His thrusts are slow and shallow at first, his other hand caressing my jaw, soothing me as he fingers my ass. “Let me know when you want more.”
“More,” I say immediately, not knowing if it’s true. My dick thinks it is. I have to get up on my knees or risk leaving a permanent dent in the massage table.
“You like it.” Miller’s voice is almost hypnotic as he adds another finger to the first. “Don’t you, Mr. Cage?”
I puff out a laugh and reach for his cock. “You’ve got too many clothes on, Mr. Smartass.”
He pushes his sweatpants down and presses his thighs against the table near my face as he fucks me with his fingers. “Is that better?”
“Fuck, yes,” I groan, straining to take him in my mouth. I wrap my arm around his hips and pull his body into my face, letting him fuck my mouth as he fucks my ass.
If I die with his fingers in my ass, his dick in my mouth and Peruvian flutes playing in the background, I’ll haunt him, I swear to God. I’ll die happy, but there will be haunting.
We’re a jumble of moans and oil and body parts, sucking and touching and begging for more. Somehow, even during his climax, he’s able to keep fucking my ass with his skilled fingers. Luckily, I lift my mouth from his cock before he starts massaging my prostate, because I come so hard I bite my tongue and nearly sprain my neck again.
“Fuck, Miller, that was…” I can’t finish. He knows.
I’m not sure I have any muscles left in my body. After the massage and that orgasm, it might be a while before I can get off this table.
“Welcome back,” Miller says with a breathless laugh, adjusting his pants and reaching for a wet towel to wipe off his hands.
“Surprise,” I say weakly from the massage table, or as I like to call it, my new home. “Honey, I’m home.”
He doesn’t respond to that, and I lift my head and set my chin on my crossed arms as he busies himself around the room. “I’m sorry it took three days to get back.”
“I understand.”
There’s no way he can. “My father kept accidentally running into people he wanted me to meet. Do you know why he wanted to see me in the first place?”
“No. Why?”
“Good old dad seems to think I’m a viable commodity again, and he wants me to take a more active role in the company. Public relations, to be specific. And this is the good part,” I say with a grimace. “It was all because of that damn video.”
“You’re an internet sensation, Brendan. Have you been in a cave? There’s a petition for you to get a medal or a key to the city, if you can believe it. They’re calling you Captain America. Why shouldn’t we use that kind of free publicity and goodwill to our advantage?”
Asshole.
“Did you say yes?”
“Did I—Are you listening to me, Miller?” A thought occurs to me and I stare at him in disbelief. “You thought I wasn’t coming back, didn’t you?”
Miller doesn’t look at me, but seeing his profile now, I really do like that haircut. It makes me smile until he opens his mouth.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to get your things before you went back to work, flying off to parts unknown, no. But the surprise was nice.”
“Okay, I’m greased up and naked, but we’re doing this now.”
He spins on his heel, looking nervous. “Doing what now? There’s nothing we need to be doing.”
“You know.” I point at him and climb off the table, wrapping the sheet around my waist like a giant towel. “You know me and you know what it is that we’ve been doing together.”
“Sex?”
I jam my hand through my hair. “Why are you making it less than it is? Why do you keep trying to push me out the door? Have I given you any mixed signals? Acted like I was unhappy with how this was working out?”
He shakes his head, eyes just a little too wide. “There were no signals to mix. We’re friends. We had se—”
“I’m in love with you, friend. How’s that for a signal?”
Miller’s expression closes and he moves quickly to the door. “No, you’re not. Get dressed and we’ll talk about this later.”
“No, I’m not?”
I don’t beat him to the door, but I’ll be damned if that stops me from following after him. “Stop running away from me, Miller Day.”
The murmurs that make the day spa machine run come to a screeching halt at the sound of my voice and Miller’s face turns a shade of red I haven’t seen before. “Get dressed,” he grits out. “We’re not talking about this here.”
“We’re not talking about it at home either. So why shouldn’t we do it here? I’ve been told I suck at romance more times in the last few weeks than I want to admit, but here I am, making a grand gesture. Telling you I lo—”