Page 53 of One Billion Reasons

Long fingers circle my ankles, and he yanks me to the edge of the table. “I need to taste you.”

“Please, Miles.”

“Oh, no. Don’t beg me, baby. This is all for you.”

He pushes my legs apart and buries his face between them. At the first touch of his tongue, I cry out. He swirls the tip gently, right over my clit, and then drags the flat of it through my folds. He makes soft sounds of approval and spreads me with his hands, until I’m pinned helplessly against the table.

Boyfriends have gone down on me before, with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner being dragged to the gallows. What woman doesn’t love that? A few half-hearted licks and then obvious disgust when the act is over. It’s always been more uncomfortable than sexy. What if Miles hates this? Doubt worms through me, chasing away the heavy desire building in my veins.

And then Miles groans. “You taste so fucking good.” Oh, wow. He likes this? Based off the sounds he’s making, I’d say he loves it. His fingers dig into my flesh almost to the point of pain. I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. His tongue moves over me in long swipes, like I’m a dessert he’s savoring. The long swipes turn gentle, featherlight, and I sob out a word that might be “Please.” My core is already clenching, and heat is pooling low.

Of course he stops, right at that moment. He’s breathing heavy and harsh and his fingers trace over my skin. “Do you like this?”

“Yes,” I gasp out. “Please. I’m close.”

“I know.” His voice is smug.

“Stop toying with me,” I beg.

“This isn’t toying. It’s edging.” He licks into me again, just once, and my whole body ripples while my core clenches. “Do you know what that is?”

Of course I do, but I’ve never had anyone do it to me before. “Tell me,” I murmur. I want to hear him say the words in that raspy voice.

Another long swipe of his tongue and the barest brush of his fingers at my entrance. “It’s about delaying your orgasm and making it better. So I can bring you right to the brink.” He pushes one finger in and, oh, god, that feels so good. I cry out. “Again and again. Until you’re nothing but an inferno of need.”

One pump, another. It’s never felt like this. My hips chase his hand and my breaths come short and my legs shake. No one has ever made me feel this good just from their fingers. Maybe if I don’t say anything, he’ll let me come. The peak is near. I can feel it. I rock on him, and he rewards me with thick thrusts and a second finger. I’m gasping, trembling, so very close. And then he stops, and I nearly cry. I try to rock over his hand, but he stills my hips.

“Don’t move.” His voice is hoarse. “I know you’re close. But you have to trust me. I’ll make you feel so good. Just be patient.” He smooths a hand over my lower back like he’s soothing an animal, and I shake.

“Please,” I whisper.

“I hate it when you beg me.” He pulls his fingers out and licks into me again, just two quick flicks that have my body stringing tight. “I hate that you think you need to ask for your pleasure. When you should be taking it as your due.”

He pushes two fingers into me this time and crooks them, just right. Thick thrusts and harsh breaths and then he whispers, “Fuck, Laney, look at you. Come for me, sweetheart.” Those dirty words push me over the edge, and my orgasm rips through me. My spine bows, and my core clenches so hard around his fingers that it’s almost painful. The pleasure is nearly unbearable, spiraling out from my core and radiating through my body. It wrings me dry until I’m boneless against the table. Miles slips his fingers from me and helps me off the table. I’m wobbly and disoriented as he gathers me against his chest.

“If I move, are you going to fall over?” he murmurs, and I laugh a little.

“I can’t even tell down from up right now.”

He laughs in response, and I feel the happy sound in my chest. “I’m going to get your robe. Try not to collapse.”

He steps away, and I turn to watch him move, graceful and sleek, like the predator I imagine when his lips are on my throat. When he turns toward me again, the outline of his erection is stark against the thin silk of his robe.

“Oh. You didn’t finish.” I feel incredibly selfish, and my face heats.

He shakes his head, looking slightly pained. “This isn’t a transaction.”

“I want you to enjoy this too.”

“I did.” A harsh breath. “Believe me, I did. I don’t know who made you believe that men can’t get pleasure from your own, but it’s a lie. Okay?”

Why does this sound like advice for the next guy I’m with? Miles’s mouth is set, and his eyes are pleading.

“Why are you telling me this?” I hate it. I don’t want to think about the next guy when you’re right in front of me.

His gaze drops. “So you don’t keep believing falsehoods. So that when your next…boyfriend goes down on you, you don’t feel like you have to reciprocate.” He spits the word boyfriend like it’s poison. “So you know what you deserve.”

“Because it won’t be you, right?” My voice comes out hard. He’s pushing me away. Because he wants to make this as transactional as possible. I curl my fingers into my palms.

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