Steal away... [NC-17]
It had been an enjoyable day, as time with his family usually was, but in the lull between conversations, presents, and the large Christmas dinner, Miles’ mind would drift to his plans for the evening without fail. Shortly after 7:00, he said his goodbyes and promised to visit soon. If the early departure earned him a few questioning looks, no one felt the need to press for an explanation. Once home, he showered quickly and changed into a pair of denims and the slate jumper Regan had helped him pick out, foregoing shoes now that he was in his own space.
A small, carefully wrapped package sat on the end table beside his sofa, its contents picked after hours of thoughtful consideration. Something lovely and delicate, like Regan, that he hoped would show her just how much he cared. He knew she trusted him, but he wanted to make her as easy about her decision to stay the night with him as he could. It was both a heady thing and nerve-wracking, knowing what she was entrusting to him. Miles wanted to be worthy of that trust, and to make sure she never regretted it.
Fluttering anxiously at her vanity mirror, Regan fiddled with the pink silk sash of her wrap dress, straightening the bow for the dozenth time since she'd escaped Tess' room to come change half an hour previously. She'd read half the imp's new books with her since they'd settled down early in the evening, and though she was certain her 'little siss' was still awake, Tess would have to settle for being tucked in by just Gwen and Jonathan for the night. Any more of Gwen's arch looks at her fidgeting would necessitate actual flight from the house.
With a last glance at her reflection, hoping silently that her efforts would be well-received, she shouldered the strap of the small bag she'd packed for the night and collected Miles' gift from the end of the bed, tucking the brightly-wrapped oblong parcel under one arm. She drew a deep breath and released it, then tugged her wand from her hair to make the trip to Wellburn.
Light in the far end of the house let her know that Miles was home, and she navigated the few rooms to the lounge, beset with a delighted smile and a trill of excitement to find him waiting before the fire. "Happy Christmas, Miles," she greeted, crossing the room as she spoke.
“Happy Christmas, Regan,” he replied, turning from the fire to meet her halfway across the floor. Slipping the bag from her shoulder, Miles set it down on the floor, then collected the package from her arm and set it on the table next to Regan’s gift. Having rendered his girl unencumbered, he gathered her into his arms and brushed a light kiss across her lips. “I’ve missed you. This holiday busyness has taken up far too much of our time. I’m glad to be done with it.”
"Missed you too," she breathed, sliding her arms around him and pressing herself close. She still couldn't define the aura that existed inside the circle of Miles' embrace, calming her immediately despite his being the cause of her nerves, but she was intensely grateful to find herself within it once more, and relaxed as he held her. It wasn't until she'd returned his kiss, happily ensconced in his grasp, that Regan realized how tightly strung she'd been all day, waiting for this moment, and she gave a fleeting thought to making an apology to Gwen.
Releasing a tiny sigh, she hid her face in Miles's neck, letting his presence wash over her until she could be still and steady, admitting quietly, "I needed this. Not being able to see you is torturous."
Miles held her, hands soothing as they slowly moved over her back, until she seemed to relax, then settled them on sofa. Since they’d seen each other last, he’d been busy with work - the courts always tried to clear their docket before the holidays - and it was only when he was alone in the evenings that he’d had time to dwell on the absence of the woman in his life, and he felt it keenly enough in those moments. By her own admission, Regan had a more open schedule, and thus more time to ponder the things she missed when he was tied up with work.
“It’s been hard,” he agreed, draping an arm over Regan’s shoulder, “but thankfully, the holiday has passed and we’re together again. I hope your day with your family was pleasant, and that Tess eased the torture with excited squeals over her gifts.”
"She did, in fact," Regan allowed, snuggling into Miles's side with an air of contentment, "and I didn't mean that all of the intervening time was unpleasant; it was lovely to see everyone, Gwen's family as well as my brother and his lady houseguest, and I'm as glad that those things were as I am that they're finished now and I can be here."
She mapped the knit pattern of his jumper across his chest with a fingertip, her eyes falling to that as she continued. "I've come to be quite fond of you, though, such that you're... well... a tiny bit home, now, and it's something difficult not to have, when I can't. Is that horribly forward and off-putting?" she worried aloud, glancing up sharply to see whether he looked upset at the idea.
Dropping a kiss on her nose, he shook his head. “Hearing that you care for me and want me to be an active part of your life could never be off-putting,” Miles assured her, twining a lock of blonde hair around his finger. “Besides, I could hardly hold such an opinion against you when it very nearly mirrors my own.”
She was not specifically ‘home’ for him, but Miles did feel that Regan belonged with him, and he wished for her when she was not where he wanted her to be. The way she looked to him for reassurance, comfort, affection - it made him feel greater than the sum of his parts. It made him strive to be what she wanted and needed him to be for her. “And you needn’t worry about being forward. Forward doesn’t bother me a bit.”
"I had noticed that you didn't seem to mind, possibly that you even enjoy when I'm a bit of a strumpet," Regan acknowledged, her enthusiasm renewed with Miles' affirmation of her attachment to him. "I was raised to be ladylike, though, so I do worry, and you've been exceedingly noble... I feel as though I ought to try to act accordingly."
He couldn’t have stopped the laugh that burst forth even if he’d been inclined to try. ‘Strumpet’ was about as far from anything he might associate with Regan as ‘murderer’ might be. “Somehow I think you’re being far too generous with my behaviour and far too harsh on your own, but you are correct that I enjoy knowing I’m not the only one feeling the pull of attraction, and I count myself very fortunate to have your affection as well.” Smile turning wry, he added, “I’d hate to think you were after me for mere carnal pleasures.”
Though 'carnal pleasures', as Miles put it, had certainly been in her thoughts of late, and she'd never felt, nor even thought to be, so impelled to seek such intimacy of touch so eagerly, it was the solace of his presence that she craved like air to breathe, and she was loathe to have him believe otherwise. She knew he was teasing, but blushed hotly regardless,dropping her eyes away from his to murmur in promise, "I would behave, if you wanted me to. You've only to say."
“You behave just fine, Regan. I wouldn’t change you even a little.” That she wanted to be pleasing to him made his heart warm, but what pleased him most was to see her affected by his presence and to surprise herself with her own response. “Well,” Miles continued after pausing in thought, “maybe a very little, mainly to do with positioning.” Giving the little blonde a wink, he lifted her into his lap. “That’s better. Now, give me a proper strumpet’s kiss and perhaps I’ll let you have your gift.”
Smiling at the taunt, Regan wound her arms about Miles and pressed her lips to his, licking lightly at his mouth in suggestion and surrendering happily as he responded in kind. She thrilled at the depth of his passion and the subtle game of its building, coaxing with darting tastes for him to feed at her and claim her submission. That he so rarely exerted his will over her only made the chase of its power more alluring, and the strength of his hands, gripping her more tightly as he drank of her, pulled a gasp from her throat.
Miles plundered her mouth, swallowing Regan’s tiny gasps and little noises as they spilled from her lips. She was so responsive, eager to learn and try whatever he wanted to teach her, and a low growl rose from his throat as his mind touched on what more he would show her later this night. He wanted her, there was no denying that, but it was the image of her hands fluttering over his skin, restless and wanting as he tasted her, entered her, made her cry out in pleasure, that tested his control.
Forcing his hands to hold her gently, he slowly eased himself back from the edge of his desire. He pulled away from her lips to skim the length of Regan’s throat, breathing in her soft scent. It calmed him “Mmm. A proper strumpet’s kiss.” Miles picked the small package from the end table and straightened to meet her gaze as he handed it to her. “You’ve earned your present.”
Breathless and no doubt looking, as Miles had once termed it, 'thoroughly snogged'', Regan simply observed the neat parcel pressed into her grasp for a long moment, slowly acquiring a handle on the part of herself that railed at being parted from sating its thirst, even temporarily. Settling herself to curl in his arms once more, she glanced up to Miles before beginning to divest her gift of its wrapping. The box beneath was plain, and she removed the lid curiously, a delighted smile forming as its contents was revealed. "It's beautiful," she said reverently, lifting the bracelet free to place it on her wrist, turning her arm to and fro to admire the craftsmanship. "You know, I've a necklace a bit like this that I adore, but I didn't think I'd worn it for you... it's perfect, truly."
