The Casanova (The Miles High Club #3)(80)

Fuck.

An hour later I sit on the couch by the fire. I’ve left the door slightly ajar.

The car has just pulled up and I know Kate isn’t far away.

I’ve given myself a few rounds, whatever it takes to keep the monster at bay.

I need to last longer . . . fuck it.

The door opens and Kate comes into view. It takes a few moments for her to see me sitting in the semi-dark.

“Hi.” She smiles.

I sip my Scotch. “Hi.”

She’s wearing a black, long jacket and high stilettos. She walks over to stand in front of me and slowly undoes her jacket and drops it to the floor.

My breath catches: she’s wearing a black silk corset and suspender belt, with tiny black lace panties.

The light flickers as it dances on her skin.

I inhale sharply and she drops to her knees between my legs and pushes them open with force.

Yes.

With dark eyes she takes me into her mouth, her tongue flicking over my end, and I put my hands in her hair as I watch her.

Fuck.

This woman will be the death of me.

For ten minutes I watch her, feel her. Want her with every fucking fiber of my being. Until I can’t stand it, and I drag her up to me. We kiss violently, our teeth clashing with desire, and she straddles me over my lap. I pull her panties to the side and slide in to the hilt in one deep movement.

We fall still and stare at each other, the air electric as it zaps between us.

A tantric force that I have no control over.

“Can you feel how deep inside of me you are?” she murmurs.

I swallow the lump in my throat as I stare up at her. I nod. Unable to speak.

She brings herself to a squatting position, and I can feel every muscle inside her perfect body.

“Fuck me . . . Mr. Miles,” she whispers darkly, her eyelashes hooded, her voice husky and filled with desire.

My grip on her hip bones tightens, my control close to its end.

She puts her lips to my ear and licks it. “I’ve been waiting for your beautiful cock all day,” she whispers before kissing me deeply.

My eyes close as our tongues dance. I can’t . . .

I grab her hip bones and slam her down hard. “And so you shall have it.”





Chapter 18


KATE

I smile softly, my eyes still closed as I feel the soft fingertips trail up my arm and over my shoulder. My hair is carefully pushed back from my face and a soft kiss dusts my neck, then another, and another.

He holds me tight and takes my hand in his, his body snuggled up behind mine.

Waking up in Elliot Miles’s arms will never grow old.

It’s as if the anger of his world disappears while he sleeps and he wakes a demure, more tender version of himself.

“Good morning,” I whisper.

He kisses my cheek. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

I smile—I love it when he calls me that. I roll onto my back to face him. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a log.”

I cuddle up to him. “And what a handsome sleepy log you are.”

He kisses me softly. “Of course, it could do with the fact that you are fucking me into unconsciousness.”

I giggle and then I remember something and look over to him. “What happened with your ducks?”

“Ah.” He smiles and rolls out of bed. “Apparently . . . they were just hungry.”

“What?” I smile as I look up at him.

“I would go as far as to say fucking starving, actually.” He stands, completely comfortable with his nudity. My eyes roam down his body, over his broad, thick chest and olive skin. He has hardly any body fat, revealing every last sinew. Muscular and fit, with thick quad muscles and a defined abdomen. His arms are strong, with rope-like veins running down his forearms.

My eyes drop lower, to the well-kept, dark pubic hair and large family jewels.

There’s no denying that Elliot Miles is the epitome of male perfection, but there’s a lot more to him than meets the eye. Just what that is, I’ve yet to discover.

But unlike most men I’ve met in the past, the more I get to know him, the more I like about him. He’s like an onion, slowly being peeled back layer by layer before my eyes.

He gives himself a slow stroke and my eyes rise to meet his and he shrugs. “If you’re going to look at me like that, I may as well give you something to look at.”

“Like what?” I smile.

“Like you’re going to eat me.”

I burst out laughing. “I was not.”

He picks his T-shirt up and whips me with it. “Don’t deny it.” He throws his T-shirt over his head and pulls his boxer shorts on.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve got to feed the ducks before they go postal.”

“What?” I sit up on my elbows.

“True story.”

“Are you really knocking back sex . . . to feed your ducks?” I laugh.

He climbs over me and holds my hands over my head. “Hold that thought, I’ll be back.” He kisses me and I smile against his lips.

“If they chase you again, I’m filming it.”

“Come on.” He pulls me up by the hand. “Rise and grind.”

“What?”