23. Harrison
Chapter 23
Harrison
S he’s freezing. I don’t even think she realizes how cold she is anymore. The blankets, the fire, and the cider were enough to make her stay, but the minute her bare hand touches mine, I know she’s frozen.
I feel terrible for keeping her out as long as we did. I know she was having fun with us, but she’s not built for this weather.
The air has to pass right through her. Harlow is tall, but she doesn’t have a lot of meat on her bones. I don’t mean that in a harsh or judgmental way. I just can’t imagine she can stay warm for long if exposed to the elements. I slide my flannel off, leaving me in only a long sleeve.
“What are you doing? It’s freezing out,” she states.
I remove the blanket she has wrapped around her shoulders and watch her shiver. I drape my shirt over her, then put the blanket on top of that.
“How’s that?”
“Honestly, it feels amazing,” she sighs.
“Let’s get you inside.”
I drape my arm around her, and we walk in silence over to my truck. I open the door for her, she climbs in, and I hope that takes some of the chill out of the air for her. I jog around the truck, hop into the driver’s seat, and turn the ignition on. I would usually let the truck warm up a bit before taking off, but the drive over to our places isn’t far.
Harlow’s had a few drinks tonight, and I pride myself on being a man my brother and parents can be proud of. I drive down the dirt road slowly, so as not to jostle her around too much and she sits quietly, just looking out the window, taking in the darkness beyond it.
Once I get to the fork in the road between her temporary place and mine, I stop the truck and look over to her. She doesn’t look at me, but I see her shoulders tense just a little. I could speak up and ask what she wants, but Harlow isn’t one to keep quiet; there is a reason she’s not talking after hours of chatter. She doesn’t want to have to say anything.
I use my turn signal and signal right toward the bunkhouse.
“We could head over to your place. I could drop you off, and you could take a hot shower and wash the smoke off?”
Then I push the signal down, and it starts blinking and clicking to signal left.
“Or we could go to my place. I could take you out back, we could sink into the hot tub and see where the rest of the night takes us.” I put the blinker back to the middle. The truck is deadly silent with only the soft sounds of our breathing.
She opens her mouth, and I expect her to say something smart, but then she closes it and rubs those pink lips together hard, drawing the bottom one in before it pops back out. Harlow leans over the center console, the smell of smoke clinging to her hair. Her long, lean arm reaches across, and she pushes the signal down. She leaves herself leaning over the console, turning to meet my gaze. Even in the low lights from my dash, I can see pink tinging the apples of her cheeks and a hint of heat from her dark eyes.
It’s all I need. It’s her answer; she doesn’t have to say anything for it to mean everything.
I’m waiting by the back door of my place, staring at the light coming from under the bathroom door.
I toss two large beach towels on the table and wait for her. In my hasty offer, I didn’t realize that Harlow likely didn’t bring a bathing suit for her fall vacation in a state much cooler than her own. I offered her a gray or white shirt, and she brazenly took the white one from my hands. It was another choice she made tonight with fire in her eyes. Each one only makes me harder for her.
When the door creaks open, I keep my eyes fixed on the floor, taking two steadying breaths before looking up. My eyes travel up a pair of long, slender, creamy legs. My shirt comes just past her underwear, and I catch the smallest sight of black fabric. Instantly, I’m as hard as stone knowing what’s under that cotton barrier.
As my eyes continue moving up, I note how my shirt hangs loosely off her, almost as if she’s wearing a bedsheet sewn together at the sides. I anticipate the showing of black fabric peeking through the white shirt where her bra would lay, but nothing is there. Two small points peek through the fabric, and I’m practically drooling.
Her swan-like neck without the curtain of thick black hair behind it is tinged pink with blush. Her thick mane is piled on top of her head. It's messy and out of the way. I note the blush that stains her cheeks; it could be from my lingering eyes or the drinks we had at the bonfire.
A quick swipe of her tongue over her lips, and I know I’m a goner. This woman could ask me to do anything, and I would oblige without argument. She could ask me to be her footstool, and I would. She could tell me to fuck off, and I would try my hardest, likely repeatedly jerking off to the very vision in front of me for the rest of my life.
It’s not the first time I’ve looked at a woman wearing one of my shirts, but it sure as hell is the first time the sight has brought me to my knees.
“I left my clothes on the counter.” She pauses for a moment. “For when you drive me back.”
I feel a pang in my chest. I suddenly remember that I’m going to have to drive her back to her place after whatever happens tonight. The no-bed-sharing clause in our agreement. It’s disappointing that I won’t be able to reach for her in the middle of the night.
“That’s fine. Let’s hop in the tub before you catch a chill,” I push myself to say, hiding my disappointment.
