CHAPTER 26 Ruby #2
I search his face, looking for any hesitation in his words. For the past few weeks, I’ve resigned myself to the fact that when the time comes, I’ll be leaving England with memories and a broken heart. The chemistry between Miles and me was built more on forced proximity than anything else.
It’s something I’ve been convincing myself, anyway.
“Are you just saying this because Clementine upset you?”
He shakes his head. “No. I told you, I’ve been thinking about this since before we went to Hampshire. Since we kissed in the coffee shop. Since Colorado. Fuck. I think I’ve wanted something with you since we first met at New Year’s. I just didn’t know what it was, and I didn’t realize.”
His face takes on that hopeful look again, the one I find it impossible to say no to. Not that I have any intention today anyway, and I almost chuckle. I didn’t have any problem saying no two months ago. Or telling him to fuck off.
I’m not the only one who’s changed.
“So what do you say?”
“I mean . . . I wasn’t expecting my husband to ask me out on a date.”
A smile creeps up his face, and beneath his thick stubble, I can just make out his dimples pulling in.
“But . . . ?”
I pause, drawing out the anticipation. “Do you want to hear what Clementine told me?”
He shakes his head, and anger flashes across his face. “Not unless it’s that she’s dumping that stupid fuck Torres.”
“She said that you don’t do anything without thinking it through, and that she’s never really believed there’s been an end date to us.”
His mouth opens before he processes what Clementine meant, his lips pursing and relaxing.
“Maybe she’s not going quite as insane as she’s led us to believe.” His brows slowly rise. “But I’m done talking about my sister.”
One big steady hand slips up my back, while the other grips my chin, holding it in place as he brings his mouth to mine. His tongue teases along the crease of my lips, and I open for him.
I love the way he slowly slips his tongue against mine, exploring like he has all the time in the world. Just the idea of not having Miles’s kisses anymore is enough to make me agree to date him.
And every kiss we’ve shared has the same melting effect on me.
Our lips fuse while his grip loosens on my chin and wanders. I’m wet long before his fingers creep under the elastic of my leggings. It doesn’t take Miles any effort to get me there, either. He only has to look at me a certain way, and my panties dampen.
Air catches in my throat as the coolness of his hand brushes against my warm belly, and goosebumps burst across my body.
One hand stays firmly pressed against the small of my back, and his other slips between my legs.
In my next breath, he pushes two fingers inside me, grinding the heel of his palm against my clit.
A loud moan barrels up.
“So wet . . . and so. Fucking. Tight,” he mumbles against my lips.
I don’t know if I’m tight or if his dick’s too big, but even after a week of experiencing it, I still need warming up.
His thumb swipes against my clit, circling it, adding an expert amount of pressure as his finger works inside me. His mouth surrounds mine, stubble tickling my face as his tongue explores me with the same languid tempo as his fingers. It’s nothing short of worship.
And I’m putty in his hands.
It doesn't take me long until the telltale signs of an orgasm hurtle toward me, and he feels it too.
“That’s my girl. Make a mess on my hand.” He pumps harder, twisting and scissoring, fucking me better with his fingers than some other guys have done, period. His lips brush my ear. “Very soon it’s going to be my cock you’re strangling.”
And then I’m coming, the visual of his cock stretching me combined with his dirty mouth is too much for my brain to handle.
My body’s still spasming when he pushes me off his lap, simultaneously yanks down my pants, and releases his cock. Without giving me a moment to breathe, he spins me around and bends me over the cold stone bench.
My bare thighs rub against denim as he kicks my legs wider, spreads me open, and drives into me in one long, hard thrust that has my knees giving way.
“Oh fuck, yes.” He grunts and grips my hips, tugging me farther onto him until his balls slap against my ass.
The buckle of his belt bites into my back, and I know there’ll be a welt there later, but focusing on the pain stops me from coming again.
“Fuck, Ruby . . .” He pulls almost all the way out, thrusting back in with one smooth motion that would have me doubled over if I weren’t already.
Reaching around, he finds my clit with his fingers, tenderly smoothing across the swollen nub before administering a slap that ripples through my body.
“The way your pussy loves it, Ruby. Squeezing me so good, so much trouble,” he whispers, then repeats it. “Take over for me. Play with your clit.”
It’s a glorious afternoon, the sun is shining down on us, and the birds are singing, which somehow makes this all the dirtier.
He fists my hair, pulling my head back as he thrusts hard. The angle pushes him deeper still, and I can’t move. I can barely breathe with my body contorted into his.
He stops moving, and from the position he has me in, I can tip my head back to look at him. All I see is that classic Miles Burlington conceited smirk, whereas he’s seeing confusion.
“Wh . . . what—”
“Ruby, I told you to play with yourself.”
Letting go of my hips, he takes my hand and guides it between my legs. His fingers smooth over mine in slow circles.
“Good girl,” he groans, pumping into me. “Just like that. I know what you need.”
Once he’s satisfied I’m doing his bidding, he lets go. And lets go . . .
The leisurely pace transforms into a blistering speed, and the orgasm I had five minutes ago builds up into an agonizing, terrifying pressure.
“Miles,” I pant, though it’s more a desperate moan. “Oh God . . . yes . . . right there . . . your cock.”
“Louder, Ruby. I want you screaming it. I don’t care who hears,” he orders, powering into me, fucking me with abandon. “I’ll give them reckless and impulsive . . .”
I know my orgasm will rip me apart. The searing heat tearing down my spine doesn’t provide me sufficient warning, and I combust, screaming as instructed. His name falls off my lips like a prayer.
Miles unleashes himself, unapologetically pounding into me. He doesn’t stop, even as his balls tighten, and his dick jerks and pulses as his own orgasm hits. Only when he’s finally done does he collapse onto me.
“However did I manage before you?” he mutters into my neck, his lips pressing against my skin.
When he eases out of me, I’m left with the warm oozing sensation of his cum seeping down my inner thigh, and I turn to see Miles transfixed by it.
Skimming his finger up my leg, he scoops it up and pushes it back inside me so deep his fingertips hit my cervix, and my core clenches so hard I’m winded. And then he bends forward, tongue lapping at the trail he left, and finishes with a flick of my clit.
It sets me off in a series of mini spasms, and my legs buckle underneath me.
“We taste good together,” he groans and kisses me hard. The tangy saltiness of us sinks onto my tongue. “Now let’s go home so I can clean you up properly.”
I catch my breath. “Gladly. I assume you can find the way out of here.”