Chapter Five
Paris
I open my eyes slowly. It takes a while for me to make sense of where I am, the scratchy motel blankets and the heavy weight of Myles’s arm around my waist. Suddenly, the memories of last night come rushing in…the feeling of his mouth on mine, his hands on my body, my breast…
I let out a soundless gasp, my face burning at the images that flood my head.
What have I done? I barely know the man for Christ’s sake.
I stay rigidly still, trying to determine whether or not he’s still asleep. His breath is even, his right leg draped loosely across my body—surely I can slip away without waking him up. Right?
Carefully, I turn my head, and I almost immediately forget how to breathe.
He’s awake. Staring right at me.
Those eyes. That unblinking, razor-sharp focus. It’s too much. He looks at me like he owns me already, like I’m something he’s been waiting to claim. My pulse trips over itself, and I have to look away before I combust right there in his arms.
“Morning,” he says, voice deep and rough from sleep.
God. Even his morning voice is unfair.
“M-morning,” I stammer, my voice embarrassingly small.
His lips twitch. “You’re blushing.”
“I am not,” I blurt, which of course makes my cheeks flame hotter. Perfect. Just perfect.
“You are,” he says, and there’s something almost amused in his tone. Then he tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Thinking about last night?”
I freeze. My heart thunders in my chest, and I can’t lie. Not when the answer is written all over my face. “Maybe.”
The smirk fades, replaced by something darker. Sinful. “Do I need to apologize for that?”
I blink up at him, stunned. Apologize? He thinks I’d want that? After everything he made me feel? The thought makes me shake my head before I can stop myself. “No.”
Something dangerous flashes in his eyes, like a storm rolling in. His arm tightens around me, holding me closer.
“Good.” His voice drops lower, rougher, as his gaze fixes on my mouth. “Because I want to do it again.”
My breath catches. Every nerve in my body sparks alive. I should hesitate, but I don’t. “I want that too.”
He doesn’t waste another second. His mouth crushes mine, hot and demanding, claiming me with a hunger that steals my breath. I gasp, and he takes full advantage, his tongue sliding against mine in a way that makes my toes curl.
I grip his shirt, holding on for dear life as his mouth devours mine like a starving man.
With every moan that bursts out of my lips, the kiss grows deeper, rougher.
I can’t think, can’t move, can’t do anything but feel the heat of his body pressed into mine, the hard length of him straining against his jeans, the way his hand fists tight in my shirt like he’s seconds from ripping it off.
“Myles,” I gasp into his mouth, not even sure if it’s a plea for more or for mercy.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark, burning. “You taste like heaven, Paris. You know that?”
My whole body shudders. He says it like a man starving, and I can’t stop myself. I pull him down again, kissing him harder, greedy for the fire he lights in me.
His hand slides down, gripping my thigh, dragging it over his hip until I’m straddling him. The hard ridge of his cock presses against me and a needy sound escapes my throat, one I don’t even recognize as my own.
“Fuck,” he growls, grinding up against me. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”
I moan, rocking against him without thinking, heat pooling low in my belly. My shirt rides up as his hands roam my body, his strong, rough palms sliding under the fabric, cupping my breasts. His thumb flicks over my nipple and I arch into his touch, gasping.
“So sensitive,” he mutters, voice rough as gravel. “So damn perfect.”
Before I can respond, his mouth leaves mine, blazing a trail down my throat. I tilt my head back, helpless as his lips and teeth tease my skin, sucking just hard enough to leave marks. My fingers thread into his short hair, pulling him closer.
He shifts, rolling me beneath him, his weight pinning me deliciously to the mattress. His hand drags down, sliding under my shirt, over the bare skin of my stomach, lower…so close.
I tremble, anticipation crackling through me like electricity. And when his fingers slip beneath the waistband of my panties, brushing against the place where I’m aching for his touch…I whimper his name.
“Christ, Paris,” he rasps, biting back a groan. “You’re so wet for me.”
Heat floods me. I can’t answer, can’t do anything but writhe as he slides a finger through my slick folds, teasing me until I’m panting. My hips jerk, desperate for more.
“You want my mouth on you?” he asks, voice dark, teasing, even as his eyes blaze with hunger.
The words alone make me burn. I nod frantically, cheeks flaming. “Yes.”
He growls low in his throat, then moves down the bed, dragging my panties off in one swift motion. The cool air hits me for a second before his mouth replaces it, hot and wet.
I cry out, arching off the mattress as his tongue licks a slow, devastating stripe over me. He groans like he’s the one being wrecked. “Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”
I clutch the sheets, gasping, as his mouth works me over, licking, sucking, tongue circling my clit until I’m trembling. My thighs clamp around his head, but he doesn’t stop. If anything, he devours me harder, holding me down, dragging me higher and higher until the pressure bursts.
I scream his name as the orgasm crashes over me, wave after wave, leaving me boneless.
He doesn’t stop right away, lapping at me like he can’t get enough, until I’m shuddering, sensitive, begging him to slow down. He finally pulls back, his face wet with me, his eyes wild.
He crawls up my body, kissing me hard, making me taste myself on his lips. His cock grinds against me, hard, urgent, ready.
“Myles…wait. I need to tell you something.”
His whole body stills above me. The weight of him pins me, his cock hard against my belly, his chest heaving as he searches my face. “What is it?” His voice is sharp, strained, like he’s bracing himself.
I swallow hard, my cheeks flaming. The words feel too big in my throat, but I force them out. “I’ve never…I mean—I’m a virgin.”
