by Hazel Jacobs
“Who?”
“From Pretty Woman.”
“Never seen it.” He dips his head down to kiss her again, short and sweet. “Is it desperately important that I understand this?”
“Not right now, but it’s my favorite movie and reminds me of us right now,” she says trying not to moan from his magical tongue. She tilts her chin so he can go back to kissing her, which he does with gusto.
It’s an incredible feeling, one she’d never thought she’d enjoy. Being boxed in by a man had always given her the creeps. That’s why she usually insisted on being on top for sex. Men were usually happy to oblige. Laying beneath Slate, she doesn’t feel trapped or unnecessarily pinned down. She feels like as though some great, wild animal has draped himself over her, as though Slate is protecting her from the world while he ravishes her. She thinks she could spend the rest of her life pressing her lips against his, feeling his gentle but firm fingers entwined with hers, and the soft, steady rhythm of the bulge in his pants pressing her intimately.
But there’s no way that they can keep this up forever. Harper’s already left Slate with blue balls once—his fault, she reminds herself—and Slate’s beginning to kiss his way slowly down her neck, leaving her gasping mouth open and bereft when he’s no longer attached to her lips.
She wonders if he makes the other women he takes to bed feel this good, then dismisses the thought. She’s got more important things to worry about.
Craning her neck, Harper watches as Slate slowly pulls her shirt up and over her head, before pressing kisses between her breasts. Her chest is flushed. He pulls her up just enough to unhook her bra with expert efficiency, before paying special attention to each nipple while he undoes her fly.
He’s still woefully overdressed.
“Get this off,” she says, pulling uselessly at his shirt.
But he pulls away. “Not yet,” he says, pressing a kiss to the underside of her breast while his finger traces the top of her panties. “Let me take care of you first, babe.”
Harper lets her head fall back on the pillow. Babe. He used their pet name.
“God I just want you now,” she says. It’s a whimper, which is something she’ll deny until the day she dies.
“You can have me,” he replies easily. “In a minute.”
Throwing her own words back at her. The prick. She swats him on the head and he laughs at her. He sounds almost giddy as he runs his hands over her taut stomach, just light enough to make her shiver. Harper feels goosebumps rise on her skin as he quickly dips down to pull her jeans and panties completely off, leaving her entirely naked while he’s fully dressed.
He sits back on his knees, towering over her with an intense look in his eyes. He takes it all in and Harper raises her hands so they’re on either side of her head, where he’d put them before, before pulling a leg up to run her foot along his thigh, exposing herself even more.
Slate swallows, but there’s still a massive grin on his face. He dips down to kiss her lips again. Even with her entire body on display, he’s still more interested in kissing her. There’s more passion now. It’s less about exploration and more about intention. But it’s still a kiss.
You can have me. In a minute.
Sixty seconds can’t pass quickly enough.
Hands settle on her hips and Harper has to resist squirming. Slate’s lips are brushing under her belly button and she wills him lower, but even without the feeling of his lips where she wants them she’s still feeling the slow burn of pleasure taking over her.
Slate kisses his way down her thigh, completely skipping her groin. Harper doesn’t have the heart to be annoyed with it because he’s slowly working down to her knees and calves, massaging the whole way. This man clearly has some experience with massage, because he runs his fingers down her muscles with practiced ease. He works out kinks she never even knew she had.
She’s so glad she didn’t stretch before that little workout. It makes this even more enjoyable.
He sits back on his knees at the bottom of the bed and puts her foot on his thigh, rubbing the arch and clearly enjoying the way that she curves her back in response.
“You don’t mind foot massages, do you?” he asks, cocking his head at her.
“No,” she moans. She’s breathless with this.
When he’s finished both of her feet, and rubbed his way up her legs again until they feel loose and pliant, he finally settles between her knees and runs his hands up her thighs to spread her legs.
She’s soaking wet. He stares at her for a moment, before dipping his head down to kiss the inside of her thigh and press a finger to her entrance, spreading the wetness around.
