by E. H. Lyon
Harper changed to jeans instead of keeping her shorts on that she was wearing only a few hours ago. Still it took a few seconds for words to form in my mouth when she showed up at my house. After admitting that the cooking was my mother’s food, we broke out a bottle of wine.
I watch Harper as she looks around my home. My house is a modern gem that I bought a year ago thanks to some killer commissions. Four bedrooms and a nice area out back to entertain. I stuck to dark wood floors and grey throughout. It screams bachelor pad, but I own it.
We dish up food and head to my dining table.
“Thanks for inviting me. Homecooked food beats pizza any day.” She smiles genuinely.
“Well, there was no way I was going to eat all of this and…a good reason to see each other again.” I let the words run out of my mouth as I focus on my plate of food, but I know her sparkly eyes are staring at me.
“You don’t need a reason. Or is it one of your rules?”
I lean back in my chair and play with my fork. “Believe it or not, I am not a rule person.”
“Really? That’s funny, because I could have sworn—”
I hold a hand up to stop her as I know she is about to remind me of my one rule.
“Maybe, just maybe, I am exploring options to amend that rule.” I give her a glimmering look with my eyes as I grab my wine and take a needed gulp.
Her eyes lighten and her mouth curves up. But instead of giving me a comeback she normally throws at record pace, she stays quiet and there is a pause.
Her gaze makes me warm, and I decide to keep the conversation moving. “Is there enough vegetable stuff? I know my mother can go a little crazy with chicken.”
“Plenty. This potato dish is yummy, by the way.” She puts another forkful of food in her mouth, swallows, then speaks. “Did you give your mother her birthday gift—oh wait—you said that was next week.”
I nod. “Yeah, she has the ladies from the book club over and they down a few bottles of wine. It’s funny as many of her friends are the parents of my friends. We can tease our parents the way they tease us now that we’re all adults.”
“Messing with parents is the best,” she notes.
We continue to eat and discuss places we travelled. Harper tells me she scuba-dived in the Caribbean a few times and that’s where her love for turtles began. We also talk about winter and how I like to ski. She is more a snowboarder. After we finish, I offer to make her a drink and we walk to my bar area of the living room. Basically, a display of various alcohol collected over the years.
“What do you fancy? I have it all,” I declare proudly as my arms go out to indicate the display of bottles.
That mischievous grin forms on her. “You do have it all.” Her eyes tell me she doesn’t mean the alcohol and her finger jabbing my chest confirms my thought. She moves to discover the alcohol by lifting various bottles and reading the labels.
“I have ice and all other elements in the kitchen. An Old Fashioned? Martini? I make this one cocktail for friends that we call Max’s Manifesto but that is a little heavy for tonight,” I admit as getting her plastered on vodka is not my play at all.
She turns around with a bottle in hand and a wide smile. “You have Pisco, perfect.”
I scratch my cheek. “I do. Want a Pisco sour?”
Her eyes flash at me. “Do I ever. It’s my favorite.”
We head to the kitchen and I get to work on mixing us two drinks as she sits on the counter to watch me.
“I really like your house. Was it like this when you moved in?”
I’m busy cutting limes. “Yeah, it was. I was supposed to sell it for the owner, but I just made an offer right away. It’s risky as sometimes sellers want to hear all offers, but I could offer no real estate agent fees so it was a win for him.”
“Do you think it will be hard for me to get a house?” she wonders aloud.
“No way. Just tell me which house you want and it will be yours. I know what I’m doing, always,” I assure her as I hand her a glass of Pisco sour.
She smiles and holds her glass out to mine. “To Max, always knowing what he is doing.” Her brow arches, her head tilts to the side, and that wicked look is making my cock jump again.
I clear my throat but decide to roll with it. “Yes, always.” I don’t at all mean houses—which I am amazing at—but rather other activities.
Our glasses clink and we both take a sip. “See, I know what I’m doing, this is a good Pisco sour, no?”
“Mmm it is good,” she confirms, and I am suddenly aware that her lips will taste of bitter lime and salt.
I set my glass down quickly and go to grab another item that I saw at the supermarket and couldn’t not buy it.
“Close your eyes and hold out your hand,” I request, and she obliges.
“Ooh I love surprises.” She bounces her shoulders in excitement.
I come to stand in front of her between her knees. We’re sharing the same air and it makes my heart rate pick up. I place the straws in her hands. “Open your eyes.”
She immediately looks down and then back up at me with a smile.
“I thought you may need a turtle-safe straw for your cocktail,” I explain as I grab my drink from the side.
Her wide-eyed smile gives me the hint that I just scored points. “A bamboo straw is the best magic trick in the book. Also, what a relief, I was scared that was the size I would have to work with,” she teases.
I choke on my drink and then clear my throat. “You don’t hold back, do you?”
She shakes her head no.
I decide to step closer to her and immediately a current of heat twirls between us. “Trust me, no comparison.”
“Hmm sounds like a theory to prove,” she dares me.
I step closer to her with my hand resting on the counter near her hand. We’re facing each other, and I want to wrap my arm around her to bring her body flush against mine, but she wiggles out of my orbit and hops off the counter.
