Unveiled (One Night 3)

‘Are you hungry?’ he asks into my hair, and I shake my head. ‘Have you eaten today?’

‘Yes,’ I lie. I’m not up for food, my stomach won’t take it, and if he tries to force-feed me, I might shoot him down with my waning sass.

He pushes himself up until he’s braced on his forearms, gazing down on me. ‘I’m going to put something casual on.’

‘You mean you’re going to put your shorts on.’

His eyes twinkle, his lips twitching. ‘I’m going to make you feel comfortable.’

‘I’m already comfortable.’ My mind is invaded by images of a perfect bare chest on that one night. One night that has evolved into one lifetime. The one night when I thought I’d only get twenty-four hours but hoped for more. Even now, amid this nightmare, I don’t regret accepting Miller’s offer.

‘You may be, but my new suit isn’t.’ A disgruntled look is thrown down his torso as he lifts his body from mine. ‘I’ll be quick. And I want you naked when I get back.’

I offer a demure smile as he backs out of the room, his eyes flicking to my figure in a silent prompt. His fiery gaze virtually burns the material from my body and the internal fizzing transforms into full-on scorching fire bolts. Then he’s gone, leaving me worked up and with nothing to do other than as I’m bid, so I slowly strip down.

By the time I’ve cast my clothes aside, pulled the woollen throw down over me, and flicked the TV on, Miller is back, except he hasn’t got his shorts on. He has nothing on. My appreciative eyes are riveted, my body aching for his attention. He stands before me, his strong legs slightly spread, his eyes lowered. His beauty defies the imaginable. He’s the finest of masterpieces. He’s incomparable. He’s my possession.

‘Earth to Olivia,’ he whispers. I confront his penetrating eyes and watch, totally rapt, my lips parting to give me much needed air, as he blinks lazily. ‘I’ve had a stressful day.’

Join the club, I think as I lift my hand and he takes it. I expect him to bring his body down to me, but I’m pulled from the couch, the woollen throw tumbling to the floor at my feet. He takes my hand around to my back and applies some pressure, pulling me into his chest. We’re touching. Everywhere.

‘Are you ready to de-stress me?’ His hot breath spreads across my cheeks, heating them further. ‘Are you ready for me to take you to that place where nothing exists, only us?’

I nod and let my lids fall shut when his spare hand slides onto the back of my head and his fingers start combing through my hair.

‘Come with me.’ His grip shifts to my nape and I’m turned and led from the room. We only make it halfway up the stairs, and I’m prevented from going any farther when he slides his hands onto my hips and tugs back gently. ‘Brace your hands on a step.’

‘On the stairs?’ I look over my shoulder, seeing nothing but hunger pouring from every sharp edge of his being.

‘On the stairs,’ he confirms, reaching forward to take my hands and guide them to where they need to be. ‘When we’re old and grey, there’ll be nowhere that I haven’t worshipped you, Olivia Taylor. Comfortable?’

I nod my acceptance, hearing the ripping of a foil packet. I use the time it takes Miller to sheathe himself to try and prepare. He’s tracing my back, his delicate touch drifting lightly over every piece of my exposed skin. My breathing is challenged. I’m soaking wet and trembling in anticipation, every troubled thought twisting my mind being chased away under his touch and attention. He is my escape. I am his. This is all I have. His attention and love. It’s the only thing getting me through this.

Flexing my hands on the step and shifting my feet, I drop my head and watch as my hair tumbles to the carpet, and when I feel the hardness of his tip meet my opening, I hold my breath. He spends a few torturous moments circling a palm on my bottom, then tracing the line of my spine before he’s back at my bum, separating my cheeks. My eyes clench tighter still as his finger makes a lazy path over my anal passage, the unaccustomed sensation advancing my shakes. I’m vibrating. My whole body is quivering. His cock is still held against my core, and with the added sensation of his finger teasing my other entrance, I’m left silently begging for penetration. In either place. ‘Miller,’ I breathe, moving my grip to the edge of the step to brace myself.

His soft touch slides down and back up over my passage, pausing over the tight ring of muscle. I tense automatically, and he hushes me as his touch drifts down to my drenched core. I push back, attempting to gain some friction and failing when he withdraws his touch and takes my hips. He advances slowly, stealing my breath as his hard, muscled length slips into me; then he hisses, his grip tightening severely to the point of pain. I whimper, a mixture of unthinkable pleasure and mild pain that throws stars into my darkness. Miller throbs within me and every internal muscle I possess utterly dominates me. I’m a slave to the sensations. I’m a slave to Miller Hart.

‘Move,’ I demand, dragging my limp head up and gazing to the ceiling. ‘Move!’

A sharp inhale resonates from behind me, his fingers flexing on my hips. ‘Becoming quite the demanding lover, aren’t you?’ He remains still, and I attempt to thrust back, but find no benefit, only his hold locking me in place. ‘Savoured, Olivia. We do this my way.’

‘Fuck,’ I whisper hoarsely, searching deep for some calm and control. I’m being held in no-man’s-land, helpless and unable to generate the friction my body needs. ‘You always say you never make me do anything you know I don’t want to.’