House Rules(61)
I climbed from the car and sent a quick text to Miller.
Me: Where are you?
Not a second later and my phone rang. “Hey, Sexy.”
“Where are you?”
There was a grunt and a pained moan in the background.
“Dad and I had a few things we had to handle. I won’t be long. Grab a drink and I’ll bring dinner.”
“Okay.”
The sounds were a blatant reminder of exactly what Miller did. Standing next to my car, I had the opportunity to drive away at the reminder, or stay and ignore what he did.
Because I cared about him more than I thought I would, I stepped up to the house, punched the code in, and walked inside.
“I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
For the first half and hour, I wandered around the house. For a man who was willing to break bones for not paying their debts, his home was a sanctuary. Books lined the shelves, and there were picture frames dotted throughout.
When I got bored with snooping, I went into the great room to watch some TV—anything but sports. At least it would help pass the time.
After about an hour or so my phone rang again.
“Hello,” I answered.
“Sorry, babe. That took longer than I thought. I’m on my way home now.”
Home. The idea of home being with Miller made my pulse quicken. A part of me loved the sound, while the other part feared it.
“It’s okay. I gave myself a tour, checking out all your things.”
He laughed. He’d given me a tour the first morning we’d woken up in his bed together and since then I’d been there enough to know every room in the house as if it were my own. Adding to that, Miller had made it a mission to christen every room in both of our places. With only four rooms at my place, we’d already finished there.
But Miller’s place was much bigger.
“Really? And which room did you find yourself in?”
I leaned back on the couch and flicked off the TV. I had a feeling this conversation was about to get a whole lot more interesting. “The great room.”
There was a low hum over the line. “We haven’t been in there yet.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“That couch is high enough for me to get on my knees and taste you until you scream my name over and over again.”
“Oh god.”
The promise in his voice was overwhelming. Miller had a way of taking me to new heights of sexual frustration through his words alone. My body responded in kind.
“Can you picture it in your mind?”
I flipped the button on my jeans and moved my hand beneath the waistband, between my legs.
“Mmmhmm.”
“Tess?”
“Yes?” My voice was low, raspy.
“Are you touching yourself?”
I barely pushed out an answer, my brain focused solely on each stroke of my finger.
“Fuck, that is so goddamn sexy. You better not come until I get there. I want to see,” he growled.
“Hurry,” I panted.
“On my way.”
The line went dead and I slipped my finger deep inside of me but it wasn’t the same. I wanted—no, I needed Miller.
My mind was a haze of lust and I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I heard the door in the kitchen slam.
“Jesus Christ, I could come watching you.”
I moved my eyes up to the doorway where Miller stood, his eyes firmly locked on the movement of my hand. He stalked forward, reaching me in mere seconds, his clothes dropping haphazardly on the floor around him. I could feel the coiling of my muscles and I knew it wouldn’t be long. Miller’s hand came down on mine stopping all movement.
“No,” I whined. The orgasm had been so close. Just a few seconds more.
“I told you not to come until I got here.”
“But you’re here now.”
“Yes.” He gripped the top of my pants and yanked them to the floor, my underwear following quickly behind. “And now it’s my turn.”
He dropped to his knees. Lifting one of my legs, his tongue traced a path up my ankle to the top of my thigh, stopping right at the crease. My muscles quivered, anticipation tightening my thighs.
“Miller, please.” I wanted his mouth in a whole different place than it was.
Our gazes connected. He switched legs and without breaking eye contact, he followed the same path as before. This time I was ready and sunk my fingers into his dark locks. He stopped and chuckled.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
“Miller, don’t tease.”
“Or what?” A smirk lifted the corner of his lips.
“Or I’ll go upstairs and let the shower head do the work.”
“We wouldn’t want that.” He gripped the inside of my thighs and pushed them apart. My body practically melted when his tongue took the first swipe through me. The man was a master. Soon heat became the only thing I could feel, my hand clenching and unclenching against his scalp as he sucked hard on my clit, my back bowing off the couch.