Unveiled(110)

“Time to end this, Olivia,” he pants, nudging my face from his shoulder and tackling my mouth. We kiss like we’ve never kissed before. It’s hungry, fast, and desperate, and in the blink of an eye, I’m suddenly on the floor beneath Miller. He keeps us close and pumps fast until my toes curl and I scream as my release rips through me, drawing him farther into me on long, pulsing constrictions of my internal wall. He groans, his pace slowing, muffled words being mumbled into my neck. I’m milking him dry, relishing in the heat of his cum flooding me.

“Good God,” I gasp, prying my fingers from his back and letting them fall limply above my head.

“I concur,” he wheezes, pulling out of me and rolling onto his back in exhaustion. I drop my heavy head to the side, seeing his arms splayed out haphazardly as he puffs labored breaths to the ceiling. “I fucking concur.” His head drops, and his eyes meet mine. He’s dripping wet, his hair in disarray, his perfect mouth parted more than usual to drink in much-needed air. “Give me my thing.”

“I can’t move!” I splutter, astounded by his unreasonable demand. “You’ve just fucked me into exhaustion.”

“You can move for me,” he protests, grappling at my waist haphazardly. “Come to me.”

I’m given little choice. And besides, I want to smother him with my body and my mouth, so heaving myself up, I roll onto him until I’m spread limply down the length of his tall body. The only thing working now is my mouth, and it’s currently stuck to his neck, sucking and biting. “You taste delicious,” I declare, getting a hit of clean sweat. “And you smell divine.”

“Suck harder.”

I pause devouring him and bring my face slowly up. I know I’m frowning. Miller Hart is the last person in the world I would expect to want a bruise on his neck. “Excuse me?”

“Suck… harder.” His eyebrows rise a touch, backing up his repeated order. “Are you going to make me ask a third time?”

Slightly bemused, I fall back to his neck and nibble at him a little, wondering if he’ll retract his command, but after a good few minutes of gentle biting, I only get that third time.

“Suck!”

My lips latch on to his neck immediately and suck. Hard.

“Harder, Livy.” His palm meets the back of my head and pushes me to him, making it slightly difficult to breathe. But I do as I’m told, sucking his flesh deeply into my mouth, drawing all of the blood to the surface. This will be seen loud and proud over the collar of his posh shirt. What the hell is wrong with him? I can’t stop, though. For one, Miller’s locked palm on the back of my head won’t allow me to, but two, I’m getting an unreasonable thrill at the thought of everyone seeing such a defacement on my well-mannered gentleman.

I’m not sure how much time passes. The only indication is how sore my lips are and how achy my tongue is. When I’m finally released from his harsh hold, I pull away, a little breathless, and stare down at the monstrosity I’ve just created on his perfect neck. I flinch. It isn’t perfect now. It looks hideous, and I’m sure Miller will agree when he sees it. I can’t rip my eyes away from the ugliness.

“Perfect.” He sighs. He yawns and clasps my neck, then rolls us until I’m held snugly under him and he’s straddling my hips, sitting up on me. I’m still dazed and confused, and Miller lightly tracing the contours of my breasts with the tip of his finger doesn’t distract me from that.

“It looks horrible,” I confess, wondering at what point he’s going to check out the damage I’ve done.

“Maybe,” he muses, not giving my concern the concern it deserves. He just happily continues to delicately trail his finger all over my torso.

I mentally shrug to myself. I’m certainly not going to get myself all worked up—something Miller does best—if the king of stress isn’t even bothering. So instead I ask the question I planned on asking the moment I found him… before he laid his hands on me and distracted me with a little Miller-style worshipping, albeit a little harder this time. Little? I smile. That was a proper good fucking, and surprisingly I loved every single moment. “What was in that envelope?” I begin carefully, knowing this needs to be broached sensitively.

He doesn’t even look at me, nor does he falter in his task of drawing invisible lines all over me. “What happened with you and Gregory?” He looks at me, eyes full of knowing. I can’t even breathe. Gregory was right to be worried. “Gregory didn’t look too comfortable when I inquired.”