“I’m so fucking glad you were my first.”
It takes Harper a second to realize she said that out loud. Slate’s breath catches in his chest, and he stares down at her with eyes so dark she can hardly tell they’re meant to be chocolate. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then decides against it.
He surges forward and kisses her into the pillow, one hand pressing into her and one finger inside. His thumb brushing her clit in a way that she would have thought was teasing if she weren’t sure that he’s just distracted with kissing her.
Then he pulls away, dips back down so he’s on his knees between her legs, and fastens himself to her clit.
Harper briefly forgets how to breathe.
Slate sucks her clit into his mouth, thrusting two curling fingers inside of her, and Harper’s never felt so much passion tempered with mellow desire. It’s a strange feeling, to want him so badly but be happy for him to take his time. He slowly licks her clit, obviously knowing that the pleasure is slowly building in her then Slate pushes another finger inside of her, searching, and Harper’s hips buck when a sudden flash of burning pleasure courses through her lower belly.
He found her G-spot. Of course he did.
“Holy shit,” Harper moans. Slate doesn’t stop licking and stroking her, but she can feel the stretching of his lips against her crotch and knows that he’s smiling.
He keeps thrusting his fingers, sucking and licking her slowly, and Harper’s orgasm takes her by surprise. It’s usually something she has to build up to. When she’s with a man, she usually has to give him instructions. She wasn’t expecting to cum so quickly because she wasn’t in a frenzy. She wasn’t gasping and squirming and screaming for more. Slate brings her to orgasm as easily as he plays drums—with passion, intensity, and by moving over her body like he’s swimming through water.
Slate pulls away from her clit, but he keeps moving his fingers inside of her, pumping, extending her orgasm. Harper wonders if he thinks she’s sexy like this. Because she doesn’t feel sexy. She feels like an overcooked noodle, all limp and hot, but there’s a stirring in her lower belly which tells her she’s still got a lot of passion in her yet.
And Slate’s still fully-clothed for fuck’s sake. She refuses to end this night until he is naked and inside of her.
She rides out the last waves of her orgasm and Slate crawls over her to kiss her again. She can taste herself on his tongue.
“You look good when you’re falling apart,” he whispers against her lips.
“I wish I could say ‘you too,’” she replies, her voice weak and spent. “But you’ve got me at a disadvantage.”
Slate moves his head down to the crook of her neck, breathing in her scent and running the tip of his nose against the sensitive skin there.
“I’ve got condoms in my bag,” she says, pushing at his chest. “Get one, and then get back over here.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Slate says cheekily.
He walks over to the bag in the corner. Harper lounges on the bed and watches his ass move in those jeans.
She keeps condoms in her purse all the time, but the last time she needed them was over a year ago. At the escort agency, she’d been told that she could write them off as a business expense, but since the agency had so many condoms in stock that they could fur
nish a small country with birth control, she’d never thought that she would need to.
Slate kneels down and rummages through her purse. He pulls out a golden packet and reads the expiration date. For some reason, Harper finds it unbelievably hot.
“Come here,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out for him.
Slate pushes a hand through his hair and gives her a warm look. He looks her up and down fondly before obediently joining her at the bed, stopping in front of her when she holds her hand up. He hands her the condom. She puts it on the bedspread beside her and reaches up to unbuckle his belt. He’s right at eye level. She feels his hand running through her hair and she looks up to see him watching her, his hand keeping her hair out of the way so he can see her properly.
“Shirt off,” she says.
She regrets it because it means that he takes his hand out of her hair. But then his shirt is thrown into the corner and his hand is back in her hair, and she has the pleasure of being face-to-face with his perfectly sculpted abs. She’s seen men with beautiful bodies before. It’s an occupational hazard. But this man is something special. She can’t decide if it’s because he’s perfectly proportioned, or because his skin glows with health, or because the voice in her head is just saying finally, finally, finally on repeat. His tattoos look gorgeous, but she’s distracted from them when she eventually gets his pants off and sees his cock properly for the first time.
