“Yes,” I answer before his question is fully finished because whatever he wants to do, the answer is yes. I feel like I’m on fire and the only thing that will put it out is his touch.
He slides along my opening with just enough pressure to brush over my clit. I gasp at the touch.
“I knew you would be wet,” he growls into my ear, running the tip of his tongue along the edge of my ear. Goosebumps break out over my arms and legs. “But I didn’t think you’d bethiswet. It’s so hot.”
“Miles…” His name is more of a moan than anything, my body melting into his touch.
“You feel so good, Abby.”
It’s been so long since I’ve been with someone else that I can feel myself close to the edge already. I want it to last longer, but he seems to remember exactly the pressure and pattern that I like.
“Oh my god, Miles. Don’t stop.”
He doesn’t. He slides his fingers over my most sensitive spot as his lips and tongue dance over the side of my neck. He sucks at the delicate skin and groans, the sound traveling from my ear down to the tips of my toes. A burst of pleasure grips me as the pressure of his finger hits just the right rhythm with the stroking, and I tip over the edge, clutching him against me as my climax ripples through my body. The sounds of my pleasure come out of me in waves, moans bent around the shape of my orgasm at full volume, having long abandoned any cares that anyone outside this room might hear me.
Miles’s hand slides back up my body, and he turns me, facing me away from him. He curls his body around mine, tucking his head against my neck. He places a soft kiss on the top of my shoulder, a gesture that tells me this wasn’t purely physical. That whatever happened between us meant something to him. I don’t know what it meant; I don’t want to think about it too hard.
My bones feel like jelly after that orgasm, and his instinct to hold me makes me feel like I have permission to fully relax. Like I can let go of every worry or care that passed through my mind today while he embraces me. I settle into his arms, but as I’m processing what just happened, guilt starts to creep in at the edges of my mind. I try to shift to turn toward him, but he holds me firm.
“Miles, what about?—”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I?—”
“You were going to ask to return the favor.”
I was going to do just that… I swear sometimes this guy can read my mind.
“And I’m not interested.”
“Uh…”
“Let me clarify. I’m very much interested, but I’m not expecting anything in return. I never do, and you know that about me even if you forgot it.”
He’s right; I did know this about him. From the beginning of our relationship, he didn’t care about reciprocity. He cared about my pleasure first and foremost. He never complained if I rejected his advances because I had a migraine. I didn’t forget this about him. I thought about it a lot over the years, especially because Todd was not a “ladies come first” kind of guy. I had to ask to be pleasured, and he always said yes, but I hated that I had to ask.
But Miles always put me first, and I thought about that fact more over the last eleven years than I care to admit.
“If the only reason you want to do it is because you feel like you should, I’m not interested,” he says and holds me a little tighter against him.
It feels so nice to be held, and I never win an argument against Miles anyway, so I let myself be held and melt into my own body, which for the first time in a long time actually feels relaxed.
Maybe all I needed after the year I had was a really good orgasm. Except that I know it’ll all come back in the morning. This is a temporary distraction from a larger problem. It was a very good distraction—one that, if this were anyone else, I would be tempted to repeat.
But as it is, we probably shouldn’t have done this. I don’t regret it now, though I could wake up and have regrets. Maybe this was inevitable given our chemistry, given that every time I saw him, I was losing my mind over how attracted to him I was.
Am.
But it happened, and now it’s out of my system and I never have to do it again. No regrets because it felt good and I didn’t need to spend my entire vacation horny for my ex.
It also means I should probably not spend a long time cuddling with him. I was nervous that I’d hook up with Miles and start to develop feelings for him, which obviously did not happen—thank god—but we don’t also need to be engaging in couple behavior. That road leads one to one place, and I’ve already been there with Miles and won’t be going back.
“I should probably get to sleep,” I say.
He acknowledges me with a soft kiss on my shoulder and extricates himself from our twisted limbs, climbing out of the bed. I sit up, retying my robe, feeling a little shy about covering myself after such intense intimacy.
I want to say something else—the silence is stiff and uncomfortable—but what do you say after something like this? I don’t want to invite him to do it again, yet I know we’re bound to run into one another over the next week.
