Bigger Rock

by Lauren Blakely

  “That’s what I’m getting at.” She stops to take a breath, then holds her chin high. “That’s why I kept asking you what you liked, and now I want to ask you something else, since you seemed to like what we just did.”

  And it clicks. It goes off like a starting gun. “Teach you. You want me to teach you,” I say, my voice raspy, full of want.

  Her eyes twinkle with naughtiness. “I do.”

  Her words echo back to another I do, one I heard earlier in the day. We’re at her brother’s wedding, and I’m messing around with my best friend’s sister. For the briefest of moments, a streak of guilt flashes like a warning sign on the highway. Danger ahead. But hell, it’s too fucking hard to think of anyone except her when she’s with me. Truth be told, it’s not easy the rest of the time either. It’s like my desire for Harper hogs the remote control and flicks all the channels back to her.

  Besides, Spencer takes off for Hawaii tomorrow, and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Especially since Harper and I won’t hurt each other. We know the score, and everyone in our game wins.

  I shake off any doubts.

  I drag my hand down her chest, palming one perfect tit. “You want to kick our lessons up a notch and learn what feels good to you.”

  “Yes,” she says, mirroring me as her fingers play along the front of my shirt. Damn, that feels fantastic. “And what feels good to you.”

  “Let me think about it.” I sigh heavily and stare at the ceiling then back at her. “I thought about it long and hard—”

  “Long and hard. It felt that way to me when I was riding you like a rodeo star.”

  I give her an appreciative nod. “Oh, it is long and hard. Especially around you and that dirty little mouth of yours,” I say, running my finger across her lips.

  She nips my finger. “I have a dirty mind, too. I just want to put it to use now. In every way.”

  “You came to the right man,” I tell her. “And you came with the right man. And you will again, and again, and again.”

  She shivers, then starts to unbutton my shirt. “But I want you to come, too.”

  “Don’t worry about me. And yes, obviously, I’ll teach you anything.” I can’t say anything but yes to this girl. It’s like an affliction, the amount of craving I have for Harper. Any doctor would tell you the only path to recovery is to take a full dose of medicine. In my case, that’s her. Maybe I’ll take several doses, just to be safe. A few lessons and I’ll be cured, ready to return to us being buddies.

  “I’ll teach you anything you want to know. Under one condition,” I say, arching a brow.

  Her eyes widen. “What would that be?”

  I clear my throat and adopt a teacherly tone. “I’m going to need your full commitment to the lesson plan for the next week,” I say, laying it on thick with the seriousness. “Can you agree to that, Miss Harper?”

  She nods earnestly, sliding into her role in this impromptu game. “I’m a very good student. What else do you need . . . Professor Hammer?”

  I smile approvingly when she bestows a nickname on me. “Proper focus. Diligent homework. Thorough preparation. And the willingness to be spanked if you deviate from the lesson plan.”

  She moves in closer, loops her arms around me, and says in a deliciously naughty good-girl voice, “You can spank me even if I don’t deviate from the lesson plan.”

  Oh holy hell. Harper Holiday is going to be a star pupil in my school of hot, filthy sex. “I’m giving you an A+ so far,” I say in my studious voice. “And I fully expect you to earn gold stars in my intensive course for the next week.”

  She pulls back and speaks as herself. “But it’ll only take a week?”

  I nibble on her neck. “When the cat’s away . . .” I whisper, hoping my meaning is clear. I speak in my own voice, so we're both on the same page. “It’s just easier for us to do this for the next week, right?”

  “Of course,” she says quickly. “Makes perfect sense, Professor Hammer. Does this mean you’ll hammer me?”

  She laughs, and I crack up, too, because at last the innuendo of my surname is being used with the right woman. “That’s a guarantee. In fact, I think we should start your coursework right now, and I have a very particular lesson in mind.”

  “What is it?” she asks, a little breathless, a lot eager.

  I lean in close to her and rub my beard against her cheek. “I want to strip you naked so I can taste every inch of your skin. I want to spread your legs, and make you come on my lips,” I say, as I bring her hand to my jaw and finish the thought, “and all over my face.”

