Love, Milo

He’s some sort of psychopath, isn’t he? A murder? Criminal? Both?

It’s now that I realize there’s not much I know about the man standing before me. One question arises, one I should’ve wondered from the start. Who the hell is Milo Evans?

He steps closer, and I take a step back, eyes on him. Breathing is difficult; my lips part to attempt to breathe through my mouth.

‘Who are you?’ I ask him, my throat running dry. ‘Why— why is all of that in there, Milo?’

Oh God, what if he tries to hurt me?

‘Raelynn, listen to me, please. It’s not what it looks like.’ He steps closer, and my back hits the wall. I’m cornered, sandwiched between him and it.

I shake my head. ‘I want to go.’ I want to go and report you.

He reaches out for my hand, but I snatch it away, attempting to run around him.

He catches me by my waist, wrapping his hard arm around me and bringing me back in front of him.

I yelp, kicking and screaming at him to let go as he pins me against the wall by my shoulders.

‘Please, calm down,’ His voice shaky, nervous almost. Nervous because he hurts people with those tools. ‘

Warm tears stream down my face as he pins my arms to the wall.

I was panting, tired and scared. I stop moving and just stare at him.

‘Are you going to hurt me?’ I ask He pinches his eyebrows together. ‘Raelynn, do you think I’m insane? You know I’d never hurt you, all right? Not even a single hair on your pretty head.’

‘I don’t know you.’

‘You know me enough to know I wouldn’t hurt you.’ He says as if offended. I even thought he would.

‘Then why do you have those things? Knifes, ropes…’ A singular tear falls from me, hating the way he’s pinning me against the wall. The air in the room feels nonexistent. I can’t breathe, and he’s too close; I want to move my body, but he’s preventing me, causing my throat to shut and my mind to panic.

I look at his hands on my shoulders, and he looks at them as well, immediately lifting his hands off me as if realizing I’m uncomfortable.

My eyes shut, relieved.

He turns around and closes the door, not fully, but nearly. I stand hugging my torso, telling myself to hear him out, praying that what I think isn’t what is true. His hand runs through his wet head of hair, water dripping onto his black shirt every few seconds.

‘When I said make yourself at home, I didn’t mean go through my things, Raelynn.’

An octave or two higher, and he’d be shouting, but I can hear the way he’s limiting himself, the strain of his words.

‘How was I supposed to know I was going to find your fucking torture kit!’

‘It’s not a fucking torture kit, don’t be dense. You know exactly what they’re for.’ He’s looking at me now, across the room, his back against the wall and his hands in his sweatpants pockets.

I shake my head. ‘No, Milo, I don’t know, so how about—’

‘Pleasure,’ He whispers, cutting me off.

I stay silent, waiting for him to continue. Pleasure.

He walks towards the light switch and turns off the red glow, switching on a dull white regular light instead. The distinct pink shade of his cheeks shows as he walks towards the desk and pulls open the drawer, grabbing the handcuffs out.

I swallow, beginning to realize exactly what he means by pleasure.

I look at the metal item in his hand, then up at Milo as he walks towards me. The fear inside begins to diminish.

‘You like… to use those on people?’ I ask timidly, brushing a curl behind my ear.

He shakes his head no, stopping close to me. ‘I like it when they’re used on me.’

My throat runs dry, and a tingle travels down my spine. The blush and embarrassment on his face make my chest soften. It looks like he might cry. He presses his lips together, looking at me in the eyes; it seems grey clouds float in them. Dark towards the outside, lighter around the center. They dart from my left to right eye, desperately awaiting my response.

‘Please, say something, or I might go mad. I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of… danger. It’s been years since I used any of these things, and I wasn’t planning on getting you to use them, or even find them for that matter—’

‘I’m sorry,’ It comes out coarse, apologetic. His eyes are red, and I feel bad for exposing such a personal thing to him. ‘I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff. Or accused you of… doing bad things.’

He shakes his head. ‘These are bad,’ he moves them around in his hands. ‘Just for all the right reasons. Not your reasons.’

I swallow, curious nonetheless. Feeling myself relax more with him. My tears are gone, but my breath still struggles to regulate, though I think that has nothing to do with fear anymore.

Raising my hand slowly towards his, pressing a finger against the cold handcuffs, I drag it along the smooth metal.

My eyes flutter close as goosebumps surround my entire body.

Milo breathes out a deep breath, licking his lips, and lowers the cuffs; they clank against each other.

‘I think it’s best if you just go, Raelynn. I’ll see you some other time whenever you need me.’ He swallows hard and walks towards the door, but I don’t move.

