Blindsided (Fake Boyfriend #4)(55)

But now I do.

My soul mate happens to be a male, and I’m totally okay with that.

“I’m good to go,” Miller whispers.

I move slow so he can adjust, and though it takes a little while for him to loosen up, when he does, it’s amazing. Like everything since I started this thing with Miller, it surprises the hell out of me that I went so long without realizing what I had in front of me for years.

Everything is better with him. Not just the sex stuff, but life in general. I could spout shit about colors being brighter and food tasting better, but it’s none of that bullshit. It’s a sense of belonging, of being complete, and everything being right.

“Fuck,” I hiss when Miller rolls back a little so he can reach for his cock.

Nothing has ever felt like this.

“I don’t think I’m going to last.” I can barely talk, let alone fuck. “If I go before you, I promise to blow you until you come down my throat.”

“Mhfkjuhsgd.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Pulling out to the tip, I slam back in, and Miller lets out a hoarse cry. “Again?” I ask.

He chants “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”

Miller’s hand works his cock so fast there’s no way I’d be able to keep up that tempo, but I try. My hips piston, and I go as hard as I can in this position, which isn’t easy. I lean up on one elbow and push harder.

I try to pull my orgasm back but fail miserably as a shuddering release sets off fireworks in my groin.

I come harder than I ever have in my entire life, and it seems to last for minutes. The world fades around me, and I’m in a blur until Miller’s telltale roar flies out of him as he comes.

I’m vaguely aware of his hand still jacking him through his orgasm, and I tell myself I should help with that, but I’m dead.

Eventually everything slows and goes quiet, as if the world settles around me into relaxed silence.

“Uh, Talon?”

“Yeah?”

“I kinda need my ass back.”

“Right. You probably need that.” I slip my softening cock from his body slowly, and Miller winces. “You okay?”

“I will be.” He smiles over his shoulder at me.

“Good.” I snuggle in behind him and kiss the back of his neck. We need to get up and clean ourselves before heading downstairs for training, but I don’t want to move.

Miller’s back rises and falls hard with his breaths but as they slow, he becomes fidgety.

I feel like I could go back to sleep again. “Stay still.”

He laughs. “Can’t. I’m uncomfortable and lying in cum.”

With a chuckle, I roll onto my back. “Fine.”

Miller wriggles his way to the edge of the bed and heads to my bathroom. I close my eyes to the sound of water running in there and almost drift off when warm hands land on my junk.

I crack one eye open. “Wha?”

A deep laugh and warm brown eyes meet me. “I’ll get rid of this for you.”

“My dick?”

More laughs. “The condom.”

Oh. That.

He ties it off and takes it into the living-slash-kitchen area. A cabinet door opens and then another. Miller rummages around for a while, but when the telltale noise of the refrigerator opening hits my ears, I smile and prepare for the complaining I know I’m about to get.

“Hey, Talon?” Miller asks.

I sigh and climb out of bed, finding some boxer briefs and sweatpants to throw on.

Miller’s still scanning the contents of my fridge when I emerge. “Where’s all the good food?”

“You’re staring at it. I went shopping yesterday.”

“You went shopping? On Staten Island?”

“Okay, fine. I hired a guy to do it.”

“Who?”

I shrug. “There’s an app where basically you can get anyone to bring you anything.” I approach him and wrap my arm around his bare back. My lips land on his shoulder, and I love the way he melts into my side. “I got egg whites, kale, lots of protein. Superfoods for the win!”

Skeptical eyes meet my innocent ones … well, relatively innocent. “You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Not with my cooking, at least. I’m only letting you rest for half an hour before going to the gym.”

Miller groans, and unlike a few minutes ago in bed, it’s not a happy groan. It’s an I really don’t want to type of groan.

I saw the way he struggled yesterday during his PT session, but I’ve never known Miller to hate training. He’s one of the hardest workers I know. I’m usually the one pulling him away from a workout or practice to do stupid shit. So, seeing him so against training is disconcerting, but I tell myself it’s only because he’s had months of slacking off while recovering. I know how hard it is to get back into it after the off season. So much so I try not to let myself relax too hard.

“Your leg’s not gonna get better until you get off your ass,” I say.

“Well, thanks to you, my ass is currently wrecked. Can barely walk.”

“We’ll go light today, but we need to do something.”

“Sex counts as a workout.”

This isn’t working. “Okay, how about this: you give me two hours in the gym, I’ll let you have my ass tonight.”