At least, that’s how I hope she sees me.
When we get to our destination, I valet the car and open her door, but when I offer her my hand, she doesn’t take it. Instead her eyes scan over the building behind me.
“Are you insane?” she whispers. The valet is patiently waiting for her to get out. “We can’t go in there. I’m in a bathing suit.”
Chuckling, I squat down to her level and place my hand on her uncovered leg. “Don’t worry, we’re not going into that restaurant, because you’re right, they wouldn’t let us step a foot inside. We’re going behind it.”
“Promise?”
I nod. “Promise. I wouldn’t lie to you, Harmony, or embarrass you like that. Now, take my hand.” I stand and watch carefully as she places her hand in mine, giving me her trust. Based on the fleeting vulnerable moments I’ve seen from her today, I’m guessing putting her trust in someone else isn’t easy, so I’m going to guard it with everything in me.
I give the valet a curt wave and then walk past the restaurant and into a dark alley.
“So, this is how I die,” she whispers. “And after all the times my parents told me not to go down an alley with a stranger.”
“You know, that hurts. I’m not a stranger. I’m your second-best friend, Priya clearly being the number-one choice.”
“You’re so incredibly optimistic that it’s almost scary.”
“Optimism brings you joy, so why not strive for all the positivity you can get?” And I believe that wholeheartedly. If I wasn’t optimistic, I might not have come back from my mugging as well as I did. I could have given up after the horrible infection I suffered from the wound not healing properly. I remember the days in the hospital, wondering if they’d have to amputate, but I never let my mind go down the rabbit hole of negativity. Instead, I kept thinking positive thoughts, filling my body with reassurance that everything would be okay.
Do I believe my positivity cured me? No, I’m not an idiot. The good doctors and nurses that worked at my bedside every day and night are the reason I’m here. But not letting my mind reach the negative, that’s what helped me heal mentally. And it’s the reason I’m here today.
“When you have money, it’s easy to be optimistic,” she counters as we reach the back gate.
I shoot off a quick text to my friend before I respond, “When you have faith in yourself and the people you surround yourself with, then it’s easy to be optimistic.”
I push open the gate to the small, empty courtyard owned by the fancy Italian restaurant we bypassed. My friend Jim from my engineering class works at the restaurant and told me about the seldom-used courtyard one day after class. He said it’s a great place to go if you want to escape. I’ve been here a few times after classes when the guys in the loft are being too loud. It’s pretty close to the loft so I walk down, text Jim to let him know I’m there, and then find peace.
Harmony steps through, and I watch her carefully as she takes in the tiny, confined space. There’s one way in and one way out, and we just used it. Shaped by the tall buildings surrounding the area, the courtyard is a small square with three seating options: a metal bistro table with chairs, two armchairs in front of a cut-off tree trunk coffee table, and my favorite spot, a hammock attached from one building to the other. Vines, reaching at least fifteen feet overhead, creep up the old brick walls, and along the edges are potted plants and trees, creating a serene, jungle-like atmosphere in the midst of a cold, cement-bound city.
“Wow,” she whispers, walking over to a large purple flower in bloom. “This place is incredible. How do you know about it?”
“A friend from one of my engineering classes told me about it.”
“Engineering?” she asks, completely surprised.
“Not just all beauty.” I motion to my body from head to toe. “There’s brains in there too, babe.”
The back door to the restaurant pops open and Jim sticks his head out, looking to the right and then to the left, where he spots me. “Hey, man.” He keeps the door propped open with his leg and offers me a handshake that I return quickly. “Good to see you.”
“You too. Gearing up for junior year?”
“Yeah, took on a heavy course load.”
I pat him on the shoulder. “You always do. Hey, how’s your mom doing? Did she like the flowers?”
Jim laughs. “Yeah, you could say that. She bragged to all the nurses that she received flowers from a future baseball star. It made her day. Thanks, man. And she’s doing better. She’s slowly getting back into the swing of things and is changing her diet, so we’re hopeful she’ll make a full recovery.”
“That’s great to hear. Send her my best.”
“No problem.” He reaches behind him and holds out a tray bearing two glasses of their homemade lemonade, a basket of freshly made bread, butter, pesto sauce, and a cheese platter. My mouth starts to water. “Here. Let me know if you need refills.”
“Thanks, Jim. You didn’t have to do this.”
“And you didn’t have to keep checking up on me and my family, but you did. It’s the least I can do. Have fun.” He reaches behind him and flips a switch, turning on the big bulb lights, which are zigzagged above the space. “Enjoy.” He shuts the door and leaves me with Harmony, who’s standing there with both her hands joined together, staring at me.
“Their bread will change your world. Are you—” I pause as she continues to give me an inquisitive stare. “What?”
She shakes her head and walks over to the bistro table. “Nothing.”
I set the food down and bring my chair closer to her. “How come I don’t believe you?”
“Maybe because I was pretty unconvincing.” She sips the lemonade and makes an appreciative sound.
“Okay, so, spill. I know I’m handsome, but that can’t possibly be the reason you were looking at me like that, as if you were trying to peel back a layer to better understand me.”
