Bite Me Page 4

  Cecily

  Milo doesn’t say he’s probably in a world of trouble with many people by pushing back his schedule to spend time with me.

  The thought of that is absolutely wild to me, yet also astonishingly sweet. And also ridiculous.

  I should let go of his hand now and really think about what he’s saying. I would be wise to proceed with caution. But I don’t. I can’t, because he’s holding my fingers, keeping me still.

  Milo leans toward me a little, his eyes switching from one of my eyes to the other. It’s almost like he’s physically unable to stop looking at me, following me.

  His full lips feather against mine in a delicate kiss. He follows this by tracing a line of kisses across my cheek, and then the other cheek, and back down to my mouth.

  By the time his lips reach mine again, I’m sunk.

  The kissing continues, too soft. Not enough pressure. Looking at this man, the way he enjoys life, tastes life, I would have assumed he’d grab me roughly by now. If he did, I wouldn’t protest. But he’s so careful with me, and my body reacts with a demand for more.

  He deepens the kiss slightly, licking the seam of my lips. I open my mouth and let him slip his tongue inside.

  Suddenly, the kitchen door opens, and I snap away from him. My body instantly regrets the distance between us, even if my logical mind is relieved.

  “Cherise! What are you doing here?”

  My sister, dressed in a kitchen uniform, strides over to the table with a platter full of chocolate-covered strawberries, plus a salted caramel dipping sauce decorated with a crown of raspberries.

  “Serving you dessert, silly.”

  I blink at her. “I see that. But why? How?”

  “You want to tell her, or should I?” Cherise asks, looking at Milo.

  “Be my guest,” Milo says with a nod.

  Cherise beams at me. “I have a new job!”

  I shriek. There’s nothing else to do but shriek, then get up and hug my sister. “Can you believe it?”

  I’m so happy for my sister, but I’m so stunned that neither she nor Milo told me about this new job he’s hired her to do. This is a massive break for her, as she’s been working odd jobs in the business since she was 16 years old.

  I force her to sit down and share some of the incredible desserts she’s made. When we finish celebrating, she sweeps away our dishes and disappears into the kitchen, letting me know she’ll leave us alone and that she’ll see me at Mom and Dad’s house tomorrow.

  Turning back to Milo, I press my lips against his cheek. “Thank you,” I whisper close to his ear, nuzzling his earlobe. His sigh is almost undetectable, but I feel it.

  “Cecily, I don’t know what you mean by saying you’ve got no experience because your moves are making me fucking crazy.”

  His jaw ticks under his scruff, and I can’t help myself. I have to nip at it.

  “Hey,” he says, a smile in his voice. “Remember when you said you were worried about what to wear to dinner?”

  “Yeah,” I say, nipping and teasing his scruff and his jawline with my lips and teeth.

  “Well, now I’m sorta thinking you’re overdressed. ’Cause what you’re doing is making me want to violate whatever you’ve got going on under that hoodie you’re wearing.”

  “Mm. Better keep your hands on the table where I can see ’em,” I say. “No funny business, mister.”

  Surprisingly, Milo obeys. He rests his hands face down on the table and shoots me a darker expression than I would have thought possible for this big ol’ teddy bear.

  This provokes me to be bad. I want to see how far I can push before he loses control. I want to play. Oh god, it’s been so long since I messed around, and Milo has opened the floodgates. I believe his words; I believe he’s not trying for a one-night stand or a fling. I believe the things he’s told me, and whether this thing between us lasts or not, he’s just so damn fun to kiss and lick and fool around with.

  I find myself brazenly nibbling and sucking his earlobe and pressing one hand against his thigh. Milo catches my lips in his in a slightly deeper kiss than before.

  “Cecily.” He whispers my name. He’s so tender with me, despite being so big and masculine. I half expect him to throw me down on the cushions of this booth and have his way with me. But he doesn’t do any of that. He simply strokes my hair and touches my face while we kiss for five, ten, fifteen minutes. I don’t actually know how long.

