The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

“Can I…?” he asked, his voice gruff.

“Take it off,” I said, my pulse thundering in my ears in anticipation, to have Miller’s eyes on my naked flesh for the first time. His hands slid up the sides of my torso, feeling the curves of my waist, and then up, hooking on the tank top as they went. He peeled it off and tossed it away.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered, his glance rising to meet mine. “You are so beautiful.”

Before I could reply, he moved in, and I gasped when his mouth took one nipple, sending licks of fire down my spine between my legs. One touch, and then he retreated.

“Shit, wait. Your parents?”

“I put a lock on my door after the last time they busted in.”

“You’re a goddamn genius,” Miller muttered and then his mouth descended again.

His tongue was soft and hot and wet, circling my nipple, while his thumb did the same to the other breast. He sucked and pulled, his teeth grazed as I ground against him, breathless at the electric currents that surged through me. I arched my back, pressing myself deeper into his touch. His hands slid to my hips, grinding me on him while his mouth worked me over.

“Need to feel you,” I managed.

My hands found the hem of his T-shirt. I lifted it up and off of him, breaking our contact for a moment, then I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in close. Warm skin against warm skin, chest to chest, heart to heart.

So perfect…

Miller kissed my throat, my chin, and then my mouth. My hands roamed his chest and down to his abdomen. I broke away only because I needed to look at him too, naked for me for the first time. His body was so beautiful, smooth over hard muscle. The

CGM imbedded in his lower right abdomen was beautiful too. It was keeping him alive.

The realness of the moment—both of us naked from the waist up and me on his lap—struck me, my every sense suddenly tuned up and awake. Every touch, every breath every moment shone in bright clarity, stealing my air and lighting up my nerves. My hands trembled as I unbuttoned his jeans, wanting more but unsure of where more would take us.

Miller caught my hand in his. “You okay?”

“Yes, sure. Just…excited. Or nervous, maybe.” I swallowed hard. “I want this. I want you.”

His eyes searched mine intently. “I want you too, Vi. But I want you the right way.”

I nodded, our gaze never breaking as he rolled me onto my back and settled himself over me. He kissed me long and slow, our skin melding together, his hands cradling my face as if I were precious. Everything soft and warm between us but the stiff denim of his jeans. I winced as the button jabbed me.

He slipped out of the jeans, leaving him in his boxers.

“Just this,” he whispered, moving over me again, the length of his body aligned with mine. “Okay?”

I nodded again, and warmth flooded me at his consideration, how attuned he was to us, creating harmony between our desire and what I was ready for. I slipped my arms around him, sealing him to me. His erection pressed between my legs, a few scraps of cloth between us. And that felt perfect. Right.

Miller kissed me long and slow, concentrating on my face, my mouth, his hands in my hair, while our lower bodies began to move, seeking more connection. I spread my legs wider, letting him settle deeper against me. His hips lifted and came down in soft, slow grinds. A little moan escaped me at the sensations building where his hardness nestled my softness. My hips lifted in answer, again and again.

“You okay?” he asked, his breath hot against my lips.

“Yes. It’s perfect. So perfect…”

Pleasant, needy tension hummed along our bodies, growing more and more potent with each rise and fall. My panties were damp. A spot of wetness darkened his underwear. Our kiss broke in breathy gasps for air; we moved as if he were inside me. Harder. Faster. My hands slid down the curve of his lower back, pressing him into me. A heavy ache of pleasure was building in me, a peak I sought to climb higher and higher. Miller propped himself on his elbows, his hips driving against mine, the clothing between us a maddening obstacle and the perfect friction.

“Vi…?” he breathed.

“I’m going to…” I clutched at him, every part of me tensed and tight, ready to break open.

“Come,” Miller managed, his voice tight, his hips relentless. “Come, Vi.”

I let out a little cry that I smothered in his neck, biting his warm, salty skin as my first real orgasm swept along every nerve-ending, stronger and more powerful than anything I’d imagined. Or that I produced on my own. The shockwave rushed through me, leaving me weak and boneless.

Miller’s hips ground a few more times, coaxing the last of my orgasm while driving toward his. With a strangled grunt, he abruptly tore off me and grabbed for a tissue from the box on my nightstand. He sat at the edge of the bed, and I watched the muscles in his back slide and move under his skin as his release shuddered through him. A small sound erupted from his chest, and my only wish was that he’d still be on top of me so that I could feel, see, and hear him come.