This perfectly imperfect man is more beautiful than I know he’ll ever accept, but I also appreciate that I really do make him a better man – not because I’m trying to change him but because he wants to be better. For me. He holds the ring up and glides his finger across the dozens of tiny stones that stem from the intricate peak. ‘And all of these shards of sparkles are those tingling fireworks we create together.’
I expected his words to penetrate me deeply. I didn’t expect them to cripple me. ‘It’s perfect.’ I reach up and stroke down his rough cheek, feeling those simmering fireworks begin to ignite within.
‘It’s not,’ he murmurs, taking my hand from his cheek. I watch as he slowly slides the ring onto my left ring finger. ‘Now it’s perfect.’ He drops a lingering kiss onto the ring atop my finger before he nuzzles his cheek into my palm, his eyes closing.
I’m rendered incapable of speech . . . almost. He’s just put that ring on my ring finger. On my left hand. I don’t want to break the perfection of this moment, but I’m being bombarded by a repeated question. ‘Are you asking me to marry you?’
His smile nearly causes me to pass out, his dimple appearing and his rogue wave slipping onto his forehead. I’m taken from my knees and helped to my bottom, my legs being guided around his back as he pulls me in close until we’re locked together. ‘No, Olivia Taylor, I’m not. I’m asking you to be mine for eternity.’
I can’t help the emotion that rips through me. His face, his sincerity . . . his overwhelming love for me. In another pointless attempt to hide my tears, I drop my face into his chest and sob silently to myself while he sighs into my hair and rubs comforting circles into my back. I’m not sure why I’m crying when I feel so happy.
‘It’s an eternity ring,’ he says above me before he encases my head in his hands, silently demanding I look at him before he continues. ‘What finger you wear it on is of no importance, and I believe there’s another stunning gem holding court on your other ring finger, anyway. I would never suggest you replace your grandmother’s ring.’
I smile through my sobs, knowing that isn’t Miller’s only reason for placing the ring on my left hand. It’s his way of giving just a little piece of what he’s figured I’ll eventually want. ‘I love your bones, Miller Hart.’
‘And I’m deeply fascinated by you, Olivia Taylor.’ He pushes his lips to mine and completes the perfection of the moment with a perfect, worshipful kiss. ‘I have a request,’ he says into my mouth between delicate rotations of his soft tongue.
‘I’ll never stop,’ I confirm, allowing him to help me up while he keeps our mouths connected and our bodies close.
‘Thank you.’ He lifts me to his body, securing me against his chest, and starts to pace to the other door that’ll take us into the lounge of the suite. The rug lying in front of the fireplace is cream, soft and plush, and it’s where we’re heading. Our kiss is broken and I’m settled on my back. ‘Wait,’ he orders gently, and then strides out of the lounge, leaving me a pile of pent-up desire, my whole body on fire. My eyes fall to my ring, reminding myself of its magnificence, but more of what it signifies. My lips curve into a contented smile, but immediately straighten when I look up and find Miller naked.
He speaks no words as he stalks towards me, his eyes full of promise. I’m about to be worshipped, and something inside tells me it’s going to blow all other worshipping sessions into orbit. I can see need seeping from his every naked pore. He wants to follow up his words, his gift, his promise, and his kiss with physical confirmation. Every nerve ending, drop of blood, and muscle within me turns to fire.
Placing a condom to the side of me, he drops to his knees, his arousal already solid and clearly pulsing before my eyes. ‘I want my habit naked,’ he rumbles, all low and gritty, escalating my wants and needs. Dropping to his elbow so his tall physique flanks my side, he turns my skin to molten when his palm slides beneath the material of my skirt and travels the short distance to my inside thigh.
I try to draw a deep steadying breath but resort to holding it instead. The smoothness of his palms circling teasingly close to my entrance is torture at its worst, and we’re not even out of the gates yet.
‘Are you ready to be worshipped, Olivia Taylor?’ His finger skims over my knickers softly, making my back snap into an arch and my stored breath rush out fast.
‘Please don’t,’ I beg, nailing him with pleading eyes. ‘Please don’t torture me.’
‘Tell me you want me to worship you.’ My skirt is dragged down my legs slowly, taking my knickers with it.
