Playing, p.70
Playing, page 70
It's as gorgeous as everything else in this house—glass walls, aluminum fixtures, nonslip mat rolled over the floor.
Miles turns on the water and moves me under it. I tilt my head back to rinse my hair.
A tiny groan escapes his lips. He's staring like he wants to consume me, like he's desperate to touch me. Right now, I have him where I want him.
The power is thrilling. I'm going to revel in it.
He moves under the shower head, tilting his head back the way I did. His body is close to mine. Water is streaming over his chest and stomach.
He returns to a normal position and points to a rack in the corner. "Shampoo."
"Of course." The rack is filled to the brim with organic soaps and shampoos. I pick the only brand I recognize, squeeze it into my hands, run it through my hair and return it to the rack.
He smirks. "You're going to pay for that insolence."
"I'd like to see you try."
I go to run a hand through my hair, but Miles stops me. He digs his fingers into my scalp. I groan, shifting my body towards his reflexively.
Patience is out of the question. I need him groaning in my ear.
I need him. Period.
He runs his hands through my hair, brings me back to the shower head, and helps me rinse.
"This doesn't feel like punishment," I say.
"Mhmm." He presses his lips into my neck. "It will."
My breath catches in my throat. "When?"
"When you leave this shower without fucking me."
I am utterly unable to contain a gasp. "That will punish you more than it punishes me."
He murmurs another "Mhmm." He presses his lips into mine. His hands find my chest, and he rubs my nipples.
The water is streaming over us. Everything is slick and wet. Every motion of his fingertips is enough to drive me mad.
He releases the kiss. "That was just for starters."
"I like starters."
He smiles. "You're so damn cute you might ruin my plan entirely."
I move back to the rack, squeeze shampoo in my hands, and return to him. "We discussed this." I run my hands through his thick hair.
I guide him under the water so he can rinse.
I'm not going to remind him, not with words anyway.
We do the same with conditioner, kissing in between the application and the rinse. Then it's soap. He squeezes bodywash into his hands and rubs every inch of my skin. It takes everything I have not to scream, not to beg him to fuck me right here and now.
He helps me rinse off, and it's my turn to torture him. I still have the control and I want to keep it. I rub bodywash over every inch of him. Once my hands are nothing but water, I rub his cock for good measure. He's hard.
I like the feeling of him in my hands, the way he groans when I stroke him.
He's my plaything now, and I know exactly what I want to do to him.
I wrap my hands around his cock and stroke him. He kisses me, hard, groaning into my mouth. He's shaking. Because of me.
Right now, he's all mine.
I pull my lips from his. I kiss his shoulders and chest, grabbing on to his hips for support.
"Meg..."
"Yes?" I slide to my knees and press my lips against his perfect stomach.
He digs his hands into my hair. "You're sexy as hell."
It occurs to me that I've never done this before. With Miles in front of me, I'm not hesitant or shy. I know everything I need to know. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make him feel as good as I felt on the couch.
I slide my tongue around the head of his cock. He shudders, so I do it again. Again. Again. I suck on his tip. He's hard, but his skin is soft. And it tastes like Miles.
I take as much of him as I can. His deep groan echoes around the glass shower. It pushes me forward. I need that sound in my ears. I need to make him come.
I press my tongue against his base, sucking harder.
His groans get louder. "Sexy by every definition of the word."
Harder.
His thighs shake. He tugs at my hair. Perfect. My body courses with pleasure. I need to take him there. I need to feel him come.
I take him deeper. Flick my tongue against his head. He groans, pinching my nipples hard enough to send pangs of pleasure to my core.
"Sexiest girl I ever met," he breathes.
I run my tongue around his head until he's shaking. Until his groans are low and deep. His heavy breath fills the space.
He squeezes my nipple. "Mhmm."
He's almost there. Almost mine. I press my hands into his ass, pushing him deeper.
His grip tightens. His thighs clench.
