35. Miller
Ipush her legs even wider, marveling at her body. The body I’ve been imagining, fantasizing about, for months now.
And it’s nothing like I imagined. It’s so much better. Her curves are lush under my hands, her light brown skin soft as I run my palms down her sides to grip her hips, which lift eagerly in response to my touch.
It’s just like her, I realize. She’s all firm walls and sharp edges until you get beneath the surface. Then there’s nothing hard about her.
She gives a small moan as I trace the contour of one hipbone until my fingers reach the spot where her legs meet her body. I keep my hand there, my touch light as I mirror the motion on the other side.
My fingers skim lightly down her inner thighs, getting closer to her core until I’m there, right at the spot I’ve been dreaming of for months. I part her with my fingers to open her up to me.
She’s as gorgeous and addicting as I imagined. Pink, wet, perfect. I run one finger through her wetness, loving the way she shudders beneath my touch.
“Fuck, Becs. You’re soaked,” I murmur on a groan. I lower my head to press a kiss to her mound, and her hips jerk.
“Oh, God, Miller,” she says, breathless. God, the way she says my name in that voice. It has my cock hardening just at the sound.
I need to hear that moan again. I swipe my tongue between her parted legs, earning me the blessed sound again. My dick is so hard it’s fucking painful, and it’s all I can do to hold off, to wait to bury myself between her legs.
Because this isn’t about me. It’s about Becca.
“You know,” I say, murmuring against her and enjoying the gasp as my words send vibrations through her, “I appreciate the selection of flavors we have in the bathroom. But nothing compares to the taste of you.”
I run my tongue next to her clit, up one side and down the other, so close to what I know she needs.
“Miller,” she whines, and I dive in, consuming her.
She’s the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted, and I don’t think I’ll ever get enough. Fuck sugar cookie and whatever other flavor options were in there. None of those choices could ever compare to Becca.
I flatten my tongue and trace the length of her. She groans as her hips buck beneath me. I press my palms to her thighs, holding her steady beneath the onslaught as I lick and suck and gently bite. Her muscles tremble under my hands.
When I slide a finger into her as I run my tongue over her in long, languid strokes, I let out a groan of my own. “Christ, Becs. You’re so fucking tight.”
I curl my finger against the front of her channel and take my cues from her, licking harder and faster as she gets closer to her climax.
“Miller. Oh, God. I’m going to—I’m going to come,” she pants.
I slip my finger out and replace it with two, marveling again at how tight she is. My eyes almost roll back in my head imagining my dick inside her, gripped by her heat. “Come for me, Becs. Right now.”
I suck her clit into my mouth and press the tips of my fingers against her G-spot, watching with reverence as she shatters around me.
I squeeze my eyes closed at the sensation as her pussy grips my fingers, imagining what it’ll feel like when it’s my cock inside of her instead. The thought alone is almost enough to make me come right then and there.
While Becca recovers, breathing hard, I lift my head and slide my fingers out of her, landing a kiss on her soft stomach.
“Holy shit,” she breathes as I settle on the pillow next to her. “Even my vibrator can’t do that.”
I laugh and nuzzle her neck. She’s mine now to touch, really mine, and I can’t keep my hands off of her. “I’m just getting started, baby.”
I’m going to show her things no vibrator can do. After tonight, she’ll know that there’s no going back. To a vibrator or to any other man. Because she’s mine.
As her breathing slows, I pull a condom from under the pillow and rip it open.
“Where did you get that?” she asks, her eyes finally opening at the sound of the foil tearing.
“From the stash in the bathroom.” I roll the condom down my length and lean down to speak in her ear, my cheek brushing hers. “There’s more where that came from. I don’t think one will be enough for tonight.”
Her eyes widen as I rub my cock along her pussy. Is there anything better than that expression on a woman’s face? Lust and nerves and excitement, and knowing you did that to her. Knowing she wants you as badly as you want her.
“You know, it’s almost too bad,” I say casually, positioning myself at her entrance.
“What?” Her forehead creases with confusion.
I lean down again, loving the tremor that goes through her body at my touch. She should get used to it; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to keep my hands to myself anytime soon. “I was hoping to use some of that nice selection of lube that was in the bathroom. But you’re so fucking wet we don’t even need it.”