‘Please, Miller.’
‘Say it.’
‘Worship me,’ I breathe, lifting my back slightly when he slips his hand under my top to unfasten my bra.
‘As you wish,’ he agrees quietly, which is obscene, because I know for sure it’s what he wishes, too. ‘Lift for me.’
I rise to a sitting position as commanded, silent and obedient while he shifts to his knees again and pulls my top over my head, then my bra down my arms. They are cast aside carelessly before his palm slips to my upper back and his kneeling frame moves in, causing me to fall to my back again.
He’s hovering above me, his body half settled on mine, his eyes sinking into me. ‘There’s something so amazing that happens every time I look into your eyes.’
‘Tell me.’
‘I can’t. It’s beyond my ability to describe it.’
‘Like your fascination?’
He smiles. It’s a shy smile, making him seem all boyish and cute – a very rare appearance for Miller Hart. Yet regardless of its rarity, it’s no smoke screen. It’s not fake or a façade. It’s real. For me alone, he’s real. ‘Just like that,’ he confirms, swooping down to capture my lips. My hands move to his shoulders and smooth his muscles, both of us humming our happiness as our tongues roll so slowly they’re almost unmoving. My head tilts to gain a better connection, my growing need beginning to run away with me.
‘Savour,’ he says into my mouth. ‘We have an eternity.’
His words settle me a little, and I force myself to obey his demand for calm. I know Miller is as eager as I am, yet his strength to maintain his control, to prove he can, blankets that desperation. My bottom lip is nibbled; then the softness of his relaxed tongue licks across my mouth as he rises to his knees again, leaving me squirming under a focused gaze bursting with intention. The hardness of his cock holds me rapt while he negotiates my knees, pulling them up and spreading them. I’m wide open and his stare lingers on the pulsing flesh of my core as he moves between my knees and reaches for the condom. The leisurely pace he adopts, opening, sliding the condom out and onto his erection, is torturous. Demanding he hurry would be pointless, so I throw all of my willpower into waiting patiently.
‘Miller.’ His name on a plea falls past my lips, and my arms reach up in silent indication for him to come to me. But he shakes his head and links his arms under my knees, moving forward until finally I feel the hot tip of his arousal skim over my centre. I cry out, my eyes clenching shut, my arms flying out to the side and bunching the fur strands of the rug in my fists.
‘I want to see all of you,’ he declares, nudging forward, stretching me on a hiss. ‘Open your eyes, Olivia.’
My head starts shaking, feeling him getting deeper and deeper, every muscle tensing.
‘Olivia, please, open your eyes.’
My darkness is bombarded by relentless visions of Miller worshipping me. It’s like a slideshow, the erotic images accelerating my pleasure.
‘Damn it, Livy!’ My eyes fly open in shock, seeing him watching in fascination as he pushes fully into me. His arms are curled under my knees, my lower body elevated and fit snugly to him. His shadowed jaw is rigid, his eyes bright and wild, his hair a wavy mess, his stray wave loose, his lips full, his . . .
Fucking hell! I can feel him throbbing within me, all of my internal muscles wrapping around him, holding tight.
‘Earth to Olivia.’ His tone is full of sex, dr
enched in passion, and he follows it up with an exact grind of his body into mine. My mind scrambles, the mental images disintegrating. So I return my focus to his face. ‘Keep your eyes on me,’ he orders, rearing back, his length slipping from my passage slowly. The lazy friction makes his demand hard to fulfil. But I manage, even when he re-enters painfully slowly. Every one of my muscles engages and works hard to catch his purposeful pace. He rocks into me, each advance pushing air from my lungs and a little whimper past my lips. The sharp edges of his chest are undulating, straining, a light shimmer of sweat budding on his smooth skin. I start to form a steady pattern of breathing while I’m tortured with his expert worshipping skills, the slow, steady pumping of his hips flinging me into pleasure central. Then he starts grinding on each thrust, his chest heaving, his grip of me hardening. My fingers find my hair and pull hopelessly, seeking anything to grip on to with Miller out of reach.
