That Forever Girl

by Quinn, Meghan

  “God,” she drags out. “Yes.”

  I flick her nipple with my tongue.

  I suck it in with my lips.

  I nibble it until she’s screaming out my name.

  And I repeat the process while pinching her other nipple with my hand. Continually I play with her breasts, until she’s panting, beyond words. That’s when I move my mouth back up her neck and my hand down to her pussy. Palm against her mound, I slip one finger across her slit, testing out just how wet she is.

  She’s fucking soaked.

  “Feet on the counter,” I demand. “Spread wide for me, Harp.”

  Not even taking a second to contemplate my demand, she hoists her feet onto the edge of the counter and drops her legs open, exposing herself completely.

  Granted full access, I slip my finger along her slit, rubbing her clit gently as she tosses her head back and groans. I can’t even remember the last time I was this turned on, this excited to watch a woman come. I can’t decide if I want her to come on my fingers or on my face. Both would be fucking amazing.

  And the way she so easily gave up her body, the way she’s freely sprawled on my counter, naked, and wanting . . . needing . . .

  This is a new side of her, an even sexier side. Where did she get this confidence? Is it something someone else taught her? The thought sends a white-hot bolt of jealousy straight up my back. I’m tempted to ask her, tempted to stop what I’m doing and ask her who she’s been with, but thankfully my dick won’t let me.

  Instead, I channel my energy into fucking her with my fingers. Thumb on her clit, I insert one finger and slowly curve it up as I push in. Her moan vibrates against the walls, and she grips the edge of the counter. I press my thumb down on her clit and curve up again, this time a little deeper and a little faster.

  “Oh Christ. Yes, Rogan.”

  Continuing my movement, I lower my head back down and take one of her breasts into my mouth, rolling her nipple over my teeth and then lapping it up with my tongue. Her hips rock against my hand, pumping my fingers in and out.

  Her muscles tense, and her moans become throaty and labored as her head falls back. She’s right there, on the edge, ready to fall over, so I make small circles with my thumb over her clit, massaging the little nub until she contracts around my fingers and cries out my name.

  Like the greedy man I am, I take her all in, the way her mouth falls open when she comes, the hardened points of her nipples, and the way her legs quiver with release. So fucking hot, so fucking perfect.

  A light perspiration caresses her brow when she finally looks up at me, her eyes heady. Lifting up, she wraps her hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in for a demanding kiss. Her lips part, and her tongue dives into mine as she presses her naked body into my chest. Immediately, I dig my hand through her hair and keep her planted in place.

  Our mouths tangle together, needy and desperate for more, our bodies clamoring together, the lasagna completely forgotten. I lower my hands to her ass, where I grip her tightly and move her away from the counter. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I take the lead, carrying her to the back of the house, straight to my bedroom. I kick the door open and bring her to my bed.

  I drop her on the fluffy white comforter and reach behind me, pulling my shirt over my head. Her eyes automatically fixate on my chest, roaming and taking in every last contour. Bending forward, I push her against the mattress, straddling her.

  “God, Rogan.” Her hands caress my shoulders. “Where was this body in college?”

  Chuckling, I press my lips against her sweet skin. “I’ve had some spare time.”

  “This isn’t spare time. This is obsession.” Her fingers dance over my abs, down to my waistline; she unbuttons my pants, pushing the zipper down and then dipping her fingers past my boxer briefs.

  “Christ,” I mumble against her neck as she slowly wraps her fingers around my aching cock, her thumb playing with the underside, rubbing just below the head. “Harper, fuck, that feels good.”

  “I’ve missed this,” she murmurs. “Feeling you, hearing your voice so close to my ear, instinctively knowing exactly how to touch you. I missed you.”

  Lifting up, I stare into her glistening eyes, emotion flooding them. I lean forward and press a whisper of a kiss across her lips. “I’ve missed you too, Harp. So fucking much. I’ve missed the way you look at me, as if you’ve never seen a man like me before. You make me feel whole.”