Why can’t I move? I should listen to him, leave his home, and leave him be. It’s what I said I wanted for us to be nothing. I’ve been invited in, then snooped through his things only to accuse him of being a complete psychopath just after he’s trusted me with personal information about his psychopathic father. He keeps the door open, revealing his bedroom, and looks back at me—confusion written on his forehead as to why I’m still here.

I hold my arms around myself, feeling a bit embarrassed that the feeling is back—the feeling from this morning. I crave the feeling and don’t want to go away this time.

Please don’t go away.

‘Can you. . . show me?’

His brow rises slowly as he processes my words. I can practically see his tail wag.

He lets go of the door and walks to me. ‘What?’

I point to his hand, holding the handcuffs. ‘Show me. I want to know how to use them. The things you like, I mean.’

Milo’s hand rises to my chin and neck, holding me with a gentleness that makes my heart skip a beat. Lowering his head, eyes staring at me from under his lashes, he draws his bottom lip between his teeth and groans softly. He steps closer so that his chest is flush against my front. His head drops beside my ear, brushing his lips against my skin. I gasp soundlessly at the touch of him.

‘Raelynn, you have no idea what you’re doing.’ He whispers against me. ‘You can’t say those things unless you’re one hundred percent sure you mean it.’

My clit pulses between my legs, his breath fanning against my ear, making my eyes flutter shut from the tingles running down to my stomach.

I swallow as he presses my body against the wall with his hard one. His palm digs into the wall beside my head.

I’m scared. Not of Milo anymore, but of me. I’m scared that I might push myself too much towards limits I can’t reach.

I catch his eyes as he lifts his head back up. ‘I mean it,’ I challenge myself.

Looking between our bodies, I rub on the handcuffs along with his hand holding them. Curiosity is a son of a bitch. I had a great sex life before what happened, but I never involved tools like these.

Below our hand, his gray sweatpants sit tented by his boner. My lips part and I look up at him.

He turns his head to catch my lips, kissing me and lifting my head to give him more access and igniting me, surprising me with the pressure of his soft yet hard lips against mine—a real kiss, one more real than the last.

With my back glued to the wall by his body, my neck cranks upwards to meet his mouth easily.

The sound of the handcuffs hitting the carpet fills the room, and his hands gravitate to the sides of my neck, keeping my head in place as our lips move in sync. He feels incredible, and the soreness between my legs agrees.

I ache for him and only him, and I can’t deny it, no matter how much I wish I could.

My hands glide up his hard body, up his abs that are definitely part of more than a six, and towards his back, where I slightly dig my fingers into his shirt.

He whines into my mouth and breaks away. I see his eyes roll back for a second, but they align quickly, more deadly now. I stare at him, panting and out of breath from our kiss.

He drops his hand and grips my hips. ‘Do you know what you’re capable of doing to me?’ He murmurs as he lifts me with ease.

My arms wrap around his neck, and my legs at the side of his hips. I shake my head.

He looks up at me now while he walks towards the door. I attempt to find words to speak. ‘Where are we going?’ I breathe against his wet lips. I look at the handcuffs on the floor as he carries me out of the room and into his dimly lit bedroom. ‘I thought you were going to show me how to use…’ my words trail off.

He shuts the door to his office while he holds me up with one hand, the hand gripping my ass.

‘That comes later, love. Much later.’ He explains, gently digging his knee into his mattress and laying me down. ‘I want to make you feel good first. You come first. Always, all right?’

I nod, running my hands through his hanging mess of damp hair to see him better. He leans down and crashes his lips against mine again, gliding his hands along my body while he confidently squeezes my mouth. His tongue slides along my bottom lip, and he takes it between his teeth, sucking, nibbling, and popping it out before humming like I’m the best thing he’s ever tasted.

I might as well be a puddle of water beneath him, pained and sore, wanting his mouth to return to mine.

But it doesn’t; he kisses my nose instead, my cheek, my chin, my jaw, my neck, in between my collarbones. His body travels down mine, and so do his kisses, each one erupting an explosive within me.

I suck in my stomach, and I inhale, my shirt being slid up. He looks at me, his hands on both my hip as he lowers his head and sucks on the lower skin of my stomach, right above my center.

I throw my head back, moaning and reaching for his hair.

His voice raspy, rough and music to my ears, he speaks, ‘I want to taste you, Rae. May I?’All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

With my mouth hanging open with my pants, I stare at him for a moment, between my legs, the muscles in his arms flexing as he holds himself up.

I nod and swallow, hiding the fact that I’m afraid of the result. Afraid I won’t be able to do what other women are capable of.

‘Yes,‘ I answer.

He grins, showing his pearly whites, and unbuttons my pants. The pressure of his hands against my area and anticipation as he unzips me makes me squirm against his bed sheets.

I think of the scars on my thighs and stomach, but I push them away, praying it’s too dark for him to notice anything at all.

