Promised (One Night 1)

Following his guidance, I slow my pace until I’m evenly gliding up and down his length.

‘Hmmmm, oh God.’ He tenses from top to toe, like he’s cautious, but he’s enjoying it. I can feel him pulsing under my palm, the heat building, his breath hitching further. Maintaining our deep kiss is easy. Holding back from pumping harder with my fist isn’t. My awareness of his building cl**ax is driving my confidence, making my clenched hand ache from tensing to prevent the instinct to fly up and down his shaft.

He bites my lip and pulls away, giving me a perfect view of his perfect face as I continue to work him. His h*ps are starting to thrust with my hand, and I can see the tensing of his arms braced on the chair. But his face is poker straight.

‘Good?’ I ask, wanting something more than his bodily reactions. I want the words he’s so good at during these moments.

‘You’ll never know.’ His head drops a little and small wheezing breaths start to puff from his lips. I take my spare hand and find the hem of his shirt, sliding my hand onto his stomach and feeling the contractions of his muscled abs. ‘Shit!’ he curses.

I take his cue and squeeze harder, but then a loud knock at the door makes me jump, and I’m suddenly dropping him and flying back in my chair.

He gasps. ‘Fucking hell, Livy!’

‘I’m sorry!’ I blurt, not knowing whether to resume my attention of Miller or hide under the desk.

I can see the pain on his face as he pushes himself up from the chair and tries to get his laboured breathing under control. ‘Well, that’s just f**king perfect, isn’t it?’

I press my lips together as I watch him quickly tuck himself away and refasten his trousers and belt. ‘I’m sorry,’ I repeat, not knowing what else to say. He’s still rock solid and it’s obvious through his trousers.

‘So you should be,’ he grumbles, and I lose my attempts to hold back my smile. ‘Look.’ He points to his groin and cocks his eyebrow when he catches my amusement. ‘I have a bit of a problem.’

‘You do,’ I agree, looking to one of his screens and seeing two people standing outside his office door, just as a knock sounds again. ‘Should I let them in?’

‘This is going to be agony.’ He adjusts himself on a groan. ‘Yes, please.’

I jump up and leave Miller settling in his chair, finding my own hyped-up state easy to control with the distraction of Miller’s clear discomfort. Swinging the door open, I come face to face with a lovely looking woman, who immediately gives me the once-over on a frown.

‘You are?’ she says, waving to a man behind her with a camera.

I step back to give her access before I’m barged from her path. ‘Livy,’ I say to myself because she has already passed me and is on her way to Miller’s desk, all smiley and gushy. I’m delighted when I see his mask slip right into place, his cool, business persona replacing his despairing pre-climax state.

‘Hi!’ she sings in his face, practically throwing herself over his desk to get to him. ‘Diana Low.’ She puts her hand out, but I can tell she’s dying to kiss him. ‘Wow, this place is just amazing!’

‘Thank you.’ Miller is as formal as ever, shaking her hand before indicating a chair opposite his desk and discreetly adjusting his groin area. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

She parks her tight arse on the chair and lays her notepad on the table. I’m immediately picking up on the unease emanating from Miller as he looks at the pad. ‘Oooh, I’m not supposed to drink on the job, but you’re my last call of the day. I’ll have a martini on the rocks.’

The photographer passes me, clearly exhausted.

It’s only now I wonder if Miller actually wants me here for this, so I look over to him and gesture to the door, but he starts shaking his head, then nods towards the sofa as he takes Miss Low’s pad and hands it to her. He wants me to stay.

I shut the door and watch the photographer take a seat beside the gregarious woman, dumping his camera on his lap.

‘Drink?’ Miller looks to the man, but I see his head shake from behind.

‘Nah, I’m cool.’

‘I’ll get the drinks,’ I pipe up, opening the door. ‘Martini and a Scotch?’

‘On the rocks!’ The woman swings around, giving me another once-over. ‘Make sure it’s on the rocks.’

‘Rocks,’ I confirm, looking to Miller, who nods his thanks. ‘I’ll be back.’ I slip out, grateful to be free from Diana Low’s irritating voice.

I find the lights have been dimmed and the blue illuminations activated, restoring the bar to the glow I remember. With more than one bar to choose from, I finally plump for the one where Miller met Tony, making my way over and finding a young guy crouched behind, restocking the glass front fridges.

‘Hello,’ I say to get his attention. ‘Can I get a martini on the rocks and a Scotch straight?’

‘For Mr Hart?’

I nod and he flies into action, pulling down a tumbler and giving it an extra polish before pouring a few inches and sliding it across the bar. ‘And a martini?’

‘Please.’

While the barman prepares the drink, I stand feeling a little self-conscious, knowing I’m being regarded with interest by Tony. I look over and receive a small smile, but it’s a poor attempt to make me feel comfortable. His round face is thoughtful.

‘How’s it going down there?’ he asks, breaking the difficult silence.

‘I just left them to it,’ I answer politely and accept the martini.