One Night: Denied (38 page)

‘Oh God!’ My hands in his hair apply pressure, pushing him onto my breast, and my hips start lifting, meeting the pumping of his fingers. Every nerve ending is buzzing uncontrollably, my head shaking, my thoughts scattered. I begin to feel my climax take hold, the pleasure dominating every inch of me shifting to one spot, set to explode. And with a nip of my nipple and a deep rotation of strong fingers within me, it happens.

The world ceases to rotate on its axis. Life stops. My mind goes blank. There’s a distant sound of groaning and once I’ve overcome the initial onslaught of harsh pleasure, I drop my head to the side in exhaustion and peel my eyes open to find Miller at full height, looking down at me as he strokes me softly between the thighs, easing me lightly down. His arousal is thick, pulsing and protruding proudly from his groin.

I don’t speak, mainly because I haven’t the energy, but I
do
find a little strength to reach to the side and take a gentle hold of him, wiping my thumb across the swollen head to smear the bead of cum that’s leaking from the tip. Miller hisses, the muscles of his chest quivering aggressively while he battles to cope with my touch. He’s pulsing incessantly, and I can see his heart pounding in his chest. It takes just one delicate swipe of my fisted hand around him to tip him. He knocks my hand out of the way and lifts to rest his iron length on my tummy, groaning, his head rolling as he spills all over me. The warmth of his essence coating me has my body relaxing back into the marble on a lengthy, gratifying sigh. I’m floating in a magical land of perfection.

‘Sleepy?’ His rough voice tickles my ears, and I hum, closing my eyes. His hand gently breaks away from between my thighs and rests on my tummy. Then he spreads his cum everywhere, up to my boobs and down to my legs. I’m coated. And I couldn’t care less. He dips and pecks my lips, encouraging me to open up to him. I let him drench my mouth with his attention. I could fall asleep here on this solid work surface.

‘Come on.’ He pulls me up to a sitting position and muscles between my spread legs, all the while keeping up our kiss. My arms are positioned over his shoulders, he cups my bum, and pulls me in. ‘You can help me make breakfast.’

‘I can?’ I blurt, making him pull back on an inquisitive frown. Messing up his worktop, his clothes . . . me. And now I can help him make breakfast in his perfect kitchen, where tasks are carried out with military precision? I’m not sure I’m up to it, and quite frankly, interfering with his obsessive ways to that extent kind of scares me.

‘Let’s not make too big a deal of it,’ he warns.

But it’s a massive deal. Huge. ‘You can do it,’ I offer, feeling a little overwhelmed. He’s given me so much already. I don’t want to push my luck.

‘You can’t shirk me that easily.’ He gives my cheek a reassuring flutter of his lips and pulls me down, turning me in his arms so my back’s pressed into his chest. His chin rests on my shoulder. ‘But first, a quick wash.’

He urges me forward with his palms resting on my tummy, his steps guiding mine until we’re standing before the sink and he’s turning on the tap. He dampens a towel, pumps in some liquid soap, and efficiently wipes down my front, then kneels down to swipe up my legs. It’s all I can do not to throw my head back and moan for more.

After washing our hands together, he leans over me and wipes the sink down while I look on with a smile. ‘To the fridge,’ he whispers, pushing me gently on until we’re before the giant mirrored doors. Miller’s nakedness is concealed. But mine isn’t. ‘Stunning view.’ He nips at my shoulder, keeping his eyes on mine, and lets his hand slip below my stomach to my entrance. I hold my breath and push my cheek into the side of his face, squirming. ‘So warm and inviting,’ he whispers, and then licks his bite mark on my shoulder and spreads my dampness with all four fingers. The slippery friction on my sensitive nub of nerves has me moaning as I watch his eyes darken. ‘You’re still pulsing, sweet girl.’

My bum pushes into his groin, causing Miller to mimic my sounds of ecstasy. ‘You wanted to feed me,’ I remind him, quite stupidly. I’ll take more worshipping over the mundane task of eating any day.

‘Correct, but I can’t promise I won’t make the most of your inviting condition while we prepare breakfast.’ He circles around my clitoris slowly, accelerating the dulling pulse.

Oh God, help me!

‘Miller,’ I squeeze my eyes shut briefly, retreating, my body folding in on itself to escape his inconceivably skilful touch.

He pushes his mouth to my ear. ‘I might make a habit of preparing our meals with my habit stuck to my chest.’

