Isolation: Book 2 of The Quarantine Series Page 19

  What we have is too good to pass up due to ghosts from the past. I need to get over my fears, and he needs to stop treating me like a porcelain doll.

  I am hell bound on this goal. Digging my nails into his ass, I thrust his hips forward, so his cock hits the back of my throat. I lift my eyes to look at him. His lust-filled eyes flare as he watches me stare at him with his dick in my mouth.

  Milo is squirming, groaning like he can’t take it anymore. He is staring at me with an incredulous look on his face. We keep eye contact as I feel his dick throbbing in my mouth.

  It turns into a frenzy.

  Milo starts thrusting into me punishingly hard, pulling at my hair each time he shoves inside me. My hand shoots up to cup his balls, giving him the last edge he needs.

  He comes hard down my throat. His fist tightens in my hair, and his dick pushes in deeper into my mouth until I am gagging, struggling for air, with painful tears seeping out of my eyes.

  With a final groan, he pulls out of my mouth. Milo lifts me to stand, and drops kisses all over my face.

  A few minutes pass before I watch him leave theroom to dry our clothes. I simply turn around and collapse on his bed. Soon, Milo falls on the bed to join me.

  He shapes my body with his hand and kisses my hair in the gentlest of ways. “Do you want to stay here for the night?”

  Hell no. Milo is already on edge about my subsoncious physiological reactions. I don’t want to risk adding nightmares to that equation, which he will definitely hear if we sleep here together.

  That will be backward momentum when we just took huge a giant step forward.

  “I’d like to go home.”

  CHAPTER 10

  -----------

  Raven

  I tiptoe inside Milo’s room, and place the tray with coffee, juice, and French toast on his nightstand.

  We came home late last night. I waited as long as I could before bringing him breakfast.

  I sit on the bed next to him to inspect if he is close to waking up yet. He looks dead asleep and, of course… dead drop gorgeous as usual.

  Milo doesn’t have the covers over his body. I wonder if he purposely positions himself sexily while he sleeps.

  His boxers are hanging so low that you can see his V-cut running to his lower abdomen. He looks like something sculpted by Michelangelo. Every single part of his body is contoured, and he fucking chose a position to show off all of his assets.

  It’s ridiculously annoying for a man to be this good looking. I am not even into appreciating the physical aspects of men, but his aspects are hard to deny.

  I use my fingers to brush the hair off his eyes so I can see his face more clearly.

  Some time passes before Milo opens his eyes. I beam at him and I am quickly rewarded with that Sinclair megawatt smile. Both of the Sinclair boys know exactly what they are doing with that smile of theirs.

  “Good morning.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “It’s not morning. It’s noon, sleeping beauty.”

  Milo groans and rubs his eyes. “If I am sleeping beauty aren’t I supposed to be woken up by true love’s kiss?”

  I tilt my head. “Do you want me to go find you your Prince Charming?”

  Milo turns his face away dramatically and closes his eyes. He looks so fucking cute. “I can’t hear anything you are saying unless I am kissed and woken up.”

  I laugh again, feeling ridiculous. “That’s bullshit because you just responded to me.”

  “I can’t hear you,” Milo sings with his eyes closed. “This is just me, sleep-talking.”

  “Fine, you fucking liar.” I lean over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Oh, and thank you for the flowers,” I whisper against his cheek. “They are beautiful.”

  Milo had someone deliver flowers to the house and asked Mom to put them in my room. He must have done it while we were at his condo last night.

  His daily efforts make my day. Sometimes it’s coffee, sometimes it’s flowers, sometimes it’s my favorite candy, or anything that reminds him of me.

  My favorite is when he leaves post-it notes in my room with messages. I collect them in the same box where his lunch notes are stored from back in the day.

  “You are welcome.” He gives me that smile again that makes my heart stop. His tone immediately turns demanding. “Now, my other cheek feels lonely.”

  My mouth drops open. “Are you being impossible on purpose? How about you get your ass up so we can have lunch since the breakfast I brought you is now ruined?”

  The tray of food is starting to look sad. The coffee is cold. The French toast looks soggy. I should have woken him up instead of oggling at him for so long.

  Milo slightly opens his eyes to look at the tray of food but he doesn’t make a single attempt to move. “Looks good to me. Feed it to me.”

  This man is going to be the end of me. “No, because that,” I point towards the tray, “looks disgusting. But if you get up, I’ll buy you lunch with some of my new hard-earned cash.”

  “You are offering to be my sugar momma?” His lips quirk up with a smile. “You know what? I have always wanted to be a trophy husband.”

  “Did you now?" I ask dryly. "Is that why you studied so hard and attended Columbia?”

  “Exactly,” Milo says lazily. “I was trying to scope out potential future doctors and lawyers who would want a good looking trophy husband at home to raise the kids.”

