Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
FRANKIE
Our kiss is purposeful now.
While I can drift away and disappear into the all-consuming pleasure of it all, there’s also a new eagerness, an edge that we’re both ready for what’s to come.
We both know this is going somewhere more this time.
And now Miller’s told me his story in fuller detail, the desire I have for him comes with an even deeper level of respect for how hard he’s worked and how much he’s sacrificed. This man walked away from his creative dream to make sure his family had a roof over its head and food on the table.
He cups my butt with both hands and holds me against the erection heaving in his pants.
“Would my boss like to tell me what she wants me to do next?” he says in a breathy whisper.
I rock my hips into him and slide my hands across the swell of his pecs. “Whatever you’ve been wanting to do since I opened the door to you on Tuesday.”
“That will involve me removing your clothes.” He drags a finger down my throat and hooks it into the neckline of my sweatshirt, tugging it lower. “How do you feel about that?”
I drop my mouth to his neck where a hint of the aroma of my body wash still lingers under the saltiness from the manual work he’s done today.
Knowing that his hands are as capable of crafting woodwork as they are of setting up a complex spreadsheet—or whatever it is he does with his investments—is a major turn-on.
“I would be very happy about that.” I breathe the words against his skin.
Then his hands are under my shirt, lifting it higher and higher, fingers sweeping my sides as they go, until it’s over my head and off.
He pauses for a second.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Just looking for somewhere clean enough to put this down. Ah.” He reaches around and drops it onto the foot of the cot behind him.
“Your turn.” I slide my hands up the inside of his T-shirt, taking in the power of every rippling muscle on the way.
Miller is a strength and solidity that my life has never had. I’ve always been pushing forward, scrambling, never feeling like my feet are steady and on solid ground.
Miller feels solid. He feels steady. And he feels strong.
He lifts his arms for me to pull the shirt off over his head. I toss it on top of mine.
Then his mouth is on my collarbone, teasing my skin with his tongue, down over my chest and between my breasts.
I press my center fully onto him. His hard girth hits exactly the right spot, making my eyes close, my head drop back, and sends a heavy groan of pleasure tumbling from my mouth.
“You are so fucking beautiful,” Miller says, reaching around to unhook my bra, then slide the straps off my arms in one smooth motion. “Just look at you.”
I can feel his eyes on me, gliding over my freshly naked skin.
My bra vanishes, presumably onto the same pile of clothes, and his hands are on my breasts.
The fingers that looked smooth from desk work when he arrived now have a rough edge from the recent spate of manual labor. It gives his touch an edge, making the massaging, the kneading, even more arousing, even more potent.
He kisses across the mounds of my breasts, making my spine so jelly-weak that I have to reach behind me and rest my hand on his firm thighs for support.
I vanish into him, lose myself, whoever myself even is anymore, and surrender to him completely, trust him completely with my body.
Then the warm moisture of his mouth is on my nipple. The sucking and the pressure of his tongue lifts me to a new level where bright shapes dance behind my eyes, where my entire body tingles from head to toe, and where I am wetter than I ever imagined possible.
I want this man. I need this man. Not just because he’s so ridiculously hot, but because he’s like me.
He understands me. We both fought hard to earn the money we thought we needed.
It might have been for different reasons, and he might have flown to massively greater financial heights than me, but we’ve come from similar places, similar mindsets, and are fired by similar motivations.
And it’s not only our minds that understand each other—our bodies do too.
Miller lifts his head from my breast and wraps his arms around my back in an embrace that brings my bare chest against his.
The full contact with his skin makes me gasp.
And then his hands are under my butt again and he stands up, holding me against him so that my legs wrap around his waist on instinct.
“Where are we going?” I ask, nuzzling into his hair. There’s something so incredibly hot about smelling your own shampoo on an amazing man.
He turns around and slowly lowers me onto the cot. “I thought here might be good.”
When he stands back up I am eye-level with his zipper and what is straining at the other side of it.
Wow.
I reach up and trace the outline.
“Fuck.” He sighs. “If your hand feels that good through clothes, God help me when you actually touch me.”
“Let’s give it a try.” I pop the button and draw down the zipper.
I can’t help but giggle at the roosters on his boxers.
“Yup.” He reaches for the back of my head and slides out my ponytail elastic, freeing the hair to fall over my naked shoulders. “You’re here on cock day.”
