Unveiled(109)

“Yes.” Pushing my cheek into his face, I make the most of the scratchy feel of his stubble before he rises and takes an audible lungful of air. I brace myself.

Yet no amount of bracing stops my yelp of shock when he pounds forward. I half expect him to freeze and panic at my shout, but he doesn’t. He swiftly retreats and flies forward on a roar. Those first few drives set the pace. He’s relentless, unforgiving. His fingers dig into my flesh and yank me back repeatedly, pushing cry after cry past my lips. I have every faith that he can detect my frame of mind, so I don’t try at all to stop my constant yelps. Every crash of his body into mine spikes one, and it’s not long before my throat feels raw and dry. It doesn’t stop me, though. My body isn’t my own. Miller has full control of me, and he’s making the most of it. He’s almost brutal, but the passion and want mingling between us holds me firmly in utter ecstasy.

He keeps up his merciless tempo until it’s only him holding me up. There are barely any gaps between his groin slapping against the flesh of my bum, the sound getting louder the sweatier we become. The deep penetration isn’t only filling me literally; it’s filling me mentally, every thunder forward reminding me of this wonderful place I find myself in each time he takes me—whether controlled and gentle or brutal and unforgiving. There’s no control here. At least there doesn’t appear to be, yet I suspect it’s there. No, I know it’s there. I’ve come to learn that no matter how he chooses to have me, it’s all worshipping. It’s all undertaken with unremitting love backing it up.

Twinges are starting to stab at the tip of my clitoris. It’s the beginning of the end. Oh God, I’m not going to be able to stop this! I try everything—focusing, breathing, but the crashing of his strong body into mine is preventing me from doing anything else but accepting him. Absorbing him. Taking absolutely everything he has to give me. It’ll always be this way.

“You’re tensing inside, Livy,” he yells, maintaining his ruthless pace, almost panicked, like he knows the internal battle I’m having. I don’t have a chance to confirm he’s right. He pulls out and spins me around, hoisting me up to his body and slamming back into me.

I scream, wrapping my legs around his waist and fisting my hands in his hair. The sudden loss of friction did nothing to help me. He’s working too fast. “My name, baby,” he pants into my face. “Scream my name.” On his demand, he jacks me up and yanks me back down.

“Miller!”

“Oh yeah! And again.” He repeats his previous move, this time harder.

“Fuck!” I cry, going dizzy from the depths he’s achieving.

“My name!”

I’m getting mad, my looming orgasm and Miller’s insistence on controlling it triggering my sass. “Miller!” I scream, tugging at his hair, throwing my head back as he pounds on. He’s getting thicker and thicker with each strike, has been for a while, yet the bastard refuses to give in.

“No scratching?” he taunts, sending my fingernails on an immediate lashing mission. I shock myself, but my surprise at my own viciousness doesn’t stop me. I’m digging right down and then dragging hard through his skin. “Arhhhhh!” he roars in pain, tossing his head back. “Fuck!”

Neither his agonized shout nor his anger-filled curse hold me back. I’m clawing at him like a madwoman, and strangely I think he wants me to.

“Lame, sweet girl,” he puffs, unreasonably incensing me. His eyes drop and lock with mine. They are dark and serious. He wants me to hurt him? His relentless hips pull to an abrupt halt, making my climax retreat.

I lose the plot.

“Move!” I pull at his hair, yanking his head to the side. But he just grins. “Move, you bastard!” Dark eyebrows rise in interest, but he remains motionless, sending me on a pointless writhe in his hold to try to gain some friction. “Damn you, Miller!” Without thought, my mouth drops to his shoulder, and my teeth sink into his hard muscle.

“Fuck!” His hips piston forward, resurrecting my dying orgasm. “You… fuck!” He’s really going for it now, smashing into me like a man possessed.

My jaw locks around his flesh, making him yell, grunt, shout, and my hands are pulling constantly at his waves. I’m being as brutal as Miller. And it feels so good. The pleasure is beyond words, and the pain is replacing other agonies. All of the hurt is being slammed out of me, maybe only temporarily, but it’s still going. He’s punishing. I’m punishing. My back is being slammed repeatedly against the wall, and we’re both barking shouts of gratification.