by LW Barefoot
We both stare down at his body. His expression guarded, but my eyes devour him. Wet fabric highlights every curve and indentation of his muscles. The best view is of his abs, the sharp V that leads to his impressive erection, hard in his saturated slacks. His predatory gaze meets mine as he closes the door to the shower, after slipping off his shoes and socks.
I back away from him. I was just teasing and playing, but I think I succeeded in making him angry. My exhaustion must have short-circuited my brain. I’m delirious with the release of my pent up frustration. The thought of Evan assisting me in a completely different kind of release was too tempting. Maybe the idea of him helping work out some of my muscle tension with force is what made my hands turn the water on him.
My back hits the cold marble, halting my retreat. Evan stopped moving toward me, leaning his head back, and allowing the water to work its way through his hair. His head comes back up after a few moments that seem like forever. Hair black and his piercing green eyes bright. Water droplets slide down his chiseled, scruffy cheek.
His fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them quickly, and then he moves to his pants. Making quick work of stripping off the clothes I ruined. The sodden fabric makes a sloshing sound as it slaps on the floor.
Moments ago I was standing seductively, tempting him, begging him with my body to come to me. Now, I’m closed off, holding the nozzle tightly in front of myself, as if it could shield me from him. His pants and briefs sink down to the floor.
“Are you scared now, Harper? Second guessing your invitation?”
He takes the sprayer from my hands and places it back on the wall. His cock hits my stomach and I have to restrain myself from gripping it. His arms come around me and press me up against him. His hands start massaging my shoulders and working down my back. Unconsciously, a moan vibrates out of my chest as he continues to soothe my muscles.
“I saw you working out,” he grabs my hands and wraps them around his hard rod pressing up against me. “I’ve had this painful problem since I saw you throwing punches.”
I start working his length with my grip, looking for his direction, stroking him up and down. His fingers dig in my sore muscles, knowing precisely where I need it most.
His fingers still mine.
“Not yet,” he says as he turns the water off.
Evan grabs something off the vanity as I shut Ru’ in the bathroom and follow him in the bedroom. We’re both dripping wet, soaking the floor with our footsteps. He must have turned the fireplace on because I should be freezing, but I’m not at all. He stretches out a blanket from the couch over the rug in front of the mantel.
He holds his hand out for me and I take it. Our lips collide in time with our bodies, his hands work in my wet hair. Every slide of his tongue works in sync with his massaging fingertips. The slip of our wet skin is delicious. I want to lick every drop of water off him. Our tongues swirl in tune together, but I’m not fooled at who’s coordinating this dance of our lips.
“Lay down on your stomach,” he commands.
Evan lifts the tube he picked up from the vanity. He pushes my hair off my back and to the side, revealing my neck as I feel warm drops trickle on my skin. The first drop lands just inches from my hairline. Drip, drip, down my spine, trailing from my lower back to my left cheek, to the top of my thigh. The same distribution down my leg. The last drop tickles the arch of my foot. Evan repeats this on my right side, with the same care and attention.
He sets the tube beside me, both of his thumbs press to each foot, impacting my smarting muscles. Taking his precious time working up my ankles, calves, even the soft spot behind my knees he tickles with his fingertips.
Every inch his body works up mine. My legs spread to accommodate him. His oiled fingers tease between my crevice and I want his attention to stay there and pleasure me, stop this massage because I need him. But I don’t get what I want.
He moves up, leaning over me and his cock presses up between my ass cheeks, his tip on my back as he kneads my shoulders. I arch my back and his cock nestles deeper, he pushes against me and I moan.
“I’m not done with you, Harper.”
I want that to mean forever, but then I stop that thought as soon as it comes across my mind.
“Turn over.”
He pulls up and allows me to settle on my back as he repeats the now frustrating routine. My breasts get extra attention and his lips finally land on my skin. His hot tongue tracing over and around my nipples.
“Do you ache, Harper?”