‘Fucking hell, Olivia. Watching you fight to hold off gives me a sick satisfaction.’ His eyes squeeze shut, his body vibrating.
My nipples start to zing, and my stomach muscles are beginning to ache. As usual, I’m caught in that in-between place. I want to scream for him to push me over the edge, but I also want to delay the inevitable, make this last forever, despite the sweet torture and mind-fucking pleasure.
‘Miller.’ I writhe, my back bowing.
‘Louder,’ he demands, firing forward, less controlled. ‘Fuck, say it louder, Olivia!’
‘Miller!’ I scream his name as his last hard thrust brings me right to the brink of orgasm.
He gives a low, strangled moan as he reins in his power and takes us back down to controlled, measured lovemaking. ‘Every time I take you, I think it will help quench the desire. But it never does. The minute we’re done, I only want you more.’
He drops my legs and falls to his forearms, trapping me under his leanness. My thighs spread farther, giving his body the room it’s demanding, and his face comes close to mine, our pants colliding. Our stares lock and his hips roll, inching me closer to the pinnacle of euphoria.
I plunge my hands into his hair and tug on his unruly waves as I squeeze my lower muscles around his cock.
‘Fuck, yes! Again.’ His eyes glaze over, his primitive tone boosting my boldness. I squeeze again when the tip of his solid length finds the deepest part of me. ‘Oh, fuuuck.’
I take some of my greatest pleasure from seeing his chin drop and feeling his body shake with appreciation. Knowing I can render him so vulnerable during these moments fills me with power. He’s wide open to me. He’s exposed. He’s weak and powerful at the same time. I flip my hips up, relishing the sight of him falling apart above me. And I squeeze my hardest around each shaky delivery of his drives. The contours of his perfect face begin to twist and I see wild abandon reflecting from his piercing blues.
‘You cripple me, Olivia Taylor. You fucking cripple me.’ He rolls over, taking me onto his lap. ‘Finish it.’ His tone is harsh, full of hunger and desperation. ‘Fucking finish it.’
I wince a little at the unexpected shift in position that pushes him to penetrate me the deepest. Strong hands find my thighs and his fingers grip my flesh. I’m completely speared by him, and I hold my breath as I try to accommodate the sheer size of him in this position.
‘Move, sweet girl.’ His hips jolt upward and I scream, my palms slapping against his chest. ‘Now!’
His abrupt shout fires me into action and I begin spinning my hips atop him, ignoring the stabs of pain and concentrating on the flashes of pleasure between them. He’s groaning, assisting with the rotations of my hips by pushing into my thighs. I’m well into my stride, watching him watching me as I bring us both closer to the brink of explosion.
‘I’m going to come, Olivia.’
‘Yes!’ I shout, raising to my knees and slamming down. He barks a round of expletives and moves fast, spinning me onto my hands and knees. Grasping my hips, he slams into me on a gratifying shout. ‘Oh God! Miller!’
‘Yeah, you feel me, Livy? Feel everything I have to give you.’ Only a few more powerful yanks of my body until his tosses me over the edge and sees me free-falling into darkness, my body collapsing to the rug and convulsing as my climax slams into me. I’m floating away, feeling the loss of Miller inside of me and his continued curses as he drops to my back, shifting his groin and sliding his cock over the crease of my bum, mumbling and biting at my neck before sliding back into my quivering core. I don’t have the brain space through my heady pleasure to be concerned that I climaxed before him. I can feel the dull pulse of his muscled length stroking my walls, slipping in and out leisurely. And then he comes on a torrent of quiet prayers.
Opening my eyes, I stare, panting and heaving, across the cream fur of the rug, attempting to gather cognitive thought. ‘You didn’t hurt me,’ I whisper, my throat sore and scratchy. I know that’ll be his first question once he’s gathered breath. His animalistic nature, the one he’s hidden from me, is becoming addictive. He’s still worshipping me.
My arms stretch above my head on a fulfilled sigh as Miller pulls out of me. My shoulder is nipped and kissed, followed by the other; then he’s working his way down my spine, licking and nibbling as he goes. My eyes close while he continues with the lazy trail of his lips across my back and down to my bum. His teeth sink in, quite severely, too, but I’m exhausted, unable to yelp or shift to stop him. Once he’s had his fill, I feel him crawl up my body and settle over me, his palms sliding up my arms until his hands find mine. He laces our fingers together, pushes his face into my neck, and releases an exhale to match my contentment. ‘Close your eyes,’ he murmurs.
