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“And how do you plan on doing that,” I tease, walking into the living room.
What I do not expect when I turn around to sit down is to see Harper taking her dress off. My mouth goes dry, and my jaw drops. The dress hits the floor, and she steps out of it in a half-cup bra and black panties.
“Like what you see?” she asks.
Her gaze is unsteady, which tells me she’s using the last shred of her bravery to pull this off, but that is what makes it so fucking hot. Watching her cheeks turn red while she kicks a leg out and toys with me by pretending to pull down her panties makes my pants too tight to keep on.
But it’s Harper’s show. If I perish at the end because I couldn’t stand the heat of her seduction, then so be it. I’m curious to see how long I’ll last.
I realize, when the bra comes off, and her fingers cover her nipples, that it might not be that long. When she kicks off her heels and one arched foot rests on my knee, I sense my time ending.
When Harper leans down, and her thumb brushes over my lip before slipping in the tip, I see my life flash before my eyes like a movie with just the end credits scene. There is no start, middle, or end.
“You like?” She repeats in a low, sultry voice.
Why do I have the urge to worship her body?
Why don’t I do something about it?
As my response, I wrap my hands around her ankle and kiss her skin, from the arch of her heel to her thighs, where I feel her quiver and hear her suck in a deep breath. My teeth graze the skin just close to her intimate place, and Harper clings to my hair as her legs wobble.
“I want to taste you,” I mutter, pulling the straps of her panties down, “All of you. Like this.”
It takes a bit of effort to get everything off, and then I take her leg again and prop it on my lap before burying my face in that spot.
The second my mouth touches her, and my tongue darts out to lick her slit, Harper gasps and almost stumbles. I place her leg down and go on my knees instead, supporting her body with both hands around her waist.
“Gabriel,” she whimpers when I nudge her legs apart with my face.
My tongue sweeps over her slickness again, tasting her arousal. She moans my name in a way that has the bulge in my pants increasing to twice its size. My erection strains painfully against my zipper as Harper’s moans get louder, echoing in my apartment.
I’m sure that if someone besides her lived below, they would hear every sound. And hell, do I love the thought of that.
I bury my face deeper as she buckles dangerously, rotating between flicking her clit with my tongue and using it to fuck her. I go on, letting one hand go so I can slip a finger past her folds and feel her squeeze me.
“Gabriel,” Harper exclaims, and she rides my face and hand, “I’m close…I’m so close.”
I don’t stop, knowing it’s exactly what she needs from me. My tongue circles her clit faster, nipping to add a bit of sweet pain, and my finger inches deeper, milking her warmth. I feel it when she climaxes—the death grip on my finger before it lets go and then the low groan from Harper’s lips before the shudders hit.
My other hand holds on to her as I pull out another mini orgasm from her in my mouth before finally letting her crumble into my arms.
We stay there—my arms around Harper and her chest heaving—for a while. When she catches her breath sufficiently, she looks at me with a sulky pout.
“I was supposed to do that to you.”
“Do what?”
“You know, make you lose your mind or something like that. You weren’t supposed to turn the tables.”
I laugh and kiss her. “You always make me lose my mind, Harper. That is who you are. Even when I’m giving you an orgasm, I’m the one who is getting the best bit because I can see you and feel you.”
She smacks her lips. “I guess. But I can feel you too.”
Her hand goes to my crotch, and I groan.
“Don’t you think we should do something about that?” Harper suggests.
I curse under my breath when she moves her cupped palm up and down, stroking me through my pants. The friction turns out to be delicious and painful at the same time.