“Yes.”
“Where, precious?”
He knows where and he has to fix me. I want him to tear me apart and put me back together. His mouth moves to the opposite breast delivering the same attention.
“Everywhere,” I murmur as he sucks my nipple and clamps down with his teeth.
His mouth moves lower nipping and teasing lightly with his tongue. His palms stretch my thighs even further apart, stroking my muscles, working out the stiffness.
“Touch yourself, beautiful. Let me watch you massage those perfect tits as I devour you.”
My aching thighs get extra oil as his fingertips push against them. Easing the tension out as he spreads my drenched lips apart and licks up my seam. His smoldering gaze latched and focused on my breasts.
His fingertips work lower. It’s foreign and naughty, but I want it if he does. His tongue works into my pussy as his finger circles my tight passage lower. He blows my mind as I lose his gaze and his tongue licks over it, mimicking his finger just moments ago. I almost convulse from his wet tongue and his fingers stretching me apart, slightly lifting me off the floor.
From the top seam on my ass his tongue sinks in and licks so tantalizingly slow that I’m positive I’ve never been this turned on and audacious. His hands stretch me apart as he laps at me forcefully. Licking and devouring me everywhere. He sucks my clit in his mouth and I cave. As my orgasm detonates, he works a finger in that strange place that shouldn’t feel as good as it does. He pulls up from me and pushes his cock deep in my pussy never letting up on his probing finger.
Those tidal waves of ecstasy, crash through me all over again, subsiding and then bursting through my nervous system. Every single ounce crests on madness and absolute exaltation.
“I’m sorry, gorgeous, I couldn’t wait any longer.”
Evan’s voice is harsh in his apology. He punctuates every word by a fierce thrust. Hell, I couldn’t wait for him to take me in the shower and that seems like hours ago.
“That’s right, let me hear you.”
There’s no possibility of me being capable of forming a single word.
The oil on our skin is slippery and mixed with our sweat. Every small touch and hard thrust are a confusing melody with which he plays my body.
“Harper.”
It’s quiet, but it wraps its intended sound around my heart. One unguarded moment in his eyes and I swear its reflection is adoration.
We are perfect in these moments tethered together and striving for completion. It’s not that I’m settling on only physical attention from him, but right now I can’t think of anything else. I’m so close to coming apart again, but he pulls out of me completely.
“No,” I scream and reach for him. “Evan, don’t stop, please.”
My voice is raw and sincere. He can’t leave me on the brink like this. We kiss and I stroke his cock in my palm. I need it buried in me, now. His tongue licks against mine and I think this is it. That he’s going to stop this.
This is the first time I think we’ve both been crazed to the point of hurting each other. But that’s what I want, that’s exactly what I need.
His breathing has slowed fractionally and his palm rests on the side of my neck. I lift the hand that’s not stroking his erection and place it on top of his, pressing against it and squeezing. His nostrils flare and he inhales sharply.
I’m silently willing him to hurt me because we both need it in order to be relieved.
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Evan
This is no longer sex. I was just about to declare how I feel for her, and that’s what sent me reeling away from her. I couldn’t help it, it was right there on the tip of my tongue.
It’s dangerous because she’s too close to me now. She’s too damn much and I want to make her mine. But she’s already paid a price for the time we’ve spent together. I want her more than the air in my lungs, but I will get her hurt again or worse. I swore I could protect her and I failed.
Her small hand strokes my greedy cock as her eyes plead with me. She saw something in my eyes when I said her name. I almost lose it, blowing over her skin as her hand cups the back of mine. Applying pressure for me to choke her. My stupid cock twitches and tells her the disturbing truth. That I want nothing more than to hurt her and make her come undone.
She thought I wanted to punish her for getting me wet, but I wanted to fall at her feet and bare my soul.
