Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
RYKER
I gripped Harley’s hips as if they were the last solid objects in a universe dissolving into pure feeling.
Being inside him redefined my understanding of intimacy so completely that my brain frantically shredded my sexual résumé and started over from scratch.
Every nerve ending in my body seemed to call an emergency meeting to discuss the unprecedented levels of pleasure they were experiencing.
My previous encounters with women now seemed like watching fireworks on a muted video on my phone. It was technically the same activity as seeing them live under the night sky but missing every single thing that made it special.
The difference between now and my previous sexual experiences wasn’t just noticeable.
It was as dramatic as a stick figure drawn with my left hand compared to the masterful art of the Sistine Chapel.
Harley shifted beneath me, taking me deeper, and in that moment of perfect connection, I understood why poets never shut up about romantic stuff.
“You okay there, snookums?” Harley’s eyes seemed to be filled with a confusing mix of “genuine concern” and “wanting to fuck your brains out.” The combination made my heart perform drum solos that would make rock legends weep with envy.
“I’m—fuck—I’m more than okay. You feel incredible.”
And he did. The physical sensation alone was rewiring my entire nervous system, but it was the rest of it that short-circuited my brain.
It wasn’t mere sex or fucking as it had been with my ex-girlfriends.
It was Harley. My best friend. My pain-in-the-ass roommate who stole my cereal and sang off-key in the shower.
Every touch, every shift of his hips was loaded with three years of history, turning a physical act into something that felt dangerously close to romance.
I looked down at where our bodies connected, then up at Harley’s face.
His hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead.
Without his usual perfect styling, he looked even sexier.
His cobalt eyes, usually twinkling with mischief, were darker now, pupils blown wide with desire.
The flush spreading across his cheeks extended down his neck to his chest, a road map of his arousal that I wanted to trace with my fingers, my lips, my tongue.
“You’re staring.” His smile was softer than his usