The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(75)

We fall down onto the bed as we keep kissing, his body cradled in between my legs, and he slides his length through my wet flesh.

He stares down at me and I smile up at him in awe.

The tip of him slowly slides in and my breath catches as I lift my legs.

He closes his eyes and pulls out.

“What are you doing?” I stammer.

“Condom.”

“No, El.”

“Stop,” he snaps as he climbs off me.

He’s lost trust in me.

Back to square one, fuck.

He fumbles through his wallet and pulls out two condoms and I watch as he rolls one on, and when he turns back to me his demeanor has changed. My sweet El isn’t here anymore.

Elliot Miles, the hard-ass fucking machine has arrived.

Not that I’m complaining, I love him too.

He lies over me, and instead of the intimacy we shared only moments ago, he lifts my legs so that my knees are up near his shoulders. With dark eyes he rubs the tip of his cock back and forth through my wet lips.

“You want this?” he whispers.

I nod, unable to answer.

“Answer me,” he barks.

“Yes,” I whimper.

Satisfaction flickers in his eyes and he pushes himself in. Hard and unapologetic, my body struggles to take him. He pushes harder. Pinning me to the mattress.

I whimper again and he turns and kisses my knee, his tongue softly lapping at me. “Open,” he commands in a whisper against my skin.

“I’m trying.” I wince.

He pushes forward again and rotates his hips. “Try harder.”

A flutter of arousal shimmers through the sting and I smile softly. “That’s it.”

He rotates his hips again and my back arches off the bed in approval.

“Yes . . .” I pant. He pulls out and pushes back in and I moan. “Oh God.”

My body floods with moisture, allowing him to go deep, and he smiles darkly. “That’s it, baby, open up. Let me in.” He rearranges my legs over his shoulders and turns and softly kisses my foot.

Watching the intimate act brings a flutter to my heart.

He’s right here with me, I know he is.

He pulls out and slides back in deep, my body sucks him in, she’s ready to go.

He rotates his hips and I shudder deep inside.

Nobody fucks like Elliot Miles, he was born to do this.

The master.

He begins to ride me hard and deep and I close my eyes as I run my hands up and down his muscular back; I can feel every ripple on his torso.

His lips are on my neck, at my ear. His breath makes goosebumps scatter up my spine. The burn of his possession is sending shockwaves through my blood, and he pulls out and moves down my body, his thick tongue swiping through my wet flesh.

Oh fuck.

I’ve never been with a man who does this before: he goes down on me in the middle of sex, he loves it.

I love it.

It drives me fucking wild.

He holds me open and licks me up like I’m his last meal, and the look of pure ecstasy on his face brings a smile to my face.

Elliot Miles doesn’t go down on a woman for her pleasure.

He does it for his, and I’ve never seen or felt something so fucking hot in my life.

He lifts my legs and really begins to eat me, my body convulsing at the burn of his stubble.

My back arches off the bed and I slam hard into a freight train of an orgasm, my entire body convulsing, and in one sharp movement he’s flipped me onto my stomach and dragged me up onto my knees.

He slides in deep and then . . . he lets me have it with both barrels.

Hard, thick pumps, the sound of our skin slapping together is loud and echoing throughout the room. His grip on my hip bones is almost painful, the burn of his cock working at piston pace is out-of-this-world good.

Fuck . . . this is what sex is supposed to be like.

Hot, hard, and sweaty.

Where the rules are: there are no rules.

He pushes my shoulders down onto the mattress, changing my position, and then he begins to moan. Deep, low, and guttural.

He’s lost control now, his body taking on its own agenda to feed.

Taking what it needs from my body.

Thick and hard . . . Elliot Miles is a hell of a lot to take.

“Fuck me,” he growls. “Fuck me harder.”

I clench as hard as I can and his knees nearly go from underneath him, and he cries out as he holds himself deep. I feel the jerk of his cock deep inside of me.

I face-plant into the mattress as I come again, and he slowly moves to completely empty his body into mine.

We come back to earth and he falls over me, our bodies wet with perspiration. I can feel his heart as it hammers alongside mine.

“The bed works,” he pants.

I smile sleepily, completely spent. “I’ll say.”

I wake to the feeling of the bed dipping as Elliot gets out of bed, and smile as I stretch.

Wow, what a night.

I hear Elliot go to the bathroom and I doze for a few minutes. I hear him going through an overnight bag and I sit up onto my elbows. “What are you doing?”

“I’m fucking starving,” he mutters as he digs through his bag. “We didn’t eat last night.”

“Well. We did.”

“I mean food, Kate.”

I sit up. “I’ll make us breakfast.”