  She gasps, and her thighs clench against my legs. “Now,” she says, like a desperate order.

  My fingers return to the zipper on her back. A new round of lust pounds through me as I slide it down, undressing her for the first time. But I only get a few inches when a loud trill sounds from the bed.

  “Shoot,” she mutters and reaches for her phone on the mattress. “Let me just see who that is at two in the morning.”

  She slides her thumb across the screen, falls to the bed, and throws her arm on her forehead, muttering, “Jen.”

  She thrusts the phone at me. A text message flashes.

  * * *

  Everyon left. I thin I’m gonna b sick. Wrshping porcelain g d. H l p

  * * *

  I roll to my side, frustration thick in my veins. “Go take care of your friend,” I say, even though I’m thinking Jen is winning the gold medal for cock-blocking. “But tomorrow, Harper? Your first lesson is turning off your phone. Then you’re getting a full serving of multiple orgasms. Is that clear?”

  Harper grabs the collar of my shirt, pulls me close, and says, “Yes.” Then she gives me the hottest good night kiss ever.

  I jerk off when she leaves.

  Obviously.

  19

  On the train the next afternoon, she steals glances at me.

  Family surrounds us. My parents, Harper’s parents, her very hungover, cock-blocking friend Jen, and my siblings are spread out in the first few rows of the car.

  Harper sits by the window, next to my sister, and I’m in the seat that directly faces her. It kills me to be this close. I spread the Sunday paper over my lap, grateful that the crossword puzzle serves twin purposes today. Distraction and cover-up. I fill in a clue and then sneak a peek at the hot redhead I intend to fuck in so many ways.

  Her head is bent over her e-reader, and she nibbles the corner of her lips as we roll along the Connecticut coast. A swath of hair falls over her forehead, obscuring the side of her face. Briefly, she looks up at me, and her eyes are hazy with lust.

  Her gaze sends a charge through me, and I adjust the paper more over my thighs.

  I don’t dare text her now, because I don’t know who’d peer over her shoulder and see my words. Probably Wyatt, and I might as well hire a skywriter if that happened.

  My sister types on her phone, and Wyatt leans over the armrest, chatting with my dad across the aisle. My mom talks to Harper’s mom in the row behind us, discussing when the first Holiday grandchild will be born. As soon as those words land on my ears, I tune them out and put in earbuds. I toggle through my music, hunting for something to occupy me for the next hour as the train roars along the coastline, headed for New York.

  When Band of Horses appears on my scroll of songs, I stop, remembering when Harper said she loved the song in the coffee shop. Casting my eyes around, I confirm everyone is busy, so I raise my phone, briefly flashing the screen at her.

  I’m rewarded with a sweet smile, as she mouths, Love that band.

  She returns to her book, and I lift my pencil, ready to tackle more clues. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her slide her thumb across the screen. Then she brings her finger to her mouth and runs it absently across her bottom lip.

  Desire slams into me, full-force, unabated. I would do just about anything to grab her hand, tug her into the train restroom, and kiss the fuck out of her. Because I know what she’s d
oing. She’s remembering how I touched her, how I kissed her, how she let go with me last night.

  She’s lingering on the memories, and I wonder if she’s even fully aware. Her eyes are on the screen, but she shifts in her seat like she’s turned on.

  This train is a straitjacket. All I want is to touch her, talk to her.

  She raises her face once more and locks eyes with me. I mouth, Are you wet?

  She doesn’t answer with words. She simply nods once. As she returns her gaze to the screen, a little grin forms on her lips. An I-know-what-we-did-last-night-and-I-loved-it grin.

  Briefly, she draws her eyes back up to meet mine, maybe to gauge my reaction. After a quick scan to make sure no one’s looking, I lick my lips once, enough to let her know where my mind is, too.

  Her shoulders tremble, and she blinks, then she seems to force her focus back to her book.