“So, do I get a tour of the place?”
“I’m off realtor duty.” I watch her as she’s already walking towards the stairs.
“Yeah, but I know you will like this tour,” she encourages as she stands on the bottom step as my house is open-plan.
I begin to follow her. “Is there ever a time when you’re not confident?”
She continues to walk up the stairs. “Yes, ages 10 to 17 which were hell, as teenage girls are vicious. But something tells me that they are the ones laughing now as they sit at home with three kids and a husband who cheats.” She says this so easily, but I make a note that she is truthful about the first part of her sentence.
As we reach the top of the stairs, my head and dick come to full attention. Harper Ives is standing in my upstairs hallway and only a few feet from my bedroom door. How did this transpire so quickly?
How did we go from dinner and a cocktail to landing at the entrance to my room that hopefully one day becomes our utopia? It’s because it’s Harper. She steers us into unknown directions and leaves stardust in her path.
“So, this is my upstairs. Guest room. Guest room. Bathroom. Home office,” I quickly list and point to each door; Harper grabs my arm and drags me with her.
“Oh, so lucky guess that this is your room,” she points out and pulls me into my own bedroom.
Harper flops onto the bed and lies on her side as she strokes the bed. I can see, because I left a small light on in my room. I have to swallow because the ideas of the things we could do here are spinning in my mind.
“Tell me, Max. Where are your handcuffs?” It comes out smooth as silk from her mouth.
I have to swallow again. “Uh, handcuffs?” I stand there still admiring her with one hand on my hip to support me from falling over. Her look inviting and her face so determined.
“Yeah. You mentioned you had handcuffs the other day, and I know you were not joking. I want to see them to compare with my own.” She is serious and it’s cute.
S
omething in me snaps. It breaks. It falters into specks because this woman is unlocking every inhibition in me.
A grin forms on my mouth and I am ready for this eventful evening to take shape. I walk to my side table next to my bed and pull out the handcuffs from the middle drawer, then throw them at her and she catches them.
Harper holds them up in the air, dangling by a finger, as I come to join her on the bed. How is this possible that I haven’t even yet kissed her and we are already on a handcuff discussion?
“Hmm seems strong enough,” she comments before swinging her body in a quick movement where she pushes me to my back, and she straddles me.
I’m done. I’m gone. She owns me.
“Hands up, Max.” She is firm and my reluctance is pushed to the side as she grabs my wrists too quickly.
I’m tugging my hands within seconds as she has me trapped in handcuffs with my hands over my head on the pillow.
“What are you up to, Harper?” I ask, amused, but my voice is ragged and humid. She could unzip me now and I am ready to go.
“Tell me, Max. Have you thought about me?” Her voice is husky as she slowly unbuttons her jeans, and I don’t think I can even speak anymore.
Still I perform. “Yes. A lot,” I confess.
She gives me a warning grin before finding the edges of her t-shirt and she begins to drag the shirt up her body, purposely slow. Finally discarding the shirt revealing a black lace bra that is different to the other day.
“What was I doing when you thought of me?” She nibbles her bottom lip as she unzips her jeans, and she makes a point to let her eyes look down on my straining cock that wants to be set free, before looking at my face again.
Focus on getting us there. Focus, Max.
I breathe in my confidence that I know I have. “You stripped naked for me before lying on the bed. Then you let me lick you senseless, you begged for my dick inside of you in any position of my choosing.”
Harper moves to standing in front of me and the bed. Her fingers grab the edges of her jeans waist and she begins to peel the dark blue denim down her smooth skin. My body is aching to unleash on her.
“You mean strip for you like this?” Her voice is raspy.
“Exactly, and then you will be a good girl and come to lie on the bed.” My eyes can’t leave her.
She slowly walks a few steps back to the bed and lies down next to me with her lips parted, and I need to claim those lips. They are mine.
My mouth moves towards her, and like static, our mouths dance as I try to capture her mouth. But again, she sends me into a frenzy, and she moves to straddle me again.
“Do you want to know what I’ve thought about?” she asks softly as she plays with the edges of my t-shirt hem.
“Fuck yes,” I whisper, and her lips twitch.
“How you would taste and how deep you could go. How hard you could take me.” Her eyes look down at my dick then back at me. She’s teasing me.
“Harper, I could take you hard and deep. But I need to kiss you first. I’ve been thinking about my mouth on yours since the moment we met,” I confess, and maybe it comes out less playful than I intend, but she needs to know.
The corner of her mouth pulls before she moves to hover over me. Her hand grips my hard bulge, and I twitch from immediate reaction but settle into her hand through my jeans. I could explode right now.
Her warm breath makes a trail up my neck towards my ear. Leaving a sizzling path as her lips move up. When she reaches my ear, I feel a slight tickle. I need her on my mouth.
“Max. You already feel really good. So big and so firm. I can’t wait to get you inside me,” she whispers into my ear before her mouth dances around my lips, and no matter how many times I tilt up to catch her mouth, she pulls away with a grin.
My hands try to reach her, but they’re bound, and she just pushes them back.
“Harper, uncuff me,” I warn her.
