Some Sort of Happy

by Melanie Harlow

  “Yes, yes…” I whispered. “Fuck yes, like that. You’re so beautiful, and I’ve thought about this so many times…” I loosened my grip of her hair further and she moved her hand and head faster, making my lower body tingle and clench and burn. Oh fuck, I was close—did she really want it this way?

  “You’re gonna make me come in your mouth…are you sure?” In answer, she went even harder at me, moaning and sucking and jerking me with tight, hard pulls, keeping me deep inside her mouth. Oh God oh God oh God—fuck yes! I spanked her ass hard, left my hand there as my climax ripped through me and I came in her mouth, my cock throbbing hard, my breath escaping me in loud, strangled growls.

  When it was over, she swallowed and straightened up to her knees, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Was it good?” she asked, all wide-eyed innocence and full, puffy lips.

  “Uhng.” Yes, that’s what I said. Uhng.

  She smiled slyly. “I hope so. I liked it. Maybe you’ll let me do it again sometime.”

  “Maybe.” Grabbing her jaw with one hand, I pulled her face to mine. “You. Are. Very. Naughty.”

  Her eyes gleamed with blue fire. “I was naughty, wasn’t I?”

  I kissed her lips. “Yes.”

  “It was your fault. Wearing that suit and coming to surprise me that way.” She buckled herself in while I did up my pants, and as we drove the short distance to the cabin, I kept looking at her legs…and her shoes.

  It gave me an idea, something I’d always wanted to try but never had the nerve to attempt because of who I was. But Skylar was different.

  She understood me.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked once we got inside.

  “Sort of.” I slipped out of my coat, setting it and my purse on the couch. I had no idea if I was hungry—my stomach had been doing all kinds of crazy acrobatics since he’d walked into that reunion.

  He went into the kitchen, flipped on the light and started rummaging around in the fridge. “Will you eat if I make something?”

  “Sure. You cook?” Surprised, I went over to the little breakfast bar and sat on a stool.

  “Yes.” After washing his hands, he pulled out a carton of eggs and a green bell pepper. “Are you impressed?”

  I nodded. “Definitely.”

  “Good.” He pulled two small tomatoes, a bag of shredded mozzarella cheese, and a package of bacon from the fridge. “Do you cook?”

  I pursed my lips. “I’m more of a sous-chef.”

  He grinned and grabbed milk, butter, and a bag of basil from the fridge before closing the door. “You can help.”

  “OK.” Excited, I joined him in the kitchen, washing my hands at the sink. “What should I do?”

  “Can you chop the basil and slice the tomatoes?”

  “Sure. Knife?” I looked around for a knife block but didn’t see one.

  “They’re in the cupboard above the fridge. I’ll get you one.”

  “Why the hell are they up there?”

  “No reason.” He opened the cupboard, and I saw the block tucked inside it.

  Liar.

  “Hey,” I said. “Bring the entire block down.”

  He froze.

  “I mean it. Get the whole thing.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose a second, but then he reached in and lifted the block down, setting it on the counter.

  We both stared at it.

  I pulled out the biggest butcher knife he had. “Take it.”

  Grimacing, he took it from me and held it in his hand.

  “Are you going to stab me?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Are you going to stab anyone, ever?”

  “No.” He stared at the blade. “No, I’m not.”

  “Then why do you have to keep your knives way the fuck up there?”

  He shrugged. “Old habit.”

  “Well, break it. If I ever come over to cook again, I need to be able to reach things. I’m high-cupboard challenged.”

  He handed me the knife, taking a breath. “You’re right. I’ll move them down.”

  “Thank you.” I located a cutting board and got to work, while he melted some butter in a pan on the stove.

  “Did anyone ever tell you,” he said, “you’d make a good therapist?”

  I laughed. “No. But I’m glad you think so.”

  “Hey, do you like champagne?” He opened the fridge and pulled out a long-necked green bottle. “My brother and sister-in-law got me this when the cabin was finished and I never opened it.”

