My whole life has been a lie.

As my breathing finally returns to normal, I snuggle against Milo’s side. Before Will, I hadn’t had a boyfriend in a few years so I’m not really sure what’s considered good after-sex etiquette. He always fell asleep right after sex and hated when I would try to talk then.

So I’m guessing that jumping up and yelling SCORE would probably be the wrong thing to do right now. But honestly, that’s how I feel.

Five years of believing that I was broken. That sex was this big cosmic joke that everyone was playing on me. That orgasms on TV and in movies were grossly exaggerated.

I’d watch those scenes where women were biting, scratching and of course screaming and just roll my eyes at the blatant over dramatization. Worse, I was convinced that they were doing active damage to real women, women like me who were dissatisfied with their partners because they couldn’t measure up to the Hollywood ideal.

Well, after the things that have just come out of my mouth, I want to write to the Motion Picture Association of America and tell them they didn’t do enough. Because I think I just left this plane of existence, used every four-letter word in the English language and probably a few in a language that doesn’t exist yet.

And mortifyingly I’m pretty sure I begged. Multiple times.

“I’m sorry I lost control at the end. I wanted to make you come at least one more time.” His voice is soft but still startles me. I thought he’d fallen asleep.

“You wanted… um, wow. Milo, I came twice. I didn’t even know I could do that.”

Even though I can’t see his face in this position, I can feel his satisfaction at my words and it makes me feel cherished. Strange how my experience with a guy who admits he’s only after sex has been better than with the man who was supposed to be my husband. Probably because Milo actually cares about how it was for me.

Maybe there’s something to what Ariana has been saying this whole time. She’s always been more free with her sexuality and I just couldn’t understand how that worked. It made me feel like a judgmental bitch but I was always a little appalled when she’d bring home random guys or sleep with a friend. The whole friends-with-benefits thing had seemed like an oxymoron. But she’s always maintained that she’s happy with her choices because they’re her choices. And she’s not sharing herself with anyone who doesn’t make her feel respected.

Meanwhile I felt morally superior because I was only sleeping with my fiancé who made me feel cheap because I couldn’t get off with him.

This whole thing has been eye-opening to say the least.

My fingers have been playing with the skin on Milo’s stomach so I’m startled when his hand clamps down on mine.

“You have to stop that,” he growls.

Will I ever get enough of that rough, gravelly voice? It only sounds like that when he’s turned on. The idea that I’ve made him like that is a heady one.

“Doing what?” I bury my face in his shoulder suddenly shy.

All the things I said and did are coming back to me and I’m not sure where to look. Did I really yank his hair? Hit his shoulder? I vaguely recall digging my nails in his back, too. This violent side of me is surprising. The old Mya thought sex was supposed to be this gentle wave of sensation. Instead it’s like a tsunami.

“Touching me. I’m trying not to jump on you again because I’m sure you must be sore but your fingers rubbing right above my dick is not helping the case.”

A startled laugh escapes my lips but dies when he snatches the sheet away and his fully erect cock comes back into view. Wowza. The fact that I fit that thing inside me… not only that but rode it and begged for more. Just thinking about it is making me wet again. I cross my legs, something Milo immediately notices.

“You want it again don’t you, beautiful? That sweet little pussy is already aching to take me again.”

Good lord, this man’s dirty mouth. “Don’t make me say it,” I whisper.

His eyes dance as he leans over me. I sigh as his lips land on my neck. How did he discover that’s my weak spot so fast? It’s like he has some sort of cheat sheet that tells him exactly how to make me fall apart.

“Oh, I won’t make you say it. Whatever you want, you can have. All you have to do is ask me nicely.”

I growl playfully. This man. Of course he can’t resist poking fun at me a little. He said he would make me beg and he wasn’t wrong. But he’s not the only one who can play dirty. I sit up and toss my hair over my shoulder before climbing on top of him. Milo’s eyes follow as my breasts swing and bob with my movements.

“You want to hear me beg?” I purr, running one hand down my stomach, stopping right before I hit the good stuff.

His eyes don’t leave my hand as he nods slowly.

I bring the same hand slowly back up and hook my pinky finger in my mouth. Once I have his attention again, I place my hands on his chest and crawl forward until our lips almost meet.

“Milo?” Gentle kiss. “Do you know what I want?”

Another gentle kiss. His strangled moan is accompanied by a small twitch of his hips. I place a hand on his cheek and look him right in the eyes. His head moves slowly back and forth. Like he’s hypnotized.

“I want your long, thick, hard” my hand encircles him, “cock inside me right now. Do you want that, too?” My thumb brushes over the head as he struggles to nod even as he groans at the erotic touch. “You do? Well, maybe you should beg me for it.”

In the span of a heartbeat, he flips us over.

“You’re a hell of a quick learner, Miss Taylor. Because when you have my dick in your hand, you can have anything you want.”

I’m laughing until he puts me up on my knees and fucks me from behind. But that’s okay because I still have a smile on my face even after he makes me scream his name.