He comes, filling my mouth. It's sweet and salty and a little strange, but I like feeling his orgasm, tasting it. When he's finished, I swallow hard.
Satisfaction spreads through me. Different than an orgasm, but just as good. I made him come. I made him desperate.
He pulls me to my feet and wraps his arms around me. Then his lips are on mine and I feel a different kind of need.
The whole world rearranges. I have no idea where I stand, what this means, what it is we're doing here.
Chapter Fourteen
My clothes aren't in the spare room. They're still on the floor downstairs. I hug my towel to my chest and move to the living room.
Miles is sitting on the couch. Next to my neatly arranged clothing.
Okay then.
I take my time sliding into my bra. Miles is still under my thumb. Still watching me with rapt attention.
Damn, I like having his attention.
I shimmy into my skirt and slide my blouse over my shoulders. I do only the middle three buttons.
But my underwear is nowhere to be seen.
There's a devilish grin on Miles's face. I'm sure he has something to do with this, but I'm not going to admit it's an issue. So I don't have underwear, so what?
"Let's get sushi for lunch." He pulls a condom from the front pocket of his jeans and pulls me onto his lap. "You can have your panties when I'm done with you."
He presses his lips to mine and slides his hand under my skirt.
It would be silly to object.
* * *
The fusion Japanese restaurant is right on the water. Ocean and blue sky are the backdrop to the shady patio.
We're the only people out here. It's midafternoon, that time between lunch and dinner. A breeze blows over my shoulders. I shiver and hug my arms to my chest. Miles slides his leather jacket off his arms and drapes it over my shoulders.
A perfect gentleman.
My heartbeat picks up. I'm sure I'm getting the wrong idea again. I'm just another girl in a long list of Miles's playthings.
I push my concerns aside. It's not every day I'm wined and dined—well, dined, at least—by a hot rock star. And it's certainly not every day he makes me come more times than I can count.
Miles watches me open the menu. He laughs, a deep I'm obviously making fun of Meg kind of laugh. I'm sure my jaw is hanging, but the prices here are insane.
"You really are adorable," he says.
I fold the menu together and cross my legs. I'll show him adorable. "Those weren't your words in the shower."
He bites his lip, and his eyes light up. It's sexy as all hell, but it is not a look of defeat.
"Order whatever you want," he says. "It's on me."
"I know."
He's smirking again. I entertain him. No, it's worse. I amuse him.
Okay, fine. There's only one way to put an end to this. I need to convince Miles I'm on his level. That I'm not intimidated by his money, or his body, or his gorgeous voice.
When our server arrives, I pick the most expensive sashimi on the menu, and I order two of everything. Well, four of everything since sashimi comes two pieces to an order. I request salt instead of soy sauce. I snap the menu closed and hand it to the server.
"And to drink?" he asks.
Damn. I order a green tea and offer my best smile. The whole unflappable thing does come off a little cold, and I'm not going to be one of those people who's an asshole to waitstaff.
Miles is still staring at me like I'm a puppy. Apparently, he's not impressed by my display. He requests his usual.
The server leaves. I take a long sip of my water. I stare at the ocean—it's only thirty feet away—to avoid the look in his eyes.
"You really like sashimi," he says.
"Yes."
He laughs. "You okay, Meg? You seem a little out of sorts."
I bring my gaze back to him. "I'm fine." It's a lie. I'm not fine. I'm crumbling. His eyes are beautiful and they're filled with affection.
"I'm not cute," I say.
"We'll have to agree to disagree there."
"Fine. But I'd rather you not keep bringing it up." I cross and uncross my legs. This seat suddenly feels uncomfortable. I don't want to amuse him. I want to affect him. I want to matter to him.
He lowers his voice. "What's so bad about being cute?"
"It's what you say about your little sister. Or about someone who is clueless and totally uncool."
"No," he says. "It's the girl who blushes when you compliment her, who tries to prove she's a badass by ordering enough sashimi for three people."