  “I love it,” I assured him. “Pop the cork.”

  • • •

  Sebastian had no dining table, so we ate Caprese omelets and drank champagne sitting next to each other at the breakfast bar, a lemon beeswax candle burning between us.

  “That smells so good. I’ve got to get your sister-in-law’s information,” I said between bites. “Don’t let me forget.”

  “I saw her yesterday. She gave me some samples and a card for you. Oh,” he said, as if he’d just remembered something. “I have something else for you too.” He set his fork down, stood up, and reached for his wallet, which was on the kitchen counter. “Here,” he said, handing me a business card.

  “What’s this?” I took it from him and studied it. “Abelard Vineyards, Mia Fournier.”

  “I met her and her husband yesterday at the office. My brother Malcolm is helping them settle a property line dispute.” He sat down again and resumed eating. “They’re new owners in the last couple years or so, and they’ve expanded. She’s pregnant, and she’s looking for an assistant. Someone to help with the tasting room and special events.” He glanced sideways at me. “I thought of you.”

  I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “Thank you. That’s so sweet.”

  “He said she’s picky, but I know she’d like you.”

  My heart sank a little. “Picky? I bet she wants a college degree. Or more experience.” I set the card down and picked up my champagne.

  “Her husband didn’t say anything like that. He just said she’s choosy about who works there. You should call her.”

  I bit my lip, bubbles lingering on my tongue. “You think so?”

  Sebastian set his fork down again, grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me toward him, kissing my lips hard. “I know so. Who wouldn’t adore you?”

  A blush crept up my chest. “It does sound perfect. I’ll think about it.”

  • • •

  When we’d finished eating, we poured the rest of the champagne into our glasses and went out on the patio. This time we shared one of the Adirondack chairs Sebastian had put together, me sitting on his lap.

  “Are you cold?” he asked me, and I loved the way his forehead wrinkled with concern. “I’m sorry. I’m in a suit, but you have bare arms and legs.”

  “I’m OK. I’ll let you know if I get cold.” I kissed his forehead, my right arm around his shoulders, my left holding my wine glass.

  We were quiet for a moment, and it was a comfortable silence. I wasn’t even the one to break it.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I thought maybe I’d fucked things up too much the other night.”

  “I was a bit thrown,” I admitted. I took a sip of champagne. “Can you tell me what happened?”

  He didn’t speak right away, and I didn’t force it. “I panicked.”

  I looked at him. “Why?”

  “Because you…do something to me I didn’t expect. Something I don’t even really understand.” He dropped his eyes from the water to my legs. “Sorry, I know I owe you a better explanation,” he started, but I hushed him with a kiss.

  “You know what? Not right now you don’t.” I kissed him again. “You really don’t. I know what you mean.” In all honesty, I didn’t even really understand what was happening between us, and I sure as hell hadn’t expected it either. Maybe tomorrow we’d talk. Tonight, I just wanted to be with him.

  We kissed again, sweet and slow and searching, a
nd eventually Sebastian set down his glass to brush my hair back from my face. “Do you know,” he whispered, “how many nights I dreamed about you?”

  I shook my head, my pulse quickening.

  “Countless. And in countless dreams, you weren’t as beautiful as you are in real life, and I don’t mean just your face.”

  I smiled. “You liked the blow job.”

  He groaned. “Fuck yes, I did. But I like even more than that about you. You make me want to take chances I never thought I’d take again.”

  “What kind of chances?”

  “Being close to someone. It’s never easy for me, but you make it feel that way. And every time I’m with you, it gets easier.”

  After a deep breath, I asked, “So in the car tonight…no bad thoughts?”

  He shook his head. “None. You managed to shut down my brain entirely—at least, that part of it.”

  “You thought with something else?” I asked playfully.

  “That’s the fucking amazing thing. I didn’t think at all. I just felt.” Then he kissed me again, and again, and again, his tongue parting my lips, his hand traveling up my leg to my waist. “You have no idea what that’s like for me—to just feel. It’s heaven.” He put his hand on my face and kissed his way across the opposite cheek to whisper in my ear. “You’re an angel.”

