‘Everything you get from me is natural instinct, Olivia Taylor. I’ve never been fascinated before. I’ve never given all of me before. You get all of me. Every f**ked-up little piece. And I pray every second of every day that you’ll never give up on me, even if I do.’ He pushes his lips gently to mine and leaves them lingering for what seems like for ever, injecting me with strength, intensifying my love. ‘Keep me in this beautiful light place with you.’ He releases me and hits me with pleading eyes. ‘Don’t let me fall back into darkness, I beg you.’
I absorb his words, immobilised under his clear blue gaze. Hearing him reaffirm his feelings, express himself so well, should hold my contentment firm. But I heard the negative line in his statement. Even if I do.
I’m too aware of Miller’s recent actions. The right words from the wrong people could send him spiralling back into that dark place and only my strength can pull him back.
‘Stroke me,’ I order softly, ‘with your fingers.’ I take his hand and guide it to the apex of my thighs. ‘Then enter me and thrust gently.’
He nods in wordless acknowledgment and braces his hand on the counter as his touch finds me. My breath catches. ‘Let me taste you,’ he whispers, bringing our faces closer together.
My response is mechanical, no thoughts necessary, and I lift and seal our mouths on a groan, wrapping my arms around his neck. Every muscle I possess hardens in preparation, my thighs dropping further open, inviting more of him into me. His efforts are lazy and measured, two fingers gliding perfectly across my flesh and working me up deliciously. I’m breathless, my kiss becoming predictably harder as my pleasure builds.
I gasp, sucking at his bottom lip before letting my head fall back to the worktop.
His eyes are hooded, his laboured breathing matching mine, as he maintains the steady slipping of his fingers over my throbbing flesh. ‘Jesus, Olivia.’ His head drops limply as he finally breaches the threshold of my entrance with his fingers and puts some weight behind his caresses, pushing into me on a low moan.
My chest flies up on a delirious shout. ‘Miller!’
‘Fuck! I love hearing you scream my name.’ He withdraws and thrusts forward again, the power of his drive not just evident by my continued moans and cries, but clear on the cut edges of his strained face. I’m fighting the urge to squeeze my eyes shut, desperate to lose myself in dark pleasure, but more desperate to watch him. There’s wonder past the dark desire of his addictive eyes, but I lose the glorious sight when he dips and encases my tingling nipple with the heat of his mouth. It catapults me into sensory overload. I start to shake.
‘Oh God!’ My hands in his hair apply pressure, pushing him onto my breast, and my h*ps start lifting, meeting the pumping of his fingers. Every nerve ending is buzzing uncontrollably, my head shaking, my thoughts scattered. I begin to feel my cl**ax take hold, the pleasure dominating every inch of me shifting to one spot, set to explode. And with a nip of my nipple and a deep rotation of strong fingers within me, it happens.
The world ceases to rotate on its axis. Life stops. My mind goes blank. There’s a distant sound of groaning and once I’ve overcome the initial onslaught of harsh pleasure, I drop my head to the side in exhaustion and peel my eyes open to find Miller at full height, looking down at me as he strokes me softly between the thighs, easing me lightly down. His arousal is thick, pulsing and protruding proudly from his groin.
I don’t speak, mainly because I haven’t the energy, but I do find a little strength to reach to the side and take a gentle hold of him, wiping my thumb across the swollen head to smear the bead of cum that’s leaking from the tip. Miller hisses, the muscles of his chest quivering aggressively while he battles to cope with my touch. He’s pulsing incessantly, and I can see his heart pounding in his chest. It takes just one delicate swipe of my fisted hand around him to tip him. He knocks my hand out of the way and lifts to rest his iron length on my tummy, groaning, his head rolling as he spills all over me. The warmth of his essence coating me has my body relaxing back into the marble on a lengthy, gratifying sigh. I’m floating in a magical land of perfection.
‘Sleepy?’ His rough voice tickles my ears, and I hum, closing my eyes. His hand gently breaks away from between my thighs and rests on my tummy. Then he spreads his cum everywhere, up to my boobs and down to my legs. I’m coated. And I couldn’t care less. He dips and pecks my lips, encouraging me to open up to him. I let him drench my mouth with his attention. I could fall asleep here on this solid work surface.
‘Come on.’ He pulls me up to a sitting position and muscles between my spread legs, all the while keeping up our kiss. My arms are positioned over his shoulders, he cups my bum, and pulls me in. ‘You can help me make breakfast.’
‘I can?’ I blurt, making him pull back on an inquisitive frown. Messing up his worktop, his clothes . . . me. And now I can help him make breakfast in his perfect kitchen, where tasks are carried out with military precision? I’m not sure I’m up to it, and quite frankly, interfering with his obsessive ways to that extent kind of scares me.
‘Let’s not make too big a deal of it,’ he warns.