"I'm going to eat all of it."
He smiles. "And that—you get defensive about everything."
"I'm not defensive." That isn't helping me prove my point. I give up. "Fine. You're right. I'm adorable and clueless and awkward and you're sexy and suave and in control. Should I keep going?"
He lowers his voice. "It's not a competition. I like you the way you are."
"But…" I bite my lip. I'm not helping my case. "Okay."
"We're friends." His eyes find mine. "I want you to enjoy this as much as I do, Meg. If calling you adorable really makes you that miserable, I'll stop. But I'd rather not. I love watching you blush."
I swallow hard. "Okay."
"You sure?"
I nod. There's something about his voice when he calls me adorable. I hate feeling cute, but I love the sound of his voice when he says it. I'm affecting him. Maybe I'm not driving him mad with lust. Maybe I don't have him under my spell. But I am affecting him.
"I don't think you're amusing," he says. "I think you're funny. Charming in a unique way."
My cheeks flush.
"You have a beautiful smile. It's rare. Makes me feel like I've won a prize when I can get you to smile."
His expression is sincere. Does he really think that much of me? His words aren't at all casual. They're the words of someone with deep affection. They're the words of a lover, not a fuck buddy.
I clear my throat. "You really think we're friends and not just two people hooking up?"
He nods.
"So you'd tell me if there was anything I needed to know about you? Anything you usually keep secret."
He raises an eyebrow. "You getting at something?"
"Just… you've been pushing a lot about Rosie. I thought that maybe you'd been through something like that."
"My uncle died last year."
"So that house—"
"It's mine."
"He's the one you inherited from?"
Miles nods.
"Oh, I'm sorry that you lost him."
"Thank you." His eyes go to the ocean. "Took me six months to smile after he died. It's still a struggle some days. So I know it still hurts you, that your sister lied to you. I can only imagine." His expression fills with vulnerability. "I'm not going to lie to you like that."
For the first time ever, Miles isn't confident. There's uncertainty all over his face. His brow is knotted, his eyes turned down.
"There's nothing you need to know," he says. "I promise."
The words don't feel quite right, but I can't bring myself to ask him to promise.
* * *
Back at his uncle's place—his place, I guess—I change into a pair of extra boxers and a t-shirt. His extra clothes. Not some random thing he keeps around for the disposable women he brings here.
We settle onto the couch.
Miles slides his arm around my shoulder. I rest my head on his chest. It's comfortable, being here with him. It's normal.
He turns on the TV and his PS4 and scrolls through a streaming service.
He runs a hand through my hair. "This is what you want to watch, right?"
He navigates to The Lost World. He's mocking me.
"Clever," I say.
"It's 'clever girl,' and that's in the first movie."
"Clever boy."
"I'd love to watch dinosaurs destroy San Diego, but if you'd rather watch something else, go for it." He hands me the remote.
"You're going to mock me whatever I pick."
His breath is warm on my ear. He runs his hand along the neckline of my t-shirt, his t-shirt. "Likely."
I arch my back, pressing my chest into his hands. "Convince me to pick something."
"Convince you how?" His fingertips skim my skin.
"Like that," I breathe.
"I like the confidence."
"You're stalling."
He slides his hand into my shirt, his fingertips brushing my nipple. "Why would I do that?"
"It's smart, really. You're pressed against me on the couch. You get to mock me and have your way with me at the same time."
He smiles. "Some part of this you don't like?"
"No." I lean into his touch. "Keep going."
"After you pick a movie."
I'm not doing anything with him touching me. I close my eyes, squeezing the remote to contain myself. He runs his fingers over my chest, holding my body against his.
"We can watch whatever," I say.
"Mhmm." He sucks on my earlobe. "You pick."
"You're going to make fun of me."
"You're not going to pay attention to the movie, anyway. You pick."
