Bang!
“Fuck!” I scream, hopeless under his hold and helpless to his forceful attack. Not that I’d stop it. Not in a million years. I crave his power. “More,” I gasp, relishing the delicious ache he’s spiking.
“It’s polite to look at someone when you’re speaking to them,” he gasps, slowly pulling out.
“When it suits you!”
“Look at me!”
I throw my head up, and my eyes open on an angry yell. “More!”
“Hard and fast? Or soft and slow?”
I’m too desperate for soft and slow. I’m way past soft and slow, and I don’t even think Miller’s demand to savor it will assist. “Hard,” I pant, lifting my hips sharply. “Really hard.” I have no qualms, no fear or concern. I have his full devotion, his love and care, whether he fucks me or worships me.
“Oh fucking hell, Livy.” He pulls out, leaving me slightly confused and ready to object, but then I’m spun onto my hands and knees, and my waist is grabbed harshly. I gulp, appreciating the depth that Miller can achieve from this position. Oh God, and hard, too? “Tell me you’re ready.”
I nod, pushing my backside into him, longing for that deepness. He doesn’t hang around. There’s no easing gently in. He crashes forward on an ear-piercing bellow, sending me into a dazed euphoria of toe-curling pleasure. I scream, my hands balling into fists on the carpet, my head thrown back in despair. He’s merciless, barking on each pound forward, his fingers clawing into the soft flesh of my hips. The carpet feels rough on my bare knees—Miller is being uncharacteristically rough with me, yet the slight discomfort and unforgiving power of his body hitting mine doesn’t deter me. It has me begging for more instead.
“Harder,” I mumble weakly, letting Miller take full control, the strength to meet his punishing blows failing me. All I can focus on is the pleasure consuming me, taking over every single part of me.
“Christ, Olivia!” His fingers flex and dig back into my flesh. “Am I hurting you?”
“No!” I blurt out, suddenly worried he’ll ease up. “Harder!”
“Oh, you fucking dream.” His knees widen, pushing my legs farther apart, and his pace accelerates, our bodies clashing loudly. “I’m going to come, Olivia!”
My eyes close, and all breath leaves my lungs as my mind empties, too. I’m in a dark, silent world, where my only purpose is basking in the attention that Miller delivers. There’s nothing else to steal my focus, nothing to distract me or ruin our precious time together. It’s just us—my body and his body doing incredible things.
The pleasure is rising. Each collide of his body with mine is pushing me toward utter rapture. I want to speak, tell him how he’s making me feel, yet I’m rendered mute, unable to utter a word, only whimpers of despair and pleasure. I feel the pinnacle of his climax looming. He’s expanding within me, and a mighty roar snaps me back into the room. My orgasm takes me by surprise, and I cry out as it rips through me like a tornado. Every muscle I own engages, except my neck, which leaves my head dropping limply between my arms. Miller’s sharp thrusts accelerate once more to carry him over the edge, and he yanks my stiff body onto him. “Arhhhhh!” he bellows, and strikes with a force that’s only comprehensible if you’re on the receiving end of it. And I am. The sharp flash of pain that sears through me, mixing with the spikes of pleasure bubbling deep in my groin, takes everything out of me. “Fucking hell,” he breathes, locking us together and holding us joined. I’m ready to collapse. Miller is the only thing supporting me, and when he unclaws his fingers from my hips, I lose that support, flopping to my front on the floor, heaving and gasping.
The coolness of the carpet on my cheek is welcome as I watch Miller fall to his back next to me, his arms falling limply above his head, his chest expanding violently. He’s soaking wet, the taut flesh of his chest glistening from sweat. If I had the energy, I’d reach over and stroke him, but I’m useless. Completely incapacitated. But not enough to close my eyes and deprive them of the stunning sight of Miller postclimax.
We both remain sprawled across the carpet for an eternity. My ears are being invaded by consistent and drawn-out gasps of breath. Finally mustering some strength from somewhere, I drag my arm across the carpet and brush my fingertip down his side. It glides easily, assisted by the dampness of his hot skin. His head drops to the side until his eyes find mine and exhaustion runs away, leaving behind some scope for talking. But he beats me to it.
“I love you, Olivia Taylor.”