by Cat Porter
Miller’s teeth nipped my lower lip, and he hissed in air. . .or was that me?
I dug my fingers into his shoulders and crashed back down to earth. “I’m hot.”
He kissed the edge of my jaw, while his finger traced my collarbone. “Yeah, you certainly are.”
Waves of dizziness surged through me. “No, no, Miller, I mean, I’m hot, I can’t brea . . .”
His eyes narrowed over me. His hand wrapped around my neck and his thumb stroked my cheek. “Let me get you some water.” Miller turned to find the bartender and smirked. “I tend to have that effect on women.”
“Oh, shut up!” I pinched his arm. He laughed, then his hand went to my waist and squeezed.
That particular heat flooded my female parts, those parts I thought I had put out of commission some time ago. Years of underwhelming responses to a variety of underwhelming men had dulled me. . .or so I thought. I was finally experiencing again what it feels like to be really turned on, wasn’t I? My eyelids sank, and I lifted my heavy hair off my neck. There were different grades of turned on weren’t there? Amused, aroused, pleasantly excited? Not this. This was more.
This was key jammed in the ignition and motor revving.
My lungs constricted as icy wetness slicked across my collarbone and down my chest. “What the . . .?” I gasped and let go of my hair. Miller smoothed ice cubes from his glass over my hot skin, letting one slip down my cleavage. “Oh, God,” I moaned.
“That hit the spot?” He gently tugged on the wide V of my T-shirt to look for the errant cube. It had nestled between my breasts and was melting against my hot skin. I drew in a breath as his finger traced the satiny edge of my black bra and seared my flesh. He chuckled softly.
I let out a sigh. “Leave it, it feels great right there.”
Miller took another cube from his glass and rubbed it around my neck then let it slide down my back. My pulse hurtled out of control.
“Holy crap!” I let out a laugh and arched my back as the ice cube slid down my heated skin and landed at my waist where my jeans gapped open. My lips parted as his long fingers found the cube, slid it in circles around my lower back then tucked it into the waistband of my panties where it melted down my rear.
I shook my head at him, pressed my lips together, and suppressed a laugh. Another cube followed down the base of my throat, slipped down my chest, and landed in my bra. Miller’s cold, wet fingertips traced a line on the side of my neck.
“Feel better?” he asked. His lips brushed my forehead. He handed me a glass of water.
I nodded at him and drank. My inner buzzing continued recklessly like a car careening at top speed on a rainy highway.
He was good.
This was bad.
Miller’s lips nuzzled the underside of my jaw, his fingers pressed in at my sides right at the swell of my breasts. A landslide of sensation careened through me, and only the word YES surged through my brain. My arms flew around his neck. He pulled me deep into his arms against his solid chest and the soft bulkiness of his hoodie. Our tongues tangled, my back arched into his embrace.
He tasted of cool freshness and golden warmth all at the same time. His hand slid up the side of my breast then quickly went down my back to the curve of my ass and squeezed. A shudder went through me.
“Grace,” he whispered in my ear. “You got somewhere we can go? We can always go out back, I’ve got my truck with me tonight.” His tongue licked at the shell of my ear.
Ah, the old quickie in the parking lot. No, I didn’t want a slam-bam. I wanted more, a lot more. In fact, I had all night to indulge in this insanity. I tore my mouth away from his neck and stared at him.
“You’re disappointing me, Miller. We’re grown-ups, aren’t we?”
“I don’t feel like a grown-up right now, Grace. I don’t think I can wait to even get you in my truck, you’re driving me that insane,” he breathed. He let out a small groan. “Jesus, you smell good. What the hell is that? Watermelon with roses?” His thumb stroked my nipple over my shirt, and my breath hitched in the back of my throat.
I was certainly pleased to hear my recent impulse buy of expensive perfume had been worth it. Both of his hands rubbed my ass and pulled me into his urgent hardness. The sudden intensity of the rush only made me ravenous for more. Geez, I was the one behaving like a teenager, or at least my hormones were.
Wait a second—that was actually refreshing news.
