The Takeover (The Miles High Club 2)

You’re going down . . . literally.

His eyes fix on mine. “Playing hard to get, I see?” He jerks his tie hard as he undoes it.

“I am hard to get.” I tap the bed beside me. “But tonight, I’m easy to fuck.”

He chuckles as he sits beside me. “How convenient. I happen to be in the fucking market myself.” He bends and kisses me, and I smile against his lips.

His hand runs up the inside of my inner thigh and then swipes down and through my wet sex . . . this all feels so natural.

Too natural.

As if he was always meant to touch me . . . as if he always has.

No. Not tonight. I want some power in this exchange. He’s doing what I want. He’s pleasing me.

I arch my back and spread my legs. “Feeling hungry?” I ask.

His eyes flicker with arousal, and he smiles darkly. “Fucking oath I am.” He stands and tears his jacket over his shoulders and throws it to the side with urgency. “Starving, actually.” He grabs a paper bag from the inside pocket and then pulls out a box of condoms. “Do you know how many fucking pharmacies I just went to to find these?”

I chuckle.

“I couldn’t find one. I even contemplated going into the brothel on the corner and offering them a hundred dollars for a box.”

“I’m not going to ask you how you know that there’s a brothel on the corner.” I raise my eyebrow.

He frowns, realizing what he’s just revealed. “Shut up, Siri.” He unzips his trousers and pushes them down, revealing his hard, thick cock.

My stomach flutters, and I giggle in excitement. It’s like Christmas morning, and I’m watching my presents being unwrapped.

This time with him is different. I’m not nervous or scared. I’m excited, because I know how good this night is going to be.

He drops to his knees beside the bed and pulls me over to him and then spreads my legs and studies me there.

My breath catches as I watch him. This is strangely intimate . . . but it’s okay, because it’s him. And I know how much he loves my body.

I don’t have one insecurity when I’m naked with him. He wouldn’t let me even if I did.

“Ohh,” he whispers darkly. “I missed this pretty pussy.” He kisses me there with an open mouth, and I reach down and put my fingers in his hair. His thick tongue swipes through my flesh, and I smile as I watch him.

Tristan Miles doesn’t go down on women for them . . . he does it for himself.

He loves it.

It’s his favorite thing; he could do it for an hour, and I would still have to drag him up to me.

My back arches in pleasure, and I whimper. His licks are hard and slow, measured for the perfect pressure.

We get into a rhythm, and my body begins to shudder. He smiles into me.

He links our fingers on my thigh. Our eyes are locked and . . . oh God.

He’s perfect.

The way he holds my hand as he eats me. The way he looks at me.

The way he enjoys it.

No wonder I’m addicted to this man; he’s the world’s greatest lover.