The gliding of our bodies together exceeds pleasurable. He’s looking down at me with total devotion, bolstering my feelings more and more with each and every careful pump of his hips. I’m ablaze, rippling, breathing sharp gasping breaths in his face as my palms dampen from the sweat riddling his nape.
‘I’m desperate to kiss you,’ he mumbles, pushing deep, holding himself as he reins in his laboured breathing. ‘So desperate, but I can’t deprive my eyes of your face. I need to see your face.’
I squeeze my internal muscles instinctively, feeling him pulse steady and slow.
‘Jesus, Livy, you put perfection to shame.’
I want to counter his claim, but all of my concentration is going into matching the meticulous tempo of his dreamy hips, each drive firm and flawless, each retreat steady and controlled. The stirrings in the pit of my tummy are preparing to travel further down, preparing to erupt and send me wild with overwhelming sensations, and not just of the physical kind. My heart is bursting, too.
I’m suddenly moving, being pulled up carefully to his kneeling lap and guided around time and time again. ‘You fit me just right,’ he groans, slowly closing his eyes. ‘The only thing in my life that has ever been truly perfect is you.’
In my blissed-out state, I manage to comprehend what that means, especially for a man who craves exactness. ‘I want to be perfect for you,’ I pledge, pushing my body into his, planting my face in his neck. ‘I want to be everything you need.’ I have no issue with admitting that. In moments like this, I see a man who’s relaxed and content, not uptight and broody or unpredictable and dangerous. If I can help to shift some of these attributes from the bedroom into Miller’s life when he’s not worshipping me, then I will, every day for the rest of my days. The middle part of yesterday was a perfect start.
I feel hypnotised as I pull back and stare into his eyes, clinging to his hair and moving exactly where guided. The power he exudes from being so gentle is incredible, his speed and measure mind-blowing. He gasps, touching our foreheads. ‘Sweet girl, you already are.’ His head rolls, taking his lips down to mine, and we kiss fervently, tongues clashing and rolling as I’m lifted and grounded continuously. ‘You’re too special, Livy.’
‘So are you.’
‘No, I’m a fraud.’ His h*ps buck a little, enticing a collective cry from us both. ‘Good God!’ he yelps, raising his arse from his heels and kneeling, holding me against him with no strain at all. My head falls back as I grapple at his back, my ankles linking to gain more stability. ‘Don’t deprive me of your face, Livy.’
My head is too heavy and rolling freely as the pressure accumulates and buzzes. I’m going to burst. ‘I’m coming.’
‘Please, Livy. Let me see you.’ He delivers the words on a lazy grind. ‘Please.’
I force myself to fulfil his plea, using what energy I have to pull against his neck to help me. I cry out.
‘Lie back.’
‘What?’ I yell, closing my eyes, feeling my muscles contracting persistently. I can’t control it any more.
‘Lie back.’ His palm rests at the base of my spine, letting me lean against it, and he eases me down until my upper back is on the mattress and my lower body is held against his kneeling frame. ‘Comfortable?’
‘Yes,’ I gasp, bowing my back and plunging my fingers into my blond, knotted waves.
‘Good,’ he rumbles.
The strain in his face tells me he’s close, too, the rippling of his stomach an indication of the tension building. ‘Are you ready, Livy?’
‘Yes!’
‘Oh Jesus, I’m so ready.’ His h*ps seem to take on a mind of their own as he shudders into me, the smooth fluidness long gone. He’s shaking, clearly trying to hold his restraint, and I wonder again if it’s a continual battle for him to prevent the hard fierceness that I bore witness to in the hotel.
That line of thought requires a clear mind, which I don’t have right now. I’m coming.
‘Miller!’
He pulls his h*ps away and delivers a thrust that sends us both over the edge, Miller on a tight bark, me on a suppressed scream. His fingers are digging into my flesh as he pushes that little bit further into me, twitching, jerking and groaning.
I’m wiped out, completely useless, struggling to even keep my eyes on Miller’s post-climax, sweaty face. I welcome his weight when he drops onto me, keeping my eyes closed but making up for my loss of seeing him by feeling him everywhere. He’s soaking wet and panting in my hair, and it’s the most amazing feeling and sound ever.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers out of the blue, and I frown through my exhaustion.
‘For what?’
‘Tell me what I’m going to do without you.’ He squeezes me ridiculously hard, putting a strain on my ribs. ‘Tell me how I’m going to survive.’