Page 92 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

I laugh and close my eyes, tangling my fingers in his hair as his warm breath teases my sensitive flesh, ignoring the way my heart is pounding as if I’ve run a marathon.

He trails down to my soft, round stomach. “This.” Another slow, lazy kiss along a silvery stretch mark. “Is beautiful. And this.” He spreads my folds and laps at my center, causing goosebumps to spread down my thighs.Holy shit.Sogood.“Is still the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had.”

I haven’t hadthissince Milo. To be fair, I haven’t had anything since Milo. Hell, I haven’twantedanything since Milo. And right now, it’s even better than I remember. Probably because it’s Milo who’s doing it to me, and he knows me better than anyone. Both physically and emotionally. And he’s proving it. Right now.

My belly warms, and I squeeze my eyes shut, thrashing my head from side to side.

His touch is electric, making me squirm as I lift my hips toward him.

“You watching, babe?” he teases.

I look down at him.

“Good girl.” His grin is cocky as he sticks his tongue into me with a little more force before adding his index finger. “And it seems she missed me as much as I missed her.”

Throwing my head back, I look up at the ceiling, nearly choking on my nervous laughter. “Will you shut up and keep doing that?”

“What?” he growls, adding a second finger and swirling the tip of his tongue around my clit. “This?”

“Shiiiit.” My breathing quickens, and my knuckles turn white as I grip the damn bed sheets like my life depends on it. “Yesss.”

“How ‘bout this?” Curling his fingers inside me, he presses against the little bundle of nerves no one else has ever seemed to find and causes a moan to claw its way up my throat.

“Quiet,” he orders and continues his assault.

“Milo,” I breathe out.

“You ever touch yourself and think of me?”

Digging my heels into his shoulders, I bow off the mattress, desperate for more pressure. For more of his torturous mouth. For more of this. This feeling. This moment. Everything. He pushes my legs wider but pulls away from my glistening sex and looks up at me.

“Answer the question, Madelyn.”

“Y-yes.”

“Did you imagine me eating you?”

I look down at him between my thighs as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Y-yes.”

“Did you imagine me licking you until you came against my mouth?”

I slip my hand down my stomach, desperate to touch myself and bring my impending orgasm to the surface, but he grabs my wrist to keep me in place.

“Answer the question.”

My sex clenches from his demanding tone.

“Yes,” I moan.

“Did you imagine me drinking you up until there was nothing left?”

“Milo…”

“Answer me.”

“Yes,” I breathe out, practically panting from his words alone.

He smirks. “Good. When I’m finished, you’ll have to tell me if I lived up to your imagination.”

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