She leans forward and places her hands on my chest. I shudder, and my eyes close. I want to savor this moment when she touches my naked chest for the first time. My breathing intensifies as her nails trace over my pecs, along the outline of the tiger.
“I love looking at you,” she whispers. “When I checked out your tattoo on my phone, I wanted to touch it.”
My eyes snap open at this admission that she was attracted to me over the summer. “You did? Back then?”
She nods, dragging her nails down my chest to my abs. “Is this okay?” she asks, her eyes meeting mine, her question reminding me of the score. We might have a connection, but I’m here because she wants to learn what she likes, and what guys like.
“Yes,” I say, as her fingers trace lines between the grooves of my abs. “You’re doing great.”
“I remember lying back on this couch that night and opening my pictures, zooming in on that one. I ran my finger over the screen, thinking about how I’d touched you briefly in the park, just for fun. I loved the way you felt, even for those few seconds. All I wanted was to touch you again. To know if you’d like . . . this,” she says, running her hands across my waist now. Pure pleasure floods my brain.
“I do like it.” I want to exist in this moment for a little while longer as her soft, talented fingers explore my body. I want to be her playground. But the more she touches me, the more vulnerable I become, and the more I can see myself feeling something deeper for her.
I reach for her shirt and pull it over her head.
My dick practically begs for freedom now, mad as hell and banging on the jail bars. Her breasts are one layer of black satin away from me. She unhooks her bra, and I stare, a groan rumbling up my chest. Her breasts are sublime. They’re not big. They’re not small. They’re just perfect. Creamy skin and rosy nipples, tipped up and calling for my mouth. I dip my head to her chest, and suck on each delicious peak as my hands travel to her thighs.
“I’m going to spend a lot of time getting to know these beauties, but right now, I need my mouth between your legs.” My fingers roam up her thighs to her wet, hot center.
“Nick,” she starts, nerves racing back into her voice. “I’ve never come like that before.”
Those are my favorite words to hear. Little excites me more than the uncharted terrain of a woman’s orgasm, especially this woman. The chance to be the first to taste that sweet moment of shattering is like a winning lottery ticket. Out of nowhere, a possessiveness curls through me, and I want to be the only one to know this part of her. I want her pleasure to belong to me, and only me.
“Well, that’s about to change, isn’t it?”
She smiles, and it’s a wicked sort of grin, full of carnal delight. “This is what I thought about the first night we sexted,” she says, and I burn up all over, the red-hot memory slamming back into me as she confirms what I suspected she was up to.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve gotten off to eating your pussy.” I brush my fingertips along her thighs. “But there’s one thing I need you to do as I go down on you.”
“What do you want me to do?” she asks, breathless, as if she’s eager for my direction.
“When you really like something I do, when it drives you crazy and makes you want to beg for it, you need to tell me, okay?” She nods. “I know you love to say dirty things, and I want to hear them all. The more you give in to your own turn-ons, the more you’ll enjoy every single second of what I’m going to do to you, and the harder you’ll come.”
She nods several times now. “Coming hard sounds pretty damn good.”
“Oh, believe me, it will be so fucking good for both of us. Let me give you some suggestions. Off the top of my head,” I say drily, and she giggles, “you can say things like, that feels so good, or I’m going to fuck your face, Nick, or I’m going to come so fucking hard all over your face.”
Her eyes light up, twinkling with pure naughtiness. I brush a kiss along the inside of a thigh.
She quivers. I like that response.
I kiss a path up her leg, the intoxicating scent of her arousal growing stronger. I rub my face against her, letting her feel the bristles on her smooth skin.
“That,” she moans, low and long. “I like that.”
I grin as I slide my hands under her ass, cupping those luscious cheeks.
“That, too,” she says on a quick gasp.
I squeeze her rear. “Then tell me if you like this,” I say, and I just can’t wait any more. I kiss her pussy, and she bucks against me.
“Oh God, yes!”
Best answer ever.
