the last remnants of my butterflies.
“Anything you want.” Slowly, he rests his body on mine. He whispers gentle, tender kisses on my mouth, my neck, and in the hollow of my throat.
Then, I swear, he sees my soul when he says, “We don’t have to do a thing if you don’t want to.” He rolls off me and runs a finger down my arm. “Want to get something to eat and watch TV instead? Or we could go for a dog walk. There’s a cute café in Chelsea. Pups and Cups. We could take our dogs there and get a late-night latte.”
He’s so earnest, so sweet, and my heart thumps.
I had no idea I needed that invitation. That out . Of course, I can give it to myself. I can stop at any moment. But his willingness to spend the evening clothed or unclothed jumpstarts me again. I reach for a condom from the nightstand drawer, but he’s faster to the draw. Reaching for his shorts on the floor, then grabbing one from his wallet.
I straddle Milo. “I want to ride you. There’s no mostly anymore.”
“Good,” he says with a grin, then parks his hands behind his head, his smirk crooked and sexy. “Then put that on me.”
I grip his shaft, sliding my hand up and down his hot, velvet length, recording every sharp inhale of breath he takes. Then I open the condom, roll it down, and climb over him.
He grips my hips, his eyes locked with mine. Those dark blues flare with desire, but tenderness too.
I shudder everywhere, one hundred percent back in the sex zone. Here, I know what I want. His desire. His words. “Tell me what you want,” I demand. “Say it.”
He rumbles. “Get on my dick, sunshine, and take me for that ride.”
My body heats like a supernova as I rub the head of his cock across my wetness. Then, I guide him into me.
“Ohhh,” I whisper as I take him in an inch, maybe more.
“Yessss,” he mutters, his eyes slamming shut.
That . That unfettered reaction spurs me, and I sink down, wincing as I go.
He opens his eyes. “You okay?”
“I am,” I say. It’s true enough. I’m full of sharp edges and rough corners as my body stretches in new ways. The fullness is strange and new, and almost too much.
Until . . . his hands slide along my stomach, and he cups my breasts then sits up. His face is inches from mine. His eyes spark with passion and something else.
Longing, maybe? Unexpected emotion? I hope so.
I don’t think this is just sex for him. I don’t know what it is, but I’m almost sure it’s more than sex for both of us.
That knowledge thrills and scares me.
But mostly, it excites me.
I lean in and kiss him. Then I start to move, and as I go, all the edges burn off. All the corners melt.
I’m warm, and everything is wonderful as I fuck Milo, and he fucks me, and we move together.
But there’s one little thing that would make this moment even more wonderful.