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“Are you okay?” he murmurs, pulling away from my mouth to stare at me in concern.
I nod, trying to breathe, trying to swallow.
“I’ll go slow,” he says, placing kisses along my jaw, over to my neck, as he slowly pushes himself in to the hilt.
Good lord. How am I going to survive him? I don’t mean just now. I mean after this. How will things go back to normal after I know what it feels like to have him so deep inside me, to have him make me feel so full?
“Better?” he asks, before his tongue drags across my chest, sucking my nipple into his mouth. I close my eyes, my mouth falling open in a low moan.
“Yes,” I manage to say, holding tight as he slowly withdraws and then thrusts back up inside me. “God, yes.”
My body starts to mold to his now, surrendering to the decadent push and pull as he pumps inside me, and hot, wicked flames start to burn deep, a fire that will soon consume me as every drag of his cock feels like a match about to strike.
We have a rhythm now, easy, sweet, and indulgent, but now I want more, need more. I don’t want him to hold back anymore. I want him to let loose, to overtake me, to set the wild beast inside him free.
“Harder,” I say through a groan, my nails digging in through his shirt. “Please.”
He grunts in response, picking up the pace as his hips start to slam against mine. The dryer rocks beneath us, but it doesn’t slow him down. I hold him tighter as everything inside me starts to wind around itself like spools of electricity, frayed and vibrating and promising relief.
Harrison continues to piston his hips against me, his thrusts deeper and harder, and I stare up at his gorgeous face, the heavy lids over fiery eyes, the hard set of his jaw, the lines in his forehead where sweat is pooling from the way he’s working me. Because it is work, the way he’s so determined to fuck the life out of me.
Then he slides his hand down between my legs, his fingers rough over my slick skin, and I’m crying out his name, the live wires inside me threatening to break me.
“Oh god,” I practically whimper, “I’m close.”
But I am closer than I thought.
With one rough pass of his thumb over my clit, it yanks the rug out from under me and I’m falling again, into him, into this wild, crazy, unadulterated bliss.
My legs wrap around him tighter, I’m clawing at him like I’ve lost my mind, and my head goes back, the world spinning out of control.
“Fuck,” he moans, and I fight through my orgasm to stare at him, taking in the sight of Harrison as he’s losing control. His face contorts in pleasure and pain, and then he’s making a fist in my hair and tugging it as he comes, his body shuddering as he releases inside me.
“Piper,” he cries out, his face burying in my neck as his pumping slows. “Piper.”
He doesn’t have to say anything else. I feel it all.
We stay like that for a while, our hearts slowing, our breath returning.
He pulls back and stares at me, brushing my wild hair off my damp forehead, and gives me the sweetest smile. His eyes are sated, his body relaxed even as he’s still inside me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him at peace like this, like he’s a completely different person. No longer in control, he’s succumbed to me, and we’re together in the aftermath, realizing that it’s okay to break every now and then.
I just hope that he knows he’s always free to break with me.
“That was . . . ,” he begins, licking his lips.
I smile. “I know.”
He lets out a low chuckle and shakes his head. “I’m not sure what came over you.”
“Does it matter when you came inside me?” I say, joking.
Another rough laugh escapes him. He leans in and kisses me softly on the lips. “You really are something, you know that?”
“I’ve been told.”
And please keep telling me.
He lets out a long exhale, resting his forehead against mine for a moment, and then reaches down and pulls out. I feel bereft at his absence already.
“Made a mess,” he says, eyeing the dryer.
“Good thing we’re in the laundry room,” I tell him.
I move my legs to the side, and then he wraps his large hands around my waist and gently lifts me down to the ground. I grab a towel from a laundry basket and quickly wipe away the mess we made.
“You know those are royal towels, right?” he comments.
I stare at the towel, with its logo of the Fairfaxes. “Whoops.”
He grins. “It’ll be our secret.” Then he pauses. Clears his throat, his eyes turning serious. “You know, this should probably stay a secret between us.”