  I can’t help playing along. “Ugh,” I sigh exasperatedly. “That sounds genius. Trophy wives have it so good. All they have to do is look good and give good blow jobs.”

  Milo chuckles. “You sound almost envious of trophy wives, baby. I am not opposed to it if you want to change your career path. Might someone be considering giving up their promising career for a life of blow jobs and looking pretty?”

  “Someone is not,” I say indignantly. “I am just pointing out that it’s a genius career path. It requires minimum education and qualifications. It’s the least amount of investment for the highest return in profit.”

  “Sounds like you are envious,” Milo closes his eyes, ready to go back to sleep. “Let me know if you want me to make your dreams come true.”

  “Whatever! Come on Milo, please get up.”

  “Why?”

  That’s a good question. I have no idea why I am trying to wake him up.

  His work hours are odd. Sometimes he works throughout the night and sleeps throughout the day.

  Other times, it’s a regular nine to five job. His sleep schedule is all fucked up like mine. Just because my ass can’t sleep, doesn’t mean others need their beauty sleep disturbed. He might actually need the rest.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were still tired.” I press my palm flat down on the mattress to push myself off the bed.

  “Don’t you dare get off this bed,” Milo warns silkily, with his eyes still closed.

  How did he know? And why the hell did I stop midway because he ordered me to?

  “Can you say please?”

  “Don’t you fucking dare get your cute little ass off this motherfucking bed… please,” Milo throws the words back at me with his own sarcastic twist.

  Whatever. It's as much as I can ever get out of Milo.

  “I’ll take it, you ass.”

  “You will take it in the ass?”

  “No!” I yell at him, feeling mortified. I punch him on the chest. Mily laughs and gives me a suggestive look. I am sure my cheeks are turning bright red. We have never talked about that.

  We haven’t even had sex the normal way yet. I mean, we have, but as far as I am concerned our first time after all these years will be when we both agree to it. I am focused on starting new.

  However, to start new I need clarification on our current relationship. The last time we were together, I waited for Milo to address it. Not this time.

  Milo continuous to allow our families to believe that we are a couple, but we have never discussed it.

  Personally, labels make no difference because I know what he means to me. I am happy to oblige if it’s important to him as long as he can also give me what I need in a relationship.

  So, I need to clarify the things I want out of a relationship.

  “Don’t move,” he suddenly whispers before I can state my intentions.

  “Why?”

  “Just stay there,” he barks another order before jumping off the bed.

  I roll my eyes at his domineering tone. “Just stay there… please,” I correct.

  Milo makes a beeline to the bathroom before tossing over his shoulder, “Yes, yes. You are trying to teach me how to talk to you like you are my equal. Noted.”

  If he knows what I am trying to do then he should apply it in practice more often.

  “Are you saying that I am not? You know, if you want me to be your girlfriend then you have to talk to me as such. You can’t talk to me anymore like I am a high school kid that you boss around.”

  Milo peeks from the open bathroom door with a toothbrush hanging off his mouth. He disappears out of sight to rinse and comes back to the door frame.

  He smirks at me cockily. “You are my girlfriend?”

  My mouth drops open in disbelief. “That’s all you took away from everything I just said?”

  He feigns a pensive look. “Yes, I did. But to be honest, I haven’t sowed my wild oats. I don’t know if I am ready for the commitment or that label.”

  “First, I didn’t say that I was your girlfriend. I said if you want me to be your girlfriend then you have to change your ways. Second, if you don’t want that label then you should probably stop telling people that I’m your girlfriend behind my back,” I retort.

  “Fuck that.” He flashes me his stupid arrogant smile as I shake my head at him.

  I have heard him threaten Brandon continuously to stay away from his girl. Whenever our family members ask about our relationship, Milo slips in the word “boyfriend” multiple times without fail. I have even heard him tell people that I am the future Mrs. Sinclair.

  There is only so much of his behavior that I can discipline.

  My first true sexual experience shaped my preferences in bed, which basically consists of sexually craving Milo. Similarly, both of our first true relationship (if you can call it that), shaped our emotional needs.

  Milo needs the world to know that I am his because he could never say it before.

  As for myself, I need trust, respect and to feel safe around my significant other.

  Feeling safe around Milo is a work in progress. Even Milo understands that, and I am grateful for it.

  We have built trust over the last few weeks. However, I am still struggling with a gut feeling that Milo was behind our families catching us naked. My dad still has trouble looking me in the eyes. The recovery process from the fall has been grueling. And that look on Reid’s face haunts me till the day. I want to believe that there is no way Milo would purposfully put me in such an awful position. However, once broken, trust is hard to rebuild.

