by Shayla Black
But she isn’t ready to surrender just yet.
Suddenly, her fingers glide down to the slick flesh between her legs, mixing her cream with the chocolate. She dips in, swirls around. Then she props herself up on one elbow and holds her digits out to me, letting the potent scents mingle just under my nose. “Noah… Take a taste. Just one. The rest will be waiting for you. Open your mouth. What can it hurt?”
I shouldn’t. It’s a distinct possibility I’ll lose my shit once I get her flavor on my tongue. But that doesn’t stop me from leaning closer. She paints my bottom lip, tempting me. Taunting me. Damn if I don’t crave her.
I slide my tongue over my lip, then move on to her fingers. Heaven. Paradise. Utopia.
One taste is my undoing.
I suck her fingers into my mouth as I rise from my seat and push her digits against my tongue, moaning as I melt.
Harlow pulls her arm back, leading me closer to the source of her honey. With the other hand, she opens her sex, revealing her reddening clit pulling away from its hood. “It’s not my fingers you want.”
She’s right. Vaguely, I’m annoyed at myself for letting her derail me, but not enough to refuse her.
I let go, take another swallow of the champagne from the bottle, then pour more over her puffy pink sex. When she whimpers, I set it down. To my surprise, she sits up enough to take a few long swigs. I stare.
“What’s it going to be?” she challenges. “Champagne kisses or chocolate-covered pussy?”
They both sound fantastic, but…it’s no contest.
Planting my palm between her breasts, I push her flat against the table, then grab her hips in my hands. As I sit once more, I drag my dessert up to my lips and dive in.
Her flavor hits me, grips me, sends me into a frenzy. I edge closer, take her hands and use them to hold her captive. There isn’t so much as a breath between her sweetness and my mouth. I settle in, go deeper, drown in everything that’s Harlow. Sure, I taste chocolate and champagne. Even her clit has a little candied-cherry flavor my tongue is enjoying. But it’s really her I want. I burn for.
I open wider, lap her from bottom to top, then savor her sweetness as I suck the fruit juice clean from her flesh greedily until I can taste nothing but her pure, clean essence.
Her moans bounce off the walls. Her thighs tense, and she’s holding her breath. Yes, her orgasm is coming. Her body tells me. Her scent thickens. Her taste deepens. I have no idea how she got sweeter, but I’m loving every moment she’s on my tongue.
Suddenly, she’s rising and bucking and growling out a throaty cry of completion that scalds my veins and makes my cock harder than it’s ever been. I dip my tongue inside her center and feel her hard pulses as she bows like she has no control over her body or the ecstasy wracking her.
Moments later, she melts limply onto the table with a heavy sigh, panting hard. “Oh… Noah.”
I lick and kiss her flesh gently, reluctantly easing back and weaning myself away from her—for now. “Do you feel good?”
“Yeah. I’ll be even better if you fuck me.”
While I want that—bad—I don’t have a damn condom in my pocket. I used the last one before dinner. “You got it. Let me run to the bedroom and—”
“Now,” she insists, shaking her head.
“I don’t have a way to protect you.”
Harlow frowns. I see her wheels turning. “My period ended six days ago. I’m not that far into my cycle and I’ve probably been taking the pill long enough now. It should be fine.”
“You’re sure?” I don’t want to argue because I’d love to have Harlow with nothing between us…and because the thought of her pregnant still sets off my libido again like a fireworks spectacular. But as pushy as I can be with pleasure, I’d never coerce her into taking me bareback. “I can run upstairs and be back in less than two minutes.”
“Two minutes will feel like a lifetime,” she wails, hips lifting as she shifts restlessly.
I can’t disagree with her.
“Baby…” I swallow hard at the thought of actually feeling her against me, bare all the way around me. “I want you so damn bad. I won’t last long.”
She smiles like she knows she’s won. “There’s always later. Let’s get to enjoying now.”
