Chapter 89

Three hours later, Miles has satisfied me in almost every way a man can satisfy a woman. All of my bones are liquid, I don’t think I could find the strength to move from my spot on this bed if a fire broke out right next to me.

Miles, however, already seems ready for another round, his vitriol unmatched.

He’s spooning behind me, his hand on my waist, tracing nonsense shapes across my skin. Slowly, those fingers are wandering northwards, teasing the undersides of my breasts.

I hum pleasantly, my body coming alive again. I’ve lost track how many times I’ve climaxed tonight, but with Miles, it never seems like enough. As deeply blissed out as I am, I’m always ready for whatever else he’s willing to give.

“Miles…”

“Again?” he asks, voice hot in my ear.

I roll toward him. Keeping my arms stretched out above my head, I put myself on full display for him. I’m a banquet ready for him to feast upon.

He grins like a hellion for a moment, taking in the sight of me, admiring it all like he hasn’t spent the last three hours touching and tasting every square inch of my naked body.

He very much looks like he wants to do so again.

“I might not have as much energy as before,” I say. “I want you so much… but I’m already jelly form…”

Miles leans in and presses his lips to mine. “Then leave it to me, baby. You’ve done enough, riding me so well the past two times. Let me be the one to take us there now.”

“Take us where?” I ask, easing my thighs apart. Gently, he rolls into the space between them.

One of his hands finds mine on the pillow above my head and he laces our fingers together. I hold on tight as he lines himself up with my entrance and starts guiding himself back inside of me.

“To pleasure, Esther. Again and again.”

When he’s down to the hilt, I sigh in contentment, not realizing how empty I felt without him.

His free hand goes under my thigh, lifting it further, allowing him to sink in even deeper.

“Ah…” I sigh. It feels so good. I start to think it can’t get better than this.

But then he starts to move. He’s languid with his thrusts, moving the full of his hips, rocking inside of me, then out, then back again.

“Esther…” he breathes, his eyes going hooded, but his gaze, as ever on me. “You are so fucking beautiful…”

He says the words with reverence, like a prayer. It makes me feel like a sexy goddess and this, making love, is my act of blessing upon him.

I’ve never felt so worshiped, so adored, with anyone but Miles.

Maybe if I could think anything beyond “Yes,” and, “More,” I might be afraid by the strength of my own adoration of Miles. As it is presently, I just don’t want this night to ever end.

Miles squeezes my hand. We’re in this together.

I hold onto that thought for as long as I can.

But then Miles changes angles, shortening his thrusts, angling them upwards inside.

He hits that tender spot inside of me, and all thought is lost.

I throw my head back on the pillow and scream. “Miles!”

I must black out. That’s what I realize when I blink my eyes awake to find Miles very gently wiping my body down with a damp washcloth. He’s sitting up beside me, his pajama bottoms on.

When he sees that I’m awake, he helps me sit up and then has me drink some water.

“You alright?” he asks, and while I can tell he’s concerned, I also detect a sense of smugness behind his expression.

I nod and drink more water. My body is pleasantly sore. I’ve never in my life been so complete relaxed. All of my problems feel a million miles away.

“Esther?”

“I’m okay,” I say. “Better than okay.”

Miles’s grin stretches wide. “Good. That’s what I was going for.”

“I would have thought it would be obvious,” I tell him. I set aside the water and settle back down onto the blankets. He tosses aside the washcloth and joins me.

“I’ve never given it so good the girl’s passed out before,” Miles says.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” I tease.

“Too late,” he replies.

I put my hand on his face and push him away from me. We both laugh.

“I thought women liked to cuddle after,” he says. “Yet here you are, pushing me away.”

I grab his shoulder and tug him back toward me. He coils around me like a snake and even more happiness washes through me.

We doze for a while, or at least I do, but Miles stays very still.

Eventually, my stomach starts to grumble. Cynthia and I never did have dinner.

“Throw something on,” Miles says. “I’ll order room service.”

Twenty minutes later, we are sitting at the same two person table in the elaborate hotel room, eating lobster tails and caviar off of silver dishware. I’m back in my t-shirt and yoga pants but without a bra this time. Miles is still in his silky black pajama bottoms and nothing else.

Our conversation has been normal for a while, talking about the weather and the local sports teams. My brain still isn’t firing on all cylinders. That sex was so good it really rattled my head.

Then, Miles says, “Esther, I want you.”

I laugh. “I don’t think I could have any more sex tonight even if I wanted to.” With Miles, I probably wanted to. After an orgasm so powerful that I blacked out though, we should probably give my body a moment to recover. “At least let me finish eating.”

I’m making a joke of it, but Miles isn’t laughing.

Looking at him, I can see how serious he is.

“I’m not talking about just tonight,” he says. “I want you.”

I still don’t understand. “Like… all the time…?”

“Anytime I can have you.”

I lower down my silverware and lean forward. “Be clearer, Miles. What do you mean?”

“I want you, Esther Owens, to be my lover. And I mean that in any and all ways that you will allow.”

His face is dead serious. There’s no teasing here.

But what does he mean by lover? Does he mean a girlfriend? Would we go on dates? Or does he mean something more physical?

It’s hard to tell with him. Honestly, I’m not sure which one I want the answer to be.

My feelings for Miles are confusing. There are times when I want him in all the ways a woman could want a man, as a lover, a friend, a partner. But then I think of Garnar, of how much I wanted him too back in the day. Miles is not Garnar, but I’m still frightened.

My divorce was finalized only two days ago. Am I really ready to jump into something new? Shouldn’t I wait to discover myself? Isn’t that what divorcees usually do?

Yet I find myself not wanting to dismiss him outright. This sex has blown my mind, rocked my body, and let me begging for more. I also enjoy Miles’s company more than I probably should.

“We can be lovers,” I say, “But only in terms of physical intimacy.”

If Miles is disappointed, it only lasts a moment. Something’s in his eyes, but he blinks and it’s gone in the next moment. Instead, he smiles like a cat who has caught the canary, his eyes alight with pleasure.

He says, “You won’t be disappointed.”

I believe him.