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Soon, the lure of her scent draws me lower. There’s a delicious pooling of that slightly floral vanilla smell between her breasts. Once I bury my face there and draw in a deep breath, my head whirls. Her breasts surround my head, and how do I not lave them with attention? I can’t ignore those tempting, rosy tips. No way, no how.
When I slip one in my mouth, she rises up to me, all shallow breaths and exposed neck. She cups my head in her hands to hold me closer. My heart races. I don’t even know how many women I’ve slept with in the past, but this grips me by the throat, by the balls…by the heart. She’s a challenge. As my mother said, she’s my equal.
My gut tells me she’s my heart.
I switch my attention to the other nipple and give it a thorough working, gratified to feel it hardening even more against my tongue. Her breathing turns audible. Her body writhes as if she’s desperate for more.
“Noah…”
“Yeah, baby?” I ask absently as I kiss my way down. At the flat of her belly, I linger and think about planting our child in her and watching him or her grow. I want that. I want to hold my son or daughter with Harlow by my side. I want forever.
But first I have to put my mouth on her pussy because her rich scent is filling my nose and flooding my bloodstream with raging need.
“Oh…” She pants. “God!”
As if she reads my mind, she spreads her legs under me, giving me complete access to the slick folds and feminine secrets in between. My oral fixation kicks me in the teeth, and I can’t go slow. I shove her legs wide, sucking her clit into my mouth to tongue it while plunging my fingers inside her sweltering heat. She’s like heaven, and I’d die from the pleasure of tasting her again if I knew I wouldn’t be missing out on so much more of her.
Harlow is already close to the edge, hot and swelling, her flavor tangy and thick. I can’t stop eating at her, taking her all in. I drag my hands down her body, gripping her hips and lifting her to my mouth, partaking as if I’ve never tasted anything sweeter. In my grasp, she arches and cries out. Her clit hardens. Her hands tighten around my head, plunge into my hair, and jerk, as if she can bring me deeper.
“Noah. Noah…” Her voice is a rising plea. She’s right there, balanced on the edge, her body suspended under my hands and my mouth, ripe and ready and uninhibited. Then she bucks and screams my name. “Noah!”
Oh, fuck me. Harlow flows so sweetly, and I lap faster, deeper, dipping my tongue inside her as I work her stiff, screaming bud with my unrelenting fingers, wringing every last bit of pulsing ecstasy out of this orgasm.
When the tension in her body finally gives and she melts into the mattress with a sigh, I kiss my way up her body, dragging my lips up her abdomen, over one nipple before I lick my way across her jaw, then settle my lips over hers. In the same moment, I align the head of my cock and surge into her engorged opening with a groan of pleasure that tears from my soul.
God, I belong here. This is right. No, I probably won’t get her pregnant tonight—what are the odds?—but I’m going to give it a hell of a try.
“Harlow, baby… I’ve missed you. You feel so good. Ohhh…” I grunt as I slide out and ease back in so slowly my back hunches and my toes curl.
She’s not having any of my slow strokes. Under me, she lifts and swivels, encouraging me deeper, faster, harder. There’s no way I can deny her. I have her beside me all night. I’ll get hard again. I’ll stay hard. I’ll spend as much time filling her up as I can, tonight and every night she’s mine.
Together, we set a savage pace, deep and fevered. I curl my fingers under her, grabbing her ass in my hands and bringing her to my hungry cock as I take her, teeth bared, with one hard thrust after another.
I’m not going to last. Jesus, it’s been too long and she feels too good. When her nails dig into my back and her channel clamps down on me, I know she won’t last, either. I’m praising any higher power listening as I plow into her, hips shaking, bed rocking, sweat pouring, swift and single-minded.
Under me, she breaks suddenly, jerking and howling out in a feminine growl of pleasure. I follow her seconds later, emptying every bit of my energy, soul, and semen inside her with a shout that makes my throat raw and my heart stutter.
After the sweltering bliss of release, I fall on top of Harlow with a sigh. She lifts limp arms around my neck. God, she’s everything I didn’t know I was looking for—sweet yet sarcastic, selfless yet standoffish. She will both keep me on my toes and make my life interesting. The last few years had seemed gray, shallow, lacking. I assumed it was the grind of football or knowing that retirement was on the horizon. But nothing changed inside me until I met Harlow. She’s the sassy ray of sunshine I’ve needed.
Her lashes flutter open and she gives me a glittering green stare. “I think we should do this every night before the wedding and even more often afterward.”
Yeah, maybe it’s just about getting pregnant…but that’s not what her eyes tell me. Something soft shines from her face. It’s more than adoring. I’m thinking—hoping—maybe she’s well on her way to being in love with me, too.
“You got it,” I promise, hoping she doesn’t change her mind.
After a damn busy day, I’m feeling worn out but surprisingly accomplished. This morning, we stopped by my mother’s place to tell her we’re getting married. She beamed and hugged us both, oohing and aahing over the engagement ring. Then she nearly choked when we told her we plan to tie the knot in two weeks. Thankfully, she recently helped my sister organize her wedding and volunteered to do the same with Harlow. They’re planning to get together tomorrow to launch into the details.
Both my mom and my fiancée—it’s oddly thrilling to call her that—were ear-to-ear smiles. It did my heart good to see them together, looking excited as they discussed the ceremony that will begin the rest of my life with Harlow.
Then I called Trace and left a message for him. He’s been scuba diving for the last six days with his buddies in some far-flung place in the South Pacific and probably won’t have cell service until Wednesday, when he gets home. But he knows to call me once he reaches civilization again.
Then I dropped Harlow off at a bridal shop so she could scout out the wedding dresses. She refuses to wear the monstrosity her mother picked for her wedding to Simon, which is fine by me. While I waited, I walked the beach, cap pulled low. An hour later, she left the store grumbling that she didn’t have six months to order a dress and nothing off the rack works for a short girl. She wants everything to be perfect on her wedding day. I’m taking that as a good sign. She didn’t plan much of the aborted ceremony, but she wants to be in charge of this one. If our marriage was merely an exchange of a temporary wife for a baby, she wouldn’t care half so much. I promise her my mom will have some ideas about the dress situation, and if worse comes to worst, my Aunt Lahela is one hell of a seamstress.
Once we arrived home, we intended to hit the gym downstairs and work out, but as soon as she appears in a small pair of black spandex shorts and some bra thing that’s stretchy and tight across her breasts while leaving her midriff bare…iron isn’t what I want to pump. We end up naked, entwined, shouting out our pleasure on the rubber floor.
Will today be the day Harlow conceives? That possibility excites the hell out of me.
“We should do that again. I want you to be convinced I’m giving you my full”—I slide out and thrust back in—“effort.”