  I smiled at the sweet words, at the tingle between my legs, at the way I could feel his cock stirring beneath me. “An angel, huh?” My eyes closed as his mouth traveled down one side of my throat, his hand pressing the other side. His warm, wet tongue on my skin sent darts of lust straight to my core.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But this little angel has to answer for her earlier disobedience.”

  My heart stopped for a second, then raced. “She does?”

  “She does.” He slipped an arm beneath my knees and stood, cradling me as we walked toward the door. “And she better not talk back this time.”

  I laughed, although a funny tickle that felt a little like fear was fluttering in my belly. “Where are you taking me?”

  “Shhh. My turn to play.” He went up the steps, opened the sliding door, and set me on my feet inside the cabin. “No questions. Go up to the loft and wait for me. Don’t get undressed and don’t take off your shoes.” His light eyes appeared black and shining in the dark.

  “OK,” I whispered, wondering what he was planning to do with me up there. “Should I be nervous?” It was a joke…sort of.

  “Should have thought of that before you tried to run us off the road tonight.” He leaned in, one hand on either side of the doorway. “And before mentioning you like it a little rough.”

  My mouth fell open as he shut the sliding door and walked away. Oh my God, where the hell was he going? And what on earth was he planning? This was a guy who had some pretty violent images in his head from time to time…did they ever merge with his fantasies? I bit one knuckle, hesitating for just a second before hurrying over to the ladder.

  My heart thumped hard as I carefully climbed the ladder in my heels, wondering if it was wrong to be so turned on by the fact that I wasn’t one hundred percent sure being the object of someone’s fantasies was entirely safe. I trusted Sebastian…but still.

  What was he going to do to me?

  I hurried through the dark to my tool shed, where I knew I had some thick cotton rope left over from stringing the hammock. My heart was beating fast, both from nerves and excitement. I wanted to follow through with this, but I also hoped my brain wouldn’t trip itself up. Indulge Bondage Fantasy with Skylar Nixon wasn’t on the SUDS list, but it was definitely something I’d imagined and never thought I’d have the nerve to try.

  It was a risk, but I was getting better about taking those.

  After picking up the wine glasses off the patio, I went around to the front door, solely for the purpose of making Skylar wait and wonder a little longer. She was so fucking adorable, and the look on her face when I’d told her to go up and wait for me was priceless.

  I fucking loved that she liked to talk dirty, to fantasize out loud, to play a little. I’d never been with anyone like her before, and I’d never felt comfortable enough with anyone else to show that side of myself. Given my struggle with guilt and shame, I was always so worried that they’d think I was sexually aberrant or perverse.

  Although I felt a little perverted right now, sneaking in my own front door with coiled rope in my hand, setting the glasses on the table and switching off all the lights. Why did I even have this fantasy, this desire to render her helpless for the purpose of pleasure?

  Don’t fucking overthink this, Pryce. Just do it.

  I climbed the ladder slowly, drawing out the suspense. When I reached the top, I found her sitting primly on the edge of the bed with her hands in her lap, legs together and feet flat on the floor. She hadn’t turned on the light, and since the night was slightly overcast, the moon didn’t offer much in the way of illumination either. Still, her eyes went right to the rope in my hand, and I heard her breath catch.

  But she didn’t ask.

  God, she was so fucking perfect. My heart was hammering, and the crotch of my pants was hot and tight. I set the rope on the nightstand and slipped off my jacket, tossing it next to her on the bed.

  “Did I tell you how much I like your shoes tonight?” I said, removing my cuff links. After slipping them into my pocket, I cuffed my sleeves, fighting the urge to rip off that black dress, throw her legs in the air, and fuck her into oblivion with my hands wrapped around her ankles.

  She shook her head.

  “I love them.” Moving closer to her, I switched on the bedside lamp.