“You just surprise me, that’s all. You’re not like the other athletes I know. You’re actually nice.”
“Pax is nice.”
She picks up some bread and tears off a piece for herself before handing me the other half. “Pax has his moments, but he also can be a giant asshole. I’ve seen it. Maybe not with me, but with others. Take that Jim guy. You didn’t seem to expect him to offer you things because of who you are as a celebrity. You’re obviously friends, and by the sounds of it, you care about him and his family.”
“Because that’s the good thing to do.” I dip my bread in the pesto sauce and say, “It’s second nature. I don’t even have to think about it. My parents both modeled to me and expected me to care for others, and that’s what I do. Do you want me to be an asshole to you? Is that what you’re used to?”
“No.” She laughs. “I prefer the nice guy with the hot car.”
“Ha.” I point at her. “I know you really meant the hot guy with the nice car. You’re forgiven.”
She shrugs and shakes her head, and then makes a beautiful sound in the back of her throat when she tastes the bread for the first time. “Oh my God, this is so good.”
“Keep making that sound and my dick is going to be tapping you on the leg, looking for a friend.”
“Your dick is going to be vastly disappointed, because there are no friends over here.” She pops the rest of her bread in her mouth and wipes her hands with a napkin.
“Not even a friend for a lonely penis? That’s harsh.”
“Harsh is my middle name.”
“Harmony Harsh. It has a nice ring to it.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” She gives me a small smile before taking another look around the space. “So how many girls have you brought here?”
“None,” I answer with complete honesty. “It’s very rare for me to even have a date, let alone hang out with someone of the opposite sex.”
“Puh-lease.”
“It’s true. I can probably count on one hand the number of dates I’ve had since coming to Brentwo
od. Most of the girls I meet on campus ask me to take them to the locker room.”
She laughs out loud. “Seriously? Why are women so desperate? The locker room doesn’t hold special orgasm powers. It probably holds a plethora of ringworm bacteria, though.”
For those of you who might be confused, let me explain. The Brentwood baseball locker room is sacred . . . according to the players. Legend has it, if you take a girl back to the locker room to bang, you’ll get married within five years. There hasn’t been one player who has proved this theory wrong. Because of that, the only girls allowed in the locker room must be serious, life-partner prospects, and we all must respect the rule.
Do I believe in it?
Hell yeah, I do.
And I can’t wait for the time when I invite a girl into the locker room and blow her goddamn mind with all the sex.
“For your information, we keep the locker room very clean.”
“You, or the janitors?”
“It’s a group effort.” I hand her another piece of bread. “Try the butter. You’ll never know life after it.”
“If that’s the case . . .” She picks up a knife, spreads the soft butter across her piece of bread, and then takes an impressive bite. Her eyes widen when she looks at me. Mouth full, she says, “Holy shit. That is good.”
“See? Now life as you know it has completely changed. You’re seeing life in color now, aren’t you?”
“Such vivid color. Who knew your face was actually green?”
“Aw.” I poke her side. “Look at you joking around.”
“I can be fun.”
“I saw that today. This might be super lame, but thanks for letting me hang out with you all day. You could have told me to beat it right away, but instead, you let me stay and, as you like to put it, annoy you.”
“It was good entertainment.” She leans back in her chair and studies the lights above us. “I wish I could have days like this more often, when I can relax and enjoy the small things like a lazy day in the sun, or a good six-pack.”
“Working on an eight,” I say with a wink.
“Keep eating that bread and you’ll never get there.”
“Bread or eight-pack? Pretty sure bread will always win.”
“I’m the same way. Take away my rights as a human, but don’t take away my carbs.”
“That’s the kind of flair for dramatics I like.” I stick another piece of bread in my mouth and nod toward the hammock. “Want to swing?”
She eyes the hammock, most likely trying to see how it would work with both of us. “Am I supposed to lie on top of you?”
“You’re more than welcome to do that, but we can also sit in it. That’s what I usually do when I’m here, and then I rest my computer on my lap.”
She smiles bashfully and takes a piece of bread as she stands. “That makes more sense.” She slathers some butter on the bread before moving to the hammock. I follow right behind her and hold the hammock still as she climbs in, her legs dangling off the edge. I join her and lightly swing us back and forth. She holds out the piece of bread and without even thinking about it, I lean forward and take a bite.
“Hey,” she says. “That was a huge bite.”
“I’m a growing boy.”
“And your mouth is all over it now.”
Laughter rumbles in my chest. “If you’re afraid of my mouth being all over your bread, then you’re not going to want to know where my mouth has been in my thoughts.”
“Oh yeah? Let me guess. It’s been up and down my body, sucking on my nipples, tugging, pulling, making me whimper. You then slowly moved your mouth down my abdomen, playing with my belly button until you reached my pussy, where you spread me with two fingers and licked me until I was reeling, begging for you to make me come. Am I right?”
Gulp.
Blinks.
Shifts shorts.
“Uh . . . what? Can you repeat that?”
“Oh my God.” She goes to shove my shoulder, but I move in time to capture her in my arms, pressing her back to my chest.