  Pushing my pants down past my ass, releasing my cock completely from my briefs, she guides me to her center. “You are whole, Rogan. More whole than you’ve ever been.”

  She pumps my length a few times right before guiding me, letting me slowly slide into her.

  Hands above her head now, breasts pushed up to the sky, she spreads her legs wide as I enter her, inch by slow inch. “I want to feel all of you,” she says, her eyes fluttering open. “I want to feel every inch until you have nothing left to give.”

  I throw one of her legs up and over my shoulder and push my pelvis all the way against hers, making us both moan. And I stay there, letting her adjust to my length as she slowly breathes in and out.

  “I don’t . . .” She swallows hard. “I don’t remember you making me feel this full, this out of control, like I can’t get enough of you all at the same time.”

  “I feel the same.” I caress her cheek, letting my other hand drag down her leg to her clit; I press my thumb against it again. She clenches deliciously around my cock.

  “Oh God, don’t.” She shifts. “I’ll come; don’t touch me there.”

  “That’s the point, Harp, to make you come.”

  “Not yet,” she pleads. “Please, I want to feel you thrust, watch your body convulse, listen to the sexy sounds that slip past your tight lips.” She moves her hips against mine. “Please . . .”

  Unable to deny her anything, I remove my hand and grip her leg while I start to thrust in and out, the feel of her tight pussy wrapping around my cock nearly destroying me in seconds.

  “Fuck, Harper, you feel so damn good. So perfect.”

  I quicken my pace, picking up my thrusts and then slowing them back down when her chest starts to heave. Slowly in and out, I move inside her, twisting my hips while I push in.

  I want to live here forever, deep inside Harper, stopping time as this euphoric feeling consumes me, where there is nothing but me and her and the love I have for her. How could I ever have been so stupid to let go of this? To push her away when she’s the only thing that matters? All I’ve ever needed was her love, her arms wrapped around me, her lips pressed against mine. I would give up everything just to make sure I’m by her side for the rest of my life.

  Everything. Just to be with her.

  “Rogan.” She breathes hard. “I don’t think . . . oh God,” she moans when I drive into her forcefully. “I’m there, please tell me—”

  “I’m going to come, Harp,” I grind out, my hips pulsing now, my balls tightening, my legs going numb as everything around me darkens and my stomach coils, all sensation accumulating in the center of my body.

  So tight.

  So good.

  So fucking perfect.

  I can’t hold on any longer.

  “Fuuuck,” I groan, spilling myself inside her, feeling and hearing her orgasm push her over the edge as well, her hips flying over my cock, dragging out the pleasure until we’re both spent.

  I roll to the side, my back to the mattress, and she curls into me, her head resting on my shoulder, her fingers playing with the short hairs on my chest.

  The quiet darkness of the night surrounds us as we both catch our breath. In this moment, with her curled up against me, her loose hair dancing across me, I know there’s no going back. This is all I want, all I’ll ever need, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her right here, next to me, in this house, growing old together.

  I’ve hurt her once. I was a mere child when I broke up with her, acting like a petulant, immature asshole, overreac
ting and pushing her away when I needed her the most. Not again. Whatever comes our way, whatever we run into, I don’t want to push her away—I want to work through it together, as a couple, as an us.

  Quietly, just above a whisper, I say, “I love you, Harper.”

  She presses a kiss against my chest, then my jaw as she cups my cheek. “I love you too, Rogan.”

  Three words I never thought she’d say to me, and for some reason, I’m lucky enough to hear them again. I don’t know how I earned her forgiveness, her acceptance, but I’ll take it and cherish it.

  “Stay the night,” I say.

  “My dad will worry about me.”

  “Want me to call him to see if you can have a sleepover?”

  She playfully swats my chest. “God, no. That would be humiliating.”

  “What? It would be like back in sixth grade when we had sleepovers.”

  “Yeah, when you didn’t know how to work your penis . . . plus, your haircut back then was such a turnoff.”

