Chapter 5
Beneath her, Miles stilled, his fingers tightening on her waist. He made an appreciative, hungry sound.
And then he gave her slit a long, slow swipe.
It was the most he’d given her all night.
But it still wasn’t enough.
And she knew he was holding back on purpose.
Her arms trembled with the effort it took to stay upright. Her legs shook. Pleasure was like a fire licking along her skin, hot and moving fast, burning and burning and burning, but not consuming.
He was back to those barely there flicks of his tongue. The too-soft, teasing touches of his lips. She wanted to sob. To howl in frustration. She wanted to take what was left of her torn pride and shredded dignity, wrap them around her like a cloak and walk out with her head held high.
But mostly, she wanted to come.
And while she could absolutely handle that on her own, she was starved for the touch of another person.
No. Not just another person.
She was starved for Miles’s touch.
And the longer he withheld it, the more she wanted it.
He turned his head and gently, gently bit her inner thigh.
She gasped. “Miles…”
He blew a stream of warm air on her pussy. “You know what you need to do.”
She did.
But she was terrified of letting herself go that far. Of proving to him exactly how much she wanted him. But her need was stronger—or at least more immediate—than those fears.
She sank down slowly, waiting for him to stop her, half-hoping he would but knowing he wouldn’t, until her core was pressed against his face.
“There you go.” His voice vibrated against her pussy and she squeezed her inner thighs together to try and capture that sensation. To prolong it.
To encourage more of it.
When he kept quiet, when his tongue stayed in his mouth, she moved, just a little, rolling her hips forward so that the tip of his nose rubbed her clit. The sharp prickle of his whiskers abraded her inner thighs.
He chuckled, deep and dark and rich. “Greedy girl.” He moved his hands to her inner thighs, pressing against them until she widened them. “Prove to me how eager you are.”
Proof. That was what he wanted. Proof she was being honest. Proof she wasn’t putting on some kind of show. That she wasn’t playing a character.
Proof her desire for him was real.
Her chasing after him, following him home, stripping naked in front of him and doing everything he said wasn’t enough. And a tiny part of her brain warned her that no matter how much she gave him, it never would be.
But he was right. She was greedy. Greedy for his time. His attention. His touch.
Pathetically grateful for whatever scraps of those he gave her.
She moved again, sliding up. Then down. Again and again. Each time a little faster. A little harder.
He grunted, rough and satisfied.
And he finally, finally feasted on her.
He worked her with the flat of his tongue, lapping her pussy like it was his favorite dessert. Twirled the tip of it around her clit. It was what she’d been craving. What she’d worked so hard for.
Her hips pumped as she rode his face, pleasure building in a seemingly endless circle.
He scraped his teeth against her and she moaned, raw and ragged. Arched her back as she pressed against him more. Her hands hurt from gripping the back of the couch so tightly. The hair at her temples was damp with sweat. Her breath was coming in short, quick gasps.
He continued to lick and suck at her hungrily, his mouth and tongue and teeth bringing her closer and closer…
Closer… and closer…
But it wasn’t enough. And it didn’t matter that she knew he was holding back on purpose. It didn’t matter that she was rutting against him. It didn’t matter that she’d never worked this hard for an orgasm.
It didn’t matter that she told herself she wouldn’t beg.
“Miles,” she whimpered. “Please… please…”
She’d no sooner gotten the second please out when he shoved two fingers inside her and she cried out, the invasion sudden and so very, very welcome, stretching her in the most delicious way. He finger fucked her hard and fast, the wet, sloppy sounds of his fingers plunging in and out of her surrounding them. The silk of her panties still wrapped around his hands rubbing against her inner thighs.
“Please… please… please…” she chanted, breathless and desperate and beyond caring about anything except her building orgasm. “Please…”
He latched his mouth onto her clit and she moved against him, short, sharp thrusts, taking those fingers deeper. Pushing against them harder. Tossing her head back, arching her back even more, she came with a wail, her body clenching around his fingers as pleasure built from her core and rushed through her body like a tidal wave. It was too hard. Too much. She couldn’t ride it, couldn’t stay afloat. All she could do was let it wash over her again and again until she was left a gasping, trembling mess.
She was still shaking from the aftereffects when he pulled his fingers free. “Don’t move.”
That, at least, was an easy order to obey. She was incapable of movement. Of thought. She let her head hang, her hair hiding her face as she fought to catch her breath.
To convince herself this wasn’t one of the biggest mistakes she’d ever made.
He slid out from beneath her, and she turned her head. He looked completely unaffected, facing her with his perfect cop posture, his hair barely mussed from his endeavor between her legs. Holding her gaze, he used the back of his pantie-wrapped hand to wipe her moisture from his mouth.
She shifted her other knee onto the couch, hyper aware of the uneven power dynamic between them. Him with his slow and steady breathing. Her panting and trembling.
Him calm and cool. Her flushed and sweaty.
Him fully dressed and completely closed off. Her naked and exposed.
He undid the button of his jeans, then slowly dragged down the zipper before shoving them and boxer briefs down far enough for his cock to spring free. He was long and thick and so hard, the veins of his dick stood out in sharp relief.
Not so unaffected after all.
Jaw clenched, he stroked himself, and she couldn’t tear her eyes from the sight of his panty-wrapped hand moving up and down on his cock. He rubbed the pad of his thumb around the tip, gathering the moisture there, then swirling it around the head of his cock.
“Do you still want this?” he asked gruffly.
She licked her lips. “Yes. I still want this.” She let her voice drop to a husky, honest whisper. “I want you, Miles.”
