Page 100 of Rock Me All Night
Miles kisses me. It's still needy, still desperate. He moans against my lips, his tongue swirling around mine, exploring every inch of my mouth.
He tastes like me.
He thrusts into me. I bring my hands back to his hair, holding him close.
Miles makes a move to pull his mouth off me, to groan or sigh or maybe scream my name, but I hold him close.
Right now, he's mine.
Right now, the world is beautiful.
I arch my back and rock my hips, pushing him deeper. He follows my lead. Faster. Harder. Deeper. So he's mine, and I'm his, and he's so deep inside me I might scream.
But I don't. I groan into his mouth, and I tug at his hair, and I kiss him like I'll never get another chance to kiss him again.
That knot returns. He feels so good inside me, and the more he shakes, the more he moans, the more his fingers dig into my skin…
The pressure inside me builds. It's so tight, so intense.
Miles pulls his mouth off mine. He groans into my neck, sending vibrations across my shoulders and back.
His eyes find mine. It's like I can see inside him, see all those things that make him hurt. It's too much. I press my eyes closed and kiss him.
He thrusts into me again, and again, moaning into my mouth, tugging at my hair. Everything inside me winds up until it's so, so tight. And then he's shaking, and he's screaming, and he's sinking his teeth into my skin.
Everything inside me releases in a wave of ecstasy. I hold him tightly, riding it as long as I can. He's there, too. His cock pulses inside me as he rocks me through another orgasm.
He groans.
His teeth sink into my neck, one last time, and he comes, filling me.
Miles collapses next to me. He pulls me close, holding me the way he did last night.
"Better than I remembered," he groans.
"You have a terrible memory."
"Or it's like that song—I love fucking you more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow."
I murmur something that's supposed to sound likeshut upbut it comes out morehell yes, please test this hypothesis with me tomorrow.
* * *
Iwake up alone. The bed is empty. The apartment is empty. He's not here.
There's no note, no text, no contact from him at all.
Is he honoring my request to keep things strictly sexual or is he running off before I can start picking the lock that guards his heart?
I'm not sure. But the ache in my gut convinces me of one thing—I want him here.
I'm going to have him here.
I'm going to make it impossible for him to resist me.
