Page 109 of Rock Me All Night
23
I'm hot everywhere. Not just my cheeks but my chest, stomach, and back too. I open the window. The cool air does nothing to lessen the heat building in my body.
Miles wants to listen to me come? The guy makes sexy sounds for a living, and he wants to hear mine over the phone.
I'm back at the night of our not exactly a breakup again, only this time, I'm at the club, listening to Miles and Tom mock Pete for his constant phone sex. The night flies by, and I'm here, half naked and about to cry because Miles can't bring himself to explain.
My body skips over the heartbreak part. The heat racing through me pools between my legs. The damn thing can't be helped. It has an addiction to Miles. There's no other explanation.
My head is failing to pull back, failing to protect me. I guess the studying really tired it out.
Miles's exhale flows through the speakers. He's waiting, and he's not doing it patiently. Technically speaking, the ball is in my court. I can say yes or say no.
Technically speaking, this arrangement is entirely on my terms.
My eyes flutter closed. The breeze sends a shiver up my legs and thighs. No underwear tonight. No bra. Just this tiny tank top and shorts, like when I was on the couch with Miles.
No, I can't go there. If I'm going to do this, I need to be in this moment. And damn I want to enjoy this moment.
"You swear you're not fucking with me?" I ask.
"I'll prove it."
He's quiet for a minute. Then my phone buzzes with a picture message. It's Miles, in his bed, alone. His hand is tugging at the waistband of his boxers.
God, he's so freaking yummy it's ridiculous.
"You want more?" he asks.
A blush spreads across my cheeks. It's not like I'm used to guys offering to send me nude pictures.
Okay. He sent me a picture in his underwear. It's only fair I do the same. Even if I'm not wearing any underwear. I pull my tank top to my bellybutton so my breasts are on display.
I've never taken a sexy picture of myself before. I know all the ways it's a bad idea, all the ways it could hurt me, but I don't care.
This feels too good for me to care.
I snap a picture of my chest and neck and send it to Miles.
He lets out a groan. "Fuck, Meg, you're killing me."
Yes. Perfect. I'm going to be the one in control here. "How so?"
"I miss your tits."
"You saw them last week."
"I want to see them every day. To see that look on your face when I suck on your nipples."
So much for control. I'm melting. Heat rushes through my body. Whatever it is we're doing, I can't stop until I get what he promised me, until he's groaning in my ear.
"What else?" I ask.
"Take off your shorts," he says.
I do. "Take off your boxers."
There's a low groan and then silence. A moment later, my phone buzzes. He took off his boxers and sent me a picture. That must be…
