“Natalie…what the hell?” Miles tried to pry my face off his. His glasses had been knocked askew, but he looked absolutely delicious. His hair was messier than usual, and he hadn’t shaved in a few days, so his scruff was more like a beard. Dan was always clean-shaven, so kissing Miles felt totally different and thrilling. I’m kissing Miles! Finally! Nine years of suppressed desire bubbled to the surface.
“I want you to fuck me, Miles,” I breathed, right before a hiccup. “And you want to.”
“What?” His voice cracked, and he adjusted his glasses. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, crazypants, what is this?”
“This is fire.” I planted sloppy, drunken kisses across his face. “Hey, your beard is softer than I spected. Ex-spested. Expected.” I rubbed my face on his jaw.
Miles laughed uneasily, pressing me back by the shoulders. “What have you been drinking tonight, Jezebel?”
“Wine. And vodka.” Biting my lip, I reached beneath his t-shirt and ran my hands up his sides. “Take this off. I wanna see you naked.”
“Oh, Jesus.” He grabbed my wrists and held them away from his body. “What is with you? Where’s Dan?”
I pouted. “I don’t want to talk about that asshole.”
“Why?”
“Because. He doesn’t want to have sex with me.”
Miles looked incredulous. “He doesn’t?”
“No. But you do. You’re always talking about it.” I tried to lean over and kiss him again, but he held me off, so I bounced on him a little, riding him like a kid on a merry-go-round pony.
“For fuck’s sake, Natalie, will you stop it? Just wait a second.” Somehow, he got to his feet and set me on mine, then went behind me to shut the front door, which was still wide open. When he paused with his hand on the handle, probably trying to gather his wits, I launched myself at his back, wrapping my arms and legs around him. Burying my face in the crook of his neck, I inhaled deeply.
“Mmm. You smell so good.” I licked him below the ear. “You taste good too.”
He groaned, grabbing me beneath the knees so I didn’t slide off, and walked into the dark living room. In front of a long, floral-upholstered couch, he turned around and sat down, trying to deposit me on it. “Get off.”
“No.” I clung even tighter. “Are we going to do it on your mother’s expensive couch? I don’t think she’d like that.”
“No, we are not.”
“So take me to your bed. Blindfold me. Tie me up. Fuck me!”
“Jesus, Nat, the only place I’d take you tonight is the loony bin. Now let go so I can turn on the light and get you some water. Or a tranquilizer dart.”
“Come on, you want me,” I cooed. “I know you do.” I reached beneath his arms and ran my hands up and down his torso. He sighed exasperatedly, but he let me. Beneath his soft black t-shirt I felt the ridges of his abs and giggled. “I like your nice muscles. They’re hot. You’re hot stuff.” One of my hands strayed south to his belt. Putting my lips right by his ear, I whispered, “Why don’t you take off your pants, hot stuff?” This might have had a more seductive effect had I not punctuated it with a giant hiccup.
He shook his head. “You know, I’ve had a lot of fantasies about you. A lot. But they never went like this.”
“I was less daring?”
“You were less drunk.” He put his hand over my wrist. “Just how much alcohol have you had?”
“Dunno.” I shrugged. “Doncare.”
He sighed again. “Yes, you do. You will.”
“No, I won’t! Now why aren’t you being fun? Your whole life is all about sex and fun and now that I’m ready for some, you don’t want me?”
“It’s not that.” He tried to get up but I hung on tight.
“Then what?” I succeeded in sliding my palm over his crotch, and I could not resist a squeal of delight when I felt the solid bulge there. “Ha! You do want me!” I hiccuped loudly in triumph. “You’re hard!”
“Of course I’m hard!” he snapped. “A hot girl has her legs wrapped around me and her hand on my junk. And you’re not wrong—I do want you. I’ve always wanted you.” Two seconds later, he had me on my back, my wrists pinned over my head. His face hovered right over mine, his breath warm on my lips. “But not like this.”
“Like what?”