Chapter 33 #2
“Mm-hmm.” A shiver slips down my spine and I squirm in the chair, unable to shift much with my ankles and wrists bound.
“What, baby?” His voice is a deep drawl. “You wanna move?”
Biting my lip, I nod.
“Well, you don’t get to yet. Not before I play with you.” He strokes my cheek. “Now, open that gorgeous mouth for me.”
I drop my jaw, exhaling hard.
“Fuck,” he barely whispers, dragging a thumb over my lower lip.
My tongue darts out to lick it, seemingly of its own volition.
“So pretty when you do what I say.”
“Please,” I beg as he pulls his underwear down, freeing his thick cock.
There’s a gentle warning in his gaze as he tips up my chin. “Please what?” He waits until I lift my eyes. “Come on. Say it.”
My core pulses at his commanding tone. “Please, sir.”
“Better.” Miles grazes his open palm over my curls, his brow pinching as if he’s holding himself back.
“God, I just wanna sink my fingers into your hair, but…” Instead, he holds my face in both hands, pressing the crown of his dick between my lips, his voice wavering with restraint as he says, “But it’s so pretty.
Wouldn’t wanna mess it up—” He shudders out a moan as his thick warmth slowly fills my mouth. “Jesus, Caroline.”
I whimper as he withdraws before sliding in again, once, twice, until he’s slick and speeding up.
His grip tightens on my cheeks. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
A heavy heat gathers in my core as I lick and suck—welcoming him, opening for him, letting him use my mouth like this. I tilt my chin slightly, experimenting with the angle. When he pushes deeper, it’s more than I can bear and I jerk my knees together in a vain attempt at relief.
“You okay?” He pulls out to let me speak.
I nod, willing him closer. “More. Don’t stop.”
“Fucking hell.” Slowly, he runs the tip of his cock around the outer edge of my lips.
I try to move to take him but he grabs my jaw, holding me still. “Greedy girl,” he almost growls as he finishes the slow, teasing circle. “Gimme that tongue.”
I stick it out and jolt with need when he slaps his hard shaft against it a few times, each strike sending a pulse of hot mayhem through my body.
When he drives into my mouth once more, I arch and strain to get closer, taking each thrust deeper with a shaky moan that’s only silenced by him filling my throat.
I can’t breathe, I can’t speak, I can’t make a sound—and the pleasure is exquisite.
He tenses, hips bucking faster. “Fuck, baby, I’m already close.”
I tighten my lips around him, fighting uselessly to get my hands free, to touch him, to press my thighs together—anything to ease this ache.
“Don’t swallow,” he bites out between thrusts. “When I come, don’t you fucking swallow.”
My eyes fly up to his, but I manage a small nod, tilting my hips against the nothingness between my legs.
Faster, harder, he fucks my mouth until I hear that familiar catch in his throat, that stutter and gasp, then the silence before he breaks.
“Fffuuuuck!” he groans as he spills onto my tongue and I almost come with him—without even being touched.
I suck up every drop, struggling to hold it without swallowing; I want him inside me any way I can get him.
“Show me,” he grits out as he withdraws. With one hand, he grasps my chin, tilting my head up. “Open up and show me.”
I obey, entranced by his request and the way my core pulses from the act of compliance alone.
“Look at that,” he drawls as he tugs my jaw down and pushes me back slightly. “Now let it out for me. Let it fall, honey.”
His cum spills from my lips, its warmth dripping down my belly and over my pussy.
I moan in some kind of sex-induced stupor, lost in this profoundly filthy act.
I’ve never done anything like this before.
Never wanted this kind of thing before. But, with Miles, I want to push against the edges—brush up against too much and flirt with too far, safe in the knowledge that he’s got me.
“God, just look at this pretty little mess we made,” Miles says, slipping his fingers through his release, painting my pussy with it as he lowers to his knees between my legs.
“Miles…” My voice falters when he cups his free hand behind my neck and leans in close.
“Caroline,” he teases as he thumbs the wetness from my lower lip. Then, in the same moment, he crushes me in a kiss and drives his slick fingers deep inside my core.
The relief is intense and I cry out into his mouth, trembling as pleasure rocks through my entire body. When he pumps his fingers, I buck against my restraints, desperate to chase the sensation.
He breaks the kiss and tilts his head, a slow grin spreading over his features. “God, you’re fucking feral for more, huh?”