Turning her face up, she traced her fingers along his cheek and stretched to kiss him. "Thank you," she hummed as she drew away, "and you'll have to give my thanks to Father Christmas for my scarf, as you seem to be so well acquainted"
“I’ll be sure to pass the message along,” Miles promised, leaning close to nip at her lower lip. Indulging in a leisurely kiss, he pulled back before he could get caught back up in his lovely girlfriend. “I’m glad you like the bracelet. It looks beautiful on you.”
Savoring the glow of her happiness, she followed the pattern of pearls with a fingertip one last time, then slid from Miles' lap to collect his gift from the table, placing it across his knees and tucking herself against his side. "Now you," she requested, hoping her own idea would be appreciated, despite its turn for function over pure aesthetic.
The grin on his face seemed to be fixed for the time being. Miles was thrilled that Regan liked her present. He’d debated his purchase heavily, and her reaction was just what he’d hoped.
Lifting the package she’d set before him, he peeled back the bright paper and opened the box. Inside lay a dozen finely crafted quills and a bottle of the highest quality ink, and Miles fingered one smooth, balanced shaft appreciatively. “Thank you, love. These will serve me very well.” A mischievous gleam in his eye, he carefully dipped one of the quills in ink, then reached for Regan’s hand. The point of the quill scratched lightly over the inside of her wrist as the words ‘Begin here’ took shape. “Very smooth flow,” he murmured.
Regan's eyes widened as ink appeared on her skin, her smile fading as her nose wrinkled in mildly horrified distaste. She cast mentally about for her wand, realizing after a moment that it was in her bag across the room. Directing a woeful look to Miles, she jangled her fingers in his grasp, insisting quietly, "Off," and belatedly, "please."
Miles regarded her with mild surprise as his attempt at playfulness was met with entirely the opposite reaction from what he’d intended. Unsheathing his wand, he cleaned the writing from her skin. He shook his head with a rueful grin, observing, “Well, I guess we’ve established that I am not as smooth as my new quills.” Lifting the now unsoiled wrist to his lips, his kissed it gently. “My apologies, love.”
"The sentiment was appreciated, if not the method," Regan muttered, half to herself, as she tried to crush the unpleasant memory he'd raised unwittingly. "I don't like ink," she offered guardedly, her eyes flicking to Miles' as his lips brushed her skin.
His sincerity made her feel guilty for being cross in the first place, and she rose to her knees to kiss him, making her own apology, of sorts. "I'm glad you like the quills, though I've ruined your first fun with them. They're cut specifically to your penmanship, so if you run out, Aron has all the details and can send another set. You spend so much time writing... I thought you ought to have something lovely and comfortable to use."
“It was very thoughtful, and I like them very much.” He set the box of quills and ink aside and tugged her into his lap again. Regan had shadows; he’d noted them before and had yet to press her on them, but it was his lack of digging into Reese’s history that had allowed her to be abducted and separated from her child for over a year. It was not a mistake he intended to make again. Lifting her chin until she met his gaze, Miles was sober. “I cannot take care of you the way I should if you keep things from me. Today isn’t the time, but soon I’m going to have questions that will need answers.”
Reading the weight in his regard, Regan nodded, catching her lower lip between her teeth as she worried over the thought of telling all the things she should, if she intended Miles to be the one to take care of her in the way he meant. “Some of them aren’t my secrets to share,” she whispered, knowing even as she spoke that it didn’t matter, “but you are right. I will answer you, when you ask. I don’t mean to cause you worry.”
“Good girl,” he praised, petting down her long blonde hair in a soothing manner. The bit he knew about her life included parts that had obviously affected Regan’s feelings of self-worth and assurance; it was hardly surprising that there were areas she kept private, but Miles cared about her a great deal and he was not willing to risk failing another woman who’d claimed residence in his heart as he had with Reese.
Cupping her face, he brushed his thumb lightly over Regan’s cheek and leaned in to capture her tooth-worried lips. The kiss was gentle and unhurried, meant to lull and reassure her rather than feed the heat that still simmered inside him. When he pulled away, he murmured, “You are too important to me to be careless with.”
His words balmed the echo of fear that had descended, the sweet surety of his kiss quieting the hissing malcontent of memory and rekindling longing. "You couldn't be," she affirmed, turning to press a kiss into Miles' palm as he cradled her face, "and I know you never would, willingly. It's loud about you, actually... that's why you feel like home."
Miles was pleased she understood his intentions and the seriousness with which he took the task of caring for a woman. His eyes followed, dark and intent, as she turned and brushed a kiss to the hand at her cheek, the image stirring the banked coals of his desire. “You feel like mine,” he said, voice low. Fingers curling in her hair, he used the grip to tip her face up to meet him as he moved to capture her mouth again.
The growled claim of possession shot a jolt of awareness through her, heat pooling in her stomach as Miles' lips covered hers. A muffled whimper escaped as his grasp tightened, the control demanded by his grip making every nerve sing with anticipation. Fisting her own hands in his jumper, Regan pivoted to slide one knee across her perch, settling astride Miles' lap and subsiding in his embrace, an answering smile appearing at the crooked twist to his expression as he raised his head a long moment later.
Eager, her blood thrumming along in her veins, she suggested, "You really ought to unwrap your other gift."
He couldn’t disagree with her statement. Unwrapping his other ‘gift’ sounded like an excellent idea. Expression turning predatory, Miles stood, lifting Regan with him. He would not be enjoying the next part of their evening, his lady’s first of this kind, on his sofa. “A task best performed upstairs, I think,” he said as he started them up the stairs to his bedroom, nibbling gently on her ear as he trekked the familiar path.
Setting Regan down when they reached their destination, Miles trailed his fingers along the exposed edge of her dress until he came to the bow that held it closed. She literally was a present, just waiting to be opened, and he tugged lightly at the end of silk sash. Forcing himself to be patient a little longer, he queried, “You’re certain you want this?”
Standing before him, steps from his bed, Regan’s eyes followed the narrow pink line of the tie to where it lay in Miles’ hand, then tracked up his arm and shoulder to level with his even gaze, surprised by the sense of peace that overlay all else. There was the persistent tremor of her excitement, making each millimeter of her skin feel alert with anticipation of his touch, and curiosity, a thirst for the experience she’d but tasted with Miles thus far, but her butterflies were more interested in reminding her of the shattering pleasure her lover could create than feeding into anxiety, and she was certain. Even with no sense of what the future might hold, she would want this night with him, and knowing that he hoped for more made an absolute surety easy to accept.
She held herself still, the clear green of her gaze steady, and answered simply, “Yes.”
Miles gave a shallow nod of acknowledgement, content with the confidence of her reply and glad that she’d given it proper consideration. His eyes remained on hers as he pulled the tie at her waist, peripherally aware of the way the fabric of her dress relaxed when the knot pulled free. Kissing her softly, his hands moved to open the untied sheath and let it slide down Regan’s slender arms to pool at her feet. The sight left before him brought a storm to his sea green eyes; no longer hidden was a pink negligee in chiffon and lace, the inverted ‘V’ at its front creating a tempting window to porcelain skin.
Lowering himself to a knee, his fingers skimming lightly down her sides along the way, he removed first one dainty shoe and then the other. His gaze traveled slowly upward, admiring first Regan’s bare legs, the gentle curve of her hips leading to a narrow waist, and the petite breasts his mouth longed to taste. Brushing a kiss to the cream of her stomach, Miles rose again and drew her close. “My beautiful girl,” he whispered before drinking at her mouth.
The carefully-controlled heat in Miles' eyes and the ghost of his lips across her skin provoked a shiver, gooseflesh trailing in its wake. She was pleased that her choice of underthings appeared to serve its purpose, the spark of recognition from Miles lending her a contented warmth as she swayed close to him, curling a hand at his neck and tasting him in turn.
The casual contact of his arms around her, the light press of his hands through the wispy material still covering her was nearly more distracting than if she'd been without it, the kiss of lace echoing his touch and firing the ache of want. Hesitantly, Regan slipped her hands to the hem of his jumper, raising a questioning gaze as Miles released her mouth, both of them pulling in sips of air. Tugging at the fabric, she waited, keenly aware of the elevated throb of her pulse.
