Unveiled, Page 29

  I manage to kick off my Converse and push my body higher so he has to drop his head back to maintain our kiss. ‘I want to be inside you,’ Miller gasps, starting to pace across the lounge. ‘Now.’ He stops and reaches behind him to push my legs down from his back, all the while going at my mouth like a starved lion. I find my feet and move my hands to his belt, making fast work of removing it and tossing it aside. His trousers are next. They’re undone and I work them as far down his thighs as I can manage while keeping my mouth attached to his. Miller does the rest, taking over and pushing his boxers down. Then he kicks everything off – trousers, boxers, shoes, and socks. My desire to remind myself of his full naked perfection doesn’t overwhelm me enough to break our kiss, but when the hem of my dress is grabbed and pulled up my body, leaving me no option but to pull away from him, I take the interruption to drink him in. The material of my dress going past my face only hinders my studying momentarily, and I get a little extra time when Miller lazily reaches behind me to unclasp my bra, pulling it slowly down my arms. My nipples harden into tight, sensitive nubs, and my core starts to throb, begging for his touch. My eyes flick to his, my short pants being matched, as my bra is cast aside blindly before warm thumbs slip into the waistband of my knickers. But he doesn’t remove them immediately, seeming content with watching me becoming more desperate by the second. He can’t start with the torturous control. Not now.

  I shake my head a little, watching as the corner of his mouth lifts just the tiniest bit. Then he moves forward, keeping his thumbs in place, encouraging my backward steps until my back’s pushed up against the cold paint of a wall. I inhale a shocked rush of air, letting my head fall back. ‘Please,’ I beg, starting to feel him drawing my knickers down my thighs. The pulsing between my legs moves up a gear, transforming into a consistent thud. My knickers land at my feet.

  ‘Step out of them,’ he orders gently, and I do as I’m bid, trying to focus on what’s likely to come next. I don’t have to wonder for long. Heat meets me between the thighs. The source? Miller’s fingers.

  ‘Oh God!’ I clench my eyes shut as he strokes up my centre. It makes me push myself farther into the wall in a pointless attempt to escape his teasing tactics.

  ‘So fucking wet,’ he growls, taking his finger back down and pushing into me, applying pressure on my front wall. My palms slap into his shoulders and push until my arms are braced at full length between us. ‘Turn around.’

  I swallow hard and try to filter his instruction, but his fingers are still inside me, motionless, and moving will instigate friction, which will instigate crumbling to the floor in a pile of want and lust. So I stay where I am, frightened to enhance my craving.

  ‘Turn. Around.’

  I shake my head obstinately, biting down harshly on my lip, digging my short nails into the flesh around his collarbones. Suddenly, a hand knocks my arms away and his body is flush with mine, putting more force behind his fingers buried inside of me.

  ‘No!’ I have nowhere to hide. I’m pinned to the wall, helpless.

  ‘Like this,’ he mumbles, biting his way from my chin to my cheek. Miller keeps us as close as possible as he turns me, ensuring his fingers remain submerged. As I feared, the sensations of my movements only heighten my wanton state, and I start to take deep, controlled breaths to stop myself from yelling my heady despair. ‘Hands on the wall.’

  I comply immediately.

  ‘Back you come.’ One hand takes my waist and guides me back, and then his foot taps my ankle, making me widen my stance. I’m wide open, totally at his mercy. ‘Comfortable?’ He twists his fingers inside of me, making my arse shoot back and collide with his groin.

  ‘Miller!’ I shout, letting my heavy head fall to the wall.

  ‘Are you comfortable?’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Good.’ He releases my waist and a moment later, I feel the hard, broad head of his arousal meet my entrance. I hold my breath. ‘Breathe, sweet girl.’ It’s a warning and all of the air sails from my lungs as his fingers slip from my passage, making way for his hard cock. I’m not left absent of fullness for long. He slides in on a disjointed prayer, robbing me of breath again.

  I feel complete. ‘Move,’ I plead, pushing back onto him, taking him to the hilt. ‘Miller, move.’ I push into my arms, bringing my head from the wall, letting it roll back on my neck.