I lower my mouth to her ear and whisper, “You were very accurate, but you forgot one thing. I don’t give in easily, so when you’re begging to come, I make you earn it.” My hand spans across her stomach, causing her to gasp out loud. “My touch, my kisses, my attentiveness, they’re all well thought out for your pleasure. Every move I make has intention, and when you think you’re about to fall into bliss, I’ll pull away and start all over again, edging you to the point that you’re unsure you’ll ever reach pleasure. That’s when I’ll send you into a tailspin of white-hot euphoria. And in the midst of it all, you won’t be begging . . . you’ll be screaming my name.”
Chapter Ten
HARMONY
Oh dear . . . God.
His whisper, the way it travels down my neck to my limbs . . .
His hold on my stomach, how his thumb gently strokes over my T-shirt-covered skin . . .
And the hard surface of his body under me, the concrete chest and abs that oddly feel comforting . . .
It’s all swirling together, turning my mind into mush, which is a bad thing, because when my mind is mush, I make bad decisions. Very bad decisions.
Breath heavy, I drop the bread and reach up behind me to tightly cup the back of Holt’s neck. My other hand travels to where his hand rests on my stomach.
He sucks in a breath when I entwine our hands and move them up and under my shirt to my bare skin.
“You make me do stupid things,” I say as I lower our hands to just above my waistband and then back up. “Really stupid things.” I lower our joined hands again and this time our fingers graze over the waistband of my bikini bottoms.
“This doesn’t seem stupid to me.” His free hand reaches up and grazes the back of my arm, his fingers like feathers igniting my skin.
My back arches as I lower our hands again, this time reaching past the waistband and skimming the top of my pubic bone, teasing myself. My legs spread wide as I push against his chest.
“We’re in public,” I say, lowering our hands again but quickly bringing them back up my stomach to just below my breasts. I release his neck and my arm slips down, my hand landing on his thick thigh. His muscles twitch under my touch, and his chest rises and falls more rapidly against my back.
Feeling how much just my hand to his thigh affected him, I move my hand to his inner thigh, and he sucks in a harsh breath.
“Harmony, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Something I shouldn’t, but I can’t seem to stop myself.” I bring my fingers to his waistband, just as I lower our hands to my pubic bone. Legs spread, I flatten his hand against my mound and leave it there as I slip my other hand inside his shorts, my fingers connecting with the tip of his already-hard cock.
Whispering in my ear, he says, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”
“I always finish,” I say before wrapping my hand around his thick cock.
“Jesus, fuck,” he mutters as his fingers curl over my bikini bottoms and then lift up and slide across my bare pussy and over my slit. “Christ, Harmony.”
Cocking my elbow to the side for better leverage, I start to pump Holt’s length, impressed with just how long and thick he is. Handsome, athletic, genuine, and a giant cock . . . he’s really not making this easy on me.
“You’re so fucking sexy, the way you spread your legs like this, so wet for me. I did that to you,” he says, low and authoritative as two fingers slide over my clit. “This yearning you have, the urge to run your hand up and down my cock like that, I did that to you.” He nibbles on my earlobe and my entire body spasms as my hips jolt.
Pressure builds between my legs and pools at the base of my spine, my orgasm arriving surprisingly quicker than I’ve ever experienced. I’m unsure if it’s because of the setting with the lights above us, the possibility of someone walking out on us, or if it’s the man behind me with his large hands and powerful body that seems to be rocking me into
a new world, one that’s positively terrifying.
Remembering what he told me at the beach, I lower my palm to his balls and gently start to massage them with my fingers.
“Ahh, fuck,” he growls into my ear, his chest flying forward as he buckles over and then moves his legs farther apart. “Goddamn, Harmony. You’re going to make me embarrass myself.”
“Good.”
Determined to see him come before me, I move my palm against the base of his cock while I tease his balls, dragging my finger over the soft surface, back and forth, back and forth, working my way back to that special spot that I know will have him flying off this hammock.
“Fuck, okay. Give me . . . fuck,” he pants in my ear. He slips two fingers inside me while his thumb plays with my clit, quickly rubbing it with just enough pressure that my skins breaks out in goosebumps and the pressure between my legs builds to an apex.
No, not yet.
I beg my body to hold off. I try to think of anything else but the pleasure searing through my veins, but it’s next to impossible. He’s too good, and before I can think about bringing my hand back to his cock to really pump it, my hips are bucking against his hand as my free hand grips the hammock desperately.
“Oh God, I’m coming, Holt,” I moan, pure pleasure ripping through me. I ride his fingers, pulling out every last sensation until I can’t take it anymore and remove his hand. Out of breath, I turn to face him, careful not to swing us too much, and then I bring my attention to his cock.
So thick, so ready. Pre-cum coats the tip, so I drag my palm over the top and use it as lubrication to rub him up and down. I drag my thumb along the sensitive vein along the underside of his length, making sure to play with the spot below the head before descending again.
He isn’t very vocal, but his body speaks for itself in the way his muscles contract, the veins in his neck pop, and the stiffness in his thighs. He’s close.
“Are you going to come hard?” I ask, squeezing him.
The Strike Out Page 6