I released my hold on Miller in order to get a hold on myself. We were in a public bar, after all. I gulped down the rest of the cold water. Miller’s large hands stroked up and down my back.
I didn’t want to say no to this. To him. The need to touch him again overtook me with a sudden desperation. My hands slid around his waist and grazed over a thick leather and metal belt looped through his jeans. My fingers travelled up over the sleek, firm muscles of his torso. His breath caught, and heat rushed straight through me at the sound.
Yes, I wanted him badly.
But I didn’t want to do this in a truck, a back alley or a parking lot for God’s sake.
Just say it. Say it. Say it. Say it.
“I have a room at the motel across the way,” I whispered in his ear. My fingers traced the line of his jaw. His arms squeezed me.
I was breathless at the prospect of this sort of anonymous, midnight fling. I hadn’t had a one-night stand in a very long time. Such nameless, faceless, raw experiences had lost their luster for me early on in my widowhood. They had left me feeling even more hollow than I’d already felt. I had begun to prefer friendly and affectionate casual dating instead. The going out, the laughs, the meals, the sleeping together were enjoyable, pleasant, nice. But I had nothing to give these men I had chosen, and so they had never lasted. And that was fine.
I shut my brain down, and my eyes riveted on Miller. Austerely attractive, brooding, tall, great lips, amazing tongue. . .
Once this was over that would be it, right? It would be done. I was just passing through anyhow. He obviously didn’t live around here either or he’d be dragging me to his place, wouldn’t he?
Oh crap, maybe he’s married or he’s got a girlfriend? Seriously, why wouldn’t he be taken?
“I forgot about that motel,” he said. “Perfect.”
He planted a firm kiss on my mouth and ended it with a leisurely swipe of his delicious tongue. I pulled back from him, my hands against his chest.
“Wait a sec. . .how about you?”
Miller’s gaze darkened, the silver threads all but disappeared, and his eyes burned straight through mine as he tilted my face towards his.
“How about me what?”
“You have a wife or a girlfriend?”
“No, I don’t.”
A flutter went off in my insides, and I bit my lip. This would be a candy bar, that’s all this was. Chew, savor, and throw out the wrapper on your way out. End of story.
I grinned at Miller.
He slid two twenty-dollar bills out from his wallet and brandished them at the bartender, who hustled down to us. The bartender handed him his change. Miller left him a generous tip.
I managed to finally unlock the door to my room on the third try. Miller jerked the key from the lock, tossed it on the table, and slammed the door behind us. The room was engulfed in streaky darkness. He tore off his hoodie and whatever else he had on underneath, and I yanked off my shirt.
Our rapid, short breaths filled the room. His jeans along with his heavy belt hit the floor with a clang and thud. I fell back on the edge of the bed with an oomph to do away with my boots and socks as quickly as humanly possible.
He lunged at me, and his powerful hands undid my jeans and jerked them down my hips. I tumbled off the bed onto the floor, and we laughed. I felt the weight of him on me and reveled in it. My fingers raced across the lean muscles of his shoulders and back. I groaned in satisfaction as he unhooked my bra and freed my swollen breasts into his greedy hands.
Miller kneaded and licked them, a
nd I gasped at the unexpected burning sensations rippling through me. He sucked hard on each nipple in turn, and I bucked against his hips, rubbing myself up and down on his erection like an animal in heat. I was an animal in heat; there was no help for it, though. If I stopped to think about it, I would stop myself. So I didn’t think. I kept going.
His hand slid over my inner thigh and grazed the lace edge of my panties, and I let out a tiny gasp.
“I want you good and wet,” Miller breathed in my ear as two of his fingers thrust past the damp fabric.
His knuckles swirled against my clit. I tugged my panties down my hips, but he took over, yanking them down my legs and flinging them to the side. Two of his fingers sank deep. I let out a low moan as they churned inside me. He groaned and muttered something under his heavy breaths. Bunched nerve endings detonated all over my body.
Shit, he knew what he was doing. What a relief.