“Go ahead, love,” Miles encouraged, helpfully lifting his arms and bending so she could wrangle the jumper over his head. A crooked smile twisted his lips as Regan tossed it aside, and he fingered the lacy edge of the babydoll she still wore. “I feel like I ought take more time to appreciate how lovely you look in this, but to be honest, I’m more inclined to appreciate how lovely you look without it just now.” Gathering the fabric in his hands as they slid the nearly translucent garment from her body, he hummed his approval of the visual feast that remained. Her face was tinted pink, though Regan’s eyes were glazed with anticipation and want, and Miles wrapped his arms around her, eager to feel the caress of her skin against his own.
The short, oddly crisp hair against her skin tickled, and Regan wriggled, her eyes flying wide as the motion's unexpected caress sent sweet-sharp stabs of sensation zipping through her, twining to coil in her belly as a weighted heat. The surprised puff of breath that escaped was followed by a soft needy sound, and she reached to tug Miles' lips back to her own. The memory of having his mouth other places made her long to pull him to the bed, beg for the same attention, but she knew there was time, and that Miles would reward her for having patience.
He could feel the tension of desire building in her, knew she was anxious for what was to come, but Miles was of a mind to savor the path to their ultimate goal. With a nip at her lower lip, he pulled away to trail nibbling kisses down her neck, even as his fingers hooked in the sides of her knickers. He worked them over Regan’s hips, letting his touch graze the soft curve of her arse, then watched the delicate pink chiffon flutter to the floor, leaving no hindrance to his hungry gaze.
A dark sound of want escaped him as he took in the sight of her, and it was an exercise in restraint not to have her right then. One deep breath, and then another, and Miles brought Regan’s hands to the button of his denims. “Undress me,” he directed, the light brush of his fingers over her cheek softening the order.
The command in Miles' voice startled her, a feeling like a fist clenching tightening the snake's grasp of her desire, flipping gravity for a moment as her hands moved to comply automatically. Finding herself bare before him made her intensely aware of her own skin, vulnerable to the cool air and the intensity of his regard, and she shuddered as the button and zip of his trousers were freed, sinking to her knees to remove the cloth from his feet. Glancing up, Regan slipped her fingers beneath the band of his pants, guiding the material over the proud jut of his arousal and off, set aside with his other clothes.
Remaining where she'd settled, she laid a hand lightly at Miles' thigh, returning her eyes to his with the hopeful question, "Can I? Will you teach me what you enjoy?"
The image her words brought to mind and the earnest tone of the question coming from the sweet face turned up to him was nearly too much to bear. It was Miles’ intention to lavish attention on his lover, to make this night about pleasuring her, but the insistent press of his own desire made him consider that he might be better able to do those things if he accepted the relief Regan wanted to give him, that once the sharp edge of his need was dulled he would be less tempted to press forward and potentially rush her experience in a way that limited the enjoyment he could give her. Running his fingers through her hair, he answered, “You may do whatever you please, love. I will enjoy you however you choose to give yourself to me.”
Leaning into the soothing stroke of his hand briefly, intent despite the jitter of nervousness, Regan shifted forward on her knees, curling her fingers cautiously around the base of Miles' erection and sliding them slowly to the tip, and back. The hiss of his breath and slight sway of his body emboldened her, and she brought her mouth to his flesh, licking experimentally at the smooth skin and emitting a little pleasure-noise of her own as his hand tightened in her hair. Her mind connected the ability to mimic the sensation of intercourse for him with lips and tongue, and she sealed her mouth around his length, circling what she could not comfortably stimulate with her fingers and meeting the subtle motion of his hips as closely as she could.
She began with light touches of her tongue and a soft grip on his stiff flesh, but Regan’s initial timidity eased with each harsh breath from his mouth. His gaze was fixed on the her; watching his erection slip between her pretty lips the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Fingers twisting further in Regan’s blonde locks as his pleasure crept slowly towards its zenith, a low moan rose from his throat. “So good,” Miles growled. “Just a little more, love. Make me come.”
Keen to do as Miles had bid, to give him the release his body strained to achieve despite the restraint she knew he was exerting, Regan sped her motions to match the light pressure of his hand guiding her. Rolling her gaze upward to glimpse his face, his eyes dark and deep on the image she made, kneeling before him, she knew a secret brush of power; that of a woman with her lover, and a wash of gooseflesh warmed and chilled her simultaneously. She held his eyes, drawing her mouth away in a slow pull, then returned, running her tongue deliberately along the firm swell of him, the sharp clasp of his fingers against her scalp an encouragement toward wickedness.
It was, he decided, her overriding urge to please him that made this experience so much more than his previous encounters with other lovers had been. Which wasn’t to say that Regan’s performance was lacking in any way; far from it. Despite her inexperience, her wicked little tongue was quickly bringing him to a crisis. As he matched her gaze though, fighting his body’s urges to give in to ecstasy so he could watch her just a little longer, Miles could see the way she read him, adjusted based on any sign of his increased pleasure, and the way her own excitement grew with his. It was her soft noise of want that was his undoing, and with a gentle tightening of his grip, he stilled Regan’s movements, a harsh breath accompanying the surge of bliss that overtook him.
Feeling Miles tense, his frame stilling in the frozen-time way she remembered experiencing herself, Regan gripped his thigh lightly with her free hand, quieting as his grasp intended. The sensation and taste of his release as she held him in her mouth were both odd, but not unpleasant, and she swallowed carefully around his length, letting him slip from between her lips only when his fingers began to sift through her hair rather than holding her to him. She settled back on her heels, silently tipping her face up to regard Miles, the tiniest hint of a smile curling her features.
Seeing the well-earned pride on Regan’s face, Miles grinned as he took her hand and helped her to her feet. He pulled her close against him, letting his touch slip down to cup her arse. “Yes, you’re a very quick study,” he teased, bending to kiss her. Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her the few steps to the bed, only relinquishing her lips when he laid her gently down on the mattress. Crawling to hover above her, Miles brushed his mouth over Regan’s lightly. “Now it’s my turn.”
The path he took as he moved down her body mimicked the first time he’d traveled it. His lips traveled over her neck, down her chest until he pulled a taut nipple into his mouth. The small hands that instantly flew to his hair brought a curl to his lips and he rolled his eyes to meet hers as he nipped lightly at the pink peak.
She arched helplessly into the glorious wet tug of his mouth, memory a shadow of the white-hot need racing through her, fingers clenching in an effort to hold Miles where he was. The soft moan coaxed by the achingly gentle sweep of his tongue died on a gasp as she felt the touch of teeth; the sensation that was not pain but captured her just as fully, her whole focus narrowing to the mischievous expression poised just above her breast.
Stroking her fingers through his hair, hopeful that he would continue to forgive her boldness, Regan breathed, "Do that again."
Raising a brow, he waited a long moment to draw out the tension he could feel in Regan’s body. “This?” he murmured, setting his teeth to her skin once more. Rewarded with a needy whimper, Miles sucked the slight sting away, letting his tongue circle the perfect bud in his mouth. “Is that what you wanted, little strumpet?”
"Yes," she hissed, shuddering beneath him, her hands dancing over Miles' neck and shoulders as he teased her. She recognized what he'd called her, belatedly, and tried to calm her breathing as she waited for his eyes to find hers again, whispering as they did, "Only for you."
“Only for me,” he agreed, his smile soft as he looked at her. Miles loved that Regan was only drawn to him this way. It was the same for him. There was no one else he wanted to be with. “My little strumpet, and the only one with my affection.” Dipping his head, he moved to her other breast, his breath warm on her skin before his mouth covered her again.
Even as he lavished attention on her, Miles gently nudged Regan’s legs apart, and settled into the cradle of her hips. He did not position himself, just let Regan feel the hardness of him pressed against her, a teasing rock of his hips allowing him to caress her most intimate places.
Exhaling shakily at the deliberate brush of Miles' arousal against her center, her nails marking his flesh as she gripped his shoulders, Regan let her eyes fall closed while the little reaction-shocks darted over, under, through her own skin. "Yours," she conceded, barely audible, bringing her knee up to stroke the softness of her inner thigh along his side from hip to chest, her hands trailing down his arms in a return cycle of sensation. Each place their bodies met, even the innocence of her fingertips along his forearm, sparked a marching current in her, licking at every nerve.