  I have so many questions. There’s so much I want to know about him. I need to pump the brakes, but my body doesn’t care. It just wants to have fun. Explore. Be on a date with someone who doesn’t pressure me but lets me decide the speed of things.

  And as a result of letting me set the pace, I’m more turned on than ever.

  Milo’s lips kiss a path from my mouth to my jaw, down my neck. “Cecily,” he whispers again, sending chill bumps across my chest. He may not be trying to grope me, but his breath against my neck has my nipples puckering beneath this oversized hoodie. The fabric of my bra suddenly feels uncomfortable even though it’s the best, most comfortable bra I’ve ever owned.

  Milo kisses back up my neck, his lips landing on my ear. He nuzzles the shell of it with his nose and lips. I suck in a breath at the heat this produces deep in my belly. I want to be surrounded by this man and to let him do what he wants to me.

  I slide my hands across his wide shoulders and over his broad chest. This touching elicits a deep groan from his throat, barely audible. I feel it more than I can hear it. My greedy fingers climb up his stomach beneath his sweater. “Hang on,” he says, pulling his hands from the table so we can both work his sweater off over his head. I toss it aside and unbutton the top button of his shirt. “Hands back on the table, sir.”

  Milo’s chest rises and falls at a steadily quicker pace as I unbutton another button and run my fingers through the soft fuzz over his pecs. Continuing our playful kissing, I brush my thumb over his nipple, feeling it stiffen against my fingertip. Milo grunts at my teasing; I go back and forth over that nipple and watch the chill bumps spread like wildfire under the fuzz on his chest.

  “Cecily.” This time there’s an urgency to it; he needs me to look at him.

  I glance up and notice his eyes watching my every move, his lids hooded, his jaw ticking. “You want me to stop doing this?” My thumb swipes over his taught nipple, and I echo that with my touch on his other one.

  “No,” he rumbles. “But if you keep doing that, it’s going to get harder for me to keep my hands under control.”

  I really shouldn’t do what I’m about to do, but I do it. My hand resting on his thigh traces over the bulge in his jeans as I press a light kiss to his chest. “How much harder?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Milo

  My mind is all over the place and yet singularly focused.

  Cecily’s touch is too soft and teasing. Her pillowy lips are too yielding. I need more; I need to pull her close, drag her soft body over me until she’s straddling me, so I can grind against her heat.

  And yet, the teasing and the light touches are such delicious torture that I might come in my jeans. Only the most embarrassing thing that could ever happen. But at the moment, I don’t care.

  When her hand goes to my crotch, my whole body twitches with need. The need to be close to her, to feel her skin. To taste what waits for me between her legs.

  I can’t wait any longer. I’m a jerk, and I have to break the rules. A hand slips off the table and rests on one of her thighs. My other arm snakes around her middle. Cecily is so soft and smooth against me. Her long, flexible limbs contrast with my thick burly body.

  Her hand squeezes my length through my jeans, and my breath hitches. “Cecily, if you don’t slow down…I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I’ve got a condom…”

  She hums and resumes kissing me lightly across my chest. “I’m on the pill. You want me to slow down?”

  I grunt and press my pelvis into her caressing hand.

  “We … fuck me, that’s hot … should probably have a conversation…”

  Breathless, she anticipates my concern. “I’m clean. Just got tested by the school nurse. You?”

  “Clean.”

  “Good.”

  Growling into a passionate kiss, my hands slide up the hem of her hoodie, over her smooth tummy. I caress her there while we kiss, and I keep going, slowly, caressing her higher and higher until I’m cupping her breast. Cecily moan into my mouth. I drag my hand over her nipple, noticing how her body responds to my touch.

  I slide my hand over the front of her leggings, cupping the heat between her thighs, and she sucks in her breath.

  She makes a cute little noise somewhere between a groan and a cat-like growl as she opens up her thighs to me.

  I need her closer for this to work; we’re both hugging and grappling now as we kiss, hemmed in by the table at this booth.

  Out of frustration, I foolishly push the table leg away to give me room as I aim to slide her into my lap. When I do, the table topples over, wine and glasses clattering to the floor.

