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Spit slicks down his length and I use it to run my hand up and down, working him with my hand and mouth together, wet and filthy and shameless, and every time I moan around him his hips jerk so his cock slides even deeper, choking me.

He curses and apologizes and I do it again on purpose.

"You're gonna kill me," he pants. "You're actually gonna—ah—I take back everything, Brett wasn't stupid, he was fucking blind—"

I laugh around his cock and Miles nearly folds in half.

Then suddenly, his hands are under my arms and I'm airborne, deposited on the narrow bed pushed against one side of the room. Before I can protest the interruption he's turning me, swinging his body around, and—

Oh.

"Miles Stratton. Is this a sixty-nine?"

"Fuck yes, it is," he growls, dragging my jeans and soaked panties down my legs. "You keep doing that thing with your throat, and I get to do this."

He buries his face between my thighs.

I cry out against his hip, because his mouth is ravenous from the start.

His tongue is flat against my clit, hands spreading me open, groaning into me like I'm the reward. I take him back into my mouth just to have somewhere to put the noises, and it becomes the most gloriously unfair competition of my life.

Every time I get a rhythm going, he sucks my clit and my rhythm dies. Every time he gets me shaking, I swallow him deep and his rhythm dies.

The bet is collapsing. Neither of us cares.

Then Miles lifts his head, breathing hard, lips shining.

"Audrey. Last time you set a boundary. No sex. If you want to stop there again, we stop there. No questions."

And I love him a dangerous amount for asking first.

But I'm done stopping.

I climb off him, push his shoulders flat to the mattress, and swing my leg over his hips. His cock slides against my pussy, hot and slick with my own wetness, and his hands grip my thighs hard enough to leave prints.

"I want you," I tell him, reaching down for his dick, lining him up. "More than I've ever wanted anyone. And not just because you're enormous and gorgeous and built like a Greek statue that hauls trees."

I sink down an inch and watch his eyes lose focus.

"But because you're kind. You listen. You notice what I like. You gave me an ornament instead of life advice when that's not what I need right now."

I sink another inch lower and bite my lip as his breath shatters.

"You make me feel wanted without making it something I have to earn."

"Audrey—"

I sit all the way down in his lap, taking him completely.

"And fuck," I breathe, starting to move, "you have the most amazing dick. Oh, Miles. Yes."

I ride him slow at first, hands braced on his chest, watching his control disintegrate exactly the way I hoped it would.

His hands slide up my body, palm my breasts, thumbs dragging over my nipples while he tells me how tight I am, how wet, how he's thought about this since the snowbank on a mountain road.

"You feel—Christ—you were made for riding cock, look at you—taking every inch like—" His voice fractures as I roll my hips and sink back down. "Nobody has ever—nobody—"

I speed up, and he fights it, fingers digging into my hips, trying not to thrust up, trying to let me win, and watching this mountain of a man come apart underneath me heals something Brett spent years breaking.