  “I thought the Dumb and Dumber look was cool.”

  She ruffles my hair. “It was terrible.”

  I pull her in tighter. “You’re really going to go home?”

  “Not right away, but yeah. I don’t want my dad thinking I’m easy.”

  “Well . . . I mean, it wasn’t too hard getting you naked.”

  “Because I planned it that way.” She kisses my chest and then props herself up, gazing down at me. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “You can ask me anything, Harp.”

  She bites her bottom lip, and her eyes skirt to the side. “Why did you keep your pants on? Are you scared to be naked around me?”

  I can’t get anything past her.

  Her beautiful hair falls over her face; I push it behind her ear. “I’m not scared. I just didn’t want to struggle.”

  “Struggle how?”

  “With taking off my pants. I guess I didn’t want anything to hinder my ability to make love to you. And I didn’t want to show you my flaws, remind you of the past. I wanted to show you how different I am.”

  “I would have understood.”

  I shake my head. “No, I don’t want to be the guy who’s missing a leg in your eyes. I’ve worked hard to keep up my strength, to not show weakness, and I wasn’t about to when we finally got back together.”

  “But don’t you realize? That’s a part of you now, Rogan. It’s what makes you so different, so special. You’ve been able to overcome the loss of a limb and beautifully excel in life. You haven’t let it hold you back from anything.” She threads her fingers through my hair. “The only thing holding you back is your head. It’s almost like . . . like . . . you’ve cast this curse on yourself.”

  “Don’t say curse.” I chuckle. “That holds more weight than you know.”

  “Oh.” She giggles. “The whole New Orleans thing?”

  “Yeah, that.”

  Quietly, she asks, “Do you believe in it? The curse?”

  I twist a finger around her silky hair, playing with the soft strands and reveling in the feel of her naked body pressed up into mine. “When it all happened, I wasn’t sure. We were wasted, and I’m not sure how much was just in our heads . . . but what I do believe is I needed to grow up and realize my mistakes before I could truly find love again.”

  “Find love again?”

  “Yes, with you.” I kiss her temple. “It took me a while to accept the man I am today, and I’m still working on it. And it’s not that I’m sensitive about you seeing my leg; it’s that my leg is what broke us up. I don’t want to remind you of that.”

  Softly she brushes her lips against mine before pulling away. “I think we need to face it in order to move on. I have guilt over it, you have guilt over it. If we want to move forward, we need to accept the past and everything that came with it.” She kisses my chest and moves down my body. She scoots down the bed and starts to shimmy my jeans down my thighs.

  “Harper . . .” I breathe heavily, my skin prickling with nerves.

  “Shhh.” She drags my pants down farther. She positions herself at my feet and pulls my jeans and boxer briefs all the way off, revealing my prosthetic. Her fingers glide over the pylon up to the socket. I can’t feel her touch, but I can imagine it, her soft fingers like tempting feathers gliding over my skin, enticing me, warming me up inside.

  Eyes closed, I pause in this moment, soaking it up as Harper quietly heals our love with her understanding and apologetic heart. Though she has no reason to apologize, I know she needs to in order to start fresh.

  Her touch lights up my skin when she reaches my thigh, circling a few beats. “I’m sorry,” she quietly says. “I’m sorry I dragged you to that party when I knew you didn’t want to go.”

  “You don’t need to apologize.” I want her to know she holds no responsibility. “It was an accident, one you should never ever feel guilty about.”

  She nods, a tear running down her face as she leans forward and presses a kiss on my thigh. My cock jolts upward, my arousal spiking. She moves down, raining small pecks of love over my skin, her hands cupping my leg, her tears streaking across my skin.

  My own emotions start to bubble up in my chest: sorrow for the past, for everything we lost, and the pure relief of finally letting it go.

  “I love you, Rogan. I never stopped, and I don’t think I ever will.” She moves back up my body, dragging her fingers over my abdomen, my cock throbbing for her attention, my heart thumping from her admission.