  Cecily and I both stare at each other, wide-eyed. Then, her look gets heated, and she slides her body over me until she’s straddling my lap, pinning me to the booth, pressing a deep, wet kiss to my mouth. I answer by stroking the seam of her lips with my tongue, and she opens her mouth to me once again, this time with more hunger. With my tongue curling in and out, giving filthy clues of what else I’d love to do to her, I feel heat bloom between her legs.

  Her bottom fits perfectly in my hands, and I cinch her in snugly against my groin. She answers by grinding into me. I let out a groan into her mouth, her tongue teasing, stroking, and licking. Her breasts push against my nearly bare chest, and her arms go around my n
eck.

  I’m so happy and frustrated at the same time. This girl is turned on by me, and I can hardly believe it. I massage her soft rump, provoking her to grind against my jerking cock.

  “Cecily.”

  That’s when she backs up, putting some distance between us, and unzips my zipper. “Is this okay?”

  “No,” I grit out.

  Her eyes go wide, and she snatches her hand back. “Oh?”

  I spit out the words. “I want you to keep your arms around my neck and hold on.”

  Finally, she registers what I’m saying and does what I tell her to do. Her wicked hands out of the way, I quickly tug at her leggings, move her panties to the side, and slip my fingers into her wet folds.

  Her sexy little hissing noises has my cock throbbing. Cecily is wet and warm for me. Her body chases my exploring fingers as I stroke through her slickness, strumming her tight clit. The awareness of what she’s letting me do to her is not lost on me. I need her to know I’m not just messing around. I enjoy making her smile. It’s a challenge I take personally. My hand coated in her slick heat, I sink one finger inside.

  Her cheeks flush hot; she closes her eyes and bites her bottom lip.

  I cover her mouth with mine and suck on that lip, reveling in her moans. She stops to catch her breath for a second, gazing down at me. Her sexy lips are swollen from our kissing, and yet she angles her face down once again, demanding more.

  With one arm stabilizing her spine, I feel the swipe of her long locks as she gyrates against my hand. Reaching up her back, I grab a handful of her hair. The silky mane feels gorgeously soft threaded through my fingers, while my other hand is slick with her sweetness. My thumb swipes her clit once more; she’s getting close. My hand gets lost in her hair, and I grip it tight against her scalp. Gently using this grip to nudge her close, I growl, “I want you to say my name when you come.”

  Cecily rests her head against my forehead as her orgasm crashes over her. She closes her eyes and shouts, “Milo!” I feel her muscles tense and relax around my fingers as I stroke inside her warm, welcoming cunt.

  And then she’s kissing me again, her moans content instead of greedy, and I can’t help but feel proud of myself.

  “Take it out now,” I tell her.

  Cecily unzips my pants and frees my aching cock. She watches me coat it in her essence. Her eyes are wide with wonder as I stroke it once, then twice, slowly.

  “I … I’ve never watched before. I’ve never been sure how what to do with it.”

  “You can watch as long as you want, sweetheart.”

  She licks her lips as my thumb slides up the underside of my length.

  “Is it painful when you’re hard for a long time?”

  I answer, “It can be, but it’s kind of a fun pain.”

  The wonder in her eyes changes to a knowing expression. “I liked it when you pulled my hair.”

  “I got carried away; I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I liked it. I know I mouth off, but I like…stuff like that. Being restrained. Controlled. Told what to do. At least, I think I do. I haven’t trusted anyone to do much of anything.”

  I stroke myself up and down while she watches. “I would take such good care of you if you let me, Cecily.”

  With her arm still around my neck, she leans back and slides her hand down the front of her panties. What have I done to this woman? We’re now moving together like one perverted creature. My hand wrapped in her hair, my other hand pumping my cock, and her hand rubbing inside her panties as she writhes on my lap.

  “Sweetheart, I don’t want to come on you, but it’s coming.”

  She looks down and sees what I mean. Some pre-cum has leaked out and shines on the tip. If I come like this, I’ll spill all over her hoodie.