With a groan, I take my cock in hand and guide it to her splayed sex. Stickiness from the chocolate and champagne remains on her pussy. This is going to be messy. And I’ll love every second of it.
Grabbing her hips, I push inside her slowly. The electric sensation of her naked flesh gripping me sends an immediate shudder down my spine. She’s so tight, and without the latex, an inferno of ecstasy scorches my senses. Need steamrolls me. As I submerge all the way to the hilt, I grip her harder and toss my head back with a chest-deep groan.
Harlow is ruining me. Worse, I can’t give a fuck about anything except fucking her.
“Noah!” Her entire body moves under me, shoulders pressed to the table, hips lifting in my grip.
The cry of her voice flips a switch in me. I have to go deeper, harder, wilder. I have to leave my stamp on her.
I need to make her forget about any man who came before me.
I don’t know why and I don’t question the urge. Time for that later. I devote my entire being to merging with Harlow, withdrawing as quickly as possible, then shuttling in again with all my breath and might. The rhythm takes hold of my body. The table starts to shake with every plunge deep. Everything inside me is attuned to her—to the flush rising across her skin, to the light sheen of perspiration now covering her torso, to the twist of her full lips as the pleasure breaks her down.
Watching her is stunning. Impactful. But I need her closer. I need our mouths colliding as our bodies do. I need to invade her in every way at once that I can.
I’m trying to get enough of her. I’m beginning to think that’s not possible.
Still, I’m compelled to try, so I scoop her up, ignoring her startled yelp. Before she’s even finished the sound, I’ve taken the few steps across the room to back her against the wall and press myself into her. I slant my mouth over hers, lifting her up my aching cock. Then I let gravity work in my favor. She takes me even farther inside her, and I’m happily going where I suspect no man has ever gone before. Because this penetration is unlike anything I’ve ever felt—or even imagined in my wildest fantasies. I’m probing her depths and hitting a spot that has her tensing and clawing and panting into me. Her fingernails dig into my skin, leaving a trail of fire. Her lips part wide with euphoric bliss that transforms her face.
God, she’s beautifully sexy. All woman.
Mine. I feel that possessive impulse again.
I cover her mouth once more, pushing my tongue inside even as I shove my cock deep, using my whole body to push her against the wall so I can gain leverage, immobilize her, have her body entirely at my disposal.
“Pinch your nipples,” I demand between kisses.
Harlow reaches one hand between us to roll and tug on a hard bead, even as she uses the other to anchor herself around my neck and ride me like a surfer on towering waves roaring up to the coastline. She puts her whole body into our pleasure, gripping me with her thighs, gyrating her hips, eating her way up my neck and back to my mouth.
Shit, she’s doing way more to me than merely rocking my world.
As the pinnacle of my pleasure crests and I swallow the frantic wail of her shattering climax, I feel her pulse around me like a vise. My body short-circuits. I lose the ability to focus on anything except Harlow and emptying myself inside her—body, soul, and something else that’s totally new. Something that feels dangerous.
But I’m too far gone to care. The only thing that matters is spilling inside her and hoping that she’ll beg me to do it again.
As our movements slow and our breathing begins to even out, she blinks and focuses on me. “Oh, my god. What was that?”
“The most amazing thing I’ve ever felt,” I admit.
“You’r
e not kidding. Sex has never been like this for me.”
Part of me loves the ego trip. Another part is rejoicing at being her best. But there’s a sliver that can’t stand the thought of her remembering sex with any other guy. “Ditto, baby. You’re amazing.”
She gives me a tired smile. “We’re amazing together. Sex has been dull the last couple of years, so this is perfect.”
I want to know why…and yet I don’t. But curiosity wins out as I disentangle our bodies and set her on her feet. “Why the last couple of years in particular?”
Harlow shrugs and looks like she’s choosing her words. She seems suspiciously focused on my Adam’s apple—or anything that keeps her from meeting my stare. “You know… School stress, chaotic college life, immature idiots. I just never felt like myself with anyone before. Thanks.”