“And that’s supposed to make me laugh less?” I look up at him as he tosses the elastic on top of our clothes and glides his fingers through my loose hair.
“It’s the first time I’ve seen you with your hair down,” he says.
“It’s the first time you’ve seen a lot of me.”
“And I can’t wait to feast my eyes on the rest.” His voice drips with lust.
“Me first.” I slip my hand inside the opening of his boxers, exploring with my touch first, before my eyes. The second I find his firm shaft, his fingers tighten in my hair and his abs flex.
“Fuck, Frankie. Jesus.”
I look up to see his head back, eyes closed.
And now I need more.
I ease down his pants and boxers together, revealing his magnificent erection bit by bit until the whole thing is there, right in front of my face.
My mouth is drawn to it like a bee to nectar, but only the tip of my tongue has made contact when Miller stops me.
“Not yet. Or I’ll blow in your mouth in two seconds.” He kicks off his boots. “And I need to see you.” Then he slides down his pants and boxers and his glorious, fully naked form steps out of them.
“The floor,” I say. “It’s not totally clean.”
“Higher priorities,” he says, easing me back on the cot, his body hovering over me.
Then his mouth is back on mine, in the deepest kiss we’ve experienced so far, one full of longing and meaning and desire.
I hold on to his biceps as one of his hands finds my breast and sends a fresh surge of lust rocketing straight to my clit.
As if trying to catch the surge, his other hand undoes my jeans and slips inside.
The instant his finger finds me, I lose all sense of where we are. All I know is I’m here with Miller, my body arching away from the cot and into him, my mouth falling away from his on a long gasp that feels like it started in my toes.
His fingers slide lower.
“Christ, you are so fucking wet,” he pants against my cheek.
I reach between us and take him in both hands.
His groan echoes mine, but is even longer and louder.
He rocks into my grip and simultaneously slips a finger inside me, making me so lightheaded I’d collapse if I weren’t lying down.
“I want my cock to be where my fingers are,” he breathes, right before dropping his mouth back to my nipple.
I release him and shimmy out of my jeans and underwear beneath the heat of his hovering body.
“Condom?” I ask.
“Think so,” he says, twisting to reach back for his pants. “Yes.” He produces a black square from his wallet.
“Thank God.” I kick my jeans onto the pile of clothes at the end of the cot.
“But first,” he says, “I want to taste you. To look up and watch you come on my tongue.”
My clit throbs so hard it might happen just from him talking about it. “That’s probably going to take about three seconds.” I lie back down.
He drops the condom by my side as his hands slide up my body to my breasts and his mouth drops between my legs.
“Oh my God.” If there are ten levels of pleasure, the first touch of his tongue shoots me straight to level nine.
My arms fly over my head, my hands finding the top of the cot and clinging for dear life.
“You look so fucking beautiful.” His stubble tickles my inner thighs as he speaks.
His hand leaves my left breast and reappears in my senses right at my entrance.
“Oh God.” I twist, writhing as if I’m trying to get away from the fingers he’s sliding inside me, when all I want to do is stay.
His mouth is warm and wet, the sucks and circles of his tongue perfect, the thrusts of his fingers inside me just the right speed, his thumb on my nipple just the right pressure…and…oh God…here I go…
I allow myself to break. To give myself wholly to this man who is everything he thinks he’s not, who’s fought to get where he is, who saved his family and right now might just be saving me.
Through my own cries I catch Miller saying, “Beautiful,” as I reach the crest.
He keeps me on the top of that wave and holds me there for an unimaginably long time.
Fireworks explode in my head, like every new year celebration around the world is being held all at once inside my brain.
Over and over they pop and fizz, before I crash over the edge and tumble down the other side.
“Oh my God,” I manage once I return to reality.
“I’m happy you liked it.” Miller eases his fingers from me with care and rises up on his knees between my legs.
I have never seen such a vision in my life. From his powerful thighs to his six-pack abs, his broad firm pecs to the curve of his shoulders, the swell of his biceps and the chiseled, smiling face that tops it all off.
He reaches for the condom and rips it open.
“Ready for number two?” he asks as he rolls it onto the most handsome dick I have ever seen in my life.
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” I tell him. “I’ve never…”