“Please,” I beg. Fighting at the restraints once again, I try to move toward him. “Please.”
He pulls his fingers out and glides them softly over my slick pussy. Too softly. “Please what, pretty girl?”
“Please, just…” I pant, the desperation growing intolerable. “I need to come.”
He tuts. “Bad girl.” His voice is like velvet as he flicks my clit, sending an arc of electric heat through my center that threatens to undo me. “You forgot how to ask.”
I meet his gaze with a heady mixture of lust and resentment.
“You know it’s ‘please, sir’.”
I swear, I’d keel over if I wasn’t tied to this chair. I try again. “Please, sir.” Pleasure rips through my body when he drives his fingers back inside me. “Oh, God!”
“Shhh…” Miles shakes his head, though I don’t miss the sly smile as he clamps his free hand over my mouth. “Can’t let anyone hear my little slut begging to come, can we?”
I’m shaking. I might actually fall apart.
“I can’t—” I try to say, though my voice is muffled against his palm. Shuddering and frenzied, I try to stifle my moans as he rubs my clit with his thumb, working his fingers at some new, delicious angle.
“If you make too much noise,” his voice is slow and liquid, “we’ll have to stop.”
The violent way I shake my head has him chuckling.
“No, huh?”
“Mm-mmm.” My eyes are pleading when they meet his.
“Aw, my bratty whore just needs to come so bad.”
I nod, desperation holding me in its grip.
“Alright, then,” he says, adding another finger that makes my vision blur. “Here’s what’s gonna happen: you’re gonna ride my hand until you come so hard you can’t see straight.”
“Mm-hmm.” I nod again.
Already there.
“And you’re gonna be nice and quiet.”
Yes. Anything.
“Then you’re gonna slip those panties back on,” he adds, his gaze dropping to where his fingers curl delicious strokes against my inner walls, “over our little mess down here.”
The visual floods my senses and I swallow.
Miles continues, dropping gentle kisses on my neck.
“You’re gonna get back in your pretty red dress and come downstairs with me.
” He sucks my earlobe and a shiver rocks me from head to toe.
“And the only one who’s gonna know what a dirty, filthy slut you’ve been…
”—he pumps his fingers hard, and I moan against his palm—“… is me.”
I’m suddenly desperate to do exactly that. To share this secret with him.
Carefully, he lifts his palm away from my mouth. “Can you do that for me?” Then, as if to test me, he pulls out to deliver a quick slap to my clit.
I gasp, barely stifling a cry, and try to hum through the pleasure instead.
“Attagirl,” he praises, stroking my cheek with his free hand. He sinks his fingers back inside me and speeds up, drawing me closer and closer to unraveling.
My core tenses and my breaths catch and shudder, as if the air in my lungs is fighting to hold itself steady—my throat wrestling to contain every scream and moan I’m desperate to let out.
“That’s it,” Miles encourages, fucking me faster with his fingers as I tip over the edge. “Let go. Fall apart. Oh, fuck, you’re doing so good for me, baby.”
He crushes me in another deep, consuming kiss the moment my release slams into me. I cry into his mouth when he slips his fingers out and rubs them over my clit in fast circles, drawing me into more blissful, pulsing ecstasy.
As the tension in my body slackens, he breaks away and brings his fingers up to my lips.
In an addled daze, I hesitate.
“Clean it up.”
My tongue responds as if of its own volition, lapping and sucking at his fingers like they’re my last meal, the echoes of my orgasm still tripping through my core.
“God, your tongue…” His jaw clenches. “Fuck. See how good we taste?”
I nod, confirming I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.
When he finally releases me from all the restraints, he takes my hand and pulls me up from the chair. It’s an almost gentlemanly move, contrasting starkly with the way he just tied me up, fucked my mouth, and had me spit his cum onto my…
Jesus. Even the memory makes the heavy heat between my legs throb.
I’m still so out of it, I barely register him finding my discarded clothes and kneeling at my feet. The slight smirk on his face as he helps me step into my panties is almost more than I can bear. When he slowly slides them up, gently covering my swollen, slick center, I have to look away.
Too handsome. I might die—or come again—if I make direct eye contact.
I don’t know how, but we go through the motions of cleaning up and getting dressed in a haze—the kind of satisfied, sleepy warmth that makes me wish we could skip the rest of the event and bask in this bliss together for hours.
“You sure you don’t wanna call any of your old friends while we’re in the city?” I ask as he shrugs on his suit jacket.
