Chapter 35
She undressed. Quickly. Clumsily.
So quickly, she about took her own head off when she tried to take her shirt off without undoing the button at the back of her neck.
So clumsily, the material covered her head as she fumbled with the button.
When it was free, she yanked it off and tossed it aside, then arched her back to unhook her strapless bra. Let it fall to her lap as she unbuttoned and unzipped her shorts. Lifted her hips and wriggled out of them. Kicked them off, then flung her bra over her head.
All the while Miles watched her, glistening thumb held out. Sexy, smug smirk getting sexier, smugger and smirkier at her haste to do his bidding.
But then she slid off the bed and his grin faded.
Because she didn’t get to her feet.
She dropped to her knees.
And crawled toward him.
His cock bounced. Grew even bigger. His pupils went big and dark. His breath caught audibly, his nostrils flaring like an animal smelling its mate.
Holding his gaze, she moved toward him slowly, the ancient wood floor cool and smooth as glass under her hands and bare knees. Miles watched her, his expression stark with desire, his body vibrating with need.
And even though she was literally crawling toward him, her back arched, her breasts swaying heavily, her inner thighs slick, she didn’t feel submissive. Didn’t feel weak.
This, giving herself to him this way, trusting him this way, trusting herself this way, was its own type of power.
Time seemed to stretch out and she felt lost in the moment until finally, she was at his feet.
Settling her weight back, she straightened, inch by inch. Brushed her nose along the smooth underside of his cock—the touch as light as his had been between her legs only minutes ago. When she was upright, kneeling before him, she encircled his wrist with her fingers and, eyes on his, brought his thumb to her mouth. Wrapped her lips around it.
And sucked it clean.
The taste of him was sharp and musky and addicting.
Still looking up at him, she let go of his wrist and drew her head back slowly, still sucking on his thumb, so that when it finally came free, it did so with a pop.
“More,” she said, her own low and husky demand.
He cupped her face, his wet thumb pressed against the corner of her mouth as he curled his fingers into the hair at her nape and drew her head farther back. “Ask me nicely.”
There was nothing nice about his tone. Nothing gentle about the grip he had on her hair. Nothing tender or coaxing in the way he towered over her, his body tense, his leaking cock straining toward her.
There was nothing safe about the way he made her feel.
About the things he made her want.
But she felt safe anyway.
She felt safe and seen and whole.
And more like herself than ever before.
“More. Please.”
“That’s better,” he murmured, stroking his cock to the base, then back up, milking so much precum from the head, it leaked down the underside. Pooled between the tip and the side of his hand.
Ducking her head, she lapped it up like a cat with cream before tugging his hand free and licking every drop from his fingers. Then she raised her eyes to his again and opened her mouth.
Like a good girl.
He grunted and pulled his hand free of her hold. Lifted his other hand from her head and held them both out at his sides. “If you want it so badly, take it.”
It reminded her of that first night when he’d laid out how things between them were going to be. What she’d have to do to get what she wanted from him.
You’re going to have to beg me to give it to you. Or you’re going to have to take it from me.
And while she no longer had an aversion to begging him, she wasn’t quite ready to stop playing this game.
Especially when he stood there, all patience and confidence, his arms at his sides, legs wide, cock jutting out temptingly.
Take it.
Heart hammering in her chest, she glanced up at him so she could see his reaction as she leaned forward just far enough to wrap her lips around the head of his cock. Captured a fresh bead of precum on her tongue, then swallowed it down.
“Fuck,” he breathed, eyes narrowed and glittering, “that’s a pretty sight. Your lips wrapped around my cock.”
She paused. His entire body tensed as if in pain, his breathing unsteady. She waited like that, with just the tip of his dick in her mouth. Waited for him to twist her hair around his fist and shove his cock down her throat like he did that night in the closet. Waited for him to take control of the situation.
Of her.
But instead of putting his hands on her, he lifted them and linked them behind his head. It was a show of strength, his biceps rounded, his abs contracted, pecs flexed. It was more of that cockiness, that confidence, his stance that of a prince ready to be pleasured.
But mostly it was proof that she could trust him to hand that control over to her.
He was, once again, giving her what she truly needed.
Permission to trust them both.
Edging closer, she laid her palms flat against his upper thighs, the tips of her fingers just under his hips, the smooth skin there a contrast to the rough hair under her palms. He was warm, his body tense, a clear giveaway that he wasn’t quite as patient as his pose would like her to believe.
She lowered her head, taking more of him into her mouth, and he exhaled, a rush of air that could have been relief, could have been encouragement. Was probably, more than likely, a combination of both.
As she slid her mouth slowly up and down his length, she thought for sure he’d take over at some point. That if he didn’t hold her head still and fuck her mouth, he’d at the very least thrust his hips. That he’d dictate the cadence. How fast she took him. How deep. How hard.
Part of her wanted that. She’d loved the way he’d used her that night in the closet. The punishing pace he’d set.
How he’d lost control.
How she’d felt so powerful.