Miles caught her leg and held it at his waist, rolling his hips slowly, purposefully, relishing her swift intake of breath. He wanted her badly; he ached with pent up desire despite the relief Regan had provided only minutes before. Still, he would wait a little longer. There was more he wanted to share with her before crossing that last bridge. Releasing his hold on her thigh, he nipped her once more before moving further down her body.
Looking up the line of her body, Regan’s green eyes on him, bright with anticipation, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed and honored by the trust she placed in him. She was lovely and pure, and Miles was determined to make this night good for her, to treat the gift she was bestowing on him with the care and respect it deserved. Turning his head, he kissed the smooth, pale skin of her inner thigh, each press of his lips moving him closer to the center. When he reached the apex, he met his lover’s gaze as he tasted her.
Her eyes growing rounder each second as Miles' lips mapped her skin, Regan surrendered to a long, wracking shiver as his tongue traced her inner flesh, her strangled mew of pleasure seeming to echo in her own ears. Breathing in punctuated little gasps as crackling bolts of heat lanced through her, joining the mercurial pool already building deep in her belly, she reached for him, grazing his cheek, his hair, the curve of his shoulder, his hand where it held her hip. The restless need would not let her be still, and she swayed toward the liquid pull of his mouth, her fingers never idle for long, drifting over all of Miles that she could reach.
Regan’s fluttering touch and the unrestrained jitter of arousal were heady inducements to push her higher, higher until she fell over the edge into tremulous ecstasy. Miles laved the wellspring of her pleasure as he slipped first one, then another long finger inside her, drawing a wavering cry from her lips. His caress was heavy and sure along the tight warmth of her inner flesh, fingers working in time with the flick of his tongue.
The tightly wound helix of passion born of the first brush of Miles’ hands, chained with each kiss and caress, began to unravel, tiny waves of bliss rippling outward with the steady plunge of his fingers within her, the initial brief discomfort of intrusion forgotten almost immediately. His touch was as irresistible as the tide, drawing her ever closer to the treacherous edges of her crumbling self-control, soft sounds falling from her lips at every insistent stroke of his tongue. With a sense-image of a cup beginning to overflow its brim, the press of sensation nearly too much to bear, Regan pulled at her lover, his name a plea. “Miles.”
She was nearly there; the noises tumbling out of her mouth urgent and wanting, and Miles would see her writhe and cry out before he took her fully for his own. His hand slid from Regan’s hip to clasp one of her own. He could sense she was teetering on the brink, and his fingers twisted inside her, even as he set his teeth over her pleasure button, nipping just shy of sharply.
A startled sob tore free from Regan's lips as the intentional edge of pleasure-pain threw her headlong into a burst of darkness, weightlessness, then dropped her heavily back into the present, Miles' lingering touch forcing her to writhe again, a low keening pouring forth once she regained enough air to make noise. It was impossible to know anything more than the drowning cycle of peaks and falls the twitch of her muscles dictated, and she'd quieted without realizing the cause before she could coerce her eyes open, her body still trembling under the now-soothing circuit of Miles' hand.
He watched as Regan’s body twisted and shuddered with the force of her orgasm, thoroughly engrossed in the beauty of it. Slowly he eased his fingers from within her, shifting lower to taste the wetness his ministrations had wrought, a low hum of pleasure rumbling against her skin. When the tremors had subsided, muscles slackening and only deep breaths and pink cheeks remaining from her spiraling climax, Miles climbed back up her body, dropping kisses along the way.
As he positioned himself, he nuzzled her neck, letting a shallow rock of his hips press his reawakened arousal just inside her. Miles lifted his head, meeting Regan’s eyes one last time to reassure himself that she still wanted this with him. Finding nothing but serenity in her gaze, he murmured, “That’s my girl,” before arching his back and pushing past the barrier of her virginity.
Her eyes reflecting the quick shock of pain flickering through her features as he filled her suddenly, Regan gasped and gripped Miles' arms, hiding her face in his neck for the few moments she needed to ground herself. She shifted experimentally after a long breath, the thick press of him within her not exactly comfortable, but already rekindling the delicious yearning he'd just sated. Hesitantly, she drew the soles of her feet along his skin from calf to thigh, settling with her legs cradling his hips, the motion drawing a soft 'oh' of surprise as their joining sent a sweet tremor through her.
Measuring his breath as he fought against the urge to drive into the wet heat that surrounded him so snugly, Miles waited for Regan to become accustomed to the feel of him. The little sound of surprise as she adjusted and the expression that crossed her face that was clearly not discomfort let him know she was ready, and casting an affectionate gaze down at her lovely face, he set a gentle rhythm. She fit him like a glove, and Miles did not attempt to hide his pleasure as he sheathed himself within her again and again. Trailing a hand down her side, he gripped Regan’s hip and shifted the angle of their joining until he found that spot which made her fingers clutch at his shoulder, a gasping cry escaping her lips.
The pulse of searing intensity that lanced out from her center each time Miles slid into her, over and over, brushing smooth and solid across the unfathomable trigger he'd known to seek, spilled forth the most wanton of whimpers from her mouth. Her heels digging into his back, Regan lifted her hips to meet the rock of his body, urging him closer, deeper, her fingernails scoring bright furrows along his biceps until she realized her abuse and pulled her hands away. Raising a trembling palm, she guided Miles' lips to her own, drinking him eagerly as he spun her ever higher.
Miles met her kiss hungrily, more than a little surprised by the fervent response to their lovemaking, but thrilled by it nonetheless. The eager way she matched his movements spurred him on, and he sped his thrusts, greedy for more of the sounds of passion Regan was making. Separating from her lips, he sought her pulse point and sucked at the soft skin that covered it, marking her as his own. “Claw me if you like, Strumpet. Show me how much you love feeling me inside you.”
His lips at her neck, worrying her heartbeat with the warm slide of his tongue, tipped the razor-edged balance he’d held her to, and the low growl of demand in her ear flung her over into the abyss again, every muscle concerting to cling to Miles as she fell. She caught at his shoulder as the persistent plunge of him within her created waves she had no way of escaping, her breath coming in desperate gulps, her fingers raking between his shoulder blades. Shaking with each new nova of pleasure, she held to him tightly.
He would never tire of seeing the sweet, surprised bliss take over Regan’s face as her body quivered uncontrollably. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, Miles held out a few beats longer, then let her pull him over the edge with a deep moan of satisfaction. He continued to move inside her, unhurried and easy, as they slowly returned to earth, then shifted to the side, gathering Regan into the curve of his body.
“How do you feel, love?” he asked, dusting soft kisses across Regan’s neck and shoulder. “Not too sore?”
Too contentedly lethargic to dissuade her lover from his nuzzling, though it tickled, Regan wriggled half-heartedly and managed a slow shake of her head, turning, sloth-like, to cuddle into Miles' side. She was certainly aware that her body was not accustomed to the sort of activity they'd just performed, but she didn't hurt, exactly, and didn't care regardless. "Soreness is of less issue than exhaustion," she murmured at length, her fingertips sifting through the strangely springy texture of his chest hair. "And I'm sorry," she offered, brushing her lips next to one of the angry-looking lines she'd raised along his arm.
Chuckling softly, Miles let his hand pet idly up and down her back as he enjoyed the soft warmth of her next to him. “Don’t apologize,” he said with a wink. “If I don’t come away with a few battle scars, I haven’t done a very good job. It pleases me to know you’re well satisfied.” In truth, it was more than he’d expected this first time. While he’d always planned to do everything he could to make it good for her, Miles knew there would be pain, too. That Regan had been able to get past that and be so affected that she scored him with her nails... Well, he was rather proud of both of them. “I’m glad you agreed to stay with me tonight. I love having you here.”
Regan smiled to herself, heartily echoing the sentiment Miles had voiced, and settled her head against his shoulder. "I'd not have wanted to leave, even if I'd needed to," she admitted, grateful for the ability to keep close to him for the night and not test the emotional tether now forged that much more strongly between them. Her eyes began to drift slowly closed as she absorbed the heat of his body, the aimless path of his hand over her skin lulling her until she had to shake herself awake to add, "This is nice. I imagine I could grow accustomed to such a thing."
