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I sigh with relief to be filled by him, even if it’s only his finger. He pushes deep, all the way to the knuckle. A second finger joins the first and his thrusting picks up speed.
I gasp and clutch at the couch cushion desperately as pressure builds inside me. It feels like when we’re in bed and he’s fucking me right before I come apart like a crazy person, moaning and crying out as the orgasm goes on for much longer than the ones I have when he only plays with my clit.
My heart hammers in my chest. I won’t be able to be quiet if he makes me come that hard. It’s impossible.
Panic claws at my insides, but my body must be confused because the panic only seems to intensify the building pleasure.
“Milo,” I whisper.
He clamps a firm hand over my mouth.
My face is on fire, my thighs quaking as he thrusts his fingers in and out of my pussy.
Oh god, oh god, please…
I try like hell not to cry out when pleasure explodes inside me but a tiny scream builds up in my throat.
Milo’s voice in my ear is hard and unforgiving. “Don’t you dare.”
My whole body shudders as my pussy squeezes his fingers. My senses are overloaded and with the stress of trying to stay quiet, I think I might die.
When the wave of pleasure ends, I sink back against him like a puddle pooling in sunken earth.
His grip on my mouth eases, then he caresses my face and gives me a soft kiss.
Bliss swells up inside me. I need to cuddle so badly, I give up on pretending to watch the movie. I roll over, still beneath the blanket, and lie on top of him so I can touch him, hug him, kiss him. I rest my head on his chest and close my eyes. I slide my hands beneath his sweater so I can touch his skin and just feel him beneath my fingers.
His solid, reliable form.
God, I love him.
I’m so relaxed and so warm snuggled up against him, I fall asleep.
I hear his voice again when he murmurs, “Baby, wake up.”
Bleary-eyed, I look up at him. He smiles and leans in to kiss my lips.
“I don’t want to move,” I groan.
The satisfaction in his smile deepens. “I know, but dinner’s ready.”
“I want your cock for dinner,” I mumble.
That startles a laugh out of him. “How ’bout dessert?” he teases before giving me one more kiss and a light smack on the ass. “Come on, pretty girl.”
Reluctantly, I drag myself off him. I sit up, rubbing at my eyes and stretching. I forget what I’m wearing until I catch Jet’s curious gaze lingering in places it shouldn’t.
I snatch my robe off the back of the couch and stand so I can slide it on and tie it before we head back to the kitchen.
Milo lightly squeezes the small of my back and tells me, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to hit the bathroom. You can get started, you don’t have to wait for me.”
I watch him walk away, then I go over to grab a plate Jonathan has already gotten out of the cupboard for me.
I put my hand out expectantly, but he doesn’t give it to me, so I cock an eyebrow and look up at him. “Is there a secret phrase I’m supposed to know or something?”
He smirks and shakes his head. “Nah.” He hands me the plate, then grabs one for himself.
“Thank you.”