“That’s good for my ego,” Slate says cheekily when he sees her slightly dumbfounded look.
Harper shoots him a look. “I bet.”
He laughs.
His cock is circumcised, long and thick at the end, with a gentle sprinkling of thick hair at the base. Harper goes to taste and Slate’s fingers tighten in her hair, keeping her from him.
“Hold on,” he says. She looks up at his face and there’s an expression there that she can’t read. “Lay down,”
She does as he asks. He quickly scrambles out of his jeans, with maybe less finesse than he’d been hoping for because his cuffs get caught on his boots and he nearly falls on his ass. It’s Harper’s turn to laugh, which she does, throwing her head back and resting on her elbows while Slate chuckles at himself. He takes his boots and socks off, drops the jeans in a pile, and pulls the condom on. It’s a shame to see that beautiful skin covered, but it’s worth it to know that soon the night is taking a turn.
Harper reaches for him and he crawls over to kiss her again. He kisses like he’ll never get tired of it. Like he’s happy to spend the rest of the night doing it.
Does he kiss everyone like this?
Once again, Harper pushes the thought from her mind. She doesn’t want this ruined by the intrusive memories of his groupies, of the girl who’d flirted with him at the club. Tonight, she’s the woman that Slate has chosen, and she’s going to enjoy every minute of it.
Slate’s warm cock brushes against her and she can’t help but moan at the feeling. She’s still sensitive from her orgasm, but that was only her G-spot. Her clit is still throbbing with need.
He seems like he wants to touch all of her at all times. Other men tend to spend their time focused on one or two areas, but Slate seems to have decided to get as much of her as he can. He’s trembling with repressed power and he seems to be holding back and focusing on gentleness, taking her through the rhythms of their bodies without overwhelming her with his massive, muscle-clad body.
Harper pulls her hands out of his and pushes his chest. At first, he pulls away from her lips and body, pushing himself up to put some space between them, clearly thinking that she’s pushing him away because she’s not happy about something.
It’s not that she’s not happy. She’s just had enough of being treated like something fragile. It makes her feel special, even loved, and she adores Slate for being so sweet. But she’s also craving something more.
“Slate,” she says. “Stop being so fucking gentle and fuck me.”
His eyes are heavy-lidded as he gazes down at her. He bends over to nip her collarbone, but she’s not interested in foreplay anymore. She grabs him by the hair—it’s soft, so, so soft—and pulls his head back, making him hiss. She bites down on his collarbone and feels him gasp.
“Harper, behave,” he says in a warning tone.
“Make me,” she replies.
She wraps her leg around his hip and rubs her clit against his cock, the condom lubricating the way and making the ride smooth.
Slate gasps at the sensation and she knows that she’s got his attention.
“Come on,” she says. “Let me have it.”
And the last tether of Slate’s control breaks.
He pushes her down onto the bed, reaching down to drag her hips into position, and thrusts inside of her in one fluid motion that leaves Harper breathless. Harper hooks both of her legs around his hips immediately, throwing her head back in a moan instead of a laugh, though she can guess that there’s a devilish smile on her lips. Slate immediately shifts his lips down to her neck, to her collarbone, biting the skin with his teeth again and it’s slightly less playful this time. It’s a warning.
She can feel him over every inch of her body. He moves his hands along her arms to entwine their fingers, holding her tightly, his body is pressed down on hers, and he’s thick and perfect inside of her.
She bucks her hips, pushing him deeper, and Slate hisses before pulling out and thrusting back in. Hard. Hard enough that the headboard beats against the wall and Harper has to pull her hands free to put both of her them on his shoulders to hold on tight.
He pulls his hips back so just the tip of him is left inside of her. She tightens her legs so he won’t be tempted to pull away entirely, but she needn’t have worried. He just slams back into her, hard and fast, putting an incredible pressure on her clit as he rams himself inside. Harper swirls her hips while he’s thrusting so she can feel him deeper inside of her, and the action makes Slate release a choked, “Shit,” before he’s thrusting faster, harder, deeper.