For a second, there’s silence. His eyes darken, his jaw tightens, and the air between us turns thick, electric.
“Fuck,” he mutters, dropping his forehead to mine. His breath is ragged, like he’s fighting a war inside himself. “You should’ve told me sooner.”
“I didn’t want you to stop,” I whisper, shame and need tangling in my chest. “I still don’t.”
He growls low in his throat, his hand sliding up to cup my cheek, rough thumb brushing over my swollen lips. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know what it’ll mean if I take you, Paris. I won’t be gentle. I don’t know how to be.”
My heart races, but I don’t look away. “I want it to be you.”
His whole body shudders against mine, a sound torn from his chest that’s half growl, half broken prayer.
He kisses me again, deep and desperate, like he’s seconds from losing the battle.
His hips grind into me once more, and I feel the sheer size of him through his jeans, the promise of what he’s holding back.
I whimper into his mouth, clutching at him, wanting, needing.
“You don’t know what you’re asking me for,” he says. “I won’t be able to stop. I’ll ruin you.”
“Then ruin me.”
The words are out before I can take them back, breathless, desperate. His eyes snap to mine, dark and burning, and I see the exact second his control snaps.
His mouth crashes against mine again, deep and demanding, stealing my breath.
His weight pins me to the mattress, every hard inch of him pressing into me, reminding me what’s coming.
I should be scared. I should hesitate. But all I feel is heat, pulsing through my veins, winding tighter with every stroke of his tongue, every rough drag of his hands.
He grips my wrists suddenly, pinning them above my head with one large hand. The sheer strength of him makes me tremble, but not with fear. My stomach flips with excitement, my body arching into his like I’ve been waiting for this all my life.
“You’re mine,” he growls against my mouth, and the words vibrate through me, low and dangerous.
“Yes,” I breathe, shocked at how easily the word falls from my lips. Shocked at how much I mean it.
He releases my wrists only to drag his hands down my arms, over my ribs, slipping under my shirt. The rough pads of his fingers tease the sensitive underside of my breasts before he cups them, squeezing, his thumbs brushing my nipples until they harden under his touch.
I moan into his mouth, heat pooling between my thighs.
“Beautiful,” he rasps, tugging the shirt up and over my head, baring me to him. His gaze rakes over me, dark and possessive, making me squirm under the intensity. “So fucking perfect.”
When his mouth closes over one of my nipples, I gasp, my back arching off the bed. He sucks, then nips lightly, and the jolt shoots straight to the ache between my legs. My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.
He drags his mouth lower, leaving a trail of kisses down my stomach, pausing right above the place I want him the most. His eyes flick up to mine, a silent question, a chance to back out.
I nod quickly, breathless. “Please.”
That’s all it takes. He slides a hand up my thigh and between my legs, fingers sliding through my wetness. I jerk, a cry tearing from my throat at the contact.
“So wet,” he mutters, almost in awe. “All for me.”
I can’t answer. I can only writhe as his finger circles my clit, slow, controlled, driving me insane. He teases me until I’m panting, begging, then slides one thick finger inside me. I gasp, gripping his arm, the stretch unfamiliar but good. So good.
He adds another, working me open, his gaze locked on my face as he curls them just right, hitting a spot that makes me see stars. My hips buck against his hand, shameless, chasing the pleasure that’s building fast.
“Look at you,” he growls, thrusting his fingers deeper. “Taking me so well. Gonna make you come again before I’m even inside you.”
The words alone push me over the edge. My body tightens, the coil snapping as the orgasm crashes over me. I cry out his name, legs trembling, back arching as waves of pleasure roll through me.
He doesn’t stop kissing me, doesn’t stop murmuring low praises until I finally collapse against the sheets, boneless and shaking.
Before I can catch my breath, he’s shedding his clothes, muscles rippling in the dim light. My eyes widen at the sight of him, at the size of him, thick and hard, and nerves flutter in my stomach.
He sees it instantly. Crawling back over me, he cradles my face, his voice rough but steady. “I’ll be gentle. As much as I can.”
I nod, my heart pounding loud in my ears. “I trust you.”
The words hang between us, heavy and real. His jaw flexes, like the weight of them hits him hard.
He positions himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against me. The stretch already makes me whimper, my nails digging into his shoulders.
“Relax, baby,” he murmurs, kissing my temple. “Breathe. Let me in.”
He pushes slowly, carefully, until I feel a sharp sting. I gasp, tears springing to my eyes, and he stills immediately, his breath harsh against my ear. “Fuck. You’re so tight. So perfect.”
I cling to him, riding the pain until it dulls, replaced by something else. Fullness, heat, a delicious ache that makes my toes curl.
“I’m okay,” I whisper, blinking up at him. “Move.”
He pulls out slow, then pushes back in, deeper this time. The pain lingers at the edges, but pleasure blooms stronger with every thrust. My moans grow louder as my body adjusts, as the fire spreads through me.
“Goddamn,” he groans, pounding harder, his mouth claiming mine in a bruising kiss. “You feel so fucking good. Like you were made for me.”
And I believe him. With every thrust, every kiss, every rough word, I believe him.
The pleasure builds fast, overwhelming, and when he reaches between us to rub my clit, I shatter, screaming his name as another orgasm rips through me.
My body clenches around him, pulling him deeper, and he follows with a guttural growl, burying himself inside me as he comes hard, his body shaking against mine.