Page 111 of Rock Me All Night
His breath gets heavier and heavier. He must not have control of it any longer. It's strained and desperate. I relax into my bed, letting the sounds of his pleasure wash over me. He moans, low and deep and purely animal. The moans get louder and lower. It's so much better than anything on any song—and I've paid very close attention.
"Mhmm."
He's not wasting time either. Everything that flows through my speakers is desperate and needy, like he wants this as much as I did. His groans run together. Louder. Higher. Like he can't control them at all.
There. He's coming. I'm not sure how I can tell, but I can. His voice strains. His breath gets choppy. He lets out one last moan, louder than I've ever heard before. Then, he's sighing in pleasure. His breath steadies. Still strained, but not completely out of control.
"Relaxed?" he asks.
"More like keyed up and wishing you were here."
"Happy to listen to you go again."
"I should get to bed."
"When's your last midterm?"
"Friday night. Why?"
"No reason." He exhales slowly. "Goodnight, Meg. And good luck."
"Goodnight."
I hang up the phone, pull the sheets over my head, and try desperately to fill the craving I have for Miles.
I fail.
* * *
The week isa blur of textbooks and tests. By Friday afternoon, the only thing I want is the sweet embrace of my sheets. I need a million hours of sleep.
The elevator is all the way on the top floor, so I take the stairs to my apartment. Every step is pure agony.
And there he is, the only thing better than those million hours of sleep. Miles is leaning against my door, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, his lips pursed like there's something right on the tip of his tongue.
"You survived." He smiles.
I nod.
"I bet you'd like to celebrate that."
"Okay."
"If that's not a problem for you."
"I can clear my schedule." I fish my keys out of my backpack, open the apartment, and pull Miles inside with me.
The room is a verifiable mess. Paper everywhere, clothes strewn over the floor, dishes piled in the sink.
Miles shakes his head. "I like what you've done with the place."
"Thank you. I'm trying something new with the dishes. And the laundry. And the shower."
"Dirty girl."
My lips curl into a smile. "Not quite yet." I toss my backpack on the ground. "How long were you waiting?"
"Not long." He runs his fingertips over my chin, tilting my head so he's peering right into my eyes. "But it would've been worth waiting longer."