  That silent exchange is enough for any ounce of concentration left in me to disintegrate. I can’t even pretend to return to the crossword puzzle. Not when all I can think about is how she tastes. I close my eyes, listen to music, and let the scene unfold on the movie screen of my eyelids. This is the best X-rated show I’ve ever been to.

  One interminable hour of a constant hard-on later, the train rattles into Grand Central and comes to a stop. It takes longer than I want to get out of here because we’re all together, tumbling onto the platform, wandering through the terminal, hunting for late Sunday afternoon cabs and cars. The crew splits up with some heading downtown, some to the Upper East Side, and some to the West Side, like Harper, Josie, and me.

  I let my sister sit in the middle of the cab, where she conducts a post-wedding recap on her favorite moments. We shoot across town, the traffic mercifully light, then up Central Park West. I get out first, give my sister money for the cab, then say good-bye in a light, easy tone. No lingering, burning stares at the woman I want. Nothing to reveal my hand.

  As I head into my building, I take out my phone to text her. But it’s too soon, since Josie lives five blocks away and they’ll still be in the car. I drop off my bag, take a piss, wash my hands, and grab some condoms. I bet Harper doesn’t stock them.

  I check the time.

  Josie should be gone by now, and Harper will be alone. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t think twice about sending her a text. But with so many people around who know us both, we need to be careful.

  Nick: Twenty minutes ’til that show that you like is on.

  Snagging my keys, I head for the door. But I stop when my hand wraps around the doorknob. I inhale sharply as I make a critical change in the batting lineup. This pains me. Truly it does. But I’m a patient man. I remove the condoms from my pocket and toss them on the kitchen counter, benching the possibility of sex as I leave them behind.

  She wants lessons in seduction. One of the most important ones is how to wait for it. Besides, there are so many other ways to make her come.

  I arrive at her building, and she buzzes me in. When I reach her door and knock, she opens it, and I’m pretty sure I growl—low and guttural like an animal—because of how she looks. Her face is flushed, her cheeks are red, her hair falls wildly, and she’s changed into shorts and a white T-shirt.

  “Hi,” she says.

  I don’t look around. I don’t take in the decor of her tiny apartment. I roam my eyes over her, but it’s not the new outfit that gives her away. It’s the rosy glow on her cheeks. I shut the door behind me, bring my nose to her chest, and drag it along her flesh up to her ear, whispering harshly, “Did you just masturbate while waiting for me to get here?”

  I wrench back, and the answer is evident in her eyes. They have that caught-red-handed look, and oh what I wouldn’t give to have walked in on her a few minutes ago.

  She swallows and nods. “Are you mad at me?”

  I shake my head and grasp her wrists, pinning them at her sides, crowding her against the wall by her door. My body is pressed to hers. “Do I feel mad?”

  “You feel hard.”

  I push against her, and a jagged moan falls from her lips as she feels my erection. “I would never be mad at you for coming. But tell me something—why couldn’t you wait?” There’s no anger in my tone, only a pulsing curiosity. I want to hear her answer. I grind my pelvis against her.

  Her eyes flutter closed as she moans. “I was so turned on on the train. It was all I could think about.”

  I dip my head to her chest, letting go of one wrist to tug at her shirt. I brush my lips against the swell of her breast then nip her soft flesh. “What did you think about when you were getting off?”

  “You.”

  The way she says that one word unleashes a current of desire under my skin. “What did I do to you?”

  “It was what I did to you.”

  That stops me. I raise my face. “What did you do to me?”

  In a flash, her hand darts out, and she presses it against my hard-on, palming my dick through my jeans. I hiss. Fuck, that feels good.

  “Got down on my knees and took you in my mouth,” she answers, and my dick is practically ready to smack me upside the head for ditching the protection. What was I thinking, wanting to be patient? I want to be inside her for the rest of the night. I want to go through one, two, three condoms or more. She is so fucking hot, and my mind is swimming in a sea of lust.

  “Is that something you want to do? Something you want me to include in our lesson plan?” I bring my hands to her sexy little shorts and pop open the button, then tug down the zipper.