Minutes before that, I saw her taking out her frustrations, punching and kicking at Jamie and then Brad. I expected her to be upset, crying even in the shower, but I was wrong. She was playful and laughing and I hate myself for ever putting fear in her in the first place. That’s no longer an emotion I want to witness from her again.
She silently beckons me. I want to use her, fuck her. Her tears almost pull mine out of me.
Will I ever make level-headed, unselfish decisions when I’m around her? This unbalancing that she creates is what has my head spinning. She closes her eyes and the wetness slides down to her hair.
“Please stop toying with me.”
I almost don’t catch her whisper.
She takes it upon herself to lay back down. It’s false submission because she has me in the palm of her hand and not just my painful cock.
Her massive waves dry by the light of the fire. She doesn’t even have to try to look sexy as her legs fall apart, giving me the best view of her glorious sex. Her hands lift to her perfect globes and she starts caressing them, biting her bottom lip. The lip I need to sink my teeth in.
I lean over and kiss her, but she keeps her eyes closed and tries to pull away. Minutes pass as I struggle to kiss the passion back into her, into us.
I’m so fucking confused.
I should have just finished what we started. I lean down and lick between her legs, preparing her to take me.
I’m such a monster because despite the silent promise to myself just now, her tears still call to me, so at war with what I should want from her.
She spreads her legs and accepts me. Shocking me as she lifts up to meet my harsh thrusts. I grip her slender neck and give into our depravity. And I squeeze, in awe of how priceless her reaction to that one small move is.
Harper
“Hello, again.”
I look up at the sound of Grayson’s voice. I’m quickly walking down the hall and silently curse when he catches up with me.
“Hello to you, too.”
“I haven’t seen you since you opened the front door. You’re not surprised to see me here,” he offers.
“Liar. I saw you later in your guest room,” I confess.
It’s his turn to be shocked. His smile lifts to a wicked smirk.
“You’re exquisite, by the way,” he admits.
Now I’m blushing. He made exquisite sound like sex. I thought I was going to pass out as I was touching myself against a wall and discovered that Evan wasn’t the only one enjoying the show. I shut out that fact because I was too far gone and the damage was already done. To Grayson’s credit, he only saw a moment, but he had to have listened in on the entire scene.
I stop walking and have to take a deep breath. Grayson pauses and studies me. I scan the hall because I’m scared of Evan’s reaction if he were to hear the exchange between us. It’s the same reason I’ve avoided Grayson for days.
“It’s my fault we were in that room. I opened the closest door. I apologize for the intrusion,” I say.
It’s hard to look him in the eyes but I manage.
“I’m not sorry in the least, darling. I had to restrain myself from pushing Evan out of the way and showing you what a real man is like.”
I don’t have anything else to say. My face is now on fire. I turn my back to Grayson, and look for anyone within earshot.
“How long are you staying?” I ask, aware he’s not going to leave things as they are.
We make it to the bottom of the enormous staircase before he answers me. He’s kept his distance until now.
“How long would you like me to? You’ve given me the most decadent dreams and I wanted to thank you for them.”
Footsteps clatter down the hall. I try to pull away from him. I don’t want to think of what Evan would do if he saw this, if he heard what Grayson’s alluding to. Evan’s already warned me about his dangerous brother, but all I see in the reflection of his gaze is teasing kindness.
I start to panic and it could be nothing, but I don’t want to risk it. Grayson has to see this change because he takes a small step back.
“I apologize for embarrassing you,” he whispers.
He observes me closely and reaches for my arm, halting my retreat.
“I truly am sorry. As tempting as you are, you’re still fearful of me. Even as innocent as our little exchange is.”
If this is innocent, then I don’t want to know what he considers sinful. He’s managed to pull me closer. His hand lightly strokes up my inner forearm. I pull back, but he grips me harder, keeping me tied to the spot.
We’re about to be seen by whoever is walking down the top of the stairs. I try again for him to give me my arm back. There’s nothing about his perusal of my skin other than searching for something that isn’t there.
