One Night: Unveiled

‘You knew my mother.’ I utter the words quietly and get only a nod in response. ‘I think she’s back in London,’ I say casually, like it’s of no consequence if she is.

  ‘I have instructions to take you home, Miss Taylor.’ He ignores my observation, quickly telling me that Ted is going to remain tight-lipped – if, indeed, there’s anything to know at all. I hope there’s nothing to know, which begs the question why I’m digging at all. Nan will never cope.

  I concede easily to Ted’s coolness. ‘Thank you for saving me,’ I sigh, showing my white flag in the form of some gratitude.

  ‘Anytime, Miss Taylor.’ He keeps his eyes on the road, avoiding my stare in the rearview mirror.

  Gazing blankly out the window, I watch the big, wide world go by as an even bigger black cloud descends, blanketing my favourite city in a gloomy darkness that matches my current state of mind.

  Chapter 10

  July 17 1996

  Peter Smith

  Investment Banker

  46 – boring by name, wild by nature. The older man again. Married, but clearly not getting what he craves. I think he might crave me now.

  Date one: Dinner at the Savoy

  For starters, the best lobster salad I’ve tasted, but I’ll reserve judgement until I’ve eaten at the Dorchester. For main, fillet steak and some well-aimed coy looks. For dessert, a tiramisu, rounded off with a diamond bracelet. Of course, I showed my gratitude in the penthouse suite before I slipped out. I think I might see this one again. He can do incredible things with his tongue.

  I snap my mother’s journal shut and toss it onto the couch next to me, annoyed with myself. Why am I putting myself through this again? Nothing I’ll find could possibly make me feel better. I remember William once saying that she wrote this journal to torture him. And amid my own self-pity, I feel a little bit of sympathy for the man who’s currently adding to my misery. She really was a wicked woman.

  Plumping one of Nan’s frilly cushions, I rest my head back, close my eyes, and try my damn hardest to blank my mind and relax. My hardest isn’t enough, but I’m distracted when I hear someone come through the front door, then urgent footsteps approaching down the hall. Even before I open my eyes, I can picture the expensive leather shoes and the bespoke suit. Someone has his armour back.

  Sure enough, there’s Miller – in all his suited glory – standing on the threshold of the lounge. His dark waves are in disarray and despite his impassive face, his piercing blue eyes harbour fear.

  ‘You bought more suits,’ I state quietly, remaining reclined on the couch, regardless of the fact that I’m desperately craving his attention and touch.

  His hand rakes through his hair, pulling the wayward wave off his forehead, and he sighs his relief. ‘Just a few.’

  Just a few? I bet he’s replaced each and every one of the masks that I shredded.

  ‘Del gave my job to someone else.’

  I see him sag. He didn’t think it appropriate for me to be working in a cafe, yet I know for sure he would never have forced me to stop. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s not your fault.’

  He strides forward until he’s towering over me, his hands resting lightly in his trouser pockets. ‘I was worried about you.’

  ‘I’m a big girl, Miller.’

  ‘You’re also my possession.’

  ‘And I’m also a person with a mind of my own.’

  He fails to prevent his lips from pursing in mild annoyance. ‘Yes, a mind that overthinks, and not too clearly right now, either.’ He crouches by the sofa next to me. ‘Tell me your troubles, sweet girl.’

  ‘You mean aside from the fact that someone tried to mow me down today?’

  His eyes flash danger as his jaw sets, and I think for a moment that he might put it down to my lack of attention. But he doesn’t speak, telling me everything I need to know.

  ‘Everything.’ I don’t hesitate to go on. ‘Everything is wrong. William, Nan, Gregory, my job.’

  ‘Me,’ he breathes, reaching for my cheek. The warmth of his skin on mine has my eyes closing and my face nuzzling into his touch. ‘Don’t give up on me, Olivia. I beg you.’

  My chin trembles and I take his hand and tug my demand for his thing. He doesn’t deny me, even though he’s kitted from top to toe in the finest clothes money can buy, and he’s only just bought them. His warm body comes down on mine and the softness of his lips finds my neck. I don’t need to affirm my promise with words, so I let my body do the talking and cling to him everywhere.

  I find that peace.

  I find the serenity.

  I find a familiar deep comfort that can be found nowhere else. Miller wreaks havoc on my mind, body, and heart. And he chases it away just as well.