I’m getting to her. It’s a relief to know I’m not the only one feeling something besides arousal and tingling genitals. Yes, we’re talking about sex, but the soft surprise in her expression tells me she’s stunned by our connection. Like I am.
Where is it going?
I don’t know. And I don’t have to right now. But I need time with her. I need to spend my mornings, noons, and nights with this woman until I figure out what’s going on between us. I can only keep her here with the promise of employment and good sex for so long. No, she hasn’t made any noise about leaving, but I want to lock her down so that packing her bags and heading out before I’m ready to let her go is impossible.
“Shit!” Suddenly, she hobbles off, holding her inner thigh.
I follow with a frown. “Harlow?”
“I’m dripping…you. I’m so used to a condom.”
Me, too. But I’m kind of smiling as she dips into the powder bath and slams the door.
Feeling like a supreme sex god, I exhale with satisfaction and make my way to the home office. My lawyer is in New York. It’s well into morning for him. Maybe he’s already had a chance to put together the paperwork I asked him for yesterday. Sure enough, there’s a small stack of pages on my printer/fax. Greedily, I grab the pages up and scan.
With every word, my grin widens. This is exactly what I wanted.
I hear the toilet flush, the water run, then the door opens a few moments later. The light flips off. “Noah?”
“In here. I’ve got something for you.”
“If it’s another erection, it’s going to have to wait. Every part of me feels wrung out and I need sleep. Don’t even think about waking me up for hanky-panky tonight.”
I can’t promise her I won’t.
“No erection.” Yet. “Just the contract and nondisclosure agreement from my attorney.”
“That was fast.”
I pay him to be. “It’s great, right? We can get started as soon as you sign.”
When Harlow holds out her hand, I slide the pages and a pen into her grip. It’s late, and I’m hoping she doesn’t tell me that she’ll read it in the morning. I will sleep so much better tonight knowing that she’s signed, sealed, delivered—and all mine for the summer.
Pushing a mass of dark hair away from her face and over one shoulder, she cocks her head and scans the document. I can’t think of a single woman who would stand there stark naked under the harsh LED lights of my office and focus her brain on business. Many wouldn’t have the confidence to make themselves so bare in front of a lover unless they shimmied or crooked a finger to entice him or just got dressed altogether. Harlow merely seems to accept her nudity as yet another state of being that’s neither good nor bad. It just is.
She flips the page over and reads the rest, then scans the accompanying NDA. “This is generous pay.”
Sex is one thing, but business is another. I switch gears…but I can only do it by focusing on her face. If I look at her tits, I’ll be a goner. “I doubt unraveling my speech problems will be easy. Late nights, odd hours, and dealing with me when I’m grouchy won’t be a breeze. But my second career worth millions is on the line. Being a successful broadcaster will continue to feed my endorsement deals, too. I think it’s fair to compensate you appropriately.”
“The term of the agreement is through Labor Day?”
I nod. “That gets me through the end of preseason, more or less. If we need to extend, we’ll renegotiate. But I plan to work hard so that I’m broadcast ready by then.”
Harlow nods in acknowledgement. “I have no problem not talking about our professional interaction without your consent. I wouldn’t, anyway. Practitioner-patient confidentiality is paramount to me.”
“Later, if we’re successful, you can tell everyone. I will be. I’ve been thinking about other guys in the league who may be affected and not speaking out. Someone’s got to break the silence.” I shrug. “Why not me? Maybe others will come forward and get help if they feel like there’s hope.”
She smiles. “That’s noble. A lot of jocks wouldn’t want anyone to ever know. They don’t want to admit they’re less than perfect.”
