She lets out a soft groan as I circle my hips, my cock rocking against her clit over and over again. I can tell by the uneven hitch in her breathing that she’s close.
Very close.
Then she finally says the words I’ve been waiting to hear.
“Milo, stop teasing me.” Her eyes fix on mine and she licks her lips. “I want you. Please.”
I thrust inside and she’s so wet she takes me all the way. Her eyes roll into the back of her head as she comes instantly, my name on her lips in a broken cry.
“Christ,” I mutter, completely turned on by her utter abandon.
Her pussy clutches me like a wet fist, sucking me back in with each thrust, compelling me to never leave. She’s like fire, her body so open and hot. The friction is insane, the way we fit together igniting nerves I didn’t know I had.
“I want to make you beg for it. Want to make you scream.” I can barely string two sentences together, my mind a tangled mass of lust, obsession, desire and love. I wanted to seduce her, to show her what sex is supposed to be like, but I feel like I’m the one being schooled.
“I’ll beg if I have to. Just as long as you don’t stop.” She grips my hair roughly, holding me hostage for her kiss. She moans into my mouth, her nails digging into my scalp like miniature daggers. The sharp bite of pain is a welcome reminder of what’s at stake.
Good sex isn’t good enough for Mya. I need to show her great.
I roll us so that she’s on top. Given her history, I thought I’d have to coax her into this position but she plants her hands on my chest, rotating her hips. I groan, a desperate and needy sound as she lowers herself on top of me taking me back in slowly. Her eyes are closed, her mouth open on a pant as she works her pussy over me, trying to accept my entire length.
“Touch yourself.” I lift her hands and place them on her breasts.
She looks alarmed at first but quickly gains confidence, playing with her nipples as she rides me. Her dark hair is a wild mass of curls around her face and her eyes flutter closed when I rock up against her, like the sensation is too much for her to handle.
I’ve never seen her more beautiful.
“That’s it. God damn you’re so sexy.” I growl as she pinches her nipples, the tight points standing out like stiff little berries. Her body is so ripe. I want to take my time to play with her, watch her respond to my touch.
I reach between us and press my thumb on her clit, adding more pressure with every stroke. My fingers keep up the steady rhythm until she convulses against me, the pulsing grip of her body triggering my own release. It’s sooner than I’d like, but as soon as she clamps down on me I know I’m too far gone. My orgasm nails me right at the base of my spine and I surge against her completely consumed by shattering waves of pleasure. She falls forward, landing on my chest in a heap.
I sweep her curls to the side, only to see tears on her cheeks. “You’re crying. Did I hurt you?” I kiss the moisture away.
“No, you didn’t hurt me.” She laughs and puts a hand over her heart. “You just overwhelmed me.”
“In a good way though, right?” I exhale with relief when she nods.
She laughs again and pulls back so she can see my face. “You were right.”
“I’m always right.” I laugh when she pinches my nipple. “Ouch. Okay, I’ll bite. What was I right about, beautiful?”
Her eyes are soft as she answers. “With the right man, it is mind-blowing.” Then she kisses me gently and curls up against my side, as if she hasn’t just blown my whole world apart with her shy words.
11
My whole life has been a lie.
As my breathing finally returns to normal, I snuggle against Milo’s side. Before Will, I hadn’t had a boyfriend in a few years so I’m not really sure what’s considered good after-sex etiquette. He always fell asleep right after sex and hated when I would try to talk then.
So I’m guessing that jumping up and yelling SCORE would probably be the wrong thing to do right now. But honestly, that’s how I feel.
Five years of believing that I was broken. That sex was this big cosmic joke that everyone was playing on me. That orgasms on TV and in movies were grossly exaggerated.
I’d watch those scenes where women were biting, scratching and of course screaming and just roll my eyes at the blatant over dramatization. Worse, I was convinced that they were doing active damage to real women, women like me who were dissatisfied with their partners because they couldn’t measure up to the Hollywood ideal.
Well, after the things that have just come out of my mouth, I want to write to the Motion Picture Association of America and tell them they didn’t do enough. Because I think I just left this plane of existence, used every four-letter word in the English language and probably a few in a language that doesn’t exist yet.
And mortifyingly I’m pretty sure I begged. Multiple times.