My back arches and my heels push into his arse, pulling him into me. ‘Please,’ I beg, forgetting all plans of me worshipping him. My hands grip the edge of the table, my eyes clenching shut.
‘You’re depriving me, Olivia.’ My nipple is taken and twirled between his thumb and forefinger gently. ‘You know how that makes me feel.’
I do, but he’s sucking all of the reason out of me. My head starts shaking and my hands leave the edge of the table, delving into my sopping wet hair. I’m losing my mind, and when his hand shifts down to the inside of my thigh and strokes a teasing circle close to my pulsing centre, I make my despair known. ‘Miller!’ My stomach muscles contract, pulling my shoulders from the table, and my arms fly out to the side, knocking pots of brushes and trays of paint everywhere. I’m too sidetracked to be bothered and Miller is most unconcerned by the added mess, his eyes glinting, oozing victory. I’m reduced to a convulsing mess of twitching muscles and erratic breaths. And he hasn’t even touched me in my most sensitive place yet. It’s all too much – his touch, my thoughts . . . the profound lyrics.
‘I make you feel alive.’ He drives two fingers into me, his action pushing all breath from my lungs. I collapse back down to the table, looking up at his straight face. I might be mindless with the pleasure he inflicts on me, but nothing would distort the vision of penetrating blue eyes as they watch me writhe under his touch. They are hooded, but each blink is executed as slowly as ever, taking an eternity to close before being drawn back open. ‘I make you wonder how you’ll survive without my attention to this exquisite body.’ Pulling his fingers slowly out, he circles his thumb over my twitching bud before surging forward again. ‘Scream my name, Olivia,’ he orders.
It’s almost impossible not to close my eyes, but it is impossible to bite back my scream. I cl**ax. My body goes into shock, my hands grappling at nothing on the table as all air rushes from my mouth on a loud, piercing wail of his name in hopeless pleasure. He watches me, his face remaining impassive and his eyes remaining victorious, while I ride out the throbs and contract persistently around the fingers he’s holding within me, deep and high. He keeps them there and lowers his torso over me, getting his face close to mine. ‘And I constantly wonder how I’d ever survive without the privilege of giving you this attention.’ He kisses me sweetly on the lips. ‘Especially this part.’ I let him devour me while he gently thrusts his fingers in and out, slowly helping me down from my high, leisurely working my mouth on constant hums of appreciation.
I could never worship him this well. I’m sure I couldn’t make him feel this good and safe and secure.
‘I’m going to take my time making love to you now.’ He nuzzles into my hair and peels his torso from mine, exposing my wet skin to the cool air of his studio. ‘I’m going to show you just how much you fascinate me.’
My eyes follow him up and we regard each other while he withdraws his fingers and wipes them across his bottom lip. Then he licks them slowly. Then he just gazes at me. For a long, long time. His close scrutiny doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable but, as always, it makes me wonder what’s running through that multilayered mind of his.
‘What are you thinking?’ I ask quietly, not resisting a little brush of my fingertip down the rippling muscles of his stomach.
He follows its path, letting me feel him for a time before taking my hand and lifting it to his lips. Each fingertip is kissed, my palm flattened, and my hand placed gently on my breast. ‘I’m thinking how lovely you look on my paint table.’
I smile mildly, and he starts to move my hand, encouraging me to follow his guidance and mould my breast. A moan trickles past my lips and I sigh, long and peacefully.
‘You look lovely everywhere.’ He moves his free hand down to his groin, gasping a little when he wraps his palm around the girth of his arousal. His jaw sharpens. ‘You’re just too f**king lovely.’ Looking down, he guides himself to my opening and brushes across my entrance. I start to pant, motivating him to deliver another teasing, feathery tickle. It’s too much.
‘No!’ I shock myself with my little outburst and Miller’s eyes flying to mine display his alarm, too. ‘Don’t drive me crazy, please!’
His stunned eyes drift into knowing.
‘I know it delights you, but please don’t torture me.’ I’m a desperate wreck and entirely unbothered by it. After today and everything that has happened, I don’t need to be tormented or teased.