  She smiles wickedly and says, “Only one thing to do.” Biting her lip, she unbuttons my shirt all the way and then takes my cock in both hands, mimicking my movements. Taking control. I jerk into her grip and release against my stomach with a low, feral, rattling curse.

  My body thrusts forward, taking Cecily for a ride; at the same time, her body tenses with her second orgasm. I fist my hand in her hair again, exposing her graceful neck as she cries out.

  When we finish, she stares at the glistening area on my stomach.

  “I’d better go clean up,” I say.

  “Am I too heavy?”

  Is she serious? “Baby, I only say what I mean. You’ll never have to read between the lines with me.”

  “Still, I don’t want you to leave,” she croons, and it grips my heart.

  Sliding off my lap, she shocks me to my core by crouching down and licking my stomach clean. Her sighs as she licks and nips all over my tummy make me forget about the few extra pounds I’ve put on in recent months. She’s into it all, and blowing my mind more and more by the minute.

  “Baby,” I say, my breath trembling, my hands still gripping her hair as she bites and nibbles playfully.

  “It’s okay,” she says, kissing up my chest. “I’ve always wondered what that would taste like.”

  “No. Baby, what time is your final exam?”

  My sweet Cecily freezes, then hisses a string of curses. She barely allows me to help her straighten her clothes before she’s bolting out the door.

  I have no choice but to run after her to make sure she safely arrives at her exam. And now, I sort of do wish I’d stayed in better shape because damn, she’s fast.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cecily

  I try to focus on this post-Christmas game of Pictionary with my family, but my heart’s not into it.

  Milo and I left things like this: He was waiting for me with a bottle of champagne after my final exam of the semester, and we talked. Instead of going to Mexico, he planned to visit his family in Philly through Christmas. The only flight out with any seats available was in a few hours, but he’d wanted to say goodbye.

  “I’m coming back,” he’d said.

  I believed that he meant it. However, no sooner did he say that when his manager phoned, interrupting our goodbye. I knew he was in real trouble with the publisher, and who knows who else. He had to be shielding me from all of the real trouble. There’s no way he’s rearranging his life for me, a nobody editor of a half-assed student newspaper from Charlotte, North Carolina. And so, even though our temporary goodbye was sweet and sincere, I had a teeny tiny nagging feeling that I might never see him again. I’d spent Christmas Day preparing myself for that fact.

  I occasionally stole glances at my phone. But here at Michael and Cara’s Unabomber cabin in the mountains of western North Carolina, I had no cell service and no WiFi.

  Yesterday was a lovely Christmas with my family, and today after a board game marathon, there’s a group of them headed out for a hike in the woods. I just don’t have it in me, so I offer to stay behind and watch Chloe and Phillip’s youngest baby, Freya, while they join the hiking party.

  Bundling up Freya in a warm outfit, I strap her into a harness and get my steps in while reading to her as I stroll along the wrap-around screened porch.

  Baby books books are dull, for the most part. But I kind of like Winnie the Pooh.

  I’m sort of getting into “Now We Are Six” when suddenly there’s a knock on the screen door. I nearly jump out of my skin. I look over and see a tall, broad silhouette of a man topped with wavy hair. I suck in my breath. Milo.

  “Holy shit,” I breathe, gently clasping the back of Freya’s little head because, I don’t know, protective instinct?

  I march over to the screen door and push it open. “Milo! I didn’t hear you drive up! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Philly.”

  “Three days is about all I can take without you.” His voice sounds extra gravelly. His eyes look tired. “My brother threatened to kick my mopey ass out the door if I didn’t leave to go to you.”

  Nobody has ever pursued me so hard. Or talked about me to his brother. And I find it thrilling. And insane, because how did he find me?

  I ask him that, and he says, “I asked Mrs. Hurley.”

  “Good god, our neighbor?” Mrs. Hurley has slightly mellowed out in the years since Michael and Cara got married. She’s agreed to take in the mail and any parcels from Mom and Dad’s house and Michael and Cara’s. But maybe we’d all trusted her a bit too much if she’s just giving up the location of our holiday hideaway to a total stranger.