Harlow walks toward me, and I swing the back door open, leading her out to my small patio and hot tub. While she undressed, I got it uncovered and the lights set on a low, red setting. She pads her feet onto the cold stone patio, and I watch a shiver take over her.
“Hop in real quick. I’m going to shut the house lights off once you’re in.” She takes light steps on the balls of her feet over to the tub and up the steps before swinging those long legs I crave over and inside. I stare for a moment longer, but she turns to me expectantly.
“Come on,” she commands. I hit the lights and make my way to her.
At the edge of the tub, I pull my shirt over my head and toss it on the steps before getting in. She sits on the far edge, her arms crossed over her chest, holding herself tightly.
From opposite sides of the tub, we look over each other with hungry eyes. I love the way she looks at my body. It’s like she admires me the way someone would a sculpture in a gallery. There’s an appreciation there that my previous girlfriends didn’t have. It makes me want to preen for her. Not once in my life had I considered myself a pretty boy, but I wouldn’t care if that’s how she saw me right now.
“Is it too hot?” I ask, worried that’s why she’s not sinking in.
She raises a brow at me and slowly shakes her head.
“Sit down.” Without hesitation, I drop onto the seat below me. The hot water rushes me, and I hiss out a breath.
Harlow’s arms drop to her sides, her hands dance across the water, and she takes a few slow steps until she’s in front of me. She’s so tall that only the bottom of my shirt and her panties are wet. The fabric clings to her, and her pink skin peeks through. I look up at her face and see passion burning in her eyes.
In seconds she straddles me, seating herself against my hard length. Water sloshes around me and more fabric clings to her, turning almost transparent. I reach for her, but she catches my wrists, pushing them down to my sides on the seat. The motion causes the front of her to get drenched in warm water, her gaze meeting mine in a silent command to sit still. A quick nod lets her know I won’t move.
Once she rises, I can see her pert, small chest perfectly through my shirt. I groan, wanting to just strip the fabric off her. It clings to her skin, and I’m jealous.
Harlow puts a hand on each shoulder and kneads my tight, hard flesh, her nails just barely scratching. My head rolls back, and I let her hands slide up and down my shoulders.
She’s exploring my body, and I revel in her adoration. A hand slides across my pecs while the other down my arm. My eyes close as I will her to move farther down. Instead, it slides up past my shoulder, up my neck, and to my chin where she takes hold of my face. With a firm grip, she brings my face forward, and my eyes shoot open.
She’s intoxicating—a true sorceress who has me under her spell.
“Fuck, witch, you’re too much. I want to touch you so fucking bad.”
A smile curves her lips as she rises higher on her knees. Once her breasts align with my face, she pushes a thumb against my lips.
“Open.” Another quiet yet strong command.
I do immediately, and she drags that digit across my bottom lip. I want to bite it, but I quell the urge. She pushes deeper into my mouth, forcing it open, and my eyes widen. I don’t know what she has in mind, and just as I’m about to ask, she pulls her hand free and pushes her shirt-clad breast into my mouth. I’m greedy for her, opening my mouth wide to take in as much flesh as I can. Her hands push through my dry hair, making it damp. She pushes me further into her chest, and when I pull back, I grab her pebbled nipple in between my teeth. A gasp leaves her, and I know it’s in approval. I move eagerly to the other breast, sucking and biting through the thin barrier.
With two handfuls of my hair, she pulls my head back and drops back down onto my lap. Her mouth takes mine in a fierce, hungry kiss. I try to take some control, but she’s too much. I submit my mouth to her and feel her slide up and down my length. My hands stay clenched at my sides, and I’m shaking with anticipation to just touch her. Our tongues tangle, and I push against her, trying to gain even an ounce of leverage.
I feel the smile on her lips.
“Touch me.”
Before I can think, my hands grab her hips. I squeeze them before sliding my hands up to explore the undersides of her breasts. We kiss roughly—tongue, teeth, and my stubbled jaw rubbing harshly against her face. I’ve never kissed someone so wildly before.
I hear her moan as I pull her bottom lip in between my teeth while pinching her nipple and grinding her hips down onto me. Her thighs squeeze my sides, and I know I can’t take much more. I’m going to come in my hot tub like a true kid.
“Fuck, I need to taste you. Get off me and let me take you inside. I’ll make a meal of you on my table.” She shivers at my words. I’m desperate to get between her legs again. I want to feel the shake in her thighs as they squeeze my head like a vise and the small desperate pulses of her pussy on the tip of my tongue.
She pulls back, getting off my lap and standing, a strong, defiant look on her face.
Sea witch.