  My plea is answered. Soft palms rest lightly on my hips, his fingers flexing in preparation. ‘I don’t want you to come, Olivia.’

  ‘What?’ I gasp, beginning to shake just at the thought of restraining my climax. They come out of nowhere, mostly. He’s the Special One – talented beyond mine and his own comprehension. ‘Miller, don’t ask the impossible!’

  ‘You can do it,’ he pointlessly assures me, grinding into my bum. ‘Concentrate.’

  I always concentrate. It gets me nowhere, so I have to rely on his expert teasing tactics, where he holds me in limbo. The torture that awaits me lands hard in my desire-saturated mind. I’m going to be screaming my despair, maybe even scratching and biting him. He always holds me in no-man’s-land, so just the fact that he’s warned me is worrying.

  I clench my eyes shut and release a broken cry when he leisurely withdraws until only the very tip of him is submerged. ‘Miller.’ I’m begging already.

  ‘Tell me how you want me.’

  ‘I need hard,’ I confess, stopping myself from firing back and finding that delicious fullness.

  ‘How hard?’

  His question surprises me. And so does my answer. ‘I want everything you have.’

  He stills behind me. He’s considering my answer. ‘Everything?’

  ‘Everything,’ I affirm. His power and energy will strip away so much agony. I know it will.

  ‘As you wish.’ He bends, bringing his chest down to my back, and bites into my shoulder. ‘I love you,’ he murmurs, kissing at his bite mark. ‘Do you understand?’

  I understand perfectly.

  ‘Yes.’ Pushing my cheek into his face, I make the most of the scratchy feel of his stubble before he rises and takes an audible lungful of air. I brace myself.

  Yet no amount of bracing stops my yelp of shock when he pounds forward. I half expect him to freeze and panic at my shout, but he doesn’t. He swiftly retreats and flies forward on a roar. Those first few drives set the pace. He’s relentless, unforgiving. His fingers dig into my flesh and yank me back repeatedly, pushing cry after cry past my lips. I have every faith that he can detect my frame of mind, so I don’t try at all to stop my constant yelps. Every crash of his body into mine spikes one, and it’s not long before my throat feels raw and dry. It doesn’t stop me, though. My body isn’t my own. Miller has full control of me and he’s making the most of it. He’s almost brutal, but the passion and want mingling between us holds me firmly in utter ecstasy.

  He keeps up his merciless tempo until it’s only him holding me up. There are barely any gaps between his groin slapping against the flesh of my bum, the sound getting louder the sweatier we become. The deep penetration isn’t only filling me literally; it’s filling me mentally, every thunder forward reminding me of this wonderful place I find myself in each time he takes me – whether controlled and gentle or brutal and unforgiving. There’s no control here. At least there doesn’t appear to be, yet I suspect it’s there. No, I know it’s there. I’ve come to learn that no matter how he chooses to have me, it’s all worshipping. It’s all undertaken with unremitting love backing it up.

  Twinges are starting to stab at the tip of my clitoris. It’s the beginning of the end. Oh God, I’m not going to be able to stop this! I try everything – focusing, breathing, but the crashing of his strong body into mine is preventing me from doing anything else but accepting him. Absorbing him. Taking absolutely everything he has to give me. It’ll always be this way.

  ‘You’re tensing inside, Livy,’ he yells, maintaining his ruthless pace, almost panicked, like he knows the internal battle I’m having. I don’t
have a chance to confirm he’s right. He pulls out and spins me around, hoisting me up to his body and slamming back into me.

  I scream, wrapping my legs around his waist and fisting my hands in his hair. The sudden loss of friction did nothing to help me. He’s working too fast. ‘My name, baby,’ he pants into my face. ‘Scream my name.’ On his demand, he jacks me up and yanks me back down.

  ‘Miller!’

  ‘Oh yeah! And again.’ He repeats his previous move, this time harder.

  ‘Fuck!’ I cry, going dizzy from the depths he’s achieving.

  ‘My name!’

  I’m getting mad, my looming orgasm and Miller’s insistence of controlling it triggering my sass. ‘Miller!’ I scream, tugging at his hair, throwing my head back as he pounds on. He’s getting thicker and thicker with each strike, has been for a while, yet the bastard refuses to give in.