He whispered over me. I raised my hips up and circled them in the rhythm that he worked me. “Yeah, Grace.” The raw tone in his voice radiated its heat right through me. He moved down my body licking as he went. His tongue lashed across my clit, and I exploded right there and then.
“Yes!” I cried out, and Miller growled somewhere above me. Intense, almost unbearable waves of sensation rolled through my body.
As I floated in my own little stratosphere, the rustle and rip of a foil packet snapped me to my senses. I tore the questionable quilt off the mattress, scrambled up on the bed and squirmed on the cool sheets. I ached with the need to feel his smooth body rub against mine, filling me. All I wanted right this very moment was to consume and be consumed.
Miller sat between my legs and ran his ringed finger over my wet sex. He rubbed the cold bulky silver eagle in small circles over my clit, and my hips jerked.
“Miller—”
His eyes glittered over me in the muted light from the street signs outside. He brought the ring to his mouth and licked it. My hands wrapped around his powerful thighs to steady myself in a desperate attempt to prevent shattering into a thousand pieces.
He leaned over me, one hand planted in the mattress. “You ready for me, Grace?” he breathed. I tilted up my chin.
I was beyond ready.
He positioned himself and drove inside me. My body arched off the bed. My hands gripped his arms as I struggled to adjust to his thickness filling me, stretching me. I raised my hips to take him in further.
I wanted all of this, all of him, needed him like oxygen, like water.
“Shit, you feel good.” Miller let out a groan and hooked one of my legs around his hip. He rocked deeper inside me, and my eyes flew open. My fingers rubbed into the base of his skull as we moved together and against each other quicker and harder. The glorious wave actually built inside me again.
“Grace—you got it?” he asked. “I’m not going to last much longer. You’re making me fucking crazy.”
How considerate of him to communicate.
I had learned how to be self-sufficient. There hadn’t been much real communication with the men I had slept with over the years, just a lot of show on their part. I ground up into Miller and chased my peak. I tightened my inner muscles around him and circled my hips. His mouth hung open, his forehead furrowed with the strain. Then his gaze darted down my body. His hand dug into my hip, his teeth sank into my shoulder.
Miller stroked faster, over and over. The only thing left was to succumb to that rolling storm of sensation. It finally burst and crashed over me. My fingers dug into his back, and I released myself into that sweet, crazy haze. His grip on me tightened, his body suddenly stiffened. I held my breath as he jolted into me. He buried his face in my neck where he muffled a string of curses. Our bodies were veiled in a sheen of sweat. He raised his head, his eyes were fierce. His mouth crushed mine, and I hooked both my legs around his, my fingers raking through his short hair.
Miller’s hand slid down my damp skin, stopping at my hip. “Babe, you are some kind of hungry,” he said, his breathing shallow.
“Oh?” My nerve endings still vibrated with electricity. “You were pretty enthusiastic yourself.”
“You fired me up.” His fingers teased one of my nipples. “Has it been a while?”
Was I that obvious?
“Yes.”
“How long is a while?” His voice was gentle.
“Does it matter?” I closed my eyes against the tingles his fingers created.
“Tell me.” He pressed his pelvis against mine. I squirmed at the sweet pressure. My hands slid over his smooth contoured chest barely visible in the glow of light. Disappointment crept over me that I couldn’t see that tattoo. “Grace?”
“A year. . . or so.”
“Or so?” His eyes flashed through the shadows, his lips brushed mine.
“Hmm.” My body shifted underneath his, but he didn’t unpin his formidable weight from me.
“Why, babe? You’re beautiful, you’re. . .”
I put my fingers to his lips. “Needed a vacation from the bullshit, that’s all.” I didn’t want to continue in this line of conversation. His lips sucked my fingertips into his mouth, and my defensiveness melted into a puddle at his feet.
“There is plenty of bullshit out there.” He let out a sigh. “Plenty.” His tongue traced a wet trail around my nipple as his fingers caressed my other breast.
“It’s just not worth it most of the time,” I whispered. My gaze was riveted on his mouth taking in my aching breast and sucking on it. My body tightened and released to him all in one wave.
