53 Milo
She looked like she might cry when I said I was staying, when I said I was willing to try regular life. Not from sadness, but from something else—maybe relief, maybe shock, maybe the same kind of hunger that made my hands shake as I touched her cheek.
She grabbed me by the collar with her free hand and yanked me down, crushed her mouth to mine, a collision of teeth and lips and tongues.
All the blood in my body drew to my cock.
I was hard before I even realized it.
No woman had ever done this to me. Every single one was an insignificant relic of my past life. Life before Kimmy.
The heat between us intensified as she pressed herself firmly against me.
I used the momentum and backed her toward the edge of the table. She tossed the pack of candies on the chair, licked her lips, and reached up to resume the kiss.
Our breathing grew heavier as I braced my hands on the table, caging her between my arms. Something electric crackled where our skin nearly touched—like the snap and pull when magnets find each other.
My thoughts scattered.
The world beyond her body against mine blurred to nothing.
"I want you," she whispered, her lips brushing mine with each word. "Right here." Her hands fumbled with my belt.
I didn't need to be told twice. I was very good at following orders.
I nudged her back until her shoulders met the table, her legs dangling over the edge. She laughed and kicked playfully, half-resisting, half-inviting. The oversized shirt had ridden up to reveal black shorts. When I stepped between her legs, pressing my erection to her mound, she stilled.
She was all subtle curves, pale thighs, and a messy ponytail that begged to be undone.
Her lips parted slightly, and her chest expanded at each inhale. She arched up just a little and ground herself against my bulge.
The friction alone, even with the fabric between us, was divine. My cock swelled even more to the point where it became painful.
Her hands scrabbled at my shirt, tugging it out of my pants. I let her struggle, for a minute, just so I could watch the way her pupils went black and wide. She smelled like arousal and something sweet, and it short-circuited my brain.
I reached for the waistband of her shorts, yanked them down her legs, and tossed them over my shoulder.
Then I jerked my zipper down, yanking my pants along with my boxers down to the middle of my thighs.
My cock sprung free.
I got my hands under her thighs and lined her ass up to the edge of the table, making room for myself between her knees. The table groaned under the weight. She giggled, then bit her lip.
This relentless want felt unhinged. I understood now why Father said emotions were dangerous. I would kill anyone for her in this moment.
"Hungry?" she asked, breathless.
I didn't answer. My cock jerked, demanding to be inside her.
Not yet.
I wanted to savor this.
So, instead I hauled her up and forward and kissed her so hard she yelped into my mouth. Then I grabbed her ponytail and twisted it, angling her face so I could bite her jaw, her throat, the spot just under her ear that made her shiver all over.
She hooked her legs around my waist and tried to pull me closer. I let her think she had the upper hand for exactly two seconds, then pushed her back down, grabbed both her knees and spread her legs, pinning them against the wood so I could see everything through the lace of her panties.
She gasped. "Jesus, Seven—"
"Not him," I said, and bunched up the hem of her T-shirt to reveal her bra. "Me."
I ran my hands up her thighs, pushing them wider apart, as wide as she could handle.
The softness of her skin made my mouth water.
I couldn't hold back anymore—I lowered my head and dragged my tongue along her inner thigh, starting at her knee and working my way up to where the lace met flesh.
I caught the edge of her panties between my teeth, tugging.
She released a soft moan.
I could feel how wet she was, the fabric already damp and sticking to her.
I inhaled her, inhaled the smell of her arousal.
It made my head spin.
All thought of foreplay to prepare her for what was to come left my brain.
I wanted—no needed—to claim every inch of her inside and out. To erase all of her past and to show her what it would really feel like when a man worshipped a woman, to give her the kind of pleasure she deserved.
I drew back, hooked my fingers under the waistband of her panties.
She laughed when I tried to pull them down as they caught on her hip. "Are panties really that hard to handle for someone who knows how to ruin a person's reputation?" she teased.
I didn't bother with patience. I just ripped them off, the sound loud and crude. She gaped at me, then at the shreds in my hand.
"Hey! I liked those—"
"I'll buy you a hundred more," I said. "Any color and brand you want."
She grinned. "You got that kind of money?"
"You have no idea."
I dropped what was left of her panties on the floor, palms sliding up the insides of her thighs, parting her lips until I could see the pink of her pussy, open and ready.