‘Milo…’ I moan out for no reason at all, nibbling on my bottom lip.

‘Yes, love?’ He slips one hand under my back, lifting my hips up so he can pull my pants down my thighs.

I’m left in my flower underwear, embarrassed, to say the least. He runs his hand across the lace, creating butterflies within me.

‘I didn’t know anyone would… actually see them,’ I explain.

He shakes his head. ‘They’re cute, pretty,’ He says. ‘But prettier when they’re at your ankles.’

My brows raise when he presses his lips against the fabric, right on my swelled clit underneath it.

I cry out from the overwhelming pleasure, feeling a burst of nerves swarm my body as he extends his tongue and licks over the fabric.

My lip pains from biting down on it, aching for the thin material that’s between his lips and my clit to be removed. I can’t remember the last time I wanted something this badly.

He looks up at me, and a knot in my stomach forms from just that simple glance. How is he this perfect looking?

‘You smell so nice,’ He mutters before sucking on me. ‘I can see how much you want me through your poor panties.’

He hooks his fingers around the thin sides of my underwear and pulls them down slowly. A deep groan falls from his lips while admiring my center. I watch his eyes twinkle like he’s staring at a pot of gold that he can’t believe is in front of him.

He rubs the side of my thighs and pulls the underwear down to my ankles, the place he thinks they look their best.

He lifts my legs to the sides of his head, kissing the sides of my thighs as he glances up at me, barely getting by.

‘You doing okay?’ He says as he lowers himself and licks my clit, giving me no time to respond. I ignore the cockiness in his tone.

Leaning on my elbows, I let my head hang back, the feeling of his warm tongue against me making it impossible to talk. I’ve missed this and feeling like I’m on top of the world. I miss being taken care of like this.

He surrounds my clit with his lips, circling his tongue around and over it with a quickness that makes my eyes roll to the back of my head.

I grip tightly on his hair, my other hand at the side of his head, feeling the overpowering pleasure he’s bringing me.

Crying out inside my closed mouth, he presses the tip of his tongue inside of my warmth, curing his tongue against the rough wall of my pussy. His nose against my clit as he gets dirty with me. And he doesn’t seem to care one bit.

‘Milo,’ My voice shakes, and I push at his head, the ache and pleasure getting too much for me to handle, but he raises his hand and grabs mine to slide it away, continuing.

He mutters his words against me. ‘Cum on my tongue, princess. You can do it,’ Heat fanning against me, the name causing a twitch of my clit.

I want to. Gosh, I want to give him this more than anything in the world right now.

Focusing on his movement; the long strokes from the flat of his tongue collected my wetness. The way his hands stroke the sides of my thighs. The flushed cheeks and aroused expression on his face. Wetness dresses his lips, my wetness, and he enjoys every second I allow him to please me.

But no matter how good his tongue is against me, reaching my climax feels impossible.

It’s nowhere in sight, and it never will be.

As I come to this inevitable conclusion, I feel it slip more and more away, my body becoming numb once again.

And just like that, it’s all gone in a matter of seconds. The buildup, the butterflies, the overwhelming feeling. It’s gone, and I miss it already.

I look at the ceiling, my eyes flooded with tears. My arm comes up to my mouth to attempt to hide my cries, but it’s no use.

Milo stops immediately, but I’m not sure how he noticed something was wrong so quickly.

‘Raelynn, what’s wrong?’ He says panicky. ‘Did I do something? I’m sorry, whatever I did, I didn’t—’

I shake my head, sitting up. Tears fall from my eyes, wetting my lashes.

My arousal has disappeared; that’s what’s wrong.

‘It’s not your fault. I’m sorry,’ I croak. ‘I’m s-so sorry,’

His brows arch upward in worry. ‘Raelynn, you’re scaring the fuck out of me. Why?’ He crawls from between my legs and sits beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and bringing me into his chest.

I fall into his hold, kicking my underwear away from my ankles. They’re no longer pretty or cute. They’re evidence of my failure now.

Crying against his shirt, I gripped the material, weeping and humiliated.

What will he say when he finds out I can’t reach my end? Who wants a woman who can’t reach her climax? No one at all.

Milo hugs me tightly against him. Clueless, yet caring with little knowledge of what’s going on.

One arm wrapped around my waist, the other cupping my head against his chest, my curls tied into a bun at the top.

My breath hitches, my throat burning from wails, but Milo stays silent for most of it other than a few moments of assuring me that he’s here for me, that I’m not alone.

I tighten my hold on him, grateful I’m stuck in this moment with him. Grateful that he holds his questions. Grateful for his comfort.

‘You’re all right, Love,’ he whispers as I sniffle, stroking the tears away on the side of my face. ‘You’re okay.’