“But you took a chance on me?” The edges of his lips curled against my delicate skin.
“Yeah.” My fingers burrowed into his crop of very short hair.
“Was I worth it?” Miller rubbed my wet, aching nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then pinched it. I gasped, and my foot dug into his rear. “Did I make up for what you’ve been missing?”
I lightly kicked at the firm muscles of his sublime ass and smirked. “You made a dent.”
His eyes narrowed over me as his thumb grazed my swollen lips. He didn’t laugh, smirk back at me, or return with a clever comeback. He didn’t take the bait. My ribbing, my jokes to distract and deflect from any kind of serious inquiry into me didn’t seem to work with Mr. Miller, like it always had with other men. He remained still and studied my face, his warm fingers stretched out over my throat and around my neck, my heart thrumming at his touch. We studied each other in silence, our shallow breaths mingling.
“I’m honored,” he whispered.
I believed him.
He pulled out of me slowly and leaned over me. His mouth hovered over mine for a second, his breath warm on my skin while my fingers lingered on the side of his face. His lips nuzzled mine gently, then he tilted his head the other way and kissed me again, very slowly. His mouth pulled away just a bit, then descended once more, even softer, relishing every part of my lips. His tongue finally found mine, but then he trapped my bottom lip in his teeth.
“Oh—”
“You good for another go?”
“Hmm.” I rubbed the back of one of his long legs with my foot and savored the sensation of his body pressed against mine.
“That a yes or a no?” His warm mouth nuzzled my throat, his tongue flicked at my skin.
“Yes, yes,” I said, and he only chuckled. The sound of his subdued laughter deep in his chest only turned me on more without a trace of shame.
“Let me get rid of this condom first.” Miller pushed himself up off the bed. I sighed and stretched out. He licked my navel, and I laughed. He peeled the used rubber off himself and tossed it in the wastebasket between the bed and the table and quickly found another packet ripping it open. A very motivating sound in my current state.
“Let me do it,” I said. I suddenly needed to touch his hardness, to feel it, to feel him. I sat up. Miller’s face was partly visible in the shadows. He pressed the condom into my unsteady hand.
My fingers skimmed o
ver his tense abs and wrapped around his cock. It was thick, warm, and slick with his release. My fingers stroked its hard length, and I bent over and licked around the smooth crown. I took his thickness in my mouth and sucked slowly from base to tip. Miller’s fingers dug through my hair, and he raised his hips higher, hissing in air. My body jerked at the illicit sound.
“Babe. . . oh, shit. . . wait,” he murmured. “I want to fuck you now, want to come inside you.” His fingers found a nipple and squeezed, then released it just as quickly, a blaze of heat spiking through me. I slid the condom over his shaft and smoothed it firmly down his length.
His hand squeezed my shoulder, then he pushed me back against the mattress and my eyes lifted to his searing gaze. There was hunger in those dark orbs and a steely ruthlessness. No mercy. His mouth sank between my legs, and I let out a deep moan.
He took his sweet time.
“Miller!”
My back arched off the bed. He immediately flipped me onto my knees, raising my hips, and rubbed his hard length between my ass cheeks. His cock slid down, teasing my needy, grateful center. My breath snagged, my pulse jammed.
“Hold on, Grace.”
My fingers curled into the tangle of sheets, and he drove inside me.
My eyes came unglued in the haze of a pale halo of light around the dark curtains of the single window in the room. I was pinned to the bed by an enormous weight, and the tingling in my limbs prickled. My insides were sore, and my skin smelled of sweat and musk. And sex.
Now it came back to me. Lots of sex.
I moved in small increments, and a still-asleep Miller finally rolled off me with a slight moan and settled on his back. I blinked at the sight of a large tattoo of a great eagle in profile. The eagle’s wings were spread across Miller’s shoulder and down his chest. I raised myself up on my elbow to get a better look. I never got to see it last night as we never turned on the lights. My fingers traced the outline of the majestic creature emblazoned across his tawny skin. One large wing pointed down, the other wing pointed up, and its end reached around the back of his neck. The image was rather elegant, dignified.