‘You’re egging me on.’ He drops to his elbows and gets mouth to mouth with me, easing back and pushing in a little further, circling his groin. ‘Tell me how it feels.’
‘Good!’ I breathe, inviting him to increase his pace with another tip of my hips.
‘I concur.’ He rests his lips over mine and teases my mouth with a brief dash of his tongue. It’s too much. I attempt to capture his lips but he pulls away. ‘Slowly,’ he murmurs, swaying in and out perfectly, gazing down at me and blinking lazily to match his gentle thrusting. This really is intimate, and he’s breaking me in, just like he promised. The quietness surrounding us is only slightly pierced by our matching, quiet, irregular puffs of air. Right now, I’m wondering why I’ve deprived myself of this feeling. This is nothing like I remember. This is how sex should be – two people sharing in each other’s pleasure, not sprinting to the finish line with no consideration for the other person, which is just how I remember my drunken encounters to be. This is worlds away. This is special. This is what I want. I know I shouldn’t be thinking that, especially since I’ve agreed to twenty-four hours and nothing more, but if I’ll have this to remember – him staring down at me, him feeling me, him worshipping me, then I think that I can cope with the aftermath.
I feel internal muscles that I never knew existed contract around him, sensitising me to each delicious drive, pushing me onward to . . . something. I don’t know what, but I know it’s going to be good.
He leans down and kisses my nose, then moves to my lips. ‘You’re tensing inside. Are you going to come?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know?’ he gasps. ‘You’ve never come?’
I shake my head under his mouth, not feeling in the slightest bit embarrassed. I’m too distracted by the lush heaviness weighing down between my thighs, getting heavier with each gentle thrust of his hips. I’ve never cl**axed when I’ve slept with a man. Each encounter disgusted me, made me wonder what my mother found so hard to resist. I couldn’t see what pleasure could come of it – I never realised it could be like this. I feel like all rationality is being stripped away.
‘Oh, f**king hell!’ His face pulls away from mine, his h*ps jerking forward, a little less controlled. ‘You’ve never had an orgasm?’
‘No!’ I grapple at his shoulders, my head shaking despairingly. The pain has completely gone now. Oh God, it’s gone and in its place is something else – something . . . ‘Miller!’
‘Oh, you sweet thing.’ His drives are controlled again, but slightly firmer – more precise and consistent. ‘Livy, you’ve just made me a very happy man.’
My nails dig in again. I can’t help it. I’m being bombarded with hot sparks stabbing at my epicentre. ‘Oh!’
He drops his face to mine and kisses me softly. I’m not soft, though. I’m hungry, and my frantic mouth action is proof of it. ‘Slow down,’ he mumbles, sounding desperate, trying to guide me by kissing me purposely slow.
I’m turning light-headed; my eyes are rolling and my hands are now grasping his mass of dark waves. But I don’t slow down. I can’t. I feel a sense of urgency as the pressure builds and builds with every wonderful push of his hips.
‘Here it comes.’ He breaks away from my mouth and re-braces himself on his arms, pumping firmly, leaving me with no mouth to devour and no hair to knot my fingers in. ‘How does it feel, Livy? Tell me.’ His jaw is tense, his eyes suddenly deadly serious.
‘Good!’
‘How good?’ He pleasures me with more and more and more.
‘Too good!’
‘Are you ready to come?’
‘I don’t know!’ Is that what this is? I feel out of control, almost out of my mind.
‘Oh, sweet girl, you’ve not lived.’ His pace picks up and so does the pressure down below. My hands brace on his forearms and push, taking me further up the bed, and my head starts to urgently shake from side to side.
‘Oh God!’ I yelp. ‘Oh shit!’
‘That’s it, Livy!’ It’s becoming frantic – our breathing, the shouting, the sweating and tensing and bracing. But he still maintains that steady, easy pace. ‘Let it go.’
I have no idea what happens. The room starts spinning, a nuclear bomb goes off between my thighs and I scream. I can’t stop it. My arms flop behind my head and Miller lowers himself on top of me, barking his cl**ax into my hair, panting and slipping over my wet skin. The throb, him inside me and me around him is comforting and so is his fitful breathing in my ear.
‘Thank you,’ I gasp, not even feeling stupid for showing my appreciation. He’s the one who keeps reminding me of my manners and what he’s just done to me deserves some gratitude. Bloody hell, that was past even my highest expectations.