Page 42 of Miles Apart
The singles’ retreat was pure coincidence, but this, weeks later at one of a hundred parties happening—in Gramercy, no less? Oddly specific and a little suspect, if you ask me.
I’ve been fighting for my life to get this man off my mind, only for him to show up in the flesh and with a model from Kojo’s show. Miles loves to play games, and the fact I’m still here, at a loss for words while he left to carry on with his night, is a new low.
The stare he pinned me with caused a heatwave in New York City from between my legs. All I could do was smirk as I gripped my empty martini glass to steady myself without shattering it into thousands of pieces. The choice was clear. If I need one of those portable fans to cool off my pussy afterlookingat Miles, we should push aside any placeholders for the real thing: each other.
Does it make me a hypocrite after denying his advances? Of course it does.
Do I care at this moment? No, I do not.
Miles doused any rush of excitement I had when he bent down to whisper in his date’s ear and told her, I assume, that they had to leave. Her back was to me, but her body language made it clear she had questions. He guided her to the exit by the small of her back.
Ten minutes ago.
I close out my sad tab of the extra martini I ordered once the after-party ended and head to coat check. Almost every eye is on me, but not the ones I want.
Miles did us a favor. With him, a situation of any kind has the potential to turn awkward, or worse. Rejection isn’t something I navigate often, but I button my coat and walk into the winter night with my top knot high and zero thoughts he’d come back for me.
Liar.
It’s ten o’clock. Early enough to hop to the nearest party and assess my options. But I don’t want to. I want…him.
I jump at the figure who appears at my side until a familiar musk washes over me, calming my nerves while exciting my senses.
There’s no mistaking Miles’s intentions, which I hope starts with his mouth and ends with his dick. He’s close enough to hear my heart thundering in my chest, but he waits. There’s no move to touch me and no words to convey what needs no explanation. The lust in his eyes speaks volumes. Right now, it says sleep isn’t on our itinerary.
I swallow to stop the blush inching up my cheeks. He left his date for me. A smile slips onto my lips, triggering one from Miles that widens into a grin.
Our walk to my hotel is silent. Miles shifts me to the inside of the sidewalk and keeps his focus ahead, allowing me to stealglances at his profile in a beanie and a long coat with the collar popped. All black everything, and, my, is it beautiful.
We reach the redbrick townhouse and climb the few limestone steps to the wooden door. Miles’s face twists at the brownstone, but he follows me inside and up the creaky staircase to my suite on the third floor. He’s so damn big, he has to duck into my room, and he looks out of place in the petite space with old-world charm.
I love modern luxury, but I also enjoy vintage sophistication from time to time. The room has a king bed with a button-tuft headboard, a cast stone fireplace, and a seating area. Miles is mugging like the furniture personally disrespected him. If this offends him, wait until he sees the bathroom.
His gaze snaps to my coat, which I place on the oversized chair in front of my bed. Judging by the tongue hanging out of his mouth, he didn’t get a full view of my dress at the bar. My walk is slow to where he stands in the center of the room. I give him my back and look over my shoulder for him to unzip me. The low whistle of the zipper traveling from the top of my back to my ass is the only sound in the room. Until I gasp at the first kiss on my neck. My eyes close, and I tilt my head to give him better access.
Sex. That’s all this is.
With his mouth still on me, Miles slides my dress down my shoulders and pushes it and my thong to the floor. A large hand reaches around to knead one of my breasts, while the other pulls me to his hardened frame. My lip sinks between my teeth to smother a moan as he gently rolls my nipple between his fingers. The other hand skates down my heated flesh to my clit.
Miles works me with a mastery of my body, switching peaks and changing speed, pumping his fingers into my pussy until my knees quiver. I come in choked curses, careful not to scare the older couple in the room at the other end of the hall.
Triumph shines in his eyes before they sweep over my breasts. The air around us electrifies, and he wraps a hand around my throat to pull me in for a hard kiss, one I’m more than eager to accept. My lips part at his demand, my mouth matching the long strokes of his tongue.
Our kiss is angry, balancing hunger and fire through pleasure. Miles can’t keep his hands off me and holds my face in place. The intimacy sends me spiraling into a free fall without a parachute.
One of his hands slips into his coat pocket, the crinkle of a condom wrapper filtering through the haze of desire. I push down his coat, and he lets it fall to the floor as he unbuttons his shirt. His pants are next, and with the way I’ve been dreaming about this dick, it takes what little patience I have left not to rip his damn belt off.
I pull down his briefs to bring him to his knees with my mouth, but he stops me. “Not tonight, kitten,” he whispers, his thumbs stroking my jaw. My mouth waters at the steel between his legs. Thick. Responsive. Perfect.
Miles sheaths himself, picks me up by my waist, and moves us to the wall next to the window. I wrap my legs around him and groan at the breach through my entrance.
Shit.
He pauses to search my face for discomfort and captures my mouth with his own. His moan at my fingers digging into his scalp jolts his hips forward. Miles spreads my cheeks, angles me towards him, and powers into my center in a staggered rhythm. The force knocks the breath from my lungs and rattles the pictures on the wall. I’m tossed into a wave I can’t swim over or under.
My nails dig into his back to anchor myself as another orgasm builds. Miles buries his nose into my neck and pumps into me.
Sweat beads on his upper lip, and I swipe it with my tongue. Miles studies me, drinking in every expression with hoodedeyes. He grinds into my pussy with slow circles and hits a spot that forces my head back in a scream for release. His pace quickens with deeper thrusts until I’m speaking in tongues. Then he releases a long moan and stills, his fingers digging into my ass to hold me in place.