His eyes flared, his mouth flattening into a tight line. Letting go of his cock, he dug his wallet out of his pocket and took out a condom. Rolled it down his length and stepped forward.
He lined the blunt head of his cock to her entrance. Rubbed it there, along her slit, spreading her wetness. Tapped his fingers against the base of her spine, right above the cleft of her butt. “Stick that ass in the air. Prove you want this.”
She arched her back, her grip on the back on the couch tightening as he smoothed his fingertips between her ass cheeks. She wiggled against him, pushing back, seeking more of that hard, hot cock at her pussy, and he finally slid the tip of his dick inside her.
He slid his hands to her hips, his fingertips barely curling around her waist. “Brace yourself,” he warned her, low and guttural.
She tried, but he shoved himself into her with such force, her arms buckled and she ended up with her face smashed against the back of the couch.
He didn’t slow. Just pulled back and slammed into her again. And again. Hard and quick, he set a brutal pace that was at once punishment and pleasure.
And so incredible, it took her several long moments before she could find the will to push herself upright again.
She used the leverage to push back against him. Take him deeper. The couch moved with each thrust, the rhythmic sounds of it knocking against the wall mixing with the sharp slap of his body against hers. He fucked her hard and fast and in a matter of minutes, her second orgasm began to build. Pushing her arms straight against the couch, she ground back against him. Met him thrust for thrust, but once again, it wasn’t enough.
Once again, she needed him.
Once again she was willing to beg. “Miles… please…”
Without slowing his pace, he reached around her hip and between her legs. Rubbed her clit, the hardness of his finger beneath the silk of her panties sending her over the edge into a long, lush orgasm.
She came silently this time as sensation after sensation swept through her. Too full of pleasure to do anything other than go boneless when it subsided, her arms falling from the back of the couch, her legs going weak.
“Not done,” he ground out from behind her, both hands back on her hips, gripping only hard enough to yank her ass higher. Holding her there, right there, so he could plunge harder still. “Not done fucking you.”
But she couldn’t hold herself upright any longer. It was as if her orgasm had melted her muscles, the intensity of it liquifying her bones and she collapsed, her face pressed against the back of the sofa at an awkward angle, her arms sliding down to her sides.
He maneuvered her to the left. “Open your eyes.”
Her lids flew open—not because of the command, or at least, not only because of the command, but because she couldn’t figure out how he knew her eyes had been closed—and she saw her reflection in the glass of a tall antique looking cabinet against the wall.
She was splayed, ass in the air, hair a wild, tangled mass, her mouth parted while he stood behind her, feet braced all the better to drill into her.
His jaw was tight, his expression hard with a mix of that pleasure and pain he’d given her. The muscles of his ass flexed with each thrust, but his hands on her hips stayed light.
Until she lifted her head and started to push upright.
His left hand gripped her hip, not hard enough for those marks he’d talked about wanting to leave on her, but enough for her to still. It was a warning. One he followed up by sliding his right hand up her spine. Up, up, up until his fingers lightly curled around the nape of her neck.
He pressed her head back down. Held it there, his fingers wrapped softly around her throat. His thumb under her jaw, angling her head so her gaze was once again on their reflection.
“Keep your eyes open,” he grunted, his breaths, like the slide of his cock, quick and deep. “Open and on me the entire time.”
Her heart hammered in her chest. Testing him, and maybe herself, she attempted to lift her head, but he held her down with ease.
And then he gave her the one thing she hadn’t even known she’d wanted.
He tightened his fingers. Just a little.
She was sure it was meant to be a warning.
But to her, it was a gift.
Because she wasn’t scared. Wasn’t dragged back to the past.
His hand on her throat didn’t feel scary.
It felt safe.
She watched him, loving how he looked, all broad and tall behind her, the muscles of his neck tense as he fucked her. As he used her.
Just like she’d wanted him to.
But he wasn’t taking anything from her.
She was giving it to him.
Her body. Her obedience.
Her trust.
Being with him this way didn’t make her feel scared or weak or taken advantage of.
She felt powerful.
And the way he plunged in and out of her, no finesse, just relentless hard thrust after hard thrust, like he was indeed trying to fuck her out of his system? Trying to make her pay for the sins she’d committed against him?
She loved that, too.
Maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe when this was all said and done she’d be ashamed that she did. But in this moment, there was no room for shame. No space for regrets.
And the sight of his hand around her throat?
She might love that most of all.
Watching his face in the glass, she stretched her neck, pushing her throat farther into his hand.
“Greedy, greedy girl,” he ground out. “With her greedy, greedy pussy.”
His cock seemed to grow even bigger, his movements became more frenzied, brutal in his quest for his own release.
And still another orgasm was building inside her. She fought it. She was spent. Exhausted. Gasping for breath, every inch of her skin overly sensitive, her pussy swollen and sore.
But then Miles met her gaze in the mirror, his expression agonized, his eyes dark with his own pleasure, as he came with a deep groan.
And he gently, gently squeezed her throat.
She came again, so hard, so suddenly, she cried out, her vision blurring, her body fighting itself, trying to stop it even as her pussy contracted around his cock, wanting more, more, more.
They stayed that way, him deep inside of her, her body twitching around him, for a moment. Then two. Then he opened his fingers and removed his hand from her throat.
She immediately missed it there.
And she didn’t want to think about what that said about her.
Or what pieces of her were severely broken inside.
He trailed his fingers down her spine, dragged his knuckles along the crack of her butt before gripping his cock and slowly withdrawing from her.
He stepped back, took the condom off and tied it, then yanked his jeans and boxer briefs up to his hips. Slowly unwound her belt from his hand before tossing it onto the couch next to her.
Then he turned and walked away.