Miles smiled at the tiny woman in his arms, sated, trusting, and very nearly asleep, and took a moment to enjoy the rightness of having her beside him. He’d not been looking for her when she came into his life, but she’d slipped into a niche seemingly made for her, and Miles couldn’t help but feel that the future looked brighter with Regan in it. As her breathing grew deep and even, he whispered, “And I imagine you will.”
A small, carefully wrapped package sat on the end table beside his sofa, its contents picked after hours of thoughtful consideration. Something lovely and delicate, like Regan, that he hoped would show her just how much he cared. He knew she trusted him, but he wanted to make her as easy about her decision to stay the night with him as he could. It was both a heady thing and nerve-wracking, knowing what she was entrusting to him. Miles wanted to be worthy of that trust, and to make sure she never regretted it.
Fluttering anxiously at her vanity mirror, Regan fiddled with the pink silk sash of her wrap dress, straightening the bow for the dozenth time since she'd escaped Tess' room to come change half an hour previously. She'd read half the imp's new books with her since they'd settled down early in the evening, and though she was certain her 'little siss' was still awake, Tess would have to settle for being tucked in by just Gwen and Jonathan for the night. Any more of Gwen's arch looks at her fidgeting would necessitate actual flight from the house.
With a last glance at her reflection, hoping silently that her efforts would be well-received, she shouldered the strap of the small bag she'd packed for the night and collected Miles' gift from the end of the bed, tucking the brightly-wrapped oblong parcel under one arm. She drew a deep breath and released it, then tugged her wand from her hair to make the trip to Wellburn.
Light in the far end of the house let her know that Miles was home, and she navigated the few rooms to the lounge, beset with a delighted smile and a trill of excitement to find him waiting before the fire. "Happy Christmas, Miles," she greeted, crossing the room as she spoke.
“Happy Christmas, Regan,” he replied, turning from the fire to meet her halfway across the floor. Slipping the bag from her shoulder, Miles set it down on the floor, then collected the package from her arm and set it on the table next to Regan’s gift. Having rendered his girl unencumbered, he gathered her into his arms and brushed a light kiss across her lips. “I’ve missed you. This holiday busyness has taken up far too much of our time. I’m glad to be done with it.”
"Missed you too," she breathed, sliding her arms around him and pressing herself close. She still couldn't define the aura that existed inside the circle of Miles' embrace, calming her immediately despite his being the cause of her nerves, but she was intensely grateful to find herself within it once more, and relaxed as he held her. It wasn't until she'd returned his kiss, happily ensconced in his grasp, that Regan realized how tightly strung she'd been all day, waiting for this moment, and she gave a fleeting thought to making an apology to Gwen.
Releasing a tiny sigh, she hid her face in Miles's neck, letting his presence wash over her until she could be still and steady, admitting quietly, "I needed this. Not being able to see you is torturous."
Miles held her, hands soothing as they slowly moved over her back, until she seemed to relax, then settled them on sofa. Since they’d seen each other last, he’d been busy with work - the courts always tried to clear their docket before the holidays - and it was only when he was alone in the evenings that he’d had time to dwell on the absence of the woman in his life, and he felt it keenly enough in those moments. By her own admission, Regan had a more open schedule, and thus more time to ponder the things she missed when he was tied up with work.
“It’s been hard,” he agreed, draping an arm over Regan’s shoulder, “but thankfully, the holiday has passed and we’re together again. I hope your day with your family was pleasant, and that Tess eased the torture with excited squeals over her gifts.”
"She did, in fact," Regan allowed, snuggling into Miles's side with an air of contentment, "and I didn't mean that all of the intervening time was unpleasant; it was lovely to see everyone, Gwen's family as well as my brother and his lady houseguest, and I'm as glad that those things were as I am that they're finished now and I can be here."
She mapped the knit pattern of his jumper across his chest with a fingertip, her eyes falling to that as she continued. "I've come to be quite fond of you, though, such that you're... well... a tiny bit home, now, and it's something difficult not to have, when I can't. Is that horribly forward and off-putting?" she worried aloud, glancing up sharply to see whether he looked upset at the idea.
Dropping a kiss on her nose, he shook his head. “Hearing that you care for me and want me to be an active part of your life could never be off-putting,” Miles assured her, twining a lock of blonde hair around his finger. “Besides, I could hardly hold such an opinion against you when it very nearly mirrors my own.”
She was not specifically ‘home’ for him, but Miles did feel that Regan belonged with him, and he wished for her when she was not where he wanted her to be. The way she looked to him for reassurance, comfort, affection - it made him feel greater than the sum of his parts. It made him strive to be what she wanted and needed him to be for her. “And you needn’t worry about being forward. Forward doesn’t bother me a bit.”
"I had noticed that you didn't seem to mind, possibly that you even enjoy when I'm a bit of a strumpet," Regan acknowledged, her enthusiasm renewed with Miles' affirmation of her attachment to him. "I was raised to be ladylike, though, so I do worry, and you've been exceedingly noble... I feel as though I ought to try to act accordingly."
He couldn’t have stopped the laugh that burst forth even if he’d been inclined to try. ‘Strumpet’ was about as far from anything he might associate with Regan as ‘murderer’ might be. “Somehow I think you’re being far too generous with my behaviour and far too harsh on your own, but you are correct that I enjoy knowing I’m not the only one feeling the pull of attraction, and I count myself very fortunate to have your affection as well.” Smile turning wry, he added, “I’d hate to think you were after me for mere carnal pleasures.”
Though 'carnal pleasures', as Miles put it, had certainly been in her thoughts of late, and she'd never felt, nor even thought to be, so impelled to seek such intimacy of touch so eagerly, it was the solace of his presence that she craved like air to breathe, and she was loathe to have him believe otherwise. She knew he was teasing, but blushed hotly regardless,dropping her eyes away from his to murmur in promise, "I would behave, if you wanted me to. You've only to say."
“You behave just fine, Regan. I wouldn’t change you even a little.” That she wanted to be pleasing to him made his heart warm, but what pleased him most was to see her affected by his presence and to surprise herself with her own response. “Well,” Miles continued after pausing in thought, “maybe a very little, mainly to do with positioning.” Giving the little blonde a wink, he lifted her into his lap. “That’s better. Now, give me a proper strumpet’s kiss and perhaps I’ll let you have your gift.”
Smiling at the taunt, Regan wound her arms about Miles and pressed her lips to his, licking lightly at his mouth in suggestion and surrendering happily as he responded in kind. She thrilled at the depth of his passion and the subtle game of its building, coaxing with darting tastes for him to feed at her and claim her submission. That he so rarely exerted his will over her only made the chase of its power more alluring, and the strength of his hands, gripping her more tightly as he drank of her, pulled a gasp from her throat.
Miles plundered her mouth, swallowing Regan’s tiny gasps and little noises as they spilled from her lips. She was so responsive, eager to learn and try whatever he wanted to teach her, and a low growl rose from his throat as his mind touched on what more he would show her later this night. He wanted her, there was no denying that, but it was the image of her hands fluttering over his skin, restless and wanting as he tasted her, entered her, made her cry out in pleasure, that tested his control.
Forcing his hands to hold her gently, he slowly eased himself back from the edge of his desire. He pulled away from her lips to skim the length of Regan’s throat, breathing in her soft scent. It calmed him “Mmm. A proper strumpet’s kiss.” Miles picked the small package from the end table and straightened to meet her gaze as he handed it to her. “You’ve earned your present.”
Breathless and no doubt looking, as Miles had once termed it, 'thoroughly snogged'', Regan simply observed the neat parcel pressed into her grasp for a long moment, slowly acquiring a handle on the part of herself that railed at being parted from sating its thirst, even temporarily. Settling herself to curl in his arms once more, she glanced up to Miles before beginning to divest her gift of its wrapping. The box beneath was plain, and she removed the lid curiously, a delighted smile forming as its contents was revealed. "It's beautiful," she said reverently, lifting the bracelet free to place it on her wrist, turning her arm to and fro to admire the craftsmanship. "You know, I've a necklace a bit like this that I adore, but I didn't think I'd worn it for you... it's perfect, truly."
Turning her face up, she traced her fingers along his cheek and stretched to kiss him. "Thank you," she hummed as she drew away, "and you'll have to give my thanks to Father Christmas for my scarf, as you seem to be so well acquainted"
“I’ll be sure to pass the message along,” Miles promised, leaning close to nip at her lower lip. Indulging in a leisurely kiss, he pulled back before he could get caught back up in his lovely girlfriend. “I’m glad you like the bracelet. It looks beautiful on you.”
