‘Get one.’
‘Shit!’ he barks, jumping up and pulling me to my feet. He stoops and throws me onto his shoulder, urgently pacing to the bedroom where he lowers me to the bed and immediately removes his boxers before finding a condom and making quick work of rolling it on.
I’m impatient as I watch him, willing him to hurry up before I lose my screwed-up mind. ‘Miller,’ I pant, reaching up to stroke down the centre of his stomach.
He pushes me to my back and falls to his fists, one on each side of my head. He’s breathless, his hair falling forward, his eyes hungry. ‘This is what it’s all about.’ He rolls his h*ps and drives into me on a suppressed gasp, holding himself deep while he tries to stabilise his uneven breathing. I cry out. ‘This is pleasure.’ He retreats and pushes forward on another burst of air, coaxing another shout of gratification from me. ‘This is feeling.’ Back he draws before thrusting forward again. ‘This is how it’ll always be.’ His pace is meticulous, smooth and perfectly precise. ‘This is us.’
‘I want it to be,’ I breathe, meeting his advances with constant swivels of my hips. His eyes are smiling, and then like a sun breaking through the grey clouds on an overcast, smoggy day in London, his mouth smiles, too – his perfectly straight, white teeth on full display, his eyes sparkling wildly. He accepts me. All of me.
‘I’m glad we’ve cleared that up, not that you had a choice.’
‘I don’t want a choice.’
‘You know it makes perfect sense.’ He drops to his forearms and gets our faces nose to nose, delivering delicious deep grinds over and over. My hands are all over his back, my knees bent and spread, and his shirt a creased-up mess, pooling my body. ‘I have a fascinating habit,’ he says, scanning my face.
‘Me too.’
‘She’s the most beautiful thing.’
‘My habit is mystifying.’ I groan and lift my head to capture his lips. ‘He’s in disguise.’
‘Disguise?’ he asks around my mouth, meeting my demanding tongue with his own.
‘He’s disguised as a gentleman.’
A cough of surprise falls past his lips. ‘If I wasn’t enjoying myself so much right now, I’d challenge you for your cheek. I am a gentleman.’ He jerks forward and bites my lip. ‘Bollocks!’
‘A gentleman doesn’t swear!’ I shout, linking my legs around his waist and tightening them, pushing into his rock-hard arse.
‘Fuck!’
‘Oh God! Faster!’ My hands push into his neck, forcing his lips harder to mine.
‘Savoured,’ he argues weakly. ‘I’ll enjoy you slowly.’
He might be enjoying me slowly, but I’m losing my mind fast. His control is beyond comprehension. How does he do it? ‘You want to go faster,’ I goad him, yanking at his dishevelled mop.
‘Wrong.’ He pulls his head away, making me lose my grip. ‘I didn’t before, and I especially don’t now.’
His harsh reminder of what came before the rightness of this moment halts my tempting tactic in their tracks. ‘Thank you for keeping me,’ I whisper.
‘Don’t thank me. This is happening.’ He abruptly pulls out and gently turns me over, pulling my h*ps upward before slowly sliding back into me. My face buries in the pillow, biting at the cotton as he continuously thrusts back and forth, painstakingly slowly. He’s wreaking havoc on my senses, and I find my body falling into his momentum, gliding back onto each of his drives. He’s moving again, flipping me back over and guiding my legs until they’re draped over his shoulders and he’s inside me once more, pushing deep.
He’s sweating, his waves a delightful mess of wet and his stubble glistening. ‘I love seeing your body move.’
I allow my eyes a glimpse of his chest, finding ripples of muscle riding up his torso with every push forward. I’m on the brink of detonation, but trying to rein it in so I can indulge in him some more. Finding his eyes again, I warm further when he blesses me with another one of his beautiful smiles.
‘I guarantee you, Livy. What you’re looking at isn’t a whisper of the beauty in my view.’
‘Wrong,’ I breathe seriously, reaching up to touch him. He exceeds perfection to the point of inflicting pain on my eyes.
‘We’ll agree to disagree, sweet girl.’ He grinds with purpose, making it impossible for me to argue with him. ‘Good?’
‘Yes!’
‘I concur.’ He drops a shoulder, letting my leg slide down his arm so he can lower his torso. ‘Put your hands above your head.’
‘I want to touch you,’ I complain, my wandering hands going off on a feeling frenzy.
‘Put your hands over your head, Livy.’ He reinforces his command with a sharp thrust, sending my head flying back, along with my hands. Lowering to his forearms, he rests his palms on the undersides of my arms and strokes to match the tempo of his hips. His blue eyes are wild with passion.
‘Are you ready, Livy?’