That earns me a moan and a delicious flush that spreads across her face. Who would have thought that Miss Straight-Laced would be a sucker for dirty talk?
I press against her, just enough for her to feel the stretch. My arms strain from holding myself back. “You sure about this, Becs? You okay?” If she tells me to stop, I’ll never recover from the blue balls. For the rest of my life, I’ll walk around with aching nuts, knowing that no one in the world can fix it besides her. I grit my teeth, waiting for her consent.
“Yes. Please,” she pants, pressing her hips upward.
I ease back and then push in, just the tiniest bit, not even the entire head, teasing her. “What do you want, Becs?”
“You. I want you.”
Fuck yes. Those words. I play some more, holding back from what she wants. From what we both need.
A whine rips from her throat. “Miller, please. Oh God,” she manages.
“Please what, babe?” The look on her face as I draw this out is worth the excruciating patience needed to hold myself back. My thighs burn with the effort of keeping myself from driving forward and right into her in one quick thrust. I lean in close. “And it isn’t God’s name you’re going to be screaming in a minute. It’s mine.”
“Fuck me. Please, Miller. I want—” Her words die on her lips and turn into a gasp as I press further into her.
I’m going as slow as I can without losing my fucking mind. Her pussy grips me as I slide deeper inside her, and it’s exactly what I imagined when it was my fingers. Better, even. Tighter, so much so that I’m sure this is stretching her uncomfortably.
It’s all I can do to make these first few strokes slow, to let her get used to my girth.
Because while I’m just a little above average—I looked it up, of course, back in college, while using a measuring tape to compare my stats—the way our bodies fit together has me feeling like a fucking god.
Those two-plus years she’s been untouched have made her as tight as a virgin. But she has the experience to give her confidence, and that raises this to another level entirely.
I watch her face closely as I move deeper, doing everything I can to keep myself in check, making sure she’s adjusting to my size.
Because I wasn’t kidding earlier.
Once I start moving, I won’t be able to go slow.
I’ve been dreaming about fucking her for months. I have fantasies of taking her hard and fast, of pinning her up against the wall and fucking her, of making love to her with slow music in the background.
And the one thing I know for sure is that those fantasies can’t hold a candle to the real thing.
But I want this to be good for both of us. Because I’d cut off my right nut before I’d hurt her. I don’t care if I’m in excruciating pain, as long as Becs is taken care of. And if I have my way, this is the first of many, many times I’m going to be inside Becs.
“More,” she pleads, her voice throaty as she presses her hips upward and angles them to take me deeper.
Another inch. “You ready for all of me, Becs?”
Her eyes widen.
“Yeah, babe. There’s more.” I smirk, pleased at the shock in her eyes. I’m about halfway in, and fuck if going this slowly isn’t the hardest goddamn thing I’ve ever done.
“Don’t go slow.” Her eyes search my face. “I want all of you.”
Her words are my undoing. I hold it together for a few more seconds. Half an inch back, then in one slow, smooth stroke I’m bottoming out inside her. Her body grips me like a glove, and I’m seeing stars.
“Oh, fuck! Miller!” Becca cries out.
I still, hoping I didn’t hurt her, but when I look at her face all I see is rapture that matches the bliss that must be painted across my own expression.
Becca moves her hips beneath me, and that’s all the encouragement I need. I pull back and thrust in, hard and deep, then piston my hips, driving into her over and over again, needing to hear her say my name in that voice again.
It’s the best thing I’ve ever fucking felt, hot and wet and tight around me, and it’s the only thing I want to feel for the rest of my goddamn life.
She’s ruined me for any other woman. Hell, she ruined me for other women the first time she said my name.
Her pussy clenches around me as she pants. “I-I’m close again, Miller. Don’t stop.”
“Not a fucking chance, babe.” The President or the Pope or the second coming of Christ Almighty himself could appear in this room and it wouldn’t make me stop.
I’ve been dreaming of this moment for months, and as soon as she starts pulsing around me, I know I won’t be able to hold on.
“I’m going to come, too, Becs. God, you’re fucking amazing.” I thrust harder and deeper as her body starts to spasm. I want to lose myself in this woman forever.