If he does that, then we might not ever eat. My need for him is my undoing and I make to turn.

And go nowhere.

‘Nuh-uh-uh.’ His hand pushes into the soft flesh of my tummy and his fingers walk up my front slowly until they are resting at the corner of my mouth. Our eyes hold as he wipes my wetness across my lips. ‘Lick.’

When his order should probably make me decline shyly, it has my craving multiplying instead. I follow through on his demand, lapping slowly at his fingers while he holds me in place, more with his thirsty eyes than with the firm clamp of his hand.

‘Good, wouldn’t you agree?’

I nod, but I’m more inclined to think that the flesh beneath the wetness is tastier.

‘Enough for now.’ He withdraws his fingers and slides his palms down my arms until he’s at my hands. ‘This could take some time.’

‘Only if you can’t keep your hands to yourself,’ I reply quietly, wishing I didn’t have to go to work so we could prepare breakfast all day.

He lifts our hands and threads our fingers so we can open the fridge door together. ‘You wouldn’t want me to, so this will be a pointless discussion.’

‘Agreed.’ I’m confronted by the contents of Miller’s fridge, noting shelves of neatly stored food – mostly fruit or something equally healthy, and bottled water. He takes our hands to the basket of strawberries, and I smile. ‘Chocolate for breakfast?’

‘That would be extremely unhealthy.’

‘So?’

He nips at my earlobe as he takes the fruit out of the fridge. ‘For breakfast we have strawberries with Greek yogurt.’

‘Doesn’t sound as tasty,’ I grumble, and I bet it’s fat-free, too.

I’m ignored, the slight straightening of his lips telling me to quit complaining without the need for a verbal warning. A gentle nudge of his hips into my lower back followed by his backward steps has my feet shifting, mirroring his steps and taking us away from the reflection of the fridge doors. His eyes are glued to mine, scorching my naked flesh, and remain that way until he’s forced to turn us. We move across the kitchen as one, collect a chopping board from one cupboard, two bowls from another, a colander from another, and finally a paring knife from a drawer before everything is placed neatly on the work surface. Our hands work together, although every motion is instigated by Miller, me happy to let that happen because then I can’t do anything wrong. He’s humming his sweet melody in my ear absent-mindedly, seeming so peaceful, which warms me to the core and beyond. He’s happy and content, like me preparing breakfast to his standards and following his
way
could possibly be the most fulfilling thing in the world. To Miller, it might just be. He helps me lift the knife and covers my hand with his while collecting a strawberry and placing it on the chopping board. Then he guides my hand to lift the knife and directs the blade across the top, removing the stem. He pushes the discarded piece to one corner, halves the red, plump fruit, and places a loving kiss on my cheek before he pops the pieces in the colander.

‘Perfect,’ he praises, like he hasn’t just influenced the string of accurate motions we’ve undertaken, down to the handling of the knife. But if it keeps Miller’s perfect world turning on its perfect axis, then I’ll happily comply. He collects another strawberry, keeping his chin on my shoulder. The nearness of his steady breathing in my ear as he hums is past comforting. This must be the closest one can come to heaven while still on earth.

‘I thought you could stay with me today,’ he says quietly, guiding my hand to the strawberry. A gentle pressure on my hand splits the flesh, revealing its juicy, mouth-watering centre. I wouldn’t dare do something as silly as sneak a piece, not under my finicky Miller’s watch, so I’m utterly gobsmacked when he collects one of the halves and brings it to his mouth. Frowning, I follow its path, momentarily distracted by the slow parting of his lips before he slips it between them. Only momentarily, though. Displeasure soon snuffs it.

‘That’s—’ I get no further into my objection, Miller’s mouth silencing me. He bites down and juice bursts between our kiss, truly making it the tastiest kiss ever. Miller and strawberry. ‘Hmmm,’ I hum in pleasure, juice dribbling down my chin.

‘I concur,’ he whispers, breaking our kiss and licking a delicate wet stroke up my chin, fulfilling his self-appointed role of cleaning up our mess. It might be pleasurable for him, but it’s still tidying of some nature, so it figures Miller would jump at the role.

‘I have to go to work today,’ I murmur under his penetrative gaze. My body is on fire and a whole day locked in Miller’s apartment, the world shut safely outside, is almost impossible to resist, but I can’t shirk work again.

He kisses my nose on an accepting sigh. Too accepting. ‘I understand, but promise me you won’t venture off on your own.’ His plea drags my contentment and comfort into worry. I’m being followed. ‘I’ll take you and collect you.’