“If disregarding my ego can help some of the others find their voice, it’s a small price. And it’s not always that players don’t speak out. Some are just drowned out. By the teams and their owners. And by the league itself, which has been slow to admit the connection between repeated hits to the head and long-term impact on players’ faculties. If I open the door for a discussion so some of these other guys can be heard and get help, then it’s a bonus.”
Without hesitating, she signs the forms, then sets the pen down and saunters in my direction, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Done. You know, you’re so good in bed that it’s not fair to actually make me like you, too.”
“It’s not a bad thing. I mean, I like you. And I like spending time with you. I’m glad we’ll be spending more together. And maybe…we’ll figure out there’s more going on here than a fling.”
For a moment, she freezes. Then she tsks at me and gives me a flirty shake of her head. “And ruin this great sexfest we have going? Why would we do that?”
As she walks away, her laugh seems almost nervous.
It’s hard not to notice that every time I bring up romance or relationship, she damn near runs in the opposite direction. But she wants children, and I don’t see her impersonally going to a sperm bank to conceive. Even more, I don’t think she would have let me take her without protection if she didn’t feel something for me. Or is she simply trying to get pregnant, even unconsciously? Doubtful, but I think what’s between us is way bigger than she’s ready to admit.
Sometimes Harlow is a walking dichotomy. And maybe the way to her heart is simply through her pussy. I don’t know yet, but I’m going to figure her out.
My phone ringing three hours later startles me from a deep sleep. I sit straight up in bed and grab the damn thing. Harlow was resting fitfully after I rolled over and turned out the lights. I don’t want to wake her now.
As I hit the button to answer the call, I look over to see if she’s still asleep.
The woman is gone. The sheets on her side of the bed are cold.
What the fuck?
Shoving the covers aside and climbing to my feet, I glance at the display on my phone. It’s my agent in New York. I growl as I press the phone to my ear. “Cliff, do you know what fucking time it is in Hawaii?”
“Ungodly early, I know. But the network is up my ass. They want to know if you’re stalling about giving them an answer about the job because of the runaway bride.”
The what? How do I answer when I don’t understand the question? “I’m considering all my options. You know that. They know that.”
“And they weren’t antsy about waiting until you were snapped looking cozy with a woman who ran out on her groom less than a week ago. The fact you two are dating now—and so publicly—is sending up a red flag for them.”
The words do a drive-by in my brain but I don’t comprehend them. “What?”
“We can all understand why she would leave a boring businessman for you, but Noah… Why would you
give up the opportunity to take a prime spot in the coveted A Team for the network to—”
“She ran out on some guy less than a week ago?” I hate to sound as stupid as I feel for not Googling Harlow sooner, but I don’t have my computer handy and I need to understand right now.
Where the hell is she? After the reporters splashed her image across the tabloids, did she decide to leave?
I march out of my bedroom and go in search of Harlow. As I head down the stairs, I don’t see any lights on. I’m more confused than ever.
“You didn’t know that?” Cliff asks.
“She failed to mention it.” And given her behavior, I know it was on purpose.
“How could you not know? If she left this schmuck for you—”
“She didn’t. I only met her two days ago.”
“So it’s not serious, right?”
I hesitate. I’m not sure how to answer that but I’ve always been straight up with Cliff—speech problems aside. “I think it could be. Or I did until you called. You’re saying she broke up with her fiancé last weekend?”
“Um…yeah, buddy. In a big way.”
“What do you mean? How did you find out about this?”
“I’m going to text you a link. I hope you’re sitting down. We’ll talk again after you’ve had time to digest.”
Once Cliff hangs up, I’m torn between staring at the phone while waiting for his promised link to arrive and finding wherever the hell Harlow has gone so I can ask her a billion questions.
She was engaged less than a week ago?
Who was this guy? Why did she break it off? Suddenly, I’m less surprised that she seems allergic to relationships. What I don’t understand is why she hasn’t so much as whispered a word about this to me.
The phone buzzes in my hand, telling me I’ve got a text. But I’m still intent on finding Harlow.
