Page 103 of Just One Little Bargain

He pauses, mouth curving. “He’s not here.” Warm breath brushes my skin. “But I’m very willing to be worshipped like I answered a prayer.” The lace slides down my legs and drops somewhere on the floor. “Especially if I get to earn it.”

His hands wrap around my thighs and spread me open, and I watch him take in every exposed, dripping inch of me.

“I need you to know I take instruction very well,” he says, mouth already close. “But I’m even better with praise, so tell me when I get it right.”

Of all the things to undo me, it’s that: the promise that he’ll listen and learn me on purpose.

His thumb drags slowly along the parted seam of my pussy, collecting the slick there before circling back. “I plan to be extremely attentive about this.”

“Prove it.”

Milo presses his tongue flat to me and drags upward in one slow stroke. He groans against me, fingers tightening where he holds me open. He does it again, less careful now, pulling me closer. His tongue flattens and holds there, mouth buried against me, until my knees jerk wider around him.

“I’m not going to recover from this. I didn’t know anything could taste this good.”

The more I fall apart, the surer his mouth gets. Every reaction teaches him something. A gasp makes him repeat the stroke. My thighs tightening around his head makes him groan and press closer. By the time I say his name, the demon who couldn’t manage my bra clasp has become greedy, precise, and completely fixated on taking me apart.

“Stay still for me.” The words hum against me, and I can’t. I’m constitutionally incapable of it. He knows that, so he splays a hand flat across my lower stomach and presses me down into the cushion. The next time his tongue circles my clit, he presses down with his palm at the same moment, and a sound I’ve never made before breaks out of me.

“Keep going. More. Please.”

He does it again and again, each pass driving me closer. Then he slides one long finger into me and curls it toward the hand still spread over my stomach, finding the spot that jolts through me on the first try.

“There,” he groans when a needy keen leaves me. “You sound so pretty. If this is damnation, I have misunderstood the entire concept.”

He seals his lips around my clit and sucks, working his finger in the same rhythm. My toes curl against the cushion. What I can’t stop noticing, even with the orgasm building, is that he’s enjoying this. Every man before him treated going down on me like a favor with a time limit, a box to check on the way to the part they actually wanted. Milo acts like this is what he wanted all along and everything after is a bonus. When my hips fight the weight of his palm, he takes it as encouragement and does it harder. He adds a second finger, and the stretch burns for half a breath before my body gives around him. Only then does he spread them inside me, slow enough to turn the ache molten. When he curls upward again, a cry tears out of me.

He pulls back instantly.

“Was that bad? Did I—”

“No.” I get a hand in his hair and drag his mouth back where it was. “Don’t change a single thing.”

His answer is a firmer hand low on my stomach and his mouth sealing over my clit while his fingers keep that same merciless curl. My hand flies to the cushion above my head, twisting into the fabric as my back lifts off the couch.

He’s lost in it now, moving on instinct while I follow him by sound. The couch creaks beneath the slow drag of his hips, each roll grinding him down into the cushion while his mouth stays fixed on me. When I pull his curls, my fingers catch on the hard curve of a horn. His rhythm stutters. It’s gone a second later, smooth skin and soft curls under my hand again, but a thin whine breaks against my skin, the vibration lighting me up from the inside out.

“Milo—”

He makes another ruined sound and shoves his face harder between my thighs.

His hand slips off my stomach and his fingers weave through mine, pressing our joined hands into my ribs while he takes me apart. The tenderness of it, set against everything else his mouth is doing, makes this feel dangerously unlike a temporary mistake.

He pulls off just enough to speak, eyes dazed and blazing violet. “I’ve spent my whole existence being told I want the wrong things,” he rasps, and the first rush of air over my exposed skin makes me twitch against his mouth. “Nothing has ever made more sense than wanting you like this.” His tongue circles me. “Come for me. I want to hear it once. Just once, if that’s all I get.”

His mouth seals back over me with a hungry hum that vibrates straight through my body. It pushes me over the edge. My vision whites out, stars scattering behind my eyelids.

Underneath it a deep, resonant warmth blooms in my chest, unfamiliar enough to register even now. Then his name tears out of me.

Milo stays right there and carries me through the orgasm. His fingers stay curled inside me, but his mouth softens by degrees, easing me down from the peak instead of letting me crash. For once, there’s nothing in my head trying to manage the moment. I should be scrambling for control by now. Instead, I lie there trembling around him, stunned by how natural it feels to let him have me like this.

Only when I go boneless beneath him does Milo ease his fingers free. I feel the loss immediately, my body clenching around the emptiness even though I’m nowhere near finished wanting him. He presses his mouth to me once more, and I shudder hard enough that our joined hands tighten. Then he trails kisses down the inside of my leg, past the place he left a mark, to the sensitive skin above my knee, lingering there for another breath before he finally lifts his head.

His lips are wet. There’s a flush high on his cheekbones, and when he drags his tongue across his lower lip, my pussy gives a helpless little flutter. He sits up slowly.

“Evie?”

I manage a sound that technically qualifies as acknowledgment.