“If you need me, you know what room I’m staying in,” he whispers, finally letting go of my arm. “And Harper, I would protect you from him.”
But Evan’s not the only one I need protection from.
I feel as if this is my fault because of my little performance in his room and when he found me with Seth at Evan’s party.
Evan’s distant laughter breaks through my worrisome thoughts. It feels as if a dagger has been pierced through my heart because I haven’t heard his laugh in forever. When it’s mixed with Stacy’s voice, I break out in a cold sweat. Grayson gives me a sympathetic look and motions politely for me continue in front of him.
Evan’s deep rumble of lighthearted laughter coats the air around us.
Before Grayson and I make it to the library doors, he stops me.
“Are you sure you want to go in there?” he asks.
“I don’t think so.”
“Just remember what I told you earlier,” he whispers.
What part, exactly? Somehow him being here is reassuring and I know the only reason he stopped me in the hall was to prepare me for this and his flirtations were completely false. Grayson’s palm is warm on the small of my back when we walk in the room together.
My eyes zero in on Evan, but it’s Jamie who jumps up and offers me his seat. He’s blocking my view of Evan. Grayson doesn’t move away from me either. He and Jamie speak as if they’re old friends.
Evan stares at me when Jamie finally steps out of view. Stacy’s hand is on his thigh. I sit down opposite them. Ryan’s almost a shadow reading something on his tablet. I’m surprised to see him here.
“Good evening, Harper.” Ryan looks up from the device and addresses me.
“Thank you for getting my name correct,” I jest and he smiles.
“Sorry about that.”
“Are you staying here as well?” I ask.
“I’ve been in and out of New Orleans, working both cases,” he explains but not enough.
“Can you tell me more?” I push.
“With Evan and Grayson’s cooperation, we’re building a solid federal case against Joe. The case out of Boston is a copycat, but that’s old news to you, isn’t it?”
“I assumed it wasn’t him. Why hasn’t the media reported
it?”
“We haven’t released the information, yet.”
As soon as I end this conversation I will have to acknowledge Evan’s burning gaze.
“I’m sorry about everything you’ve been through,” Ryan offers.
I give him a small smile because I don’t know how else to respond.
“I need you to stop him,” I plead with him, meeting his gaze.
He sets his tablet down and leans forward in his seat, bracing his elbows on his knees.
Something flashes in his blue depths at the mention of the Sculptor because we both know I’m not referring to Joe Hawthorne.
“I need your help,” Ryan admits.
“Anything you need,” I offer.
“Do you really mean that?”
He’s skeptical of me.
“On my life,” I state.
“Tomorrow then?” Ryan insists.
“Let’s enjoy this weekend and then you can have your interrogation on Monday,” Evan interjects and as usual, he will get what he wants.
“The sooner the better,” I exclaim.
Harper
That connection, that bothersome tie I feel towards Ryan is the Sculptor. Now I understand my reaction to him.
I’ve been carrying an overload of information about the Sculptor. Information that was shut out and dismissed in the beginning. The first person to question me was convinced I was in shock. The next said I was too traumatized and my timelines didn’t add up, and so it went.
I wasn’t dishonest. I wasn’t making shit up. I was drugged and had no recollection of how much actual time had passed.
I’m the only one that’s been in the care of the notorious criminal and lived to tell about it, but no one cared to listen. Not until Ryan. I finally have someone else set on resolution.
Martin comes in the room and announces that dinner is served. I silently thank him for saving me from having to sit back and ignore Evan’s assistant.
She pissed me off when she squealed and acted as if Rufus was going to attack her. Her ridiculous comments on my fat, slobbering dog made me want to punch her in the face and I’ve fantasized about doing just that in my training sessions with Brad and Jamie. Adding her face to the list of people I envision hitting when my fists pound relentlessly on the boxing pads. I purposefully kept Rufus upstairs, so I wouldn’t be tempted to act on my anger towards her when she bitched about his snores through dinner.
