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Guys my age could learn from him. Even at twenty-nine, five years younger than me, he took the time to discover what pleased me instead of what got him off.
There are the Joan Claytons of the world—women like Justice who color-code their linens and believe in soulmates. I never felt an itch to attach forever to a partner. I’m with the Toni Childs of the world—those who try you on for size before swapping you out with their outfits. Relationships slow you down and expose you to wounds. She tried the “I do,” and look what happened. I’ve seen a loveless marriage up close. Now, I’m witnessing the aftermath of a broken love story with my best friend. I’ll pass.
The best way to get over a man is to get under a new one, right?
“You want to play with me tonight. Consider it a gift. My vagina is perfection.” I lean back and look at the obvious tent in Miles’s pants. “Don’t challenge me. You’ll lose every time.”
How in the hell did dinner turn into cohabitation and me moving to California for a month? I’ll be damned on both fronts.
Miles is pulling emotions out of me like he was meant to be part of my life.
Lingerie is more than an accessory for sex. There’s a confidence that comes with knowing you’re the shit, that your body is worthy of love and praise.
“I want to keep you safe, kitten. Will you let me?” I keep my voice calm and my gaze steady. I’d set the world on fire if anyone harmed her.
The massage to my clit with slow drags of his tongue is my undoing. I try to wiggle free, but he doubles down, burying his face with a satisfied groan. I need his dick. Now.
Emma’s body quivers under me, tightening the vise grip of her thighs, which are about to pop my head off. “What you running for?” I nip her clit. My hands curl around her outer thighs to pull her further into my mouth.
“It’s okay.” I tear my eyes away from him. “What?” “To let him love the parts you don’t think are lovable.”