“Keep going,” she says. “Please, keep going.”
He pulls back and presses a hand to her chest, holding her down, his fingers tracing the dip in her neck as though he intends to hold her there, and Harper is surprised at how amazingly hot that is. She gives him a little nod and he wraps his fingers around the base of her neck, squeezing just tightly enough to make it interesting.
She shudders as an orgasm takes her all over again. The G-spot again. Her clit is still getting pounded with each of his thrusts—the angle of their bodies keeps his pelvis slamming into her over and over again—but she knows the difference and the way it feels.
Slate’s eyes flutter shut as he feels her orgasm through his own body. His thrusts become erratic for a second.
This man, is everything.
Harper starts meeting him thrusts for thrust, but after a moment she realizes that she can’t. He’s got her pinned down and all she can do is hold on for dear life.
“Harder,” she says.
He pushes his hand off of her neck and presses it to her mouth, effectively muffling the moans being forced out of her. His thumb slips into her lips and she bites at the intrusion before licking and sucking it the way she would have liked to do to other parts of him before she’d been forced onto the bed.
Now his thrusts are so fast that the whole bed is moving. The neighbors below must be able to hear them. The pounding of the headboard against the wall, the pounding of flesh on flesh as he drives into her with each brutal thrust—there’s no way that they’re not making the sort of racket worthy of a noise complaint. Harper’s moaning around the thumb in her mouth and Slate’s clearly enjoying himself too much to care that his hand isn’t a deterrent to noise.
Someone’s saying Slate’s name over and over again. Harper realizes that it’s her.
Slate pushes himself up off of her, kneeling back and keeping them connected, before taking her hips and moving them. His muscles gleam with sweat, his cheeks are flushed
with exertion, and when he takes her hips in his hands she can see the lines of his forearms taut with strain as he lifts and moves her exactly the way he wants. He’s gripping her hips so tightly that he must be leaving bruises.
He rubs a thumb over her clit and she sees stars.
“Slate. Fuck. Slate,” she says over and over as her hips buck into the welcoming pressure of his thumb, which becomes the palm of his hand as he rubs her through the orgasm, making her howl with the strength of it. She feels Slate groan again beneath her, and she knows that he’s feeling her walls around him squeezing. Pushing him deeper and deeper with each contraction.
While she’s still shuddering, Slate flips her onto her front with ease. He presses her, face-down, into the bed, gripping her hair and pushing her legs apart before slamming back into her again. Harper grips the bed sheets, struggling to hold him up and still feeling the waves of pleasure rushing through her. He thrusts hard and pounds into her, making her gasp and writhe as his body covers her back, keeping her down, holding her in place by her hair so she can do little more but lay there and accept the pleasure he’s giving her.
She hears a ripping sound and realizes that the bedsheet has torn under her fingers. Slate’s shuddering above her, gasping into her ear, and the pulsing inside of her tells her that he’s riding out his own last wave. The thought of him falling apart above her, and the fact that he manages to do it while still pounding away at her G-spot, sends her into one final spiral which makes her whole body contract. She can’t move. She moans through the last shudders of her pleasure.
Slate goes limp above her. He pulls his hand out of her hair and nips the nape of her neck, pulling out and rolling over onto the bed. His cock still erect for the moment. Before she can even protest the loss of it, he’s pulling her back onto him, adjusting her, so they’re on their sides and facing each other, thrusting into her one last time and making her gasp with the pain and pleasure as her sensitive body adjusts to him all over again.
His eyes are heavy-lidded and still blown out with lust. His chest heaves just like it does after a long workout. Harper thinks that she will never be able to put him through his paces in the gym again after seeing him like this. He reaches up to run fingers through her hair, before running his fingers down to her hips and rubbing an apology into her skin.