  Her hips wriggle. “Yes. So much. I want to give it to you exactly how you want it. I want to do all my homework.”

  I’ve never looked forward to an assignment so much. Because with her tongue is exactly how I want a blow job.

  But not now.

  I meet her gaze and arch an eyebrow. “Good to know. Now you have to wait for it. Because I told you I was taking care of you first, and I’m not changing my mind, princess, just because you’re so fucking wound up for me.”

  “I’m so wound up,” she says, clasping my face, running her hands over my beard like she did that night on the street outside her home. I wonder briefly if she was touching me then in an exploration, like she is now, with fire in her fingertips, with lust thrumming in her body, with this same dose of raging hormones that I feel.

  “Have you ever come more than once?”

  “In a day?”

  I roll my eyes, laughing briefly. “No. I’m going to presume those busy fingers have polished the pearl more than once in a day. Let’s say, in a thirty-minute timespan. As in, one right after the other?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t think I can.”

  “First time for everything.”

  I yank her shorts to her knees, and they fall to the floor. She steps out of them, and I inch back to look at her. I drag a hand over my jaw. She’s so stunning. Her legs are long and toned. Her panties are black lace with a tiny pink bow on the front. It’s dainty and sexy at the same time. And it’s for me.

  My temperature shoots through the roof.

  “So you were so worked up you couldn’t wait,” I say, as if I’m musing on the topic. I drag my hand down her belly then under her shirt. My fingers trace her soft stomach.

  She trembles as I touch her. “I was so wet, Nick.”

  I hum and breathe out hard. “I bet you’re still wet. I bet you’re even wetter now that I’m here. Is that right?”

  She swallows and nods. “Find out,” she says, rocking her hips into me, rubbing against me.

  Goddamn, this woman is a livewire. She’s crackling everywhere. This is how I want her. Ready to shatter. My fingers turn south, and I toy with the little bow. Her eyes blaze with desire, a hot, wild neediness. I dip a finger inside the waistband, brushing over the curls of hair on her mound. She gasps as I slide my fingers between her legs.

  Lust slams into me from all corners, as if it’s invading my every cell. Because she is so fucking wet. So slick. “Look at you. Look at h
ow wet you get, even after you come,” I say as I glide my fingers through heaven.

  As I stroke her slippery sweetness, she grabs at my arms, curling her fingers around my biceps. Her breath paints my cheek. Her wetness coats my fingers as I glide them over her pussy lips then up to the soft rise of her clit. When I touch her there, her moan is desperate.

  “Did it feel like this when you fucked yourself a few minutes ago?”

  She shakes her head.

  I rub faster over her swollen clit. “Like that?”

  She rocks against my hand. “No. Not even close.”

  My fingers explore her more, sliding over her silky heat. The fact that she’s this turned on drives me wild. “How long did it take you? When you sucked my cock a few minutes ago?”

  “Not long,” she pants, her nails digging into my arms, her body rocking into me.

  My God, I haven’t even pushed a finger into her, and she’s flying to the edge. Her legs are shaking, her breath is coming fast, and her eyes squeeze shut.

  With one more stroke through all that heat, I push in, and she cries out “Oh God” as she dips down onto my fingers.

  “And what about this?” I add another finger and crook it just right, hitting the spot that could send her soaring. “Did it feel like this when you fucked your hand?”

  “No, God no, not even close.”

  She tightens around my fingers.

  “Go wild on me, Harper. Fuck my hand now.”

  She moans, gripping my biceps, riding my fingers, fucking me in a mad, fevered frenzy. She clenches around me, so tight, so hot, so fucking good. Then she screams, a wild, gorgeous sound that makes me want to push down my jeans and bury my cock inside her right this second. My dick throbs, begging to be freed from the jail I’ve locked him in.

  But the lack of condoms means I can keep doing my favorite thing—focus on her—and I’m not even remotely close to done. When her panting slows and her moans soften to murmurs, she opens her eyes. I crush my mouth to hers, kissing her lips for the first time today. She tastes as good as she did last night. Maybe even better.