Savoring the glow of her happiness, she followed the pattern of pearls with a fingertip one last time, then slid from Miles' lap to collect his gift from the table, placing it across his knees and tucking herself against his side. "Now you," she requested, hoping her own idea would be appreciated, despite its turn for function over pure aesthetic.
The grin on his face seemed to be fixed for the time being. Miles was thrilled that Regan liked her present. He’d debated his purchase heavily, and her reaction was just what he’d hoped.
Lifting the package she’d set before him, he peeled back the bright paper and opened the box. Inside lay a dozen finely crafted quills and a bottle of the highest quality ink, and Miles fingered one smooth, balanced shaft appreciatively. “Thank you, love. These will serve me very well.” A mischievous gleam in his eye, he carefully dipped one of the quills in ink, then reached for Regan’s hand. The point of the quill scratched lightly over the inside of her wrist as the words ‘Begin here’ took shape. “Very smooth flow,” he murmured.
Regan's eyes widened as ink appeared on her skin, her smile fading as her nose wrinkled in mildly horrified distaste. She cast mentally about for her wand, realizing after a moment that it was in her bag across the room. Directing a woeful look to Miles, she jangled her fingers in his grasp, insisting quietly, "Off," and belatedly, "please."
Miles regarded her with mild surprise as his attempt at playfulness was met with entirely the opposite reaction from what he’d intended. Unsheathing his wand, he cleaned the writing from her skin. He shook his head with a rueful grin, observing, “Well, I guess we’ve established that I am not as smooth as my new quills.” Lifting the now unsoiled wrist to his lips, his kissed it gently. “My apologies, love.”
"The sentiment was appreciated, if not the method," Regan muttered, half to herself, as she tried to crush the unpleasant memory he'd raised unwittingly. "I don't like ink," she offered guardedly, her eyes flicking to Miles' as his lips brushed her skin.
His sincerity made her feel guilty for being cross in the first place, and she rose to her knees to kiss him, making her own apology, of sorts. "I'm glad you like the quills, though I've ruined your first fun with them. They're cut specifically to your penmanship, so if you run out, Aron has all the details and can send another set. You spend so much time writing... I thought you ought to have something lovely and comfortable to use."
“It was very thoughtful, and I like them very much.” He set the box of quills and ink aside and tugged her into his lap again. Regan had shadows; he’d noted them before and had yet to press her on them, but it was his lack of digging into Reese’s history that had allowed her to be abducted and separated from her child for over a year. It was not a mistake he intended to make again. Lifting her chin until she met his gaze, Miles was sober. “I cannot take care of you the way I should if you keep things from me. Today isn’t the time, but soon I’m going to have questions that will need answers.”
Reading the weight in his regard, Regan nodded, catching her lower lip between her teeth as she worried over the thought of telling all the things she should, if she intended Miles to be the one to take care of her in the way he meant. “Some of them aren’t my secrets to share,” she whispered, knowing even as she spoke that it didn’t matter, “but you are right. I will answer you, when you ask. I don’t mean to cause you worry.”
“Good girl,” he praised, petting down her long blonde hair in a soothing manner. The bit he knew about her life included parts that had obviously affected Regan’s feelings of self-worth and assurance; it was hardly surprising that there were areas she kept private, but Miles cared about her a great deal and he was not willing to risk failing another woman who’d claimed residence in his heart as he had with Reese.
Cupping her face, he brushed his thumb lightly over Regan’s cheek and leaned in to capture her tooth-worried lips. The kiss was gentle and unhurried, meant to lull and reassure her rather than feed the heat that still simmered inside him. When he pulled away, he murmured, “You are too important to me to be careless with.”
His words balmed the echo of fear that had descended, the sweet surety of his kiss quieting the hissing malcontent of memory and rekindling longing. "You couldn't be," she affirmed, turning to press a kiss into Miles' palm as he cradled her face, "and I know you never would, willingly. It's loud about you, actually... that's why you feel like home."
Miles was pleased she understood his intentions and the seriousness with which he took the task of caring for a woman. His eyes followed, dark and intent, as she turned and brushed a kiss to the hand at her cheek, the image stirring the banked coals of his desire. “You feel like mine,” he said, voice low. Fingers curling in her hair, he used the grip to tip her face up to meet him as he moved to capture her mouth again.
The growled claim of possession shot a jolt of awareness through her, heat pooling in her stomach as Miles' lips covered hers. A muffled whimper escaped as his grasp tightened, the control demanded by his grip making every nerve sing with anticipation. Fisting her own hands in his jumper, Regan pivoted to slide one knee across her perch, settling astride Miles' lap and subsiding in his embrace, an answering smile appearing at the crooked twist to his expression as he raised his head a long moment later.
Eager, her blood thrumming along in her veins, she suggested, "You really ought to unwrap your other gift."
He couldn’t disagree with her statement. Unwrapping his other ‘gift’ sounded like an excellent idea. Expression turning predatory, Miles stood, lifting Regan with him. He would not be enjoying the next part of their evening, his lady’s first of this kind, on his sofa. “A task best performed upstairs, I think,” he said as he started them up the stairs to his bedroom, nibbling gently on her ear as he trekked the familiar path.
Setting Regan down when they reached their destination, Miles trailed his fingers along the exposed edge of her dress until he came to the bow that held it closed. She literally was a present, just waiting to be opened, and he tugged lightly at the end of silk sash. Forcing himself to be patient a little longer, he queried, “You’re certain you want this?”
Standing before him, steps from his bed, Regan’s eyes followed the narrow pink line of the tie to where it lay in Miles’ hand, then tracked up his arm and shoulder to level with his even gaze, surprised by the sense of peace that overlay all else. There was the persistent tremor of her excitement, making each millimeter of her skin feel alert with anticipation of his touch, and curiosity, a thirst for the experience she’d but tasted with Miles thus far, but her butterflies were more interested in reminding her of the shattering pleasure her lover could create than feeding into anxiety, and she was certain. Even with no sense of what the future might hold, she would want this night with him, and knowing that he hoped for more made an absolute surety easy to accept.
She held herself still, the clear green of her gaze steady, and answered simply, “Yes.”
Miles gave a shallow nod of acknowledgement, content with the confidence of her reply and glad that she’d given it proper consideration. His eyes remained on hers as he pulled the tie at her waist, peripherally aware of the way the fabric of her dress relaxed when the knot pulled free. Kissing her softly, his hands moved to open the untied sheath and let it slide down Regan’s slender arms to pool at her feet. The sight left before him brought a storm to his sea green eyes; no longer hidden was a pink negligee in chiffon and lace, the inverted ‘V’ at its front creating a tempting window to porcelain skin.
Lowering himself to a knee, his fingers skimming lightly down her sides along the way, he removed first one dainty shoe and then the other. His gaze traveled slowly upward, admiring first Regan’s bare legs, the gentle curve of her hips leading to a narrow waist, and the petite breasts his mouth longed to taste. Brushing a kiss to the cream of her stomach, Miles rose again and drew her close. “My beautiful girl,” he whispered before drinking at her mouth.
The carefully-controlled heat in Miles' eyes and the ghost of his lips across her skin provoked a shiver, gooseflesh trailing in its wake. She was pleased that her choice of underthings appeared to serve its purpose, the spark of recognition from Miles lending her a contented warmth as she swayed close to him, curling a hand at his neck and tasting him in turn.
The casual contact of his arms around her, the light press of his hands through the wispy material still covering her was nearly more distracting than if she'd been without it, the kiss of lace echoing his touch and firing the ache of want. Hesitantly, Regan slipped her hands to the hem of his jumper, raising a questioning gaze as Miles released her mouth, both of them pulling in sips of air. Tugging at the fabric, she waited, keenly aware of the elevated throb of her pulse.
“Go ahead, love,” Miles encouraged, helpfully lifting his arms and bending so she could wrangle the jumper over his head. A crooked smile twisted his lips as Regan tossed it aside, and he fingered the lacy edge of the babydoll she still wore. “I feel like I ought take more time to appreciate how lovely you look in this, but to be honest, I’m more inclined to appreciate how lovely you look without it just now.” Gathering the fabric in his hands as they slid the nearly translucent garment from her body, he hummed his approval of the visual feast that remained. Her face was tinted pink, though Regan’s eyes were glazed with anticipation and want, and Miles wrapped his arms around her, eager to feel the caress of her skin against his own.