  “I never stopped loving you, Harper. Even at my ugliest”—I cup her face—“I never stopped loving you.”

  Guiding her toward me, I roll her to her back and hover above her body. She spreads her legs, and without even thinking twice about it, I slip inside her and slowly start to move in and out, my eyes trained on hers.

  “You, me . . . this. It’s all I want, Harper. It’s all I need in life. I realized that the moment I left you.”

  She runs her fingers through my hair, bringing my forehead to hers. “I don’t think I’ve taken a true breath until this moment, not since we broke up.” She sighs and closes her eyes before popping them open, gasping when I thrust all the way inside her. “Yes,” she moans. “Love me, Rogan. Love me.”

  Trapping her face in my hands, I continue to move my hips, letting our yearning take over my pace as I pepper kisses along her face. Eyes, cheeks, forehead, nose, jaw . . . and then her lips. I get lost in her mouth, in the feel of her legs wrapping around me, in the soft sounds and pleas traveling between us.

  The tension between us builds, the need to move faster takes over, and as I shoot my hips into hers, a wave of pure euphoria hits me all at once. My girl in my arms, our bodies pulsing against each other, love pouring from her touch . . . I could leave this earth right now and be the luckiest fucking man ever.

  There is no way in hell I’m going to screw this up, not when I finally have my heart back.

  “God, Rogan, yes . . . right . . . there.” Her legs clamp around me, and her orgasm hits her as she moans loudly into my shoulder. I’m right there with her, pleasure rocking my body and shooting straight into my cock. I still and release myself inside Harper.

  “Jesus, fuck,” I mutter, lowering my forehead to hers again, a smile playing on my lips. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call your dad to see if we can have a sleepover?”

  She chuckles and cups my cheeks, pressing a deep kiss across my lips. “Positive.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  HARPER

  “Do you want to talk about that giant smile on your face?” my dad says, coming up from behind me and placing a coffee in front of me.

  Picking up the cup, I take a big swig and sigh as the hot liquid travels down the back of my throat.

  Happy.

  That’s all I can say—how else can I explain it?

  I’m flat-out smiling like a fool, can’t-stop-the-cheery-music-in-my-head happy.

  And it’s because of one man.

&n
bsp; One week after my date at Rogan’s house, and I still can’t swipe the grin off my face. Maybe because it’s been one of the best weeks of my life. And not just because Rogan is back in my life but because I have my best friend back.

  It started Saturday morning when he showed up early at my house with doughnuts. He even ate one—I nearly dropped dead—and spent the morning chatting with my dad like he used to. I just sat back and watched them interact, excusing myself for a second to cry tears of happiness in the bathroom.

  On Sunday, he brought my lunch during a very long day of filming, and even though we weren’t filming on one of his properties, production let him stay; he kept his hand in my jeans pocket the entire time, his cologne encircling me, distracting me more than I care to admit.

  Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, I went to his house for dinner, even if it was really late at night. We made love all over his cottage, not leaving one surface untouched. And he was right: the tiles in his shower are really nice . . . especially when my breasts were pushed up against them while he thrust into me.

  Thursday I didn’t get to see him, thanks to a long day of production and meetings that didn’t give us a second to spare even a kiss. But this morning, when I woke up to the sweet sound of his voice calling me on the phone, I realized how effortlessly this man has reentered my life, and in only a week. It’s almost as if we haven’t skipped a beat since college, but it’s different too. This time I have a sense of myself.

  And something else has changed, which I wasn’t expecting. Rogan is more demanding, sexier, and even hornier than ever before. The minute he gets me alone, his hands are all over my body, worshipping it. I’ve never felt more desired in my entire life.

  “I’m happy, Dad.”

  He takes a seat across from me at our little breakfast table. “I can see that. Are you happy because of a certain Knightly boy?”

  I can’t contain my smile. “Maybe.”

  He nods. “Well, I would say he’s feeling the same way. I saw him walking down Main Street yesterday with an extra pep in his step.”

  “I love him, Dad.”