He groans. His lips go to my neck. My collarbone. Then they're on my nipple, sucking on it like it's his plaything. I'm his plaything. He can do whatever he wants to me as long as he doesn't stop.
His fingers brush against my thigh, closer, and closer, and closer. He runs them against my clit, over my panties. "I'm going to eat you out. Have you done that before?"
"No," I breathe. "But I don't want you to go easy on me."
"Couldn't even if I wanted to."
He presses his lips into my stomach. My belly button. My inner thigh.
He tugs my panties all the way to my feet.
Then his mouth is on me. It's different than his hands. Softer. Wetter.
I lean my head back and surrender to the sensation. His tongue hits every nerve ending I have. Pleasure surges through my body, collecting in my sex. I'm close already.
"Miles," I groan. I dig my hands into his hair.
He licks me again, and again. I rock my hips in an attempt to contain the sensation. It's intense, way more intense than sex.
I'm light. I'm free. I'm flying. Damn, I'm flying.
Almost.
One more lick, and I go over the edge. It's fucking amazing. Every bit of tension in my body releases. A wave of ecstasy washes over me.
I groan his name again and again.
"Mhmm." He pins me to the couch, his hands firm against my hips.
He's still going. His tongue slides from my sex to my clit. Around my outer lips. He moves with long, slow strokes. With fast, hard ones. Front to back, side to side, zig zag.
Pleasure builds. It's more intense. Almost too intense.
I throw my head back and dig my nails into his shoulders. Still, it's intense.
With the next flick of his tongue, an orgasm crashes over me. I scream his name as I come.
The world is beautiful. It's hard to believe that anything has ever hurt before.
I collapse on the couch, soaking in every drop of pleasure.
Miles presses himself up. He runs his fingertips over my thighs, an invitation to continue.
I nod a yes.
He pulls me off the couch. I'm not sure where we're going, only that I want to be there, with him, making him feel as good as I do.
We go up the stairs, to the door at the end of the hallway. It's a massive bathroom with a huge shower.
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.