‘How long do you expect to have to chaperone me?’ I ask. While I’m more than concerned by the revelations of an unwanted shadow, I also appreciate that Miller can’t babysit me for ever.

‘Just until we have established who and why.’ He resumes chin on shoulder and strawberry slicing.

‘Who’s “we”?’

I definitely don’t imagine a hesitant pause before he answers. ‘You and I.’

I’m suspicious. I hate being suspicious. Suspicion is dangerous and it also spikes curiosity. And I hate curiosity, probably more than suspicion. ‘I can’t establish anything unless you give me the information, which you won’t, leaving
you
to establish things.’

‘Well, that’s how it should be,’ he states matter-of-factly, increasing that wretched suspicion and curiosity. ‘I don’t want your lovely mind worrying about it.’ He affirms his claim by pushing the knife through another strawberry and kissing my temple. ‘We’ll be leaving that line of conversation right there.’

‘Where?’ I ask on a roll of my eyes. I’ve been put firmly in my place, kind of, yet I can’t help a sarcastic quip.

‘There’s no ne—’

‘Miller,’ I sigh. ‘Loosen up!’ It’s one step forward, a million back.

‘I’m perfectly loose.’ He pushes his groin into my lower back and bites my neck, making me squirm and laugh, and just like that, he contradicts my previous thought.

‘Stop it!’ I gasp through my laughter.

‘Never.’

But he does stop, and I stop laughing instantly, too, snapping my head up in attention. ‘Was that a doorbell?’ I ask, intrigued. I’ve never heard the sound before.

‘I believe it was.’ Miller sounds as interested as I am.

‘Who could it be?’

‘Well, let’s find out.’ He prises my hand off the knife and lays it parallel to the chopping board before releasing me. Then he tidies his workstation quickly and efficiently and collects my folded knickers and T-shirt.

He takes my hand and paces through the apartment speedily. We’re in his dressing room in no time, and I hear the doorbell sound again as he mutters under his breath, something about disturbances. He pulls a pair of fresh black boxers on and actually begins to rotate the damn T-shirts while the doorbell rings persistently in the background. I’m silent and watching him grow more and more agitated by the second as he yanks his T-shirt on. He takes my hands and kisses my knuckles. ‘Take a shower.’ A chaste kiss is dropped on my forehead and he’s gone, leaving me standing like a plum in the middle of his dressing room, with curiosity my only companion. It’s bombarding me, and not prepared to remain alone for it to drive me nuts, I throw my knickers and a shirt on and follow quietly behind Miller, his long, powerful legs eating up the journey to his front door fast.

Aggression pours from him as he yanks the door open, and it only seems to multiply by a million when whoever’s on the other side is revealed. I can’t see, Miller’s tall frame is blocking my view, but judging from the ice that emanates from Miller’s refined physique, we don’t want to see this person.

‘You can fuck off now, or stay and allow me the pleasure of snapping every bone in your body.’ The hatred in his tone is profound. Frightening. Who is it? I watch Miller’s back heaving, steam virtually pouring from his ears. He’s going to take leave of his senses at any moment. Good God, hasn’t he listened to anything we’ve spoken about? He simply cannot control it.

‘I’ll stay.’

The man’s voice sets my heart racing in my chest. He’s come looking for me? Miller’s fists clench, making the veins of his arms bulge. Shit, he’s getting ready to charge. I move forward, conflicted – intervene or stay well away.

‘As you wish,’ Miller replies casually, like he hasn’t just committed to murdering our guest.

‘I wish you’d back off so my girl can think straight without your influence.’

Miller moves forward. It’s threatening and intended to be. My anxiety accelerates, as does my heart rate. ‘I’ll say this once,’ he seethes, fists clenching and releasing into balls. ‘I have never made Olivia do anything that she doesn’t want to. She belongs with me. She knows it. I know it, and you need to fucking know it, too. If I go anywhere, she’s coming with me.’

I find my courage and creep up behind Miller, sliding my palm onto his back before circling him and placing my body in front of his. A black eye, bruised cheek and split lip greet me.

‘Gregory,’ I breathe nervously, feeling Miller giving off all sorts of worrying vibes. He’s rigid against my back. ‘Are you okay?’

Brown eyes soften at my presence, his face almost relieved. ‘Amazing,’ he jokes, flicking a filthy look to Miller. ‘We need to talk.’