I flick my tongue against her, then lick a long, delicious line down her pink flesh then back up, drawing her clit between my lips and sucking. She groans. “I like everything. Your tongue, your face, your lips,” she whispers in a broken pant. “So much.”
And so do I. I’m turned on beyond anything I’ve ever experienced as I kiss her sweet, hot center. I swear I’m drinking her, lapping her wetness, and she’s all over me. She’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever had, and she gets me even higher as her fingers slide into my hair. She curls them tightly around my head, holding on.
She floods my tongue, and lust pounds mercilessly in my body as I eat her. Her taste is addictive. She’s better, so much infinitely better than she was in my dirty dreams. She’s all real, all wet, all heat as she rocks against my face. She grips me tighter, thrusts harder, and I lick, suck, kiss, and devour her delicious pussy.
I can tell she’s almost there. I can tell by the way her legs fall open. By how much wetter she gets with each stroke of my tongue. By those wild sounds falling from her mouth. It takes all of my strength to pull away for a second to remind her. “Tell me. Tell me what you like,” I growl, then return to her.
That’s when she lets go. She clutches my hair, wraps her legs tightly around my neck, and fucks, and fucks, and fucks. “I’m going to fuck your face,” she cries out. As soon as those filthy words fall from her lips, she’s there. “Oh God, I’m going to come so hard on you.”
And she does, on my lips, my tongue, my mouth, my jaw. My face is just buried in her as she pulses around me, so wet, so crazed, and, I hope, so fucking satisfied.
That about describes me to a T, too. So fucking satisfied, especially as I watch her come down from her high. Her lips part, her breath is fast, and she drags one hand through her hair, the other over those gorgeous tits. This is an image I could jack off to over and over—Harper, high on my mouth, not an ounce of self-consciousness as she touches herself while floating down.
Come to think of it, I take a mental snapshot. I’m totally going to draw this image later. Don’t judge. I’ve only been obsessed with capturing a woman’s O face since, well, forever. And hers is like the holy grail.
So I decide to make it a double. Without giving her a chance to protest—not that she would—my lips are on her again, and just like that, she’s moaning, groaning, and writhing into me once more, flying into another orgasm in mere minutes. Judging from her wild sounds and her crazed cries, this one was just as good as the last. When I look up at her, she seems lost in a world of bliss.
Excellent.
I press my lips to her thigh, giving her a soft, gentle kiss, then I toe off my shoes and join her on the couch, lifting her feet onto it so we’re lying down, tangled up together. I pull her close to me, my arm wrapped around her as she breathes hard. “I think I’m going to call you Princess Come-A-Lot now. That work for you?”
She flashes me a woozy smile. “As long as you keep earning the right to call me that.”
I pretend to doff a top hat. “I am dedicated to your service.” Tugging her closer, I kiss her temple. “Wait. You don’t mind that I kissed you after I did that? I’m kind of covered in you right now.”
A light laugh falls from her lips. “I pretty much gripped your face and locked your head in a vise until I came all over your beard, and you think I mind that you’re kissing me?”
“When you put it like that . . .”
She shifts in my arms, then her eyes darken. “Kiss me again,” she whispers, low and dirty.
I oblige, all too happy to have my lips anywhere on her. I groan as she takes control of the kiss, her lips hunting me, her tongue searching my mouth. She is ravenous, and she kisses me like I’m her dinner, and holy fuck, it makes me delirious. Her hands are on my shoulders, and she pins me, pressing her deliciously naked body to my side. Her skin is so warm, and her lips are so greedy. Her hand slinks down my chest, her nails running through the hair on my pecs, and in seconds her hand is on my jeans, unbuttoning, unzipping, and scooting them down.
I’m helpless to resist. Not that I want to, mind you. Not the fuck at all. I just can’t. Because this girl is steering the ship. She shoves my jeans to my knees then off. In a heartbeat she breaks the kiss and stares at me stretched out on her couch.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, her tone an accusation.
“What?” I ask, confused. “Tell you what?”
She curls her soft fingers around my hard shaft, and I hiss out a breath. “Fuck,” I groan, as she touches my dick.
