Throwing his boxers to join his trousers on the floor, I scoot down and make myself comfortable, my hands lying on his hips, my nose practically resting on the underside of his penis. I’m staring down, watching him twitch, my mouth dropping open as I breathe heavily onto him. His h*ps lift slowly, pushing himself towards me, making me pull in a steady breath of air.
‘Livy, sweet Jesus, I can feel the heat of your breath.’ He lifts his head and hits me with hungry eyes. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m sorry, it’s just . . . I glance back down.
‘It’s fine.’ His acceptance is easy. It makes me feel stupid, and with those words, my tongue leaves my mouth and I get my first taste of Miller Hart. I follow my instincts and lick straight up his shaft lightly, climbing onto my knees as I do. I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.
‘Oh, f**kkkkkkk.’ His head falls back and his palms cover his face, which I take as a good sign, so I take him in my hand and pull him up, noting a pearl of white liquid beading on the very tip. I lick it off, really getting a good taste.
I gasp a little, working hard to keep my confidence. He looks so thick and long. I’ll never take it all. My earlier poise is slipping but I’m desperate not to look like a complete idiot. I curse silently to myself, hating my hesitance, and take him into my mouth, plunging until he hits the back of my throat.
‘Fuck!’ His h*ps fly up, pushing him further into me, making me gag and retreat quickly. ‘Sorry!’ he blurts on a suppressed bark. ‘Shit, Livy, I’m sorry.’
Frustrated with myself, I don’t delay getting him back into my mouth, this time only taking him halfway before pulling back and working my way down again. The smoothness of him is a surprise. It feels nice – his heat, his hardness beneath the smooth skin.
I’m working up into a comfortable rhythm, his moans of pleasure encouraging me as my hand roams freely, feeling his chest, his thighs, his stomach.
‘Livy, stop now.’ His stomach muscles tense as he rises into a sitting position, his knees rising too, and dropping outwards, leaving me kneeling between his spread legs, my head in his lap. ‘Stop.’ His hands are in my hair, gently guiding me up and down slowly, patiently. He’s telling me to stop, but seeming to encourage me too. ‘Oh, Jesus,’ he chokes as I feel one hand leave my head, feeling the zip of my dress being slowly drawn down my spine. ‘Lift up,’ he says, pulling at the hem of my dress.
Feeling a little cheated, I do as I’m told and drop him from my mouth, lifting my backside from the backs of my feet and my hands into the air. My dress is pulled up as I look down at him, loving the mess of his hair, all falling freely, the waves enhanced from his sexed-up state. He disappears from sight for just a few seconds while he gets my dress past my face before throwing it carelessly on the floor and reaching around my back to unfasten my bra. He slowly drags it down my arms and drops it before taking my h*ps gently and leaning forward to place his lips on my stomach. Reaching down, I start to push his shirt from his shoulders, keen to get him fully na**d and feel all of him, and he obliges, releasing one hand from my body at a time to allow the removal of his remaining clothes, but keeping his mouth on my stomach, nibbling lazily across to my hip.
‘Your skin is exquisite, Livy.’ His voice is rough and low. ‘You are exquisite.’
My hands find his hair, and I look down at the back of his head as he takes his time working his mouth all over my navel. As always, it’s slow, soft and precise, making my body hum and my eyes close dreamily. Nothing about our intimacies suggests that this is just sex – not one thing. I may not be au fait with sexual relationships, but I know this is more than sex. This has to be more than sex.
I’m happy enough to kneel in front of his sitting body and let him indulge himself for as long as he likes. His hands are everywhere, cupping my bottom, trailing delicately up my spine and drifting down to the backs of my thighs. I feel his thumbs slip into the sides of my knickers and tug, pulling them down until they’re at my knees, unable to go any further. Dropping my head and opening my eyes, I find him looking up at me. His eyes are screaming desire as he lazily blinks, like his dark lashes are too heavy and it’s an effort to reopen them.
‘How about I lock the door and we stay here for ever?’ he suggests on a low murmur, encouraging me to shift one leg at a time to allow him to remove my knickers. ‘Forget about the world outside those doors and stay here with me.’
I settle back down on my knees, my bum resting on my heels. ‘For ever would be much longer than one night.’
His lips twitch and he extends his hand, rubbing his thumb across my nipple. I look down, reminding myself of my lack of br**sts, not that he seems at all bothered. ‘So it would,’ he muses, keeping his focus on his thumb circling the dark rim around my hard nub. ‘It was a stupid deal.’
My heart skips too many beats, my spirits lifting to crazy heights. ‘We didn’t shake on it,’ I remind him. ‘And we definitely haven’t f**ked on it.’
He sends me dizzy when he smiles at my breast, and then lifts his blue gaze to mine. ‘I concur.’ He reaches up and pulls me down so we’re nose to nose. I’m powerless to prevent the small smile plaguing my lips as a result of those words and the look on his face. ‘I don’t think you’re quite broken in enough yet.’
‘I concur.’ My smile widens. We both know that I am more than broken in. This is an implicit, mutual acknowledgement and agreement. He wants me for longer, just as much as I want him. We have both been taken aback by this fascination. ‘Will you break me in some more now?’ I ask innocently, lifting and unfolding my legs, putting myself in his lap.