He stills. If it’s possible for his entire face to flare with shock, then it does. His jaw flexes, his tongue runs along his top lip, and I know I’m about to get it. My body literally vibrates with anticipation. I’m so wet I can feel arousal seeping out of me. And when he drops his lips to mine, I’m on the verge of combustion.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
In less than a second, I’m flipped over. It’s so quick that I barely manage a squeak as the air is ripped from my lungs. Forcing me onto my knees, he pushes his hips against me. I already know the damage his dick is going to do. It’s all I’ve thought about since the spider incident, and I can feel it prodding me through his pajama pants.
His palms flatten against the base of my spine, rubbing small circles over my hot skin. His calluses scratch along the surface, keeping me present because I’m on the verge of blacking out.
His hands push under the T-shirt I stole from his bag. “Seeing you in my clothes . . . my baseball cap . . . my shirt withmyname on it . . . you’ve no idea how hot it is. How it drives me crazy . . .” They never stop moving, like he’s feeling me out, memorizing every inch of my body, over my hips, around to my stomach, between my legs. His fingernail teases along the soaked fabric of my panties, and I whimper in desperation when his hands disappear far too quickly.
When he touches me again, the relief is almost embarrassing, though adrenaline soon takes over as his hands inch up the backs of my thighs to my ass.
“You look so perfect like this. Arse up, waiting for me.” His fingers slip under the elastic. “Knowing that you can control my ponies with a squeeze of your thighs, yet right now you’re at my mercy . . .Fuck, seeing you out there today . . .” He presses the length of his cock between my ass cheeks. “I was so proud of you. So fucking proud that you’re my girl. Everyone was watching you, and you’remine.”
In one move, he tugs my panties down to my knees. Cool air hits my pussy, and holy crap, I’m a squirming mess. He hasn’t even touched me yet.
He leans back, assessing me. “Look at you. So messy. So perfect.”
I’m seconds away from begging him to touch me when he dips down and drags his tongue up the seam of my slit.
“I’ve thought about how you’d taste, Rubes.” He groans, taking a second swipe. “So many times.”
Once again, the warmth of his tongue is followed by the frigid AC, and the noise that escapes me is fifty percent huff, fifty percent whimper. One hundred percent beg.
“Miles—”
“Yes?” His tone is all insolence, reminding me of his warning. This isn’t going to be a quick one-and-done. Nothing like I’m used to.
“Please . . .”
He takes another long, deliberate stroke with his tongue. His fingers find my clit, running torturously slow rhythmic circles around the hard nub. It’s been a long time since anyone but me touched myself like this, and I’m so close to coming, but the pressure isn’t quite there.
And it’s deliberate. Miles plans to torture me.
“Please, what? Please fuck you? Please make you come?” He tsks loudly, his breath labored.
“Both,” I cry out as he slips a finger inside me, followed by another.
I’m so wet I barely feel it.
“All in good time, sweetheart. We need to warm you up first.” His fingers pull out and push back in, curling around, hitting that spot no one ever reaches. “You’re so tight, Rubes. You're gonna squeeze my cock so good.”
His groan hits every corner of my body, yet I need more.
My hand shifts from the position on the mattress, moving between my legs to where his fingers are still fucking me, and I find my clit. I can’t see him, but I hear his low chuckle.
“So fucking impatient. So much fucking trouble,” he mumbles, wrenching my hand away and pinning it with my other one above my head.
His body drapes over mine. With my arms in the position they are, it’s too heavy for me to hold myself up, so my face drops to the pillow. Miles’s nose nudges along my jaw, pushing the mass of hair off my cheek. I’m still ass up, exposed, pussy aching, and in dire need of attention.
The solid length of his cock presses into my back. “You’re so desperate to come, aren’t you, Trouble?”
I moan a throaty “yes” followed by a sharp intake of breath as he reaches between my legs. His fingers part me, spreading my arousal everywhere. His body surrounds mine, heavy and oppressive, his hips holding me in place. I try my best to catch my breath, but it’s like there’s no more oxygen in the room.
The pads of his fingertips swipe up and pinch my clit. My back arches in response, only I hit the wall of muscle that’s his bare chest. Every cell in my body throbs as his fingers roll over my clit again. They strum a pattern—fast, slow, circle—teasing and bringing me to the brink of orgasm but never letting me release.
His stubble brushes against my cheek, and he sucks my earlobe onto his tongue. The sensation, combined with his fingers working between my legs, sends shock waves down my spine, and I’m a mess. A sweaty, dripping, panting mess entirely at his mercy.
“I’ve fucked my hand every morning since we married, thinking of you exactly like this.” The pace of his fingers increases, bringing me to the edges of hyperventilation.