“That you were packing this kind of heat,” she says, grinning like the very naughty girl she is.
What can I say? I’ve never had any complaints about the size of the machinery; I’m just glad Harper likes what’s under the hood. “Whew. I thought you were . . . I don’t know . . . pissed about something.”
She shakes her head in an exaggerated fashion as she strokes me. “Not pissed. Try excited about something.” She runs her hand up and down my cock. “Excited about riding you.”
A shudder wracks my body, and I grab her face, thread my hand in her hair. “You don’t need lessons in anything. You say these wildly dirty things that turn me on.” I tip my forehead to my cock, thick in her hand. “Feel that. Do you feel how hard I get when you say that stuff?”
She shoots me a sexy smile. “All these things I want to do are in my head. Now I want to try them out. With you.”
“We can try anything you want, but I didn’t bring condoms tonight.”
She pouts but then picks up the pace, curling her hand tighter. “Tell me how you like it.”
“A hand job?”
“Sure.”
“Haven’t had one in ages. But it helps if you get it wet.”
She lets go of me for a second and dips her fingers between her legs. Holy fuck. She’s lubing me up with . . . herself. I push my head back against the couch pillow, blown away by this girl. Returning her hand to my erection, she spreads some of her wetness on me. “Like that?” she asks, breathy and sexy.
“Yeah, that’ll do just fine,” I say, as I thrust up into her palm. I can’t even remember the last time I had a hand job. At a certain point in life you just graduate to fucking and sucking. But the way she grips my dick—twisting her wrist, sliding up and down my shaft—sends hot sparks through me and makes me wonder if I’ve been missing out.
On hand jobs . . .
Or maybe I’ve just been missing out on her. Because the way she looks at me, her eyes roaming between my face and my dick, as if she’s appraising her work and checking for a reaction, makes me want to let go with her, too. To give in to whatever she wants to do right now. Let her touch me anytime, anywhere.
“Tell me how you like blow jobs so I can give you what I was fantasizing about,” she says as she sits up, nudges my thighs, and then kneels between my legs. She doesn’t let go of my cock the whole time, and I’m really fucking thankful for her commitment to the task at hand.
I groan as her thumb catches a bead of liquid from the head of my dick, then spreads that over me, mixing her arousal with mine. It’s so hot what she’s doing. Makes thinking hard. “I like a lot of tongue,” I say, trying to collect my thoughts. “I like it when you wrap your lips nice and tight, but lick as you move up and down.”
“Mmm. That sounds delicious,” she whispers on an upstroke, her eyes blazing with desire as she watches me.
“I like a lot of suction, if you can.”
She draws an excited breath. “And deep? Do you like it deep?”
Electricity radiates in my body with that word. Deep. “Fuck, yeah. I want to hit the back of your throat,” I groan.
Her hand keeps busy, moving faster now, like a tight, hot tunnel. I thrust up into her fist, gritting my teeth as desire climbs inside me.
“And what about this?” she asks, then brings her other hand to my balls and cups, playing with them.
“Love that,” I grit out. “Love it when you lick them, too.”
Her hand flies faster, head to base and back. “But you don’t like hand jobs?”
“Now I do. I really fucking do,” I say, groaning as I fuck her hand. I might have to reconsider my position on mouths being better, because Harper’s hand is blowing my mind. But when my eyes land on those red, naughty lips of hers, I’m sure what I want. “Know what makes a hand job really great?”
“What?” she asks, her voice so damn eager.
I grab the back of her head, meet her gaze, and tell her. “When you put your mouth on it.”
In an instant, her lips wrap around the head of my dick, and I moan. A long, hungry moan that feels like it lasts forever. She follows my instructions, making her lips tight, and flattening her tongue. She takes me deep in one swift motion. Pleasure crackles all through my body, barreling down my spine, racing through my veins, and lighting me up everywhere.
It’s like a sneak attack. An ambush orgasm. I don’t even have time to give her a heads up. I just come hard in her throat in mere seconds.