“I’m sure,” he says as he buttons it. Closing the small distance between us, he tugs me closer by my waist. “Those friendships weren’t what I thought they were.
Feels like a past life, and not one I wanna dredge back up, honestly.
” He brushes a thumb over my cheek, then dips down to kiss me.
“This right here is what I wanna focus on. My life with you.”
Despite my reluctance to leave our little bubble, Miles coaxes me out the door. The wet, sticky heat between my legs stirs the embers of my arousal with each step I take, every shift of my hips reminding me of our dirty secret and his earnest promise of round two later tonight.
I soak up our last moments alone as the elevator whirs its way down to the main floor. Between the feeling of Miles’ big, warm hands on my back and the way he murmurs that he loves me with his lips smushed against my forehead, it’s hard to want anything but more of this. More of him.
Before I’m ready to face it, we step back into the fray of the bustling art show and make our way through the crowd.
Julian catches my eye and winds between the other patrons as he approaches. “Caroline.”
“Julian,” I say. “You remember Miles?”
“Right, yes.” Julian gives Miles a tight smile. “Nice to see you again. And, uh, apologies if we got off on the wrong foot when you first came to the gallery.”
“Oh, no, that’s—” Miles glances my way, looking slightly awkward, before returning his gaze to the older man as they shake hands. “All good. Nice to see you too.”
“Listen, Caroline,” Julian starts, returning his attention to me, “I wanted to say, you’ve done a wonderful job with the show tonight.”
“Oh,” I manage, trying to hide my surprise at the compliment, cutting my gaze to Miles when he squeezes my fingers. “Thank you. I mean, it’s been a team effort, really.”
“Well,” he says, “I’ll be eager to see your plans for the spring exhibition at the Gareth Mason.”
A grin splits my face; I can’t wait to show him what I’ve got up my sleeve—and introduce him to some unique new art. “Thank you, yes!” I finally manage, delighted and a bit thrown by the way he’s come around.
“Julian! There you are!” Sunny’s familiar voice comes from somewhere behind me and Miles. As we spin around, his elbow collides with the glass in her hand, sloshing its contents over the rim. Half the drink spills onto Sunny and the rest splats onto the floor.
“Shit, sorry,” he says, wide-eyed. “I can, uh… I can get you another one.”
“Oh, it’s only water. I’ll live.” She waves him off.
A nearby volunteer snags a couple cocktail napkins and passes one to Sunny, who blots at her loose-fitting, flowy dress.
“Think we’ll need a few more for the floor,” Miles says, and the guy scurries off for reinforcements.
Sunny passes her glass to Julian, moving to pull off her many rings. “Caroline, darling, hold these for me, would you?”
“Oh! Uh, sure.” I collect them in my palm and give her a moment to pat her hands dry.
The volunteer returns with some paper towels, and he and Miles crouch down to clean up the small puddle on the floor.
“Thank you,” Sunny says. One by one, she plucks each ring from my palm, sliding them delicately over her fingers. “You know, I just hate that wet feeling under my rings and— oh!” The last ring slips from her grasp and falls to the floor, skittering a couple feet away.
“I got it!” Miles says. “Here.”
It’s only when the camera flash goes off that I realize how this looks; Miles is down on one knee, holding a ring toward us. Toward me.
In a stunned moment of slow-mo understanding, Miles glances down at the ring, then at me, then does a double take at the photographer.
Tripping through my own state of shock, it takes me a moment to process the recognition on his face. I turn toward the man with the camera, my jaw dropping.
Blond, curly hair. That newsboy cap.
The moaner’s wide eyes flit between the two of us and he clutches his camera to his chest.
With resigned amusement, Miles drags himself up to his full height as the guy silently shuffles backward, then pivots on his heel and strides clear across the room without turning back.
“Well,” Miles says to me, passing Sunny her ring. “That just happened.”
“At least he kept his mouth shut this time?” I laugh and wrap my arms around his waist, lifting on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Should we track him down and explain?”
“Nah.” He glances toward the moaner once more, then hugs me close, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “I don’t think he’ll be brave enough to do anything with that photo. And, even if he did, worst-case scenario is, what? Someone spreads a rumor that we’re happy?”
I gaze up into his blue eyes, my safe harbor, feeling like my heart might burst.
“Think we can handle that,” he adds. “Right?”
I nod and lift up again to kiss him.
Because he’s right. We can handle anything.