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“We shouldn’t,” she agrees, hands gliding over my pants where my erection is.
The slightest of nibbles, and she squeals. My gaze swings up to find her mouth a sexy ‘O’.
“Then stop.”
She grabs my dick and strokes it, hard. “You first.”
My hand drops to her skirt, then up it, pressing into her wet panties. “You.”
She unbuttons my pants, rips down my boxers, grabs my cock, and, with hungry eyes, hisses, “You.”
My ‘you’ turns into a moan when she clambers her body to mine. What follows is pure instinct.
I grab her and turn her around so she’s on the table, pussy and ass raised to me. I rip off her panties, shove myself inside.
And finally—finally, finally, finally—everything is as it should be.
There’s no more words—there’s no need for them. Just me and her. In and out. My cock reveling in her perfect, tight slit.
In and out, deep and deeper. Her wet warmth is enough to bring me to the edge already, except that I want to hear her moan my name first. I want her to come for me.
The table scrapes across the floor as I pound her, but I don’t care. All I know and need is what I’m buried in, right here, right now.
I slap her ass, and her groans get more harried. “C’mon. Come for me, baby. I want to hear you moan my name.”
She’s reduced to monosyllables now, her whole body shaking, pussy clasping hungrily at my cock with every thrust.
It’s so hot, so fucking hot that I can’t take it. Can’t take this. Her.
“Grey-son, oh Grey-son, oh yes Greyson!” she shrills, taking my hand and slapping it over her mouth to muffle her cries as she comes, over and over again on my dick.
Seconds later, I’m losing it too, exploding into her. Fuck. Fuck yeah. Uh…
We sink onto the carpet, half-entwined, limbs akimbo.
I’m mumbling nonsense, holding her not because I want to but because, for whatever reason, I can’t seem to let her go. “My Harley, my girl…”
Her eyes, when they open, are the happiest I’ve seen them. Sleepy and happy and surprised. A little worried, too.
“God,” she murmurs, “You take a sex god course or something? That was amazing!”
“How’d you guess?” I yawn, and find myself dabbing a kiss onto the tip of her nose.
She giggles. “You into my nose now too?”
“Hell yeah. That light sprinkling of freckles. The Seussical slope shape. So hot.”
Her grin warms me.
“I like you,” she declares.
“And I like you.”
It feels more intimate and real, those three words, than anything I’ve ever said to any other girlfriend or lover, words uttered just to meet milestones, expectations.
Harley is, being with her is… different.
A knock on the door has us sprawling apart.
“Fuck,” I mutter, clambering into my pants.
More knocks follow.
“Mr. Storm?” Madeline’s officious voice drawls. “Are you in there?”
“Yes, Madeline!” I say, in my most normal voice. “Just finishing up the final cut. Can’t be disturbed. Will be out in five.”
“Well.” I can almost hear the gears grinding in her head. She knows. “It is pretty urgent.”
“Five minutes,” I snap, and then, thank fuck, hear the angry clack of her heels against the floor as she leaves.
“I could’ve been ready in like two, maybe,” Harley says, grinning lopsidedly.
I take one look at her and bust out laughing. “What… Why?”
Somehow, she’s gotten her bra looped around her head, her blouse bunched up at her stomach.
“I panicked.” Her smile is helpless and adorable and makes me want to kiss her. “I just… can you help me?”
I chuckle as I go over there to help undo her bra. “Don’t know how much help I’ll be. Women’s clothing isn’t exactly my expertise.”
“Nah, women’s pleasure is.” She winks at me, and this time I can’t help it: I do kiss her.
The just-a-second kiss extends into a drawn-out lip-lock, then a series of them. Then my hands are re-finding her breasts and she’s pulling away, half-moaning but also saying, “Greyson.”
“Shit.” I rip myself away. “Sorry.”
She adjusts her clothes and smooths her hair. “Do I look OK?”
One look and again all of me is clenching to hold in what I want to do to her.
“OK isn’t the word, but you look presentable, which is the important part, I guess.”
“You guess?” she teases.
I say nothing, because anything more and my cock is going to get even harder.
“It’s time to go,” I say coolly.
“Read my mind,” she returns easily.
We leave the room separately. I don’t look back.
The rest of the day is a dull blur, brightened only by my glimpses of her and the cold hard knowledge that this is how things have to be.Chapter 24Harley
“OK, Anchovy, I know you aren’t crazy about the long grass, but I promise, there are no snakes here. This is Toronto, not Alabama.”
Anchovy responds by flopping on his belly and not moving. I give his avocado-print leash a little tug to no avail.