The short, oddly crisp hair against her skin tickled, and Regan wriggled, her eyes flying wide as the motion's unexpected caress sent sweet-sharp stabs of sensation zipping through her, twining to coil in her belly as a weighted heat. The surprised puff of breath that escaped was followed by a soft needy sound, and she reached to tug Miles' lips back to her own. The memory of having his mouth other places made her long to pull him to the bed, beg for the same attention, but she knew there was time, and that Miles would reward her for having patience.
He could feel the tension of desire building in her, knew she was anxious for what was to come, but Miles was of a mind to savor the path to their ultimate goal. With a nip at her lower lip, he pulled away to trail nibbling kisses down her neck, even as his fingers hooked in the sides of her knickers. He worked them over Regan’s hips, letting his touch graze the soft curve of her arse, then watched the delicate pink chiffon flutter to the floor, leaving no hindrance to his hungry gaze.
A dark sound of want escaped him as he took in the sight of her, and it was an exercise in restraint not to have her right then. One deep breath, and then another, and Miles brought Regan’s hands to the button of his denims. “Undress me,” he directed, the light brush of his fingers over her cheek softening the order.
The command in Miles' voice startled her, a feeling like a fist clenching tightening the snake's grasp of her desire, flipping gravity for a moment as her hands moved to comply automatically. Finding herself bare before him made her intensely aware of her own skin, vulnerable to the cool air and the intensity of his regard, and she shuddered as the button and zip of his trousers were freed, sinking to her knees to remove the cloth from his feet. Glancing up, Regan slipped her fingers beneath the band of his pants, guiding the material over the proud jut of his arousal and off, set aside with his other clothes.
Remaining where she'd settled, she laid a hand lightly at Miles' thigh, returning her eyes to his with the hopeful question, "Can I? Will you teach me what you enjoy?"
The image her words brought to mind and the earnest tone of the question coming from the sweet face turned up to him was nearly too much to bear. It was Miles’ intention to lavish attention on his lover, to make this night about pleasuring her, but the insistent press of his own desire made him consider that he might be better able to do those things if he accepted the relief Regan wanted to give him, that once the sharp edge of his need was dulled he would be less tempted to press forward and potentially rush her experience in a way that limited the enjoyment he could give her. Running his fingers through her hair, he answered, “You may do whatever you please, love. I will enjoy you however you choose to give yourself to me.”
Leaning into the soothing stroke of his hand briefly, intent despite the jitter of nervousness, Regan shifted forward on her knees, curling her fingers cautiously around the base of Miles' erection and sliding them slowly to the tip, and back. The hiss of his breath and slight sway of his body emboldened her, and she brought her mouth to his flesh, licking experimentally at the smooth skin and emitting a little pleasure-noise of her own as his hand tightened in her hair. Her mind connected the ability to mimic the sensation of intercourse for him with lips and tongue, and she sealed her mouth around his length, circling what she could not comfortably stimulate with her fingers and meeting the subtle motion of his hips as closely as she could.
She began with light touches of her tongue and a soft grip on his stiff flesh, but Regan’s initial timidity eased with each harsh breath from his mouth. His gaze was fixed on the her; watching his erection slip between her pretty lips the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Fingers twisting further in Regan’s blonde locks as his pleasure crept slowly towards its zenith, a low moan rose from his throat. “So good,” Miles growled. “Just a little more, love. Make me come.”
Keen to do as Miles had bid, to give him the release his body strained to achieve despite the restraint she knew he was exerting, Regan sped her motions to match the light pressure of his hand guiding her. Rolling her gaze upward to glimpse his face, his eyes dark and deep on the image she made, kneeling before him, she knew a secret brush of power; that of a woman with her lover, and a wash of gooseflesh warmed and chilled her simultaneously. She held his eyes, drawing her mouth away in a slow pull, then returned, running her tongue deliberately along the firm swell of him, the sharp clasp of his fingers against her scalp an encouragement toward wickedness.
It was, he decided, her overriding urge to please him that made this experience so much more than his previous encounters with other lovers had been. Which wasn’t to say that Regan’s performance was lacking in any way; far from it. Despite her inexperience, her wicked little tongue was quickly bringing him to a crisis. As he matched her gaze though, fighting his body’s urges to give in to ecstasy so he could watch her just a little longer, Miles could see the way she read him, adjusted based on any sign of his increased pleasure, and the way her own excitement grew with his. It was her soft noise of want that was his undoing, and with a gentle tightening of his grip, he stilled Regan’s movements, a harsh breath accompanying the surge of bliss that overtook him.
Feeling Miles tense, his frame stilling in the frozen-time way she remembered experiencing herself, Regan gripped his thigh lightly with her free hand, quieting as his grasp intended. The sensation and taste of his release as she held him in her mouth were both odd, but not unpleasant, and she swallowed carefully around his length, letting him slip from between her lips only when his fingers began to sift through her hair rather than holding her to him. She settled back on her heels, silently tipping her face up to regard Miles, the tiniest hint of a smile curling her features.
Seeing the well-earned pride on Regan’s face, Miles grinned as he took her hand and helped her to her feet. He pulled her close against him, letting his touch slip down to cup her arse. “Yes, you’re a very quick study,” he teased, bending to kiss her. Scooping her up into his arms, he carried her the few steps to the bed, only relinquishing her lips when he laid her gently down on the mattress. Crawling to hover above her, Miles brushed his mouth over Regan’s lightly. “Now it’s my turn.”
The path he took as he moved down her body mimicked the first time he’d traveled it. His lips traveled over her neck, down her chest until he pulled a taut nipple into his mouth. The small hands that instantly flew to his hair brought a curl to his lips and he rolled his eyes to meet hers as he nipped lightly at the pink peak.
She arched helplessly into the glorious wet tug of his mouth, memory a shadow of the white-hot need racing through her, fingers clenching in an effort to hold Miles where he was. The soft moan coaxed by the achingly gentle sweep of his tongue died on a gasp as she felt the touch of teeth; the sensation that was not pain but captured her just as fully, her whole focus narrowing to the mischievous expression poised just above her breast.
Stroking her fingers through his hair, hopeful that he would continue to forgive her boldness, Regan breathed, "Do that again."
Raising a brow, he waited a long moment to draw out the tension he could feel in Regan’s body. “This?” he murmured, setting his teeth to her skin once more. Rewarded with a needy whimper, Miles sucked the slight sting away, letting his tongue circle the perfect bud in his mouth. “Is that what you wanted, little strumpet?”
"Yes," she hissed, shuddering beneath him, her hands dancing over Miles' neck and shoulders as he teased her. She recognized what he'd called her, belatedly, and tried to calm her breathing as she waited for his eyes to find hers again, whispering as they did, "Only for you."
“Only for me,” he agreed, his smile soft as he looked at her. Miles loved that Regan was only drawn to him this way. It was the same for him. There was no one else he wanted to be with. “My little strumpet, and the only one with my affection.” Dipping his head, he moved to her other breast, his breath warm on her skin before his mouth covered her again.
Even as he lavished attention on her, Miles gently nudged Regan’s legs apart, and settled into the cradle of her hips. He did not position himself, just let Regan feel the hardness of him pressed against her, a teasing rock of his hips allowing him to caress her most intimate places.
Exhaling shakily at the deliberate brush of Miles' arousal against her center, her nails marking his flesh as she gripped his shoulders, Regan let her eyes fall closed while the little reaction-shocks darted over, under, through her own skin. "Yours," she conceded, barely audible, bringing her knee up to stroke the softness of her inner thigh along his side from hip to chest, her hands trailing down his arms in a return cycle of sensation. Each place their bodies met, even the innocence of her fingertips along his forearm, sparked a marching current in her, licking at every nerve.
Miles caught her leg and held it at his waist, rolling his hips slowly, purposefully, relishing her swift intake of breath. He wanted her badly; he ached with pent up desire despite the relief Regan had provided only minutes before. Still, he would wait a little longer. There was more he wanted to share with her before crossing that last bridge. Releasing his hold on her thigh, he nipped her once more before moving further down her body.