  “Thank you.” She looked up at me, her eyes wide and trusting, but just a little bit worried.

  “Are you nervous, angel?”

  She glanced at the rope on the table. “Maybe a little.”

  Was she playing or serious? She was an actress, after all. Maybe she knew how hot it was to play the innocent. Either way, her answer made my cock even harder. I tipped her chin up. “Stand up.”

  She stood and gazed up at me through her lashes.

  “Turn around.”

  She presented me with her back, and I moved her hair aside and slowly unzipped her dress. Black lace appeared as the two sides separated, and my breath stopped.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s a corset.”

  “With straps?”

  “Yes. It keeps everything smooth and in place under a fitted dress like this…plus I like nice underwear.” She shimmied the dress down her arms and legs and stepped out of it, laying it on the bed.

  My legs felt like they might give out—below the corset, which laced up the back, she wore a matching black thong. I let my eyes wander from her long blonde hair to the cinching of the corset to the perfect ivory curves of her ass down her slender legs to those fuck-me-I’m-adorable heels. Jesus. I don’t care what anyone says, NO MAN is good enough to deserve this.

  But since I was here.

  I moved up behind her and kissed her back, rubbing my lips softly against her skin. Her perfume was slightly floral, slightly sweet, like orange blossoms, and I inhaled, taking her scent into my head and chest. “You smell good enough to eat,” I said, running my hands down her arms from shoulder to fingers. “But first…” Pausing to grab the coil of rope from the nightstand, I brought her hands behind her back and crossed her wrists. As I wound the rope around them, I spoke to her in a low, soft voice. “You’re so beautiful, angel. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. That kind of beauty has a strange power over men—it makes us feel strong and yet weak. Protective of it and yet defenseless against it.” Her breath was coming faster, her chest rising and falling. I completed the knot and turned her to face me. “Does that make sense?”

  She swallowed. “I don’t know.”

  I slipped my fingers into her hair and lowered my mouth to hers, tasting her lips with my tongue. It made me hungry. I dropped to my knees in
front of her, as all men should. “Open your legs.”

  She widened her stance and I kissed my way up each inner thigh, dragging my rough jaw along her smooth skin. “You have to remain standing. That’s my rule.” Then I put my lips on that black lace, fastening my mouth on her pussy, my hands running up the backs of her legs.

  She whimpered, her legs trembling. “Oh God, oh God. Your mouth…”

  I worked the little scrap of lace aside with my tongue, keeping my hands on her ass. She tasted like honey and oranges and I couldn’t get enough. Burying my face between her legs, I plunged my tongue inside her and then stroked it up her center, finally moving the lace aside with my hand so I could get at her clit.

  The second I licked it, her knees buckled a little. I circled her thighs with my arms to hold her up as she moaned and cursed me.

  “Enough, please,” she begged. “I can’t stand anymore.”

  “Come for me, and I’ll let you lie down,” I whispered.

  “I don’t know if I can, standing like this. My legs…” Her tone was pleading, desperate.

  “You want to come. I know you do. Come on, angel.” I circled her clit with my tongue, sucked it into my mouth. I did all the things I’d done the other night that had made her gasp and sigh and moan, slipping two fingers in side her and twisting them the way she liked. The knowledge of her body, of her mind, intoxicated me. I know what makes her come.

  And I did make her come, her pussy clenching around my fingers, her voice crying out in waves that matched the rhythmic spasms. When her legs finally gave way, I flipped her onto her stomach so her upper body lay across the bed, bound wrists at the small of her back. Her slender arms were pale against the black satin corset. God, her ass is all mine. And fuck, those legs. Those shoes. “Don’t move,” I told her, yanking her wet underwear off. Then I stood and unbuckled my belt, undid my pants.

  “Yes,” she panted. “I want it.”

  “Yes, what? What exactly do you want, angel?” Oh Jesus, I would probably go to hell for tying up Skylar Nixon and making her beg me to fuck her.

  But right now, my soul’s eternal damnation seemed a pretty fair price.