Then, out of nowhere, music floods the silence. Soft music, with deep meaningful lyrics. ‘I recognise this,’ I whisper, hearing Miller humming the soothing tune in my mind.
It’s not in my mind.
My eyes open and I wriggle until he’s forced to lift and I can spin over to see him. He stops humming and smiles at me, twinkling eyes and all, letting the music take over again.
‘This song,’ I begin.
‘I might hum it to you from time to time,’ he whispers, almost shyly. ‘Gabrielle Aplin.’
‘“The Power of Love”,’ I finish for him as his body comes close to mine and pushes me to my back, his weight settling evenly.
‘Hmmm,’ he hums.
I’m still buzzing, still quivering, still pulsing.
An eternity of this still couldn’t ever be enough.
Chapter 4
My dreams are blissful. They are a repeat of the latter part of yesterday. My sleepy lids flutter open, my waking mind registering him close to me. Very close. I’m curled into his side, totally cocooned in his thing.
Carefully and quietly, I lift my left hand and search out my ring, sighing and savouring my mind’s insistence to remind me of every word spoken and action played out.
Blissful dreams don’t only happen when you’re asleep.
Taking the opportunity of Miller’s deep slumber, I spend some private time tracing the planes of his chest. He’s dead to the world . . . at least most of him is. I watch in fascination as his cock begins to thicken when my touch drifts down to the sharp V stemming from his lower stomach, until it’s solid and pulsing, begging for some attention.
I want him to wake moaning in pleasure, so I tentatively start to shuffle down his body and cradle myself between his thighs. They open for me, without the need to push them apart, and I’m up close to his morning erection, licking my lips and mentally preparing myself to send him wild. Reaching forward, I flick my eyes up to his face as I take a gentle hold of the base, watching for any signs of life but finding nothing, just parted lips and still eyelids. I return my attention to the hard length of muscle in my grasp and follow my instinct, my tongue swirling the tip slowly, collecting up the bead of cum that’s already building. The heat of his flesh, the smoothness of his taut skin, the hardness beneath, it’s all so very addictive and I soon find myself rising to my knees
and sliding my lips down the length of him, moaning in indulgence as I work my way back up. My attention is centred solely on the delivery of meticulous licks and kisses. I spend an age soaking up the wonderful feeling of him in my mouth. I’m not sure at what point he starts groaning, but his hands suddenly in my hair alert me to it, and I smile around the slow drives of my mouth as it sheaths him, over and over. His hips start to slowly lift, meeting each of my advances, and his hands guide my head perfectly.
His sleepy mumbles are indecipherable, his voice broken and weak. My hand begins to stroke up and down, mirroring my mouth, doubling his pleasure. His legs shift, his head shaking slowly from side to side. Every muscle touching me has gone rigid, and the swell of him in my mouth tells me he’s close, so I increase my pace, my head bobbing, the feel of him hitting the back of my throat pushing on my own pleasure.
‘Stop,’ he breathes, continuing to push my head onto him. ‘Please, stop.’
He’s going to come at any moment and this knowledge only encourages me.
‘No!’ His knee flies up, cracking me in the jaw, making me cry out at the flash of pain it causes. His arousal falls from my mouth as I shoot up, grabbing my face, applying pressure to ease the instant throb. ‘Get off me!’ He’s upright, scrambling back until his back hits the sofa, one knee coming up, his other leg stretched out in front of him. His blue eyes are wide and full of fear, his body sweaty and his chest surging under his clear distress.
My body moves away on instinct, my shock and wariness not allowing me to move in to comfort him. I can’t even speak. I’m just watching as his eyes dart around, his palm over his chest in an attempt to ease the palpitations. The pain searing through my jaw is incredible, but my dry eyes won’t produce any tears. I’m on emotional shutdown. He looks like a frightened animal, cornered and helpless, and when his eyes fall down to his groin, mine do, too.