He pulled my sweatpants down and slid a finger inside of me.
I should have been embarrassed about how wet I was. But I wasn’t embarrassed at all. How could I be when he groaned by just touching me?
“Do you remember now?” he asked, sliding another finger inside of me.
God.I lifted my hips and he pushed them back down with his free hand.
His fingers slowed down. “Did you dream of me too, Brooklyn?”
What was he doing? The slow pace was driving me insane.
“How long have you wanted me to touch you like this?” His thumb traced slow circles on my clit.
I moaned.
“Tell me you thought of us too.” He moved his fingers even slower.
Fuck.
“When you crawled into my bed at night? Right after I’d jacked off thinking about you? Did you want me then?”
“Yes,” I panted.
“Did you want me to fuck you with my fingers? Did you want me to eat your delicious pussy?”
Jesus.“Yes,” I moaned.
“How long have you wanted that?”
“Forever.”
He laughed.
God.I couldn’t be mad at him for laughing. I was so fucking close. So fucking…oh God. Yes.I felt myself clench around his fingers.
The guttural noise that escaped his throat made the sensation a hundred times better.
I’d come imagining this before. The real thing was better. So much freaking better. Miller seemed to like handing out orgasms. I was just about to beg for more when his fingers fell from my skin.
I opened my eyes and he was sitting on the floor, staring up at me on the couch.
“These look better on you,” he said and lifted the sweatpants back in place.
Despite what we’d just done…he looked…distant. “Not accurate. They look amazing on you.”
He leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand as he stared at me. “This was the best Christmas present I could possibly ask for.”
“Then why do you look so sad?”
He continued staring into my eyes. “I don’t want to be your backup plan, kid.”
“You’re not.”
He sighed and turned away from me, staring at the fire. “You deflected the question before. Have you been with him this whole time?”
“Miller…”
“Have you?”