“Fuck, Harper,” I grunt, and she sucks me tight until she swallows it all. She gives me a long, lingering lick, then lets go with her mouth. But bless her wicked heart, she keeps her hand on my dick, and gives one last stroke, making my whole body jerk as I groan once more. She grins, looking like the cat who ate the canary’s whole clan.
I drag a hand through my hair, words coming out choppy as my body hums with the aftereffects of the best hand job with a blow job finish I’ve ever had. “Or . . . yeah . . . that works, too. That’s another way I like blow jobs,” I deadpan.
She clears her throat. “Does that mean I can call you Prince Come Quickly?”
I smack her ass, chuckling. “I won’t be earning that title again. Besides, you got me all worked up with those magic hands of yours.”
She makes an abracadabra gesture.
We both laugh even harder, and she snuggles against me. Damn, this feels pretty fantastic, too, Harper curled up by my side. We stay like that for a few minutes. When her stomach growls, I brush a hand across her soft belly. “Let me take you out to eat.”
She says yes, and dinner out with Harper seems a perfect way to top a damn near perfect evening.
21
“We did the order all wrong.” Harper shakes her head and sighs heavily.
“The food order?” I ask as the waitress walks away, her notepad in hand. We’re at an Italian restaurant a few blocks from my house. It’s busy, even on a Sunday night, as waiters scurry by, arms laden with plates of pasta.
“No. The activity schedule,” Harper says, running her foot up my leg. She’s flirty, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy this affectionate side of her. She’s across from me at a table for two. The restaurant is dimly lit, with candles perched on red and white checkered tablecloths.
“Ah. You mean we had dessert before dinner?”
“Yes.”
“We’re unconventional. Mixing it up,” I say, as Harper reaches for a slice of bread from the basket. Loose strands from her high ponytail frame her cheeks. After we cleaned up, she changed once more, pulling on a tight green sweater and jeans, along with short high-heeled boots. As we walked here, the struggle not to check out her ass the entire time was real. Sorry to report I received an F on that test.
Wait. Not sorry at all. The view was worth it.
She gives a one-shou
ldered shrug. “I like this reverse schedule, too. I liked everything today,” she says softly. “But seriously . . .” She lets her voice trail off. “Did you like it?”
I scoff. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it. I loved every second of every single thing we did.”
She lights up, her blue eyes sparkling now. “I want it to be good for you, too, because for me, it was amazing.”
“It was the same way for me,” I say, and I’m tempted to slide my hand across the table and hold hers. But something stops me. Maybe because that seems like way too much of a couple thing. She wants to be temporary lovers, teacher and student, and all I want is to simply get her out of the starring role she’s been playing in all my solo flights. A few more nights and I’ll definitely be able to relegate Harper Holiday to a supporting part, then absolutely downgrade her to an occasional cameo, and bam, before I know it she’ll stop occupying so much precious real estate in the dirty-thoughts lobe of my brain. Which, obviously, is the biggest one. For now, I zoom in on our lessons. “Let’s recap today’s classwork. We tackled dirty talk. Turns out you’re a natural.”
She wriggles her shoulders proudly, brings her index finger to her tongue, and pretends to wet the air, letting it sizzle.
I point at her. “You also learned that you can, indeed, have multiple orgasms, one right after the other.”
“I had four in an hour,” she says with a big grin.
“Show off,” I tease, then stop. “Wait. One was solo.”
“I’m still counting it, since looking at you on the train was my foreplay.”
And like that, I’m ready to go again. She is a sexy little cupcake, and I want to bite into her. “And you also learned that the G-spot isn’t a myth.”
“Oh, I believe in it big time. I’ll be building a shrine to it, in fact,” she says, ripping off a corner of the bread and popping it in her mouth. When she finishes, she lowers her voice. “Want to know one more thing I learned about what I like?”
“I do,” I say, and my muscles tense, not from worry, but anticipation. I want to know her. What she likes. What she dislikes. What makes her feel good.
Mister O Page 14
