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I've always hated fashion. Right now, I loathe it. He shouldn't be allowed to wear clothes. At least not in my apartment.
I reach for the button of his jeans. "You're wearing too many clothes."
He smiles. I'm not sure if it's smug or playful or confident. All three maybe. Right now, I feel at ease. Like he's not pushing or prodding me. Like he wants me comfortable, wants my pleasure. After all, he thinks about my breasts and the sounds I make when he touches me.
He wants me to feel good. Sexually. But that's something.
That's a lot.
Miles drags his lips over my neck. He shifts to his side, unzips, and slides off his jeans. It's all effortless. He's smooth, in control. I must seem like a desperate mess.
This is almost happening.
We're going to have sex.
He's going to be inside me.
Miles slides his fingers over my stomach. "You're nervous again."
I shake my head, but I can feel the trembling in my hands. I have almost no experience, and Miles is clearly some kind of sex god.
He's staring at me, his eyes filled with sincerity. He really is concerned about me.
"You are," he says.
Still, I shake my head.
His lips curl into a smile. "It's cute that you don't want to admit it."
I don't want to be cute. I want to be sexy. I want to be making him as needy as I feel.
Confidence. I can do that. I drag my fingers over his torso. "Don't you have a better use for your mouth?"
"Oh." His voice gets low. "You mean this." He trails his lips against my chest, stopping to draw circles around my nipple with his tongue.
"Yes. That." Pleasure surges through me.
His hand slides between my thighs. "You don't have to hide how badly you want this. I mean, it's cute and all—"
"I'm not cute."
"Try adorable."
"Didn't we discuss the appropriate uses for your mouth?"
He nods and presses his lips into mine. It's a hard kiss, possessive even. "How's that?"
I struggle through a breath. That is amazing. "It's a start."
He smiles, takes my hand, and places it on the waistband of his boxers.
I pull the damn things to his knees and wrap my fingers around him. He places his hand over mine, guiding me. I stroke him harder. Faster.
His lips find mine. It's fast and hard and messy. I kiss him back, sucking on his tongue, scraping my teeth against his lips.
He groans into my mouth.
He wants me. Miles, the sex god, wants me.
