Unveiled

‘A few hours.’

‘My bum’s numb.’ It’s completely dead, and I expect my legs will be, too, if I try to stand.

‘Here.’ He lifts me over to him and lets me find my feet, keeping hold of me until I’m sure I’m not going to fold to the floor. ‘Are you hurting?’ His hand slips to my bum and starts massaging life back into my bottom.

‘Just a little stiff.’ I hold on to his shoulders while he spends time working his firm hands all over me, finishing at my tummy. He pauses circling motions and gazes down, but he doesn’t say anything for a long, long time. I let him have his moment, happy to watch him watching me.

‘Do you think he’ll be perfect?’ he asks, genuinely concerned. It makes me smile fondly.

‘In every way,’ I say, because I know he will be . . . just like Miller. ‘He?’

He looks up at me, and I find his eyes gushing with happiness. ‘I sense it. It’s a boy.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

He shakes his head a little, shying away from my curiously amused stare. ‘I just sense it.’

He’s lying. I take his dark stubbled chin and pull his face up. ‘Elaborate.’

He tries to narrow his eyes, but they’re sparkling too madly to allow it. ‘I dreamt it,’ he says, finishing up with his massaging hands and bringing them to my hair. He toys with it, twiddling some strands here and there before fixing it just so. ‘I allowed myself to dream the impossible. Like I did with you. And now I have you.’

My shoulders drop from my exhale of contented breath and his face falls to mine.

He’s going to worship me.

Soft, slow, Miller Hart-perfect.

‘I need to make love to you, Olivia,’ he mumbles into my mouth, turning me away from him so his lips drag across my cheek, to my ear, and into my hair. ‘Bend.’ He grasps my waist lightly and walks back a few paces, taking my hips with him. ‘Hands on the couch.’

I hum my acceptance and brace my arms on the back of the old worn sofa, hearing him unfastening his trousers. He’s not prepared to waste time undressing, which is fine by me. I’m as naked as the day I was born and Miller is fully dressed, but I feel a certain sense of enhanced power from him with us this way. He needs that power right now.

‘Are you wet for me?’ he asks, slipping his fingers between my thighs and sinking them into the hot moisture. I’m inviting him in, begging for him. I groan my answer, not that it’s needed. I’m saturated. ‘She’s always ready for me,’ he whispers, dipping and kissing the centre of my spine before licking his way up to my neck. ‘And she knows how I feel when she deprives me of her face.’

I inhale through my pleasure and do as I’m bid, turning my face to the side so he can see my profile and I can lose myself in him. The absence of his bare chest isn’t of concern. My eyes stay glued to his face.

‘Better.’ He withdraws his fingers, leaving me feeling hollow and denied, but not for long. They are soon replaced by the slippery head of his thick cock, teasing at my entrance, spreading my moisture everywhere. I whimper, shaking my head in a silent plea. He acknowledges it straightaway. ‘I have no desire to make you wait for me, sweet girl.’ He pushes forward on a deep groan, his head dropping back but his eyes still locked with mine.

My fingers claw into the soft couch, my arms going rigid. I ram back without thought or consideration of the sharp pain it might cause. ‘Shit!’

‘Shhhhh,’ he hushes me on a strangled choke, his hips beginning to shake. ‘That feels too fucking good.’ He slips from my passage shakily and then immediately circles forward again, grinding hard into my bum.

My breathing is instantly disjointed and strained.

‘I love that sound.’ He withdraws again and plunges forward, enticing constant and consistent moans and mumbles from me. ‘I so love that sound.’

‘Miller,’ I breathe, working hard to hold my body in place for him, my feet shifting to widen my stance and give him better leverage. ‘Oh God, Miller!’

‘Feel good, huh?’

‘Yes.’

‘The best?’

‘God yes!’

‘I fucking concur, sweet girl.’ He’s in his flow now, pumping slow, grinding circles repeatedly into me. ‘I’m taking my time with you,’ he promises. ‘All . . . night . . . long.’

I’m fine with that. I want to stay stuck to him forever.

‘We’re starting here.’ He shudders forward, hitting me deeply. I yelp, grabbing on to the tingling sensations inching forward. ‘Then I’m taking you up against the fridge.’ Pulling back, I see his chest expand beneath his shirt and waistcoat from his deep inhale. ‘In the shower.’ Forward he drives again. It’s taking everything out of me not to close my eyes. ‘On my paint table.’ His hips grind into my bottom, pushing me up onto my tiptoes on a moan. ‘In my bed.’

‘Please,’ I beg.

‘On the couch.’

‘Miller!’

‘On the kitchen table.’

‘I’m coming!’

‘On the floor.’

‘Oh God!’

‘I’m having you everywhere.’ Bang!

‘Arhhhhh!’

‘Do you need to come?’

‘Yes!’ Urgency has taken over. I’m shaking and sweating. I’m gulping down air and tensing – anything to tackle the orgasm that’s surging forward at a ridiculous speed. It’s going to be an intense one. It’s going to make my legs give and my throat sore from my scream. ‘It’s coming!’ I shout, knowing nothing is going to stop it.