And I’m on it.
I lean forward, seeing myself on Ice’s launch night drinking with Gregory, then the image changes to us walking up the stairs, me looking around in awe. Then I’m on the dance floor. And Miller is on the prowl behind me. I see Gregory whisper in my ear, and me going to turn, and then I watch as he homes in, giving me a thorough inspection before he has his hands on me. The footage is clear, but when Miller reaches forward and touches the centre of the screen, it gets bigger, clearer, and the look on his face makes me instantly wet. I’m tingling, too, and it’s right now I wonder why the hell I’m staring at a screen when the real thing is crouched next to me.
I slowly turn to face him. ‘You sat here and watched me.’ I don’t ask it as a question because it’s obvious. I knew it, but I didn’t consider a club littered with cameras.
He regards me thoughtfully and cocks his head a little. ‘My gorgeous, sweet girl, are you turned on?’
I don’t want to, but I squirm in his big office chair, my cheeks flushing terribly. ‘You’re here. Of course I am.’ I need to try and meet his poise – try being the operative word. I could never match Miller in the intensity stakes or the brooding stakes or the hot stakes or the sexy stakes. I might in the sass stakes, though.
My chair is slowly turned to face him, the remote control placed neatly on the table, and his palms slide under my thighs, pulling me to him until there are only a few inches between our faces. ‘When I watched you on Saturday night,’ he whispers in my face, ‘I was turned on, too.’
An image of Miller reclined in this chair, short in hand, watching quietly as I drank, chatted and wandered around his club, invades my lust-filled mind. The mental visual makes the heat drop from my face, straight into my groin. I’m saturated, and he knows it. ‘Are you turned on now?’ I breathe, moving my face a little closer so our noses meet.
‘Find out for yourself.’ He pushes his lips to mine and rises, forcing my head to drop back to accommodate our kiss. His hands are braced on the arms of his office chair, caging me in, and the satisfied moan that seeps from his mouth into mine is the most pleasurable sound I’ve ever heard.
I waste no time getting my hands on him. I blindly yank his belt undone while our mouths work each other frantically, the softly-softly approach a distant memory in this moment in time. He seems harassed and if I can fix it, then I will.
‘Just your hand,’ he mumbles desperately.
I unzip his fly, unbutton him and slide my hand into his trousers, finding hard heat immediately.
I grasp it loosely, and he gasps, prompting me to flick my eyes up. I’m looking into blinding blues as I pull a slow, smooth stroke, his parted lips letting his shallow pants warm my face. ‘Did you do this to yourself when you watched me?’ I ask quietly, his desperation powering me on, boosting my confidence.
‘I never do this to myself.’
His response shocks me, making my rhythm falter. ‘Never?’
‘Never.’ His h*ps gently push forward.
‘Why not?’ I’m shocked to the core, and even though it sounds unbelievable, I believe him.
‘It doesn’t matter.’ He swoops down and takes my lips, halting any further questioning. I’m focusing on working him gently, but with his mouth action getting unusually firm, it seems to influence my hands too, the thrusts of my fist speeding up, coaxing continuous groans from him. ‘Keep it steady,’ he almost begs.
Following his guidance, I slow my pace until I’m evenly gliding up and down his length.
‘Hmmmm, oh God.’ He tenses from top to toe, like he’s cautious, but he’s enjoying it. I can feel him pulsing under my palm, the heat building, his breath hitching further. Maintaining our deep kiss is easy. Holding back from pumping harder with my fist isn’t. My awareness of his building cl**ax is driving my confidence, making my clenched hand ache from tensing to prevent the instinct to fly up and down his shaft.
He bites my lip and pulls away, giving me a perfect view of his perfect face as I continue to work him. His h*ps are starting to thrust with my hand, and I can see the tensing of his arms braced on the chair. But his face is poker straight.
‘Good?’ I ask, wanting something more than his bodily reactions. I want the words he’s so good at during these moments.
‘You’ll never know.’ His head drops a little and small wheezing breaths start to puff from his lips. I take my spare hand and find the hem of his shirt, sliding my hand onto his stomach and feeling the contractions of his muscled abs. ‘Shit!’ he curses.
I take his cue and squeeze harder, but then a loud knock at the door makes me jump, and I’m suddenly dropping him and flying back in my chair.
He gasps. ‘Fucking hell, Livy!’