‘Harder,’ I mumble weakly, letting Miller take full control, the strength to meet his punishing blows failing me. All I can focus on is the pleasure consuming me, taking over every single part of me.
‘Christ, Olivia!’ His fingers flex and dig back into my flesh. ‘Am I hurting you?’
‘No!’ I blurt, suddenly worried he’ll ease up. ‘Harder!’
‘Oh, you fucking dream.’ His knees widen, pushing my legs farther apart, and his pace accelerates, our bodies clashing loudly. ‘I’m going to come, Olivia!’
My eyes close and all breath leaves my lungs as my mind empties, too. I’m in a dark, silent world, where my only purpose is basking in the attention that Miller delivers. There’s nothing else to steal my focus, nothing to distract me or ruin our precious time together. It’s just us – my body and his body doing incredible things.
The pleasure is rising. Each collide of his body with mine is pushing me towards utter rapture. I want to speak, tell him how he’s making me feel, yet I’m rendered mute, unable to utter a word, only whimpers of despair and pleasure. I feel the pinnacle of his climax looming. He’s expanding within me, and a mighty roar snaps me back into the room. My orgasm takes me by surprise, and I cry out as it rips through me like a tornado. Every muscle I own engages, except my neck, which leaves my head dropping limply between my arms. Miller’s sharp thrusts accelerate once more to carry him over the edge, and he yanks my stiff body onto him. ‘Arhhhhhhhhhhhhh!’ he bellows, and strikes with a force that’s only comprehensible if you’re on the receiving end of it. And I am. The sharp flash of pain that sears through me, mixing with the spikes of pleasure bubbling deep in my groin, takes everything out of me. ‘Fucking hell,’ he breathes, locking us together and holding us joined. I’m ready to collapse. Miller is the only thing supporting me, and when he unclaws his fingers from my hips, I lose that support, flopping to my front on the floor, heaving and gasping.
The coolness of the carpet on my cheek is welcome as I watch Miller fall to his back next to me, his arms falling limply above his head, his chest expanding violently. He’s soaking wet, the taut flesh of his chest glistening from sweat. If I had the energy, I’d reach over and stroke him, but I’m useless. Completely incapacitated. But not enough to close my eyes and deprive them of the stunning sight of Miller post-climax.
We both remain sprawled across the carpet for an eternity. My ears are being invaded by consistent and drawn-out gasps of breath. Finally mustering some strength from somewhere, I drag my arm across the carpet and brush my fingertip down his side. It glides easily, assisted by the dampness of his hot skin. His head drops to the side until his eyes find mine and exhaustion runs away, leaving behind some scope for talking. But he beats me to it.
‘I love you, Olivia Taylor.’
I smile and put all of my effort into crawling on top of him, settling my body all over his, sinking my face into the comfort of his neck. ‘And I’m quite fascinated by you, too, Miller Hart.’
Chapter 14
‘Let’s see, then.’ He’s waiting on the pavement outside the salon, and I can tell he’s extremely anxious. He’s fidgety, looking unreasonably stressed by the potential of my new haircut. I was delivered to the salon with strict instructions to trim minimal amounts, although Miller took it upon himself to reiterate those instructions to the hairdresser and only left when I forced him to, seeing how nervous he was making her feel with his curt orders. Miller watching over her probably would have landed me with something worse than I already had. My once long, wild waves are now smooth and glossy and bouncing just below my shoulders. Bloody hell, even I’m nervous. I reach up and run my fingers through them, thinking how silky they feel, while Miller regards me carefully. I wait. And wait. Until I blow out my exasperation on an impatient exhale.
‘Say something!’ I order, hating the scrutiny I’m under. It’s not rare for him to study me so closely, but the intensity isn’t welcome right now. ‘Don’t you like it?’
He slips his hands into the trouser pockets of his suit, thinking hard. Then he closes the distance between us and drops his face into my neck as soon as he makes it to me. I tense. I can’t help it, except it’s not his closeness. It’s his quietness. After a long inhale, he speaks. ‘I don’t need to tell you that I was a little worried about the potential of losing any more.’
I huff a cynical burst of laughter at his understatement. ‘A little?’
He pulls away and hums thoughtfully. ‘I sense sarcasm.’
‘Your senses work well.’
He gives me a wicked smile and moves in, locking his arm around my neck and pulling me in. ‘I love it.’
‘You do?’ I’m stunned. Is he lying?