“Hmm sounds like a plan, Max,” she agrees as she goes to unlock me from the handcuffs with her tits pressing against my chest through lace fabric. I already know I will attack her when my hands go free.
“Good girl, Harper.”
A devilish laugh escapes her. “I know I am. That’s why I’m going.” She looks at me with a dead serious face.
“Wh-What?” I am shocked at this change of events.
Her hand pats my cheek. “I’m going to go home and think about that kiss we will have. Let you soak in your accomplishment that you are sticking to your rule.” She unlocks my hands and moves quickly to standing to begin putting her clothes back on.
“This was a good preview, no?” She grins.
I’m at a loss for words and my dick may just have entered an acute depression. “Harper, what are you doing to me?”
She certainly won’t put the ease in tease.
My hand runs through my dark hair.
“I’m being a good girl,” she reminds me.
“Be the bad girl, please,” I demand and beg, but she is already dressed again.
She walks to the doorway. Glancing back at me, she has that wicked grin on her face again. “Good-quality handcuffs, Max. It passes my test for sure. I will see myself out as I am sure you will be busy for the next few minutes with your situation.” She winks at me before walking away.
My mind is blown.
I can’t function anymore. Literally, I can’t move from the bed. My boner is too strong to physically move until I handle it, and my mind feels like it just exploded. Harper is literally going to make me come undone.
But after I think about it, I know I’m already there.
Chapter Seven
Harper
Taking a sip of my orange juice, I can’t help but admire the handsome gentleman who just arrived.
“What are you doing here, Harper?” Max asks, entertained and shaking his head slightly at me. His glasses are off today, which means his eyes are a greener blue due to his contacts. He’s in jeans and a black t-shirt. I am in jean shorts and a deep blue t-shirt.
“Abby invited me to brunch. I guess you’re here too. Funny, seems like we are pretty much spending the weekend together. Two breakfasts in a row,” I grin.
Max steps closer with eyes glued on me as I lean against the counter in the massive open kitchen at Lucas’s house. The sounds of a baby babbling that Jess holds and a five-year-old whining over Paw Patrol fill the background noise. Abby shoots me some flashing eyes as she finishes setting the dining table. She is the town vet and a sweet soul that I’ve had drinks with a few times.
Looking around, Max sees that we have a bit of space from the others and he closes the distance between us. “What the fuck was last night?” he nearly snarls through his teeth so the others don’t hear but there’s a funny grin plastered across his face.
“Being a good girl,” I remind him. “Just like my realtor wants.” I give him a sultry look that I have perfected over the years.
He rubs a hand against his forehead. “You are making me crazy.”
It was an unexpected play on my part. I really wanted him last night. But something in me changed and I don’t know if it’s between feeling his hard cock through his jeans or him telling me he needed to kiss me. Or just seeing him lying in his own bed with a handcuff set similar to my own—this man gets me, I’ve already established that—but my mind began to replay our last few days together, and he isn’t just a good time, hopefully.
At first sight, he captivated me, and I was determined. But he is so much more. He understands every corner of my body and he hasn’t even been inside. The man oozes romance, and I don’t think he was even trying to romance me. He was trying to keep his restraint while getting to know me.
Max does something to me. And for the first time in a long time, I want more than just sex. I didn’t think this feeling would ever happen again. It scares me. It makes my head need to take a breather.
“Brunch is ready,” Abby announces.
Max and I finally break our gaze to
look at the others.
“I need to add more alcohol to this mimosa. I really need it,” Max mutters as he looks at his glass and shakes his head slightly then heads off to the other side of the kitchen.
I head to the table and take a spot between Avery and Abby. While Jess, Lucas, and Max sit across from us. Immediately, everyone begins to fill their plates with food.
“You know, Avery, I have a friend you should meet, Jake—” Lucas begins.
Avery holds a hand up. “I don’t date guys named Jake. Did it once and don’t plan on doing that again as they probably wouldn’t compare. So no thank you.” She is dead serious.
“Geez, message received. Anyhow, any news from Leo?” Max asks Lucas, and I can’t help but notice Jess’s eyes move at the speed of light towards Lucas.
“Nah, man. He is probably having the time of his life. But he’ll come back one of these days. His old man will retire eventually,” Lucas says, and Jess cuts her French toast with more force than is normal.
The sounds of a crying Sam fill the room. “The little prince does not want to sleep,” Jess states, getting up to grab her son who was lying in his stroller in the living room.
“So, is this nutmeg that you put in the French toast?” I ask Abby.
“Yes, and a dash of orange peel,” Abby answers and seems happy that I’m taking interest.
“How is the house search?” Avery asks me.
Immediately my eyes shoot up to Max. “I would say good. Right, Max?”
“Absolutely. My client will be sure to end up more than satisfied… with a house.” He tries to save himself, but his eyes on me tell me the innuendo is there.
Jess laughs as she returns to the table with her son in her arms. “Right. I am sure Harper will be leaving a great review of your services.”
Max shoots his eyes to Jess as a warning.
I refocus my attention to Avery to answer honestly. “There was one house I saw that is a contender, but I still want to see a few more to compare. My dad may come out later in the week to help me look too.”
Max clears his throat. “Your dad?” He sounds slightly terrified.