His teeth scrape against my earlobe as he squeezes my nipples. I can't contain it anymore. I groan and press my body into his.
"Miles..."
"I'm not familiar with a movie by that name."
He's trying to kill me. There's no other reasonable explanation.
He brings his lips to my neck and pulls me onto his lap. Then his hands are on my boxers, well, his boxers. He pulls them to my knees.
"Miles… you can't… don't tease me…"
"Me, tease? Never." He sinks his teeth into my neck and pulls the boxers off my hips.
"I don't care about a movie."
"I know."
He strokes my inner thighs with a light touch. He gets closer, closer, closer. I throw my head back and relax my body into his. Movies are stupid. Movies are so much less amazing than this.
I lift my arms and Miles pulls my t-shirt, his t-shirt, over my head. I'm on his lap, naked, in the middle of the living room, the stupid TV still waiting for my movie selection.
No way in hell I'm selecting a movie now.
He grabs my wrist and plants my hands on the couch, right outside his thighs. His lips find my neck again. He sucks on my skin. Desire spreads to my limbs.
He can tease me all he wants if it's going to end like this.
I press my palms into the couch. I'm his plaything, and I'm not about to object to this performance.
He strokes my thighs with a light touch, getting closer, and closer, and closer. He's an inch away from my sex.
He draws zigzags over my thigh with his fingertips. My body hums with desire. Miles's touch is everything I need. The only thing I need.
"I've never cared less about a movie," I say.
"I know."
His breath is warm on my neck, my ear. He sucks on my lobe again. The pressure is intense, and every motion of his tongue sends another shockwave of pleasure through me.
Miles can't give me anything more than sex, but, my God, can he give me sex.
"Touch me," I breathe.
"Good things come to those who wait."
"I hate waiting."
"I know." He sinks his teeth into my neck again just enough to feel amazing. His fingers skim my sex. "Fuck, Meg, how do you get so wet?"
"You."
He groans and sinks his teeth into my neck again. Finally, his fingertips skim my clit. Oh. Hell. Yes. His touch sends sparks through my body. It takes everything I have not to pant.
I arch my back, rocking my hips to press myself against his hand. He strokes me with slow, steady attention. His touch is light and delicate, and every part of me is desperate for him. I can't contain my breath. I can't do anything but surrender to the sensation.
He sinks his teeth into my neck. It's harder now, and every bite amplifies the pleasure building inside me. His touch gets harder, faster, rougher. He rubs my clit with long strokes, his fingers skimming my sex.
He slides a finger inside me. I gasp. It's exactly what I need. Then it's two fingers.
I arch my back to push him deeper. He presses his free hand against my chest, holding my body against his, by back against his chest.
The pressure builds. Almost. It's intense. I didn't think my body had anything left, but I'm almost there again. I take a sharp breath, soaking in the sound of his groans, the feel of his cotton t-shirt against my back.
I'm naked on his lap. I'm about to come. He has all the cards, and I don't give a damn. As long as he keeps touching me, keeps making me feel this good.
My body fills with pleasure. It starts inside me and radiates through my core—to my stomach, hips, chest, thighs, lips. The fire inside me is so intense nothing could ever put it out.
I groan. Almost. Almost. I squeeze the couch as an orgasm rocks through me. Pleasure spreads all the way to my fingers and toes.
He holds me close for a while. Until my breath returns to normal. Until I almost believe I could walk.
His lips press against my neck. "Did that help you decide on a movie?"
"Shut up."
"That's no way to thank the man who made you scream so loudly you almost broke the glass."
"Don't be cocky," I murmur.
"If you promise to stay that loud. I like it." He helps me off the couch and takes my hand. "Come on. I have something to show you."
I follow him upstairs. He opens a bedroom door flips on the lights.
It occurs to me that, once again, I'm naked and he's fully dressed. Somehow, I'm not bothered. I love the way he looks at me like he wants to consume me. It makes me feel powerful and desirable.