But he didn’t. He kept still. Kept his hands locked behind his head.
This, too, was power.
Hers.
Taking her time, she bobbed up and down on his dick, sucking and licking his hardness while his breathing grew increasingly ragged. His thighs tensed even more.
She explored him with her lips and tongue. Learning the shape and texture and taste of him in a way she hadn’t been able to that night at the bar. She ate at his cock with soft, nipping sips and long, luxurious licks and slow, pulling sucks.
His hips twitched then stilled, as if he was battling the urge to plunge into her mouth. “You suck me so good, baby. But enough with the teasing. Take me deeper.”
The praise, his restraint, and his gentle demand had her nipples prickling painfully. Her pussy throbbing. Her hands tightened on his thighs, her nails digging into his skin as she squeezed her inner thighs together, trying to find some friction.
He lowered his arms and brushed her hair back with one hand. Lightly curled the other around her throat. Nudged her head up so that she met his eyes. “Do you want to play with your pussy?”
Eyes wide, mouth full of his dick, she nodded.
“All those nights you thought about me… the past two weeks when you thought about me fucking your mouth and making you come on my hand and what it felt like to have my cock buried inside of you… did you masturbate?”
Holding his gaze, she hesitated. Swallowed so that his dick swelled in her mouth.
Then she slowly shook her head.
Satisfaction flashed across his features, and she knew he understood exactly why she hadn’t touched herself the past two weeks.
Combing his fingers through her hair, he slid his other hand up, his fingers splayed beneath her jaw, the tip of his thumb pressed against the corner of her lips. “Fuck my dick with your mouth the right way, and you can make yourself come. Just a small one,” he cautioned when she immediately took him so deep, she choked. Tightening his grip on her hair, he stilled her motions. “Just to take the edge off. And only because you’re such a good girl, remembering that your orgasms belong to me.”
Breath locked in her chest, anticipation building at the base of her spine, she nodded again.
She was a good girl. She was his good girl and she wanted nothing more than to prove it.
She waited until his grip loosened, his fingers once more gentle as they went through her hair again and again, a soft, encouraging stroke. Encircling the base of his cock with one hand, she worked him with her hand and her mouth, increasing her speed incrementally each time. Taking him just a little bit deeper, holding him in the back of her throat just a little bit longer each time.
“Better,” he murmured, rubbing the pad of his thumb along the side of his dick as it went in and out of her mouth. “But not quite good enough. Maybe you don’t really want to come after all.”
Now he was the tease.
Desperate, she moved faster, taking him so deep she gagged each time, her spit coating his dick, dribbling onto her hand and out the corner of her mouth. He collected it on his thumb like he’d done his precum. Rubbed it across her bottom lip keeping his body perfectly still the whole time. Not helping her at all. Making her do all the work.
Making her earn her reward.
But he wasn’t unaffected. His cock was hard as steel. His hands trembling on her face. In her hair. His breathing ragged. And when he spoke, his voice was guttural with want. Tight with restraint. “I’m not going to come in your mouth.”
She made a sound of distress, one he heard over the sloppy sounds of her sucking him.
“Not tonight. But you will bring me right to the edge of it this way. And then, and only then, will I let you come.”
Frantic, her hips undulating, mimicking what her mouth was doing, she let her teeth scrape along his length as she went up and down. Up and down.
“Stop,” he grunted and she immediately stilled, his cock pulsing in her mouth. “Eyes on mine.”
She lifted her gaze. She was shaking. Sweating. Her skin was itchy. Hot. Her lips were numb. Her throat sore. Her chin covered in her own saliva.
And he was hot and hard and still leaking in her mouth. Filling her. Holding her head still, holding himself still and so deep in the back of her throat, she had to take deep, slow breaths through her nose so she didn’t gag.
“Now.”
At the soft word, she immediately took her hand from his thigh and slid it between her slick folds. Her pussy was soaked, her moisture covering her thighs, coating her fingers as she rubbed her clit, so hard and fast, her entire body shook with it.
But it wasn’t enough.
She could have cried. Did make a sobbing sound around his cock. It was as if she was too worked up, every part of her overly sensitized to the point of almost pain, her body so on edge, she was afraid to go over.
Or maybe, she just needed something more.
And for once, she was going to take what she needed.
Removing her other hand from his cock, she shoved two fingers up her pussy. Fucked herself while she continued those hard, fast strokes on her clit.
His eyes narrowed. “I said a small one. Just to take the edge off.”
Not slowing her movements in the least, she held his gaze, figured her eyes were probably glazed, but hoped her fuck that was clear enough in them.
There was no taking the edge of this need. It was too big. Too all consuming.
Besides, she liked it when he used that dark, warning tone with her. When he got all bristly and irritated over his authority being questioned.
She liked pushing him.
Mainly because she loved what happened when he pushed her back.
Finger fucking herself faster, she undulated her hips in short, hard thrusts.
“Tabitha,” Miles warned, gruff and dark, his hands tightening on her head. “You’re not listening.”