  ‘No scratching?’ he taunts, sending my fingernails on an immediate lashing mission. I shock myself, but my surprise at my own viciousness doesn’t stop me. I’m digging right down and then dragging hard through his skin. ‘Arhhhhhh!’ he roars in pain, tossing his head back. ‘Fuck!’

  Neither his agonised shout nor his anger-filled curse hold me back. I’m clawing at him like a madwoman, and strangely I think he wants me to.

  ‘Lame, sweet girl,’ he puffs, unreasonably incensing me. His eyes drop and lock with mine. They are dark and serious. He wants me to hurt him? His relentless hips pull to an abrupt halt, making my climax retreat.

  I lose the plot.

  ‘Move!’ I pull at his hair, yanking his head to the side. But he just grins. ‘Move, you bastard!’ Dark eyebrows rise in interest, but he remains motionless, sending me on a pointless writhe in his hold to try and gain some friction. ‘Damn you, Miller!’ Without thought, my mouth drops to his shoulder and my teeth sink into his hard muscle.

  ‘Fuck!’ His hips piston forward, resurrecting my dying orgasm. ‘You . . . fuck!’ He’s really going for it now, smashing into me like a man possessed.

  My jaw locks around his flesh, making him yell, grunt, shout, and my hands are pulling constantly at his waves. I’m being as brutal as Miller. And it feels so good. The pleasure is beyond words, and the pain is replacing other agonies. All of the hurt is being slammed out of me, maybe only temporarily, but it’s still going. He’s punishing. I’m punishing. My back is being slammed repeatedly against the wall and we’re both barking shouts of gratification.

  ‘Time to end this, Olivia,’ he pants, nudging my face from his shoulder and tackling my mouth. We kiss like we’ve never kissed before. It’s hungry, fast, and desperate, and in the blink of an eye, I’m suddenly on the floor beneath Miller. He keeps us close and pumps fast until my toes curl and I scream as my release rips through me, drawing him farther into me on long, pulsing constrictions of my internal wall. He groans, his pace slowing, muffled words being mumbled into my neck. I’m milking him dry, relishing in the heat of his cum flooding me.

  ‘Good God,’ I gasp, prying my fingers from his back and letting them fall limply above my head.

  ‘I concur,’ he wheezes, pulling out of me and rolling onto his back in exhaustion. I drop my heavy head to the side, seeing his arms splayed out haphazardly as he puffs laboured breaths to the ceiling. ‘I fucking concur.’ His head drops and his eyes meet mine. He’s dripping wet, his hair in disarray, his perfect mouth parted more than usual to drink in much-needed air. ‘Give me my thing.’

  ‘I can’t move!’ I splutter, astounded by his unreasonable demand. ‘You’ve just fucked me into exhaustion.’

  ‘You can move for me,’ he protests, grappling at my waist haphazardly. ‘Come to me.’

  I’m given little choice. And besides, I want to smother him with my body and my mouth, so heaving myself up, I roll onto him until I’m spread limply down the length of his tall body. The only thing working now is my mouth and it’s currently stuck to his neck, sucking and biting. ‘You taste delicious,’ I declare, getting a hit of clean sweat. ‘And you smell divine.’

  ‘Suck harder.’

  I pause devouring him and bring my face slowly up. I know I’m frowning. Miller Hart is the last person in the world I would expect to want a bruise on his neck. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Suck . . . harder.’ His eyebrows rise a touch, backing up his repeated order. ‘Are you going to make me ask a third time?’

  Slightly bemused, I fall back to his neck and nibble at him a little, wondering if he’ll retract his command, but after a good few minutes of gentle biting, I only get that third time.

  ‘Suck!’

  My lips latch on to his neck immediately and suck. Hard.

  ‘Harder, Livy.’ His palm meets the back of my head and pushes me to him, making it slightly difficult to breathe. But I do as I’m told, sucking his flesh deeply into my mouth, drawing all of the blood to the surface. This will be seen loud and proud over the collar of his posh shirt. What the hell is wrong with him? I can’t stop, though. For one, Miller’s locked palm on the back of my head won’t allow me to, but two, I’m getting an unreasonable thrill at the thought of everyone seeing such a defacement on my well-mannered gentleman.

