‘I wasn’t begging.’ My voice has dropped to a husky whisper. I don’t recognise it.
‘Livy, you were most certainly begging. Lift yourself up,’ he orders, taking my hips, encouraging me.
I put up no resistance, pushing on my knees and rising. ‘I thought you were waiting to put me back in your bed.’
‘I would have, had you not teased and tortured me for the past hour. There’s only so much I can take.’ A condom appears from nowhere and he takes it between his teeth before reaching down and unfastening his trousers. ‘I realise how cheap this is but I really cannot wait.’ His penis breaks free from his trousers, hard and ready, and he makes fast work of ripping the packet open with his teeth and rolling it on.
I can’t find my breath. My hands are holding the seat on either side of his head and I’m completely rapt as I watch him sheathe himself. Fizzles of heat are stabbing at the pit of my belly, working their way down to my groin, and I’m mentally egging him on, wanting him to hurry. I’ve lost control and my impatience is evident, more so when I gaze up at him and find misty blue eyes and moist, parted lips.
Pulling my cotton knickers aside, he guides himself to my opening, brushing the inside of my thigh, making me pull in a sharp breath. ‘Lower slowly,’ he whispers, replacing one hand on my hip.
Trying to rein in the temptation to crash down, I slowly inch my way down, letting the air from my lungs gush from my mouth, my head falling back, my fingers digging into the leather on the seat behind him. ‘Miller!’
‘Good God!’ he barks, his h*ps shaking. ‘I’ve never felt anything like it. Stay where you are.’
I’m completely impaled on him. I can feel the tip of his arousal in the deepest part of me, and I’m shaking like a leaf. Uncontrollable shakes. My body is alive, desperate to fly into action and instigate further pleasure. ‘Move.’ My head drops, finding Miller’s head resting back, his eyes low and staring into our laps. His hair is a wavy, damp mess, crying for me to feel it. So I do. I lace my fingers through his waves and play with it, stroking and pulling. ‘Please move.’
‘I’ll do whatever you want, Livy.’ He clenches my h*ps and grinds deeply, spiking a low, alluring moan from me. ‘Jesus, that damn sound you make.’
‘I can’t help it.’
‘I don’t want you to,’ he says, circling firmly, making me moan some more. ‘I could listen to it for the rest of my days.’
I’m a fevered mess of longing. He even makes love precisely, each rotation, circle and grind a perfectly executed move, building me up perfectly. I’ll never get enough of this. ‘Miller,’ I pant, pushing short, uncontrolled breaths through my lips.
‘Tell me what you want.’ He lifts me and pulls me back down slowly, his eyes clenching shut. ‘Tell me how you want me, Livy.’
I don’t care. Each time he’s worshipped me it has been perfectly perfect. He can do no wrong. ‘I want it all,’ I breathe, meaning so much more than just movement. I want to feel this good for ever, and I’m not sure that any other man will do it for me. ‘Kiss me,’ I beg as he slides me back up and guides me down, rotating his hips, grinding firmly. I’m losing my mind. My hands are tightening in his hair, my knees on his waist.
His eyes lift, his hand finds its place on my nape, and I’m pulled forward slowly, accurately, with no rush or impatience. I don’t know how he’s doing it. ‘You’ve knocked me sideways, Olivia Taylor,’ he murmurs, claiming my lips gently. ‘You’re making me question everything I thought I knew.’
I want to agree because I feel the same, but my mouth is too busy relishing the attention of his soft, worshipping lips. I do, however, note that his declaration can only be a good thing. Maybe he won’t let me walk away after our time is up. I’m hoping he won’t let me walk away because I’ve given myself up to him again, despite my better judgement. But saying no to Miller Hart doesn’t seem to be something I can do . . . or I simply won’t do.
‘Can you feel it, Livy?’ he asks between tentative, delicate circles of his tongue. ‘Doesn’t it feel like nothing else?’
‘Yes.’ I bite his lip and plunge my tongue back into his mouth, moaning and pushing my body into him, feeling twinges in the tip of my sex, the hints of an orgasm powering forward. It makes me harden our kiss as the desperation to nail it down derails my determination to follow his leisurely lead.
‘Calm,’ he moans. ‘Take it easy.’
I try, but he’s starting to thump inside me, swelling and throbbing, pushing me on. I start shaking my head against his lips. ‘You feel too good.’
‘Hey.’ He breaks our kiss but maintains the flow of his body into mine, taking over completely to stop me hurrying things along. ‘Savour it.’
My eyes close and my head rolls back on my shoulders as I try to gather the strength required to follow his guidance. I’m amazed by his self-control. Every piece of him is gushing with desperation to match mine – his eyes smoking, his body shaking, his sex throbbing, his face damp with sweat. Yet he seems to find it so easy to tolerate the painful pleasure that he inflicts on us both.
‘Shit, I wish I had you in my bed,’ he moans. ‘Don’t hide your beautiful face from me, Livy. Show me.’
My body starts to spasm with an orgasm I couldn’t delay even if I wanted to. My hand flies out, my palm slapping against the window, but it instantly starts slipping all over the condensation on the glass, doing nothing to stabilise me.