She shuddered, arching up again. I loved when she did that, loved seeing how the lean muscle on her body stiffened and shifted under that gorgeous silk-like skin.
I bent down and kissed the spot just below her knee, soft at first, then rough, biting the unharmed patch of skin just a little as I moved higher.
When I finally reached her pussy, I flattened my tongue and licked her slow, then faster, circling her clit with the tip.
She bucked so hard she nearly knocked the table over.
"Holy fuck," she purred. "Don't stop. Please."
I didn't. I lapped at her, slow and measured, then fast and sharp, until her whole body trembled.
"You like having your mouth on me, don't you?" she whispered raggedly, grabbing the edge of the table with one hand for leverage. It wasn't a question.
I nodded against her. "Best thing I've ever tasted." Then I shoved my tongue between her lips, teased her entrance.
She bucked again, hips lifting off the surface. The table rattled.
She was loud as she made mewling sounds.
I wrapped my hand around my length, working myself with deliberate patience while my other hand found its way between her legs and slid two fingers inside, just to feel how tight and wet she was. Seeing myself penetrate her was like seeing myself being born again.
The slick evidence of her desire coated my skin.
Fuck. I did that to her. I had her soaking for me.
Something fundamental shifted inside me at the realization.
She moaned when I crooked my fingers up and found her spot.
So easy to please. I could feel her clenching around my digits.
I scissored them gently before withdrawing slowly, savoring her whimper of protest. Then I circled her swollen bud and thrust back in, watching her hips lift off the table, watching the curve of her small round ass.
My cock ached. It demanded to fill her up.
I pulled my fingers out, then plunged them inside, fucking her until she was writhing. Seeing her body react to the things I did to her was like seeing heaven. I loved it, loved when she lost her mind.
I'd almost taken her to the edge. Not all the way, though, not yet, but enough to make limbs shake and eyes glaze over.
When I removed my hand and licked my fingers clean, just to see how she'd react, she murmured, "I really need to come… Please." She looked almost hurt when our gazes collided.
I leaned in, bringing my face closer to hers, pressed the two fingers I'd just had in her pussy and in my mouth to her lips and said, "Open."
Her eyes widened, lips parted.
"I want to make it last all night long," I husked out as I slid the fingers into her mouth. She swirled her tongue over them, breathing heavily.
"That's right. Taste it, taste us," I whispered, removing my digits from her mouth while positioning myself at her entrance and rubbing my cock—already slick at the tip—against her slit.
A visible tremor ran through her legs. I grabbed her thighs to keep her in place.
"Take it," I told her and pressed the head against her opening. She was drenched and already primed. I knew if I went hard, I wouldn't meet much resistance.
She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip first, shutting her eyes for a second. Then pleaded, "Do it. Please."
I pushed in, slow at first, letting her stretch around me. She sucked in a ragged breath, clenched the edges of the table with both hands as if preparing for what was to come.
"Does it hurt, baby?" I asked.
She shook her head, but her eyes were turbulent, filled with dark anticipation. "No. It's good. Really good."
I thrust forward savagely, buried myself to the hilt with one go, and paused there just to feel her spasm and expand around me. It was almost enough to make me come right then.
I pulled out, then slammed back in, hard enough to make the table clatter against the floor.
She gasped, then wrapped her legs around me again, pulling me deeper.
I fucked her hard, watching the way her tits bounced in the bra, the way her mouth fell open with every stroke.
I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was perfect. Better than perfect. I'd never wanted anyone like this, not ever. Every single act of sex before Kimmy felt like a chore, like I needed to fuck someone so I could just come and release my frustration.
This—whatever it was with her—was different. Wild and unrestrained and amazing.
I leaned over her, changing the angle and pinning her shoulders to the table, and fucked her so deep I could finally feel the real resistance inside.
She whimpered, "Oh my God, Seven, oh my God, I'm gonna—"
I stopped, pulled out just enough to edge her.
She whined. "Don't stop."
"I want to see how many times I can make you not come before you orgasm."
She cursed when I slammed back into her, my cock hungry for her pussy.
I moved a hand up to her chest, squeezed her breast, then pushed the cup of the bra aside so I could pinch her nipple. She gasped, arching up off the table.