Page 71 of Tourist Trap

“I’ve been such a fucking idiot, Claire,” he says against me, before he drags his flattened tongue up over my pussy, sending shockwaves through me. “Let me make it up to you.” A hand moves to my calf, gripping and lifting until my heel is resting on his shoulder, opening myself wide before his mouth moves back to me.

My hips start to gyrate in a rhythm of their own, as I try and get more from him, as a finger slides into me and he laps at my clit. I can feel the ball of tension, of all-consuming pleasure, swirling in my belly, folding in on itself and multiplying as he starts to suck on my clit, as he adds another finger inside me, curling them to press on the spot no one but myself has ever touched.

My eyes drift shut, the feeling too overwhelming, but just as I do, he pulls away, his fingers still fucking me.

“No, no,” he says, and when I open my eyes to look down at him, he’s looking at me intensely. “Eyes on me. I want to see you fall apart. Want you to watch me finally fucking worship this cunt.”

I tighten around the fingers buried in me at his words, and he feels it, his own eyes drifting shut as that bringshimpleasure, too. Before I can say another thing, his mouth descends on me once more. Sucking on my clit, seemingly on a mission now, his eyes are locked on mine as I stare down my body at him. My orgasm builds back quickly, and I know I can’t put it off a moment longer, not even to bask in the beauty of him like this for another moment.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I grit out. When his teeth graze along my clit, I detonate, yelling as I do, and even though I want to let it wash away all of my senses, I keep my eyes locked on Miles as he finger fucks me and licks up every drop of my orgasm.

I’m still quaking as his fingers slip out of me, and I’m grateful when that hand moves to my waist to hold me steady, his wet fingers resting on my heated skin.

Slowly, he stands, eyes still on mine, adjusting his hard cock in his shorts. “Good?” I wipe my thumb along his mustache, the hair there wet with me. I moan at that, a thought I’ve had way too many times to be appropriate this summer, a fantasy I’m now living.

I shake my head at him.

“No?” he asks, confused.

“No, I need you to fuck me. Then I’ll be good.“

He smiles wider.

“God, you’re fucking perfect for me,” he says.

I barely have time to bask in the statement before his hands grip my ass and he lifts me. My skirt is still bunched at my waist, so I wrap my legs around him, my wet core pressed against his bare stomach, and we both groan at the way it feels. I just came, but somehow, the need to come again is almost worse.

It’s consuming everything, and this need to have him inside of me, fucking me, filling me with his cum…I need it.

My hands go around his neck, and he smiles, pressing his lips to mine again. Instantly, with the taste of me on his lips, my back arches into him, my arms pulling him tighter to me, my lips sucking at his. It’s feral and needy, and my hips rock against him with need.

“Your room or mine?” he pants when we manage to break the kiss, and I smile wide.

“Yours.” Miles wastes no time at all, climbing the stairs as I pepper kisses on every inch of his skin I can reach, my hands grazing up and down his back to memorize the muscles there, to feel his warm skin, and commit it to memory. Before I know it, we’re stepping through the entryway of his room, and he’s tossing me onto the bed. I undress quickly, tugging off my tank top and bra at the same time, then sliding off my skirt before lying back and watching him.

“Are you on the pill?” he asks, but I can’t really hear his words. Not as he’s sliding down his shorts and underwear in one smooth movement, leaving him naked before me and…

Oh. My. God.

I’ve seen Miles in low-slung shorts and even glimpses in his tight boxer briefs before, but I’ve never seen him like this.

He’s a fucking god. All sun-kissed skin and toned abs, shoulders so broad it almost feels comical, strong arms?—

“Claire,” he says, grabbing my attention.

I move my eyes from his long, thick cock and to his face, which is smiling with pride. “Huh?”

His smile spreads into a grin.

“Are you on the pill?” I have to work hard to understand the question before I nod. “I was tested six months ago,” he continues, “and everything came back normal. I haven’t been with anyone since.”

As if without meaning to, his hand moves to his cock, squeezing and stroking once, and my jaw drops. I want to watch that: him jacking off while watching me. My pussy clenches at the mental image I’ve made, filling in gaps and creating an entire scene ending in him coming on me, and I lick my lips.

“Claire,” he repeats, but there’s humor in the words. I move my gaze back to him with more difficulty this time. “Can I fuck you without a condom?”

That.

That’s what I want. That’sdefinitelywhat I want.

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