Looking up the line of her body, Regan’s green eyes on him, bright with anticipation, he couldn’t help but be overwhelmed and honored by the trust she placed in him. She was lovely and pure, and Miles was determined to make this night good for her, to treat the gift she was bestowing on him with the care and respect it deserved. Turning his head, he kissed the smooth, pale skin of her inner thigh, each press of his lips moving him closer to the center. When he reached the apex, he met his lover’s gaze as he tasted her.
Her eyes growing rounder each second as Miles' lips mapped her skin, Regan surrendered to a long, wracking shiver as his tongue traced her inner flesh, her strangled mew of pleasure seeming to echo in her own ears. Breathing in punctuated little gasps as crackling bolts of heat lanced through her, joining the mercurial pool already building deep in her belly, she reached for him, grazing his cheek, his hair, the curve of his shoulder, his hand where it held her hip. The restless need would not let her be still, and she swayed toward the liquid pull of his mouth, her fingers never idle for long, drifting over all of Miles that she could reach.
Regan’s fluttering touch and the unrestrained jitter of arousal were heady inducements to push her higher, higher until she fell over the edge into tremulous ecstasy. Miles laved the wellspring of her pleasure as he slipped first one, then another long finger inside her, drawing a wavering cry from her lips. His caress was heavy and sure along the tight warmth of her inner flesh, fingers working in time with the flick of his tongue.
The tightly wound helix of passion born of the first brush of Miles’ hands, chained with each kiss and caress, began to unravel, tiny waves of bliss rippling outward with the steady plunge of his fingers within her, the initial brief discomfort of intrusion forgotten almost immediately. His touch was as irresistible as the tide, drawing her ever closer to the treacherous edges of her crumbling self-control, soft sounds falling from her lips at every insistent stroke of his tongue. With a sense-image of a cup beginning to overflow its brim, the press of sensation nearly too much to bear, Regan pulled at her lover, his name a plea. “Miles.”
She was nearly there; the noises tumbling out of her mouth urgent and wanting, and Miles would see her writhe and cry out before he took her fully for his own. His hand slid from Regan’s hip to clasp one of her own. He could sense she was teetering on the brink, and his fingers twisted inside her, even as he set his teeth over her pleasure button, nipping just shy of sharply.
A startled sob tore free from Regan's lips as the intentional edge of pleasure-pain threw her headlong into a burst of darkness, weightlessness, then dropped her heavily back into the present, Miles' lingering touch forcing her to writhe again, a low keening pouring forth once she regained enough air to make noise. It was impossible to know anything more than the drowning cycle of peaks and falls the twitch of her muscles dictated, and she'd quieted without realizing the cause before she could coerce her eyes open, her body still trembling under the now-soothing circuit of Miles' hand.
He watched as Regan’s body twisted and shuddered with the force of her orgasm, thoroughly engrossed in the beauty of it. Slowly he eased his fingers from within her, shifting lower to taste the wetness his ministrations had wrought, a low hum of pleasure rumbling against her skin. When the tremors had subsided, muscles slackening and only deep breaths and pink cheeks remaining from her spiraling climax, Miles climbed back up her body, dropping kisses along the way.
As he positioned himself, he nuzzled her neck, letting a shallow rock of his hips press his reawakened arousal just inside her. Miles lifted his head, meeting Regan’s eyes one last time to reassure himself that she still wanted this with him. Finding nothing but serenity in her gaze, he murmured, “That’s my girl,” before arching his back and pushing past the barrier of her virginity.
Her eyes reflecting the quick shock of pain flickering through her features as he filled her suddenly, Regan gasped and gripped Miles' arms, hiding her face in his neck for the few moments she needed to ground herself. She shifted experimentally after a long breath, the thick press of him within her not exactly comfortable, but already rekindling the delicious yearning he'd just sated. Hesitantly, she drew the soles of her feet along his skin from calf to thigh, settling with her legs cradling his hips, the motion drawing a soft 'oh' of surprise as their joining sent a sweet tremor through her.
Measuring his breath as he fought against the urge to drive into the wet heat that surrounded him so snugly, Miles waited for Regan to become accustomed to the feel of him. The little sound of surprise as she adjusted and the expression that crossed her face that was clearly not discomfort let him know she was ready, and casting an affectionate gaze down at her lovely face, he set a gentle rhythm. She fit him like a glove, and Miles did not attempt to hide his pleasure as he sheathed himself within her again and again. Trailing a hand down her side, he gripped Regan’s hip and shifted the angle of their joining until he found that spot which made her fingers clutch at his shoulder, a gasping cry escaping her lips.
The pulse of searing intensity that lanced out from her center each time Miles slid into her, over and over, brushing smooth and solid across the unfathomable trigger he'd known to seek, spilled forth the most wanton of whimpers from her mouth. Her heels digging into his back, Regan lifted her hips to meet the rock of his body, urging him closer, deeper, her fingernails scoring bright furrows along his biceps until she realized her abuse and pulled her hands away. Raising a trembling palm, she guided Miles' lips to her own, drinking him eagerly as he spun her ever higher.
Miles met her kiss hungrily, more than a little surprised by the fervent response to their lovemaking, but thrilled by it nonetheless. The eager way she matched his movements spurred him on, and he sped his thrusts, greedy for more of the sounds of passion Regan was making. Separating from her lips, he sought her pulse point and sucked at the soft skin that covered it, marking her as his own. “Claw me if you like, Strumpet. Show me how much you love feeling me inside you.”
His lips at her neck, worrying her heartbeat with the warm slide of his tongue, tipped the razor-edged balance he’d held her to, and the low growl of demand in her ear flung her over into the abyss again, every muscle concerting to cling to Miles as she fell. She caught at his shoulder as the persistent plunge of him within her created waves she had no way of escaping, her breath coming in desperate gulps, her fingers raking between his shoulder blades. Shaking with each new nova of pleasure, she held to him tightly.
He would never tire of seeing the sweet, surprised bliss take over Regan’s face as her body quivered uncontrollably. Burying his face in the curve of her neck, Miles held out a few beats longer, then let her pull him over the edge with a deep moan of satisfaction. He continued to move inside her, unhurried and easy, as they slowly returned to earth, then shifted to the side, gathering Regan into the curve of his body.
“How do you feel, love?” he asked, dusting soft kisses across Regan’s neck and shoulder. “Not too sore?”
Too contentedly lethargic to dissuade her lover from his nuzzling, though it tickled, Regan wriggled half-heartedly and managed a slow shake of her head, turning, sloth-like, to cuddle into Miles' side. She was certainly aware that her body was not accustomed to the sort of activity they'd just performed, but she didn't hurt, exactly, and didn't care regardless. "Soreness is of less issue than exhaustion," she murmured at length, her fingertips sifting through the strangely springy texture of his chest hair. "And I'm sorry," she offered, brushing her lips next to one of the angry-looking lines she'd raised along his arm.
Chuckling softly, Miles let his hand pet idly up and down her back as he enjoyed the soft warmth of her next to him. “Don’t apologize,” he said with a wink. “If I don’t come away with a few battle scars, I haven’t done a very good job. It pleases me to know you’re well satisfied.” In truth, it was more than he’d expected this first time. While he’d always planned to do everything he could to make it good for her, Miles knew there would be pain, too. That Regan had been able to get past that and be so affected that she scored him with her nails... Well, he was rather proud of both of them. “I’m glad you agreed to stay with me tonight. I love having you here.”
Regan smiled to herself, heartily echoing the sentiment Miles had voiced, and settled her head against his shoulder. "I'd not have wanted to leave, even if I'd needed to," she admitted, grateful for the ability to keep close to him for the night and not test the emotional tether now forged that much more strongly between them. Her eyes began to drift slowly closed as she absorbed the heat of his body, the aimless path of his hand over her skin lulling her until she had to shake herself awake to add, "This is nice. I imagine I could grow accustomed to such a thing."
Miles smiled at the tiny woman in his arms, sated, trusting, and very nearly asleep, and took a moment to enjoy the rightness of having her beside him. He’d not been looking for her when she came into his life, but she’d slipped into a niche seemingly made for her, and Miles couldn’t help but feel that the future looked brighter with Regan in it. As her breathing grew deep and even, he whispered, “And I imagine you will.”