  I’m not sure how much time passes. The only indication is how sore my lips are and how achy my tongue is. When I’m finally released from his harsh hold, I pull away, a little breathless, and stare down at the monstrosity I’ve just created on his perfect neck. I flinch. It isn’t perfect now. It looks hideous, and I’m sure Miller will agree when he sees it. I can’t rip my eyes away from the ugliness.

  ‘Perfect,’ he sighs. He yawns and clasps my neck, then rolls us until I’m held snuggly under him and he’s straddling my hips, sitting up on me. I’m still dazed and confused, and Miller lightly tracing the contours of my breasts with the tip of his finger doesn’t distract me from that.

  ‘It looks horrible,’ I confess, wondering at what point he’s going to check out the damage I’ve done.

  ‘Maybe,’ he muses, not giving my concern the concern it deserves. He just happily continues to delicately trail his finger all over my torso.

  I mentally shrug to myself. I’m certainly not going to get myself all worked up – something Miller does best – if the king of stress isn’t even bothering. So instead I ask the question I planned on asking the moment I found him . . . before he laid his hands on me and distracted me with a little Miller-style worshipping, albeit a little harder this time. Little? I smile. That was a proper good fucking, and surprisingly I loved every single moment. ‘What was in that envelope?’ I begin carefully, knowing this needs to be broached sensitively.

  He doesn’t even look at me, nor does he falter in his task of drawing invisible lines all over me. ‘What happened with you and Gregory?’ He looks at me, eyes full of knowing. I can’t even breathe. Gregory was right to be worried. ‘Gregory didn’t look too comfortable when I inquired.’

  My eyes close and I remain silent, failing to prevent the guilty signs from charging forward.

  ‘Tell me it meant nothing.’

  I swallow hard, furiously debating my best angle. Confess. Or deny. My conscience gets the better of me. ‘He was trying to comfort me,’ I blurt quietly. ‘It went too far.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘After you took me to the hotel.’

  He winces, pulling in a calming stretch of air.

  ‘We didn’t have sex,’ I continue nervously, keen to clear that little bit of suspicion up. I’m not liking the shakes that his body has developed. ‘A silly fumble, that’s all. We both regret it. Please don’t hurt him.’

  His nostrils flare, like it’s taking every modicum of his waning strength not to explode. It undoubtedly is. ‘If I hurt him, I hurt you. I’ve hurt you enough already.’ His teeth clench. ‘But it won’t happen again.’

  That is a statement, not a question or request for confirmation. It won’t be happening again. So I remain quiet until I eventually see his chest heaves begin to subside. He’s calming, but I still p
osed a question before we slipped off course, and I want an answer. ‘The envelope.’

  ‘What about it?’

  I chew on the inside of my mouth, deliberating whether to continue. He’s slipping into detachment. ‘What was inside?’

  ‘A note from Charlie.’

  I kind of knew that, but his willing reply surprises me. ‘What did it say?’ The follow-up question slips out without hesitation this time.

  ‘It told me how I can get out of this world.’

  My mouth drops open. He has an out? Charlie’s going to release him from the invisible shackles? Oh my God! The potential of all this being over, of us getting on with our lives, is suddenly too much to comprehend. No wonder Miller looks so peaceful, but I soon pull up when a small point worms its way past my relief and happiness. Actually, a huge point. He read that letter in the kitchen at my house and looked completely stricken past the cool impassiveness of his mask. He was troubled, so what’s changed since then to make him seem so at ease? I steel myself and ask the question I should’ve asked before I let my excitement run away with me. ‘How can you get out of this world?’ My instinct to hold my breath worries me. It tells me I’m not going to like the answer.

  But my question still doesn’t make his finger falter across my skin, and he still isn’t looking at me. ‘It doesn’t matter because I’m not doing it.’

  ‘Is it bad?’

  ‘The worst,’ he answers without thought, almost scowling before it drifts into disgust. ‘I have another way.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I’ll kill him.’

  ‘What?’ I wriggle beneath him in a panic, but I don’t go