Oh, she was listening.
She just wasn’t obeying.
And he liked it. His breathing got faster, his dick pulsed against her tongue as he shoved it farther down her throat, just a tiny bit, as if he couldn’t help himself. And when she gagged, he angled her head down slightly and slid it in even farther.
“Take it,” he muttered, his thumb pressing into the corner of her mouth, stretching her lips open wider. “Take what I give you.”
Relaxing her throat, loosening the muscles of her jaw, she emptied her mind of anything but the pleasure building between her legs. The feel of his cock in her mouth. The wet, sucking sounds of her fingers moving in and out of her pussy.
And she took it. Took what he gave her as she breathed heavily through her nose, each breath getting shallower. Her heart beat, quick and light, like a rabbit on the run. She was close. So very, very close.
And then he slid his cock in another impossible quarter of an inch, blocking off her air. But instead of panicking, instead of fighting it and him, she trusted him.
Curling her fingers inside her pussy, she ground down on her hand, riding her fingers in a frantic pace. Her head grew light from the lack of oxygen. Her body felt weightless, as if she was floating. She went as long as she could, building her own pleasure until her body craved oxygen as much as it craved release.
And then she came with a force that had her entire body convulsing so hard, her hand slipped off her clit. But Miles’s cock stayed firmly in her mouth.
She was too far gone to lift her hand back to her clit, was coming far too hard to be coordinated enough to rub her clit while still fucking herself so hard and so fast with her fingers.
Even without that extra clitoral stimulation, everything about this orgasm was heightened. Amplified. With his commands and control and his dick down her throat, Miles was taking her to a place she’d never been brave enough to go to before.
A place where she could completely surrender.
A place where she was safe to do so.
And she did. She let herself go, let wave after wave of sensation drag her under until she was submerged in pleasure. Let it surround her, drowning out anything and everything that wasn’t Miles.
The way he watched her, his expression all hard lines and satisfaction.
The way his cock muffled the sound of her scream.
The way he smelled, musky and aroused.
The way he tasted, sharp and salty.
The way having him there, towering over her, his dick in her mouth, his hands on her head, had her orgasm ripping through her. Tearing her apart, piece by piece. Bit by bit.
But unlike that night at his house all those weeks ago, this time she knew he wouldn’t walk away.
This time she trusted him to help her put those parts of herself back together.
Finally, finally, those waves subsided, leaving her weak. Spent. Boneless.
And desperately wanting a fresh breath of air.
But Miles took his time sliding his dick free, holding her head still to make sure she couldn’t rush the process by rearing back. Watching her through narrowed eyes, his jaw tight, he withdrew half an inch, then another before stopping while she inhaled deeply through her nose.
He kept going in that slow, dragging motion until his cock slid free, a thin line of her saliva stretching between the tip of his glistening dick and her lips. He wiped it away with his thumb, his own ragged breathing matching hers as he clenched his hands at his sides.
But when he spoke, his tone was as controlled as always. “That wasn’t a small one.”
“No,” she said, her voice low and husky.
He nodded once. Set his fists on his hips, lips pursed as he studied her, his expression revealing nothing except the slightest disappointment. Like she and her glorious orgasm had let him down.
But while he should look like a teacher lightly scolding a student, he didn’t. He conveyed nothing less than pure, raw, animalistic power standing there completely naked, his dick out and hard enough to drive nails. A predator.
One on his way to becoming a conqueror.
“Do you have anything left to give me?”
If anyone else had asked her that, she would have told him absolutely not. That she was well and truly satisfied and so completely spent, all she had the energy left for was to melt into a puddle on this spot on her bedroom floor.
But it wasn’t anyone else who’d asked. It was Miles. Miles with his broad shoulders and stacked abs. Miles with his deep voice and dark, watchful gaze.
Miles, the boy who’d once loved her.
Miles, the man she wanted to love her once again.
That thought, that undeniable truth, hit her in the chest. Swelled there, hot and pulsing and insistent, pushing and expanding until it filled every part of her being. It infused her very being. Stole her breath.
And her voice.
Which was a good thing. Because she was afraid if she spoke, the truth would come out.
That she’d gladly give him whatever he wanted. That everything she had was for him.
Including her heart.
But as much as she hated it, her doubts were still there, firmly enmeshed in the back of her mind, whispering all the ways she wasn’t worthy.
Reminding her of all her mistakes.
And all of his.
Only minutes ago she’d challenged him to tell her something true. To help her break their old patterns and make new ones. She’d called him out on the ways he pretended to be okay with his family. The part he played.
She’d asked him to trust her.
But in the end, she wasn’t brave enough to give him that truth back.
So she kept quiet. Kept this truth to herself.
Expression hard, he crossed his arms across his chest, and she went still.
Only to start trembling again, this time with eagerness.
She couldn’t wait to see what he did to her next.
“It doesn’t matter whether you left anything for me or not,” he said in a dark, silky tone that had her pussy clenching, “because I’m going to take more anyway.”