Unveiled (Page 59)

Now.

Here.

Me.

Our eyes are stuck. Nothing will pull them apart. And when he slowly closes the small remaining gap between us and kisses me tenderly, I still don’t lose his blues. I keep my eyes wide open and so does he. His kiss is brief but loving. It’s worshipful. ‘I love you,’ he whispers, returning upright, still never allowing his gaze to wander.

I smile, keeping myself braced on one arm and using the other to reach forward. I skim his bristly cheek with my fingertip as he continues to regard me closely.

‘Put your hand back on the desk.’ His instruction is soft but firm, and I fulfil it without delay. I know full well what his intention is. I can see it past the softness of his eyes. Desperate hunger.

He takes a deep breath, making his chest expand beneath the material of his suit.

I take in air, too, holding it, preparing, silently willing him on.

Beautiful, lush lips straighten and his head shakes slowly in wonder. ‘I love you so, so much.’

Then he pounds into me on a guttural bark.

I scream, my lungs bursting and allowing every scrap of air I’ve contained to escape. ‘Miller!’

He freezes against me, holding us close, filling me to the maximum. Just that one powerful pound of his body into mine has us both gasping for breath. There’s so much more to come, so I gather the depleted air and take the few seconds he’s giving me to prepare for his attack as he twitches and jerks within me.

It happens faster than I anticipated. I get a few seconds of painful torture as he pulls out of me slowly before he totally lets loose. He’s unforgiving. Our bodies smash together over and over, creating the most wonderful sounds and sensations – our shouts of mind-bending pleasure saturating the large office, the feel of us both uniting sending me to that place beyond pleasure. My mind spaces out and my focus remains solely on accepting his brutality. I’m sure there will be bruises when we’re through, and I don’t even care.

I want it harder. Faster. I’m craving more. More Miller. I bunch his suit jacket in my fists and hang on for dear life. Then I push my mouth to his and tackle his tongue. He needs to know I’m OK. He wants to fuck me but worship me. He wants the things that make us us. Touching. Tasting. Loving.

‘Harder,’ I shout into his mouth, just so he knows I’m fine with this. I’m loving it. Everything about it – the strength of him, his merciless taking of me, his claiming of me, where we are . . .

‘Oh sweet Jesus, Livy.’ His mouth moves to my neck. He bites and sucks, my head falls back as my hold of him moves to his shoulders, and he doesn’t falter one . . . little . . . bit. The speed of his advancing hips picks up a gear. Or two. Could possibly be three. ‘Fuck!’

‘Oh God!’ I yelp, feeling the rush of blood hurling to my centre. ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God! Miller!’ My hearing is muffled, my mind distorted, and I finally give up and close my eyes, leaving me blind, too. Now all I have is feeling. Lots of feelings. ‘I’m coming!’

‘Oh yes! Come for me, sweet girl.’ His face emerges from my neck and he tackles my mouth, impatiently pushing his tongue past my lips when I fail to open up to him. I’m too focused on the orgasm powering forward. It’s going to blow my world into pieces.

I begin to panic when I get stuck at a point of no return, yet not seeming to be able to capture my release. I tense everywhere. I’m rigid in his arms, only moving because of Miller’s control of our bodies. He strikes me over and over, yanking my body onto his while our mouths attack each other violently. But it won’t happen. I can’t get there, and my frustration explodes. ‘Fucking harder!’ I yell in desperation. ‘Make it happen!’ I reach up and boldly yank at his hair, making him shout as he hammers forward.

But he stops. Abruptly. My rage only multiplies by a million when he smirks at me. He’s watching me gasp unevenly all over him, feeling me squeeze him within me. He’s ready to explode, too. I can see it past the smug satisfaction of his gaze. But I’m not sure if that satisfaction is because he has me going out of my mind or because he has me on William’s desk.

The sheen of sweat glistening on his brow diverts my attention there momentarily . . . until he speaks, pulling my eyes back to his. ‘Say I’m yours,’ he orders quietly.

My pounding heart pounds harder. ‘You’re mine,’ I tell him with one hundred per cent conviction.

‘Elaborate.’

He’s holding me on the cusp of orgasm, holding us tightly together, his groin pushed against my sex the only thing keeping me there. ‘You. Belong. To. Me.’ I spell it all out for him, loving the glint of gratification that replaces the smugness. ‘Me,’ I affirm. ‘No one else gets to taste you, feel you –’ I cup his cheeks with my palms and press my lips to his, biting down a little before licking my mark – ‘or love you.’

A long moan emanates from my part-time gentleman. A happy moan. ‘Correct,’ he murmurs. ‘Lie back, sweet girl.’

I comply willingly, releasing his face and dropping to my back as I look up at him. He smiles, that glorious, dizzying smile, then circles his groin deeply and slowly, pushing me instantly over the edge. ‘Ooooh,’ I sigh, and close my eyes, my hands delving into my blonde and holding my head as it shakes from side to side.

‘I concur,’ Miller moans, shuddering above me before quickly pulling out and resting his length on my stomach. It’s only then that I realise he’s not wearing a condom.

He comes all over my tummy, his cock pulsing as it releases, and we both watch quietly.