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I slip off the bra.
“Touch your breasts,” Miles orders.
I slide my palms under my breasts, lifting them and dropping them to experience that exquisite jolt again. I run my fingers over my nipples, pretending it’s Miles touching me. Pinching my nipples as hard as I think he would. Each touch sends sparks through my body.
“Now the underwear…”
Without hesitation, I hook my thumbs in the waistband of my thong and pull it down. I’m soaking. My underwear clings to my pussy lips before pulling away. I keep my pussy trimmed but not shaved clean. For a moment I wonder if Miles likes it that way—I never asked him, the times he went down on me. It gives me a twinge of anxiety. But then I see the naked lust in his eyes and all my fears melt away. He wants me exactly like this. I know he does.
Miles unzips his trousers, letting his cock spring free. I’ve touched it through his clothes, and once I slipped my hand down his pants and grasped it in my palm. I knew it was thick and heavy. But I’ve never actually seen it out in the open. I never returned the favor with oral, nervous that I’d do a terrible job.
His cock is bigger than I expected. Quite alarming, actually. It’s harder than ever, standing up straight, rigid and aggressive.
I want to close my mouth around it. I’m so aroused that I’m not scared anymore—I want to try.
Before I can act on that impulse, Miles says, “Touch yourself. Rub that pussy for me.”
I’m blushing, but the embarrassment is distant. All I can see is Miles in front of me, his burning stare and his dark, scowling brows, and his tightened jaw that looks angry, but I know it isn’t anger, it’s focus. Every bit of his consciousness is focused on me.
I reach down to touch my pussy, doing it for him, putting on a show for him. My fingers slide easily over the lips, and over the little bit of my clit poking out in between, swollen and throbbing. I touch myself, not the way that I usually would in bed, but the way that Miles touches me—firmly, confidently. Knowing me better than I know myself.
He watches every movement, his hand stroking his cock in tandem. His cock looks enormous even compared to Miles’s large hand.
“Taste how sweet you are,” he says.
I lift my fingers to my lips.
He’s right—the taste is mild and slightly sweet. He wasn’t lying when he said how much he loved it.
“Now come here…”
I walk over to him, unsteady on my heels because my whole body feels warm and loose, my joints made of rubber.
I drop down on my knees in front of Miles, sliding between his legs. I want to see that cock up close. I want to touch it.
I take it from Miles’ hands, running my fingers lightly up the shaft. The skin is smooth and silky, the flesh beneath throbbing hot. When I touch the head, his whole cock twitches like it has a mind of its own.
I run my tongue from base to tip, just like I did with my fingers. It jolts even harder this time. His flesh is like hot tea, the warmest it could be without burning my tongue.
I close my mouth over the head, and his cock fills the space perfectly, like the two were meant for each other. The head lays heavy on my tongue, filling the arch at the roof of my mouth. Saliva floods in, so I can slide my lips a few inches up and down the shaft.
“That’s right. Just like that, get it nice and wet,” Miles instructs me.
My technique is awkward, the rhythm jerky. Miles takes my head between his hands and directs me, using his hips to thrust into my mouth. He thrusts a little too far and the head of his cock hits the back of my throat. I gag and pull back.
“You okay?” he says.
I nod, swiping the back of my hand across my cheek where tears run down.
Weirdly, I like the feeling of gagging. I like how big his cock is, I like the challenge of trying to fit it in my mouth.
I try again. This time I’m catching the rhythm, figuring out how to dance my tongue across the underside of his cock while I slide my lips up and down the shaft.
Miles groans with pleasure, his head tilted back against the edge of the sofa. The sound is highly gratifying. It makes me want to do this all night long.
Miles has other ideas.
“Climb on,” he orders, taking my wrist and pulling me to my feet.
