“Plenty of time for that later,” he says, dropping me on the perfectly made bed and falling down on top of me, covering me with his warm, delicious weight.
“God, Miles,” I moan, as he peppers my collarbone with kisses and bites. I kick my wedges off as my body rolls under his, my pelvis pressing up into the big hard appendage stuck behind his annoying jeans. “Take your jeans off. I want to see you.”
“You first, babe,” he husks and stands up, pulling me with him so he can pull my tank top off over my head. My braid flops back down over my bare breasts, and he drags his fingers along the texture of it. “Would you undo this?”
I nod absently. I’m pretty sure he could get me to run through that party naked if it meant I’d be getting laid by him tonight. I yank out the twist and shakily comb my fingers through my hair.
“I fucking love your hair.” He slices his fingers through the thick tendrils and gives them a big sniff. God, he sniffed me!
“Now lie back,” he says, hooking his fingers in the waistband of my shorts and sliding them down my legs as I do. He chucks them to the floor and grabs my lacy white thong. I moan as he pulls it down tantalizingly slow, his rough fingers caressing my legs with their descent.
When he slips the thong off my feet, he holds it out for me to see, then presses it to his nose and inhales deeply.
“Jesus fuck,” I cry at just the sight of him sniffing my goddamned panties. “How are you real?”
“I’m completely fucking real, babe. And you’re not getting these back.” He tucks the slip of white fabric into his jeans and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, retrieving a condom from the inside flap before dropping it down on the bed.
He reaches behind him and pulls his shirt off over his head, and my eyes glaze over at the sight of him. He has lines in places that men were meant to have lines. A perfect outline of a six-pack, broad ribs hinting under his huge, meaty pecs. And then there’s that V. Jesus God, the V that arrows down to his dick is enough to make me forget every man who ever came before him.
Miles could be on the cover of every last one of my books. In fact, maybe I should re-cover my books. I’d probably sell more copies. I want this man’s perfectly sculpted body plastered all over my fucking world.
And if I thought his top half looked good, it is nothing compared to the bottom. He slides his jeans and boxers down, and the giant cock that bobs out has me more than a little terrified. Extremely aroused, but terrified.
It’s a beautiful dick. Strong and proud. Straight and thick. But about twice the size I’m used to.
I clear my throat and say, “The cliché line you should say right now is, ‘Don’t worry baby, it’ll fit.’”
He laughs at my man voice imitation, and his thick abs contract in a really sexy way. After he rolls the condom on, he steps between my legs and drapes his warmth over me. Our nakedness slides against each other like the most deliciously heated silk sheets.
Miles teases his covered tip against my slit. “But what if I like it to hurt a little?”
In one fast push, he slams into me so fast I can’t catch my breath for a moment. My hands grapple around the bed for purchase, for something to squeeze and hold as I fight this sudden, welcomed invasion between my legs. He offers up his own hands, sliding his fingers between mine in a gentle way that is at complete odds with the merciless tightness between my legs.
He squeezes my fingers and presses our hands to the mattress beside my head. “You okay?” He drops a soft, tender kiss on my lips.
I groan loudly, the tight ache building and begging for more. “I will be once you start moving.” I grind my hips up to meet his with frantic need. “I need you to fuck me, Miles. Please, just fuck me.”
“With pleasure,” he replies, releasing my hands and sitting back on his knees. Throwing my legs up on his shoulders, he skims his rough hands down them at the same time. “God, these fucking legs are sexy.”
And with that belly-flipping compliment, he begins thrusting into me so hard and fast, I can’t even utter a moan. It’s just a lot of strangled sobs that seem to bypass my voice box and come out straight from my lungs. He grinds and digs and punishes my pussy, and the orgasm that rips through me is completely ignored—like it’s one of many he plans to give me tonight, so he’s not even going to give it any attention.
A second orgasm climbs on top of the first, and I swear I can’t take another when he reaches down and rubs his rough fingers on my swollen clit. My voice box finds itself at last, and I scream out in pleasure.
“Shhh,” he growls and moves his naughty hand to my mouth, sticking his fingers in it so I can taste my arousal all over them. “You need to be quiet, babe. There’s a party going on downstairs, and if they hear you like this, I’ll get all worked up again.”
He pulls his fingers out, and I groan, “Jesus, you’re nuts.” But in my mind, I’m saying that I never want any of this to stop.
“You make me nuts,” he replies and continues pounding into me until I orgasm a third time.
“Think you’ve had enough?” he asks, bringing a finger underneath my ass and teasing my anus. “Or do you want more?”
“Later,” I beg, moan, and whine a little. “More later, I just want to see you come, Miles.”
I look down at his dick sliding in and out of me. It’s so angry looking. It needs a release.
“Talk dirty to me again then,” he quips, nodding his head at me in encouragement. “Talk to me like you did that night at the bar. God, I’ve jacked off to that memory at least a dozen times since then.”
“Umm,” I mumble, my brain needing to access a different vortex than where it’s currently residing. “Okay, fuck. I loved when you stuffed your fingers in my mouth a second ago.”
“Yeah?” he asks, his eyes ablaze and fixed on me. “Are you a dirty girl, Mercedes?”
“God, yes!” I moan because honestly, maybe this is what I’ve been missing all along. I should have been fucking Dryston as my alter ego, not boring Kate! Mercedes is a freak in both the real world and the fictional one. “I loved tasting myself on you. The sourness of me and the saltiness of you. God, we taste good together.”
“Fuck yeah, we do,” he replies, looking up at the ceiling and riding whatever wave he’s catching, the cords of his thick neck bulging at the angle.
“I like your rough hands on my body,” I state, grabbing one of his hands and placing it on my breast. He looks back down and watches his hand when I add, “See how hot we look together. Rough and soft. Dark and light.”
He squeezes my breast and tweaks my nipple so hard I have to bite back another cry. “God, Miles, fucking come for me. Let that big dick come inside me.”
“Oh God,” he exclaims, freezing mid-thrust and exploding inside me like a fucking cannon. The veins of his long shaft contract and thicken inside my channel with each needy burst of seed he shoots into the condom. “Jesus Christ, Mercedes.”
I laugh because what else can I do? I just fucked a guy who doesn’t know my real name in the bed that I shared with my ex for almost two whole years. How much more fucked up can this situation get?