  We’re still in the same position an hour later. We’ve not spoken, just happy to be together. It’s dusk. Miller’s new three-piece suit must be a crumpled mess, my hair has been twisted into various knots, and my arms have drained of blood, leaving pins and needles prickling at my skin.

  ‘Are you hungry?’ he asks into my hair, and I shake my head. ‘Have you eaten today?’

  ‘Yes,’ I lie. I’m not up for food, my stomach won’t take it, and if he tries to force-feed me, I might shoot him down with my waning sass.

  He pushes himself up until he’s braced on his forearms, gazing down on me. ‘I’m going to put something casual on.’

  ‘You mean you’re going to put your shorts on.’

  His eyes twinkle, his lips twitching. ‘I’m going to make you feel comfortable.’

  ‘I’m already comfortable.’ My mind is invaded by images of a perfect bare chest on that one night. One night that has evolved into one lifetime. The one night when I thought I’d only get twenty-four hours but hoped for more. Even now, amid this nightmare, I don’t regret accepting Miller’s offer.

  ‘You may be, but my new suit isn’t.’ A disgruntled look is thrown down his torso as he lifts his body from mine. ‘I’ll be quick. And I want you naked when I get back.’

  I offer a demure smile as he backs out of the room, his eyes flicking to my figure in a silent prompt. His fiery gaze virtually burns the material from my body and the internal fizzing transforms into full-on scorching fire bolts. Then he’s gone, leaving me worked up and with nothing to do other than as I’m bid, so I slowly strip down.

  By the time I’ve cast my clothes aside, pulled the woollen throw down over me, and flicked the TV on, Miller is back, except he hasn’t got his shorts on. He has nothing on. My appreciative eyes are riveted, my body aching for his attention. He stands before me, his strong legs slightly spread, his eyes lowered. His beauty defies the imaginable. He’s the finest of masterpieces. He’s incomparable. He’s my possession.

  ‘Earth to Olivia,’ he whispers. I confront his penetrating eyes and watch, totally rapt, my lips parting to give me much needed air, as he blinks lazily. ‘I’ve had a stressful day.’

  Join the club, I think as I lift my hand and he takes it. I expect him to bring his body down to me, but I’m pulled from the couch, the woollen throw tumbling to the floor at my feet. He takes my hand around to my back and applies some pressure, pulling me into his chest. We’re touching. Everywhere.

  ‘Are you ready to de-stress me?’ His hot breath spreads across my cheeks, heating them further. ‘Are you ready for me to take you to that place where nothing exists, only us?’

  I nod and let my lids fall shut when his spare hand slides onto the back of my head and his fingers start combing through my hair.

  ‘Come with me.’ His grip shifts to my nape and I’m turned and led from the room. We only make it halfway up the stairs, and I’m prevented from going any farther when he slides his hands onto my hips and tugs back gently. ‘Brace your hands on a step.’

  ‘On the stairs?’ I look over my shoulder, seeing nothing but hunger pouring from every sharp edge of his being.

  ‘On the stairs,’ he confirms, reaching forward to take my hands and guide them to where they need to
be. ‘When we’re old and grey, there’ll be nowhere that I haven’t worshipped you, Olivia Taylor. Comfortable?’

  I nod my acceptance, hearing the ripping of a foil packet. I use the time it takes Miller to sheathe himself to try and prepare. He’s tracing my back, his delicate touch drifting lightly over every piece of my exposed skin. My breathing is challenged. I’m soaking wet and trembling in anticipation, every troubled thought twisting my mind being chased away under his touch and attention. He is my escape. I am his. This is all I have. His attention and love. It’s the only thing getting me through this.

  Flexing my hands on the step and shifting my feet, I drop my head and watch as my hair tumbles to the carpet, and when I feel the hardness of his tip meet my opening, I hold my breath. He spends a few torturous moments circling a palm on my bottom, then tracing the line of my spine before he’s back at my bum, separating my cheeks. My eyes clench tighter still as his finger makes a lazy path over my anal passage, the unaccustomed sensation advancing my shakes. I’m vibrating. My whole body is quivering. His cock is still held against my core, and with the added sensation of his finger teasing my other entrance, I’m left silently begging for penetration. In either place. ‘Miller,’ I breathe, moving my grip to the edge of the step to brace myself.