  Since safety and trust is fickle, Milo sure as hell will not deprive me of respect. This doesn’t end with respecting my choices. It also means I don’t want to feel cheap, nor will I condone him speaking in a way that I don’t deem acceptable.

  “I am serious, Milo. I already told you what I need from you. I get that it's all a work in progress, but you can be more cognizant about showing me respect.”

  “I’ll do better,” he promises gently.

  “You better,” I point my index finger at him threateningly. “I’m not your ward anymore. While it’s fine in the bedroom, I don’t find it sexy to be bossed around by my partner outside of it.”

  Milo raises his eyebrow, his tone light-hearted again, “Ward? Is this another outdated English word you picked up while in Paris or did you travel back to the eighteenth century for that one.”

  Instead of responding, I close my eyes and collapse backward on the bed, now imagining what it’d be like if we really could travel back in time. I would love to live in Victorian times. It would be so romantic if Milo and I could attend balls and dance waltz.

  My eyes fly open when I feel a pair of lips on me, pulling me out of my dreams of a Victorian world.

  Milo tries not to touch me abruptly anymore. He made sure to stomp back to the bed so I’d hear his footsteps. Then he made a display of rustling around and dipping the mattress extra hard with his knee. I was curious to see how far he was willing to take this. I was half expecting him to ring a gong next.

  He is working on making me feel safe again.

  I smile against his lips and his “sudden move.”

  “I didn’t want to kiss you with morning breath,” he murmurs.

  “You have never had morning breath,” I say it because it’s true. It’s a weird phenomenon.

  He shrugs. “You never know.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist. He smiles down at me, and I almost melt in his arms. Fuck. The way he looks at me, it makes me want to stop breathing. It's like I am the sexiest thing in the world. What is this man doing to me?

  “Hi,” I can’t help but suddenly feel shy under his unnerving gaze.

  “Hey, you,” he says with that usual air of nonchalance.

  How is he always so poised and together? Nothing affects him while I am a nervous blubbering idiot half the time we are together. I wish I could act like him.

  Milo leans in to deepen his kiss, and I moan as he licks across my bottom lip. My heartbeat picks up. My mouth parts to give him more access, and my hands land on his abdomen to explore his body.

  Milo grabs my hand, his eyes darkening. I almost whine. It drives me crazy nowadays if I can’t touch him.

  “I know what you are thinking,” he says in a low growl.

  “You should,” I reply mildly. “I am making it pretty obvious.”

  Milo’s eyelids droop slightly. His gaze lands on my mouth, then trails down my body. “Touch yourself again, baby,” he says hoarsely. “I want to see what you learned yesterday.”

  I’d say that I am a lazy-fuck at best with other men. I am not one for dirty talk or experimenting. But the things I have always been willing to do with Milo shocks me, including what I say next.

  "Do it with me.” I grab his hand and guide both of our fingers between my legs and under my shorts.

  Milo groans like he is about to lose his shit. His hand presses my fingertips on my sex. He doesn’t make a move after that. Instead, he watches my body language. I relax, trying to give him the green light.

  Milo suddenly slides one of my fingers inside me. Then he slides his own blunt middle finger along with mine. I yelp from the sudden shock and nearly come right then and there.

  One of his fingers, along with one of mine, is inside me as we pump together in the same rhythm. Our fingers are dripping from my arousal.

  It’s a simple act, but it feels like the most erotic and intimate thing we have done together.

  “Fuck, Milo,” I bite down on my bottom lip.

  As if sensing my heart palpitation and my manic need, Milo quickly sits up on the edge of the bed and pulls me to his lap. I know he is about to take charge. We both pull our fingers out as he peels my shorts down and spreads my legs apart.

  My eyes close in anticipation. His hand fists my hair, gripping it tightly. His other hand slides between my inner thighs. He slips a finger inside me again, making me gasp.

  “You are always so fucking tight,” he says roughly.

  I shift my hips so I can grab his hard erection through his boxers. I stroke him, but I am barely able to keep my eyes open. Luckily, Milo’s already throbbing.

  I moan as he slides another finger inside me. Every time he retreats, he swirls his fingers around my clit, working me slowly. I am lost. All of my senses are fixated on his touch.

  I feel his cum land on my hand and his low groan in my ear right as I clench. When he growls, “You’re mine,” I also let go with a scream.

  Shaking in his arms, I come down from the orgasm. Milo cleans us up with a Kleenex, and my head somehow hits his pillow.

  He gently pulls my shorts up before covering my face with kisses. I lie with the biggest grin on my face.

  I wonder how I must look to him as he stares down at me, eyes closed, satiated, with a stupid smile plastered on my face.

  There is a whisper in my ear, “Rave?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Did you stay up all night again?”

  I keep doing that. I really shouldn’t. Milo hates my sleep schedule or when I pinch to wake myself up, but he never points it out.