‘Are you ready to be worshipped, Olivia Taylor?’ His finger skims over my knickers softly, making my back snap into an arch and my stored breath rush out fast.
‘Please don’t,’ I beg, nailing him with pleading eyes. ‘Please don’t torture me.’
‘Tell me you want me to worship you.’ My skirt is dragged down my legs slowly, taking my knickers with it.
‘Please, Miller.’
‘Say it.’
‘Worship me,’ I breathe, lifting my back slightly when he slips his hand under my top to unfasten my bra.
‘As you wish,’ he agrees quietly, which is obscene, because I know for sure it’s what he wishes, too. ‘Lift for me.’
I rise to a sitting position as commanded, silent and obedient while he shifts to his knees again and pulls my top over my head, then my bra down my arms. They are cast aside carelessly before his palm slips to my upper back and his kneeling frame moves in, causing me to fall to my back again.
He’s hovering above me, his body half settled on mine, his eyes sinking into me. ‘There’s something so amazing that happens every time I look into your eyes.’
‘Tell me.’
‘I can’t. It’s beyond my ability to describe it.’
‘Like your fascination?’
He smiles. It’s a shy smile, making him seem all boyish and cute – a very rare appearance for Miller Hart. Yet regardless of its rarity, it’s no smoke screen. It’s not fake or a façade. It’s real. For me alone, he’s real. ‘Just like that,’ he confirms, swooping down to capture my lips. My hands move to his shoulders and smooth his muscles, both of us humming our happiness as our tongues roll so slowly they’re almost unmoving. My head tilts to gain a better connection, my growing need beginning to run away with me.
‘Savour,’ he says into my mouth. ‘We have an eternity.’
His words settle me a little, and I force myself to obey his demand for calm. I know Miller is as eager as I am, yet his strength to maintain his control, to prove he can, blankets that desperation. My bottom lip is nibbled; then the softness of his relaxed tongue licks across my mouth as he rises to his knees again, leaving me squirming under a focused gaze bursting with intention. The hardness of his cock holds me rapt while he negotiates my knees, pulling them up and spreading them. I’m wide open and his stare lingers on the pulsing flesh of my core as he moves between my knees and reaches for the condom. The leisurely pace he adopts, opening, sliding the condom out and onto his erection, is torturous. Demanding he hurry would be pointless, so I throw all of my willpower into waiting patiently.
‘Miller.’ His name on a plea falls past my lips, and my arms reach up in silent indication for him to come to me. But he shakes his head and links his arms under my knees, moving forward until finally I feel the hot tip of his arousal skim over my centre. I cry out, my eyes clenching shut, my arms flying out to the side and bunching the fur strands of the rug in my fists.
‘I want to see all of you,’ he declares, nudging forward, stretching me on a hiss. ‘Open your eyes, Olivia.’
My head starts shaking, feeling him getting deeper and deeper, every muscle tensing.
‘Olivia, please, open your eyes.’
My darkness is bombarded by relentless visions of Miller worshipping me. It’s like a slideshow, the erotic images accelerating my pleasure.
‘Damn it, Livy!’ My eyes fly open in shock, seeing him watching in fascination as he pushes fully into me. His arms are curled under my knees, my lower body elevated and fit snugly to him. His shadowed jaw is rigid, his eyes bright and wild, his hair a wavy mess, his stray wave loose, his lips full, his . . .
Fucking hell! I can feel him throbbing within me, all of my internal muscles wrapping around him, holding tight.
‘Earth to Olivia.’ His tone is full of sex, drenched in passion, and he follows it up with an exact grind of his body into mine. My mind scrambles, the mental images disintegrating. So I return my focus to his face. ‘Keep your eyes on me,’ he orders, rearing back, his length slipping from my passage slowly. The lazy friction makes his demand hard to fulfil. But I manage, even when he re-enters painfully slowly. Every one of my muscles engages and works hard to catch his purposeful pace. He rocks into me, each advance pushing air from my lungs and a little whimper past my lips. The sharp edges of his chest are undulating, straining, a light shimmer of sweat budding on his smooth skin. I start to form a steady pattern of breathing while I’m tortured with his expert worshipping skills, the slow, steady pumping of his hips flinging me into pleasure central. Then he starts grinding on each thrust, his chest heaving, his grip of me hardening. My fingers find my hair and pull hopelessly, seeking anything to grip on to with Miller out of reach.
‘Fucking hell, Olivia. Watching you fight to hold off gives me a sick satisfaction.’ His eyes squeeze shut, his body vibrating.
My nipples start to zing, and my stomach muscles are beginning to ache. As usual, I’m caught in that in-between place. I want to scream for him to push me over the edge, but I also want to delay the inevitable, make this last forever, despite the sweet torture and mind-fucking pleasure.
‘Miller.’ I writhe, my back bowing.
‘Louder,’ he demands, firing forward, less controlled. ‘Fuck, say it louder, Olivia!’
‘Miller!’ I scream his name as his last hard thrust brings me right to the brink of orgasm.
He gives a low, strangled moan as he reins in his power and takes us back down to controlled, measured lovemaking. ‘Every time I take you, I think it will help quench the desire. But it never does. The minute we’re done, I only want you more.’