  His soft touch slides down and back up over my passage, pausing over the tight ring of muscle. I tense automatically, and he hushes me as his touch drifts down to my drenched core. I push back, attempting to gain some friction and failing when he withdraws his touch and takes my hips. He advances slowly, stealing my breath as his hard, muscled length slips into me; then he hisses, his grip tightening severely to the point of pain. I whimper, a mixture of unthinkable pleasure and mild pain that throws stars into my darkness. Miller throbs within me and every internal muscle I possess utterly dominates me. I’m a slave to the sensations. I’m a slave to Miller Hart.

  ‘Move,’ I demand, dragging my limp head up and gazing to the ceiling. ‘Move!’

  A sharp inhale resonates from behind me, his fingers flexing on my hips. ‘Becoming quite the demanding lover, aren’t you?’ He remains still, and I attempt to thrust back, but find no benefit, only his hold locking me in place. ‘Savoured, Olivia. We do this my way.’

  ‘Fuck,’ I whisper hoarsely, searching deep for some calm and control. I’m being held in no-man’s-land, helpless and unable to generate the friction my body needs. ‘You always say you never make me do anything you know I don’t want to.’

  ‘Huh?’

  If I wasn’t so focused on my current desperation, I’d laugh at his genuine confusion.

  ‘You don’t want to be worshipped?’ he asks.

  ‘No, I don’t want to be held in limbo!’ There’s no calm to be found anywhere. I’ve given up trying to locate any. ‘Miller, please, just make me feel good.’

  ‘Oh shit, Olivia!’ He rears back painfully slowly and hovers there, now only a fraction within me. He’s still, but his ragged panting matches mine, and I know he’s struggling to maintain his control. ‘Beg me.’

  My teeth grit and I fly back, shouting my satisfaction when he hits me deep and hard.

  ‘Fuck, Olivia!’ He removes himself, leaving me whimpering quiet pleas. ‘I can’t hear you.’

  I feel defeated, my scrambled mind frantically searching for the simple words I need to meet his demand.

  ‘Beg!’ His shout shocks me, and I feebly attempt to shoot back again. But I’m trapped, helpless in his hold as his tall, powerful frame remains poised behind me, waiting for me to fulfil his harsh request. ‘I’ve asked twice,’ he puffs, his breathing laboured. ‘Listen to me, Olivia.’

  ‘Please.’

  ‘Louder!’

  ‘Please!’ I shout, and follow it up with a scream when his hips fire forward, harder than I was expecting. I focus my attention on tightly moulding every internal muscle around him, making the friction when he withdraws out of this world. My arms straighten to steady me, just as he plunges deep again, and my chin drops to my chest lifelessly.

  ‘I’m watching my cock lose itself inside of you, sweet girl.’

  Everything aligns, sending me to that faraway place of utter bliss. We establish a steady tempo after a few more drives; our bodies are again in tune and gliding effortlessly together. He’s persistently groaning and mumbling incoherent, pleasure-filled words while sustaining his meticulous pace. I’m in awe of his control, yet mindful it’s something he struggles with. I lift my head and look over my shoulder, finding every mesmerising trait that I love: parted, moist lips; a tight, shadowed jaw; and when he rips his rapt attention away from his arousal slipping in and out of me, the package is complete and I’m staring into gleaming, sharp blues eyes.

  ‘Do you always struggle?’ I ask my question on a wisp of air as he thrusts smoothly forward.

  He shakes his head lazily, knowing what I’m referring to, and grinds deeply into me. ‘Not with you.’

  The strength I need to keep my head turned to look at him vanishes and I return forward, letting a knee rest on the step when my legs begin to wobble. His plunges are constant. And the pleasure is endless. My arms bend and my forehead meets the step. Then I feel the warmth of his chest blanket my back, forcing my body flush to the stairs. We remain locked together until Miller is lying the length of me and he continues wreaking havoc on my senses, his lips now in perfect position to dance lightly across the top of my back.

  ‘Shall we?’ he asks, just as my arm flies out and my hand wraps around one of the balustrades on the stairs.

  ‘Yes.’

  His rhythm increases yet remains controlled, and I squeeze my eyes shut as a switch flicks and my orgasm is suddenly charging forward. There’s no holding it back, especially when Miller’s teeth clamp down on my shoulder and he jolts forward unexpectedly.

  ‘Miller!’ My body temperature is increasing by the second, my skin starting to burn.

  ‘That’s it, Livy.’ Forward he snaps again, flinging me into his realm of indescribable pleasure. ‘Scream my name, gorgeous girl.’

  ‘Miller!’

  ‘Fuck, that sounds good.’ He hits me with another hard but controlled advance of his hips. ‘Again!’

  Everything around me blurs – vision, hearing. ‘Miller!’ I reach the pinnacle and burst in a hazy fog of stars, my focus set solely on riding out the delicious waves of pleasure ruling me. ‘Oh God!’ I pant. ‘Oh God, oh God, oh God!’

  ‘I concur,’ he gasps, lazily grinding into me. ‘I fucking concur.’

  I’m reduced to a useless mass of twitching body parts, trapped beneath him, relishing in the continuous throbbing of his cock held deep inside of me as he finds his own climax. My knuckles are numb and white from my grip of the balustrade, I’m heaving and wheezing, and I’m drenched. I’m perfect.

  ‘Olivia Taylor, I think I’m addicted to you.’ His teeth graze my shoulder, dropping delicate kisses between light bites, and he grabs and tugs my hair, forcing my head up. ‘Let me taste you.’ I let him take everything from me as we remain stretched out on the stairs, the roughness of the carpet on my damp skin only mildly registering in my blissed-out mind. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and applies a little pressure with his teeth before pecking his way to my cheek.

  My worn-out muscles protest, trying defiantly to cling to him when he carefully slides out of me. I’m helped to turn around and positioned on a step, Miller kneeling in front of me. The concentration on his flawless face holds my attention while he spends a few silent moments arranging my hair over my shoulders. He doesn’t pass up the opportunity to twiddle a few strands. His eyes catch mine. ‘Are you real, sweet girl?’

  I reach forward on a smile and pinch his nipple, but he doesn’t wince or yelp. He returns my smile and leans in to kiss my forehead affectionately. ‘Come on. Let’s go be vegetables.’ He pulls me to my feet and guides me back down the stairs by my nape.

  ‘Have you ever watched television?’ I ask as Miller makes himself comfortable on the sofa,
ready to veg. I can’t imagine Miller watching television, just like I can’t imagine him doing most normal things. He reclines and gestures for me to join him, so I lie on his chest, face tucked neatly under his chin, my body falling between his thighs when he spreads them.

  ‘Would you like to watch television?’ he asks, taking my hand and bringing it to his mouth.

  I ignore that he hasn’t answered my question and reach for the remote control with my spare hand. The screen jumps to life, and I immediately smile when I’m confronted with Del and Rodney Trotter. ‘You must have watched Only Fools and Horses.’ It’s a national treasure!

  ‘Can’t say I have.’

  ‘Really?’ I blurt, swinging my astonished face up to his. ‘Just watch it. You’ll never look back.’

  ‘As you wish,’ he agrees quietly, beginning to knead lovely firm circles into my nape. ‘Anything you wish.’

  I’m only watching the television, not hearing any of the banter, as my mind wanders to a place where Miller’s words were true. Anything I wish. I compile a mental list of things I’d wish for, smiling when I feel the vibrations of a suppressed laugh beneath me. My part-time, refined gentleman is amused by the antics playing out on the screen before us, and the normalcy of that fills me with contentment, no matter how trivial it is.

  And then the moment is shattered by the sound of Miller’s phone ringing in the distance.

  A few easy movements has me minus one Miller beneath me and immediately resentful of his phone. ‘Excuse me,’ he mutters as he carries his naked body from the room. I watch as he disappears, smiling at the vision of his butt cheeks tensing and swelling with his long strides, then curl onto my side and retrieve the woollen throw from the floor.

  ‘I have her,’ he virtually growls, walking back into the room. I roll my eyes. There’s only one other man who would be asking where I am, and I have no desire to face him and his displeasure over my AWOL performance today. I wish my fraudulent gentleman wouldn’t make me sound like a possession all of the time, or, as the case might be now, a felon. I look to the end of the couch when he rests his arse on the edge, the contentment of a few moments ago vanished. ‘I was busy,’ he hisses, then follows it up with a flick of his eyes to mine. ‘Is that all?’