Unveiled (One Night 3)

He drops my legs and falls to his forearms, trapping me under his leanness. My thighs spread farther, giving his body the room it’s demanding, and his face comes close to mine, our pants colliding. Our stares lock and his hips roll, inching me closer to the pinnacle of euphoria.

I plunge my hands into his hair and tug on his unruly waves as I squeeze my lower muscles around his cock.

‘Fuck, yes! Again.’ His eyes glaze over, his primitive tone boosting my boldness. I squeeze again when the tip of his solid length finds the deepest part of me. ‘Oh, fuuuck.’

I take some of my greatest pleasure from seeing his chin drop and feeling his body shake with appreciation. Knowing I can render him so vulnerable during these moments fills me with power. He’s wide open to me. He’s exposed. He’s weak and powerful at the same time. I flip my hips up, relishing the sight of him falling apart above me. And I squeeze my hardest around each shaky delivery of his drives. The contours of his perfect face begin to twist and I see wild abandon reflecting from his piercing blues.

‘You cripple me, Olivia Taylor. You fucking cripple me.’ He rolls over, taking me onto his lap. ‘Finish it.’ His tone is harsh, full of hunger and desperation. ‘Fucking finish it.’

I wince a little at the unexpected shift in position that pushes him to penetrate me the deepest. Strong hands find my thighs and his fingers grip my flesh. I’m completely speared by him, and I hold my breath as I try to accommodate the sheer size of him in this position.

‘Move, sweet girl.’ His hips jolt upward and I scream, my palms slapping against his chest. ‘Now!’

His abrupt shout fires me into action and I begin spinning my hips atop him, ignoring the stabs of pain and concentrating on the flashes of pleasure between them. He’s groaning, assisting with the rotations of my hips by pushing into my thighs. I’m well into my stride, watching him watching me as I bring us both closer to the brink of explosion.

‘I’m going to come, Olivia.’

‘Yes!’ I shout, raising to my knees and slamming down. He barks a round of expletives and moves fast, spinning me onto my hands and knees. Grasping my hips, he slams into me on a gratifying shout. ‘Oh God! Miller!’

‘Yeah, you feel me, Livy? Feel everything I have to give you.’ Only a few more powerful yanks of my body until his tosses me over the edge and sees me free-falling into darkness, my body collapsing to the rug and convulsing as my climax slams into me. I’m floating away, feeling the loss of Miller inside of me and his continued curses as he drops to my back, shifting his groin and sliding his cock over the crease of my bum, mumbling and biting at my neck before sliding back into my quivering core. I don’t have the brain space through my heady pleasure to be concerned that I climaxed before him. I can feel the dull pulse of his muscled length stroking my walls, slipping in and out leisurely. And then he comes on a torrent of quiet prayers.

Opening my eyes, I stare, panting and heaving, across the cream fur of the rug, attempting to gather cognitive thought. ‘You didn’t hurt me,’ I whisper, my throat sore and scratchy. I know that’ll be his first question once he’s gathered breath. His animalistic nature, the one he’s hidden from me, is becoming addictive. He’s still worshipping me.

My arms stretch above my head on a fulfilled sigh as Miller pulls out of me. My shoulder is nipped and kissed, followed by the other; then he’s working his way down my spine, licking and nibbling as he goes. My eyes close while he continues with the lazy trail of his lips across my back and down to my bum. His teeth sink in, quite severely, too, but I’m exhausted, unable to yelp or shift to stop him. Once he’s had his fill, I feel him crawl up my body and settle over me, his palms sliding up my arms until his hands find mine. He laces our fingers together, pushes his face into my neck, and releases an exhale to match my contentment. ‘Close your eyes,’ he murmurs.

Then, out of nowhere, music floods the silence. Soft music, with deep meaningful lyrics. ‘I recognise this,’ I whisper, hearing Miller humming the soothing tune in my mind.

It’s not in my mind.

My eyes open and I wriggle until he’s forced to lift and I can spin over to see him. He stops humming and smiles at me, twinkling eyes and all, letting the music take over again.

‘This song,’ I begin.

‘I might hum it to you from time to time,’ he whispers, almost shyly. ‘Gabrielle Aplin.’

‘“The Power of Love”,’ I finish for him as his body comes close to mine and pushes me to my back, his weight settling evenly.

‘Hmmm,’ he hums.

I’m still buzzing, still quivering, still pulsing.

An eternity of this still couldn’t ever be enough.

Chapter 4

My dreams are blissful. They are a repeat of the latter part of yesterday. My sleepy lids flutter open, my waking mind registering him close to me. Very close. I’m curled into his side, totally cocooned in his thing.

Carefully and quietly, I lift my left hand and search out my ring, sighing and savouring my mind’s insistence to remind me of every word spoken and action played out.

Blissful dreams don’t only happen when you’re asleep.

Taking the opportunity of Miller’s deep slumber, I spend some private time tracing the planes of his chest. He’s dead to the world . . . at least most of him is. I watch in fascination as his cock begins to thicken when my touch drifts down to the sharp V stemming from his lower stomach, until it’s solid and pulsing, begging for some attention.