Unveiled(120)

My legs are bent, and my thighs parted. My arms are pinned above my head as I feel him shifting above me. I open my eyes sleepily after my brief snooze to find Miller gazing down at me with parted lips, his blues sparkling like diamonds. His arm moves above my head to join his other so that my face is fringed by two lean biceps, but he doesn’t pin me down; he just rests his arms over mine.

I whimper when he lifts, letting his erection fall into position before slowly pushing himself into me on a quiet hitch of breath. I shift under him to meet his advance and sigh as he begins an unhurried pace, working himself in and out of me.

“I love you,” he whispers as his mouth falls down to mine. Once again, all woes are drowned out by his worshipping and my aching for him. I soak up the pleasure of him deep inside me and match his languid tongue strokes with my own. He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine as he continues his slow, silent drives. “You’ll be all I see the whole time.” He circles his hips on a delicious deep grind.

I moan.

“Tell me you know that.”

“I do,” I breathe.

He picks up his pace slightly, working in and out on smooth, delicious hits, his damp forehead rocking against mine as he puffs short, harsh breaths. He starts to shake over me. I’m there, too.

“Let me taste you, Olivia.”

I let him have me and kiss him to release, joining him as he tenses and stills above me on a constricted moan, his shakes increasing. The violent shudder that rides through my body has me crying into his mouth, and I pull my arms through his and hold him close to me as we continue kissing, soft and slow, lovingly, long past our float down.

That was his good-bye.

“Now we can do this your way,” he says quietly against my neck, and takes another inhale of my hair, topping up on my scent.

Having a silent stern word with myself, telling my disturbed mind repeatedly that I can do this, I shift beneath him, forcing him to lift. Our damp skin peels apart slowly, and the loss of his softening length inside me rips away at my breaking heart. But I need to be strong. I can’t show any signs of hesitance or pain, which is tremendously difficult when I’m very hesitant and I’m in agony at the thought of what he’s being pushed to do. He looks down at me, and I can tell there’s doubt lingering on the edges of his mind, too, so I force a small smile and lift my lips to kiss him chastely. “Let’s take a shower.”

“As you wish.” He reluctantly detaches himself from me on a deep inhale and helps me to my feet, but he prevents me from making my way to the bathroom. “One moment.”

I stand silently while he makes a long, drawn-out affair of messing with my hair, arranging it just so over my shoulders, and frowning when a new shorter layer refuses to stay where he’s placed it. His beautiful face, all bunched in slight annoyance, brings a glimmer of a smile to my face. “It’ll grow back,” I say to placate him.

His eyes flick to mine, and he surrenders the lock of hair. “I wish you’d never cut it, Olivia.”

My heart sinks. “You don’t like it anymore?”

He shakes his head, frustrated, and takes my neck to lead me into the bathroom. “I love it. I just hate remembering what drove you to cut it in the first place. I hate that you did that to yourself.”

We arrive in the bathroom, and he flicks the shower on before collecting towels and gesturing for me to enter the cubicle. I want to tell Miller how much I hate everything he’s done to himself, too, but at the risk of lowering the delicate mood further, I hold my tongue and accept his comment. This time together is precious, and the memories we’re making now will help me through the night. I don’t want any disagreements to tarnish this. So I follow through on his silent order and step into the shower, immediately collecting the shower gel from the shelf and squeezing some into my palm.

“I want to wash you,” he says, taking the bottle from my hand.

I don’t stand for it. I need this. “No,” I retort softly, reclaiming it. “We do this my way.” I rid myself of the bottle and rub my palms together, working up a lather. Then I spend an age scanning every fine piece of him, trying to figure out the best place to start. It’s all calling to me, each perfect bit of him willing me to place my hands there.

“Earth to Olivia,” he whispers, stepping forward, taking my wrists in his grip. “How about here?” He places my hands on his shoulders delicately. “We’re not leaving this shower until you’ve felt every part of me.”

I drop my eyes, searching deep in my soul for the lost strength I need to let him walk away from me once I’m done readying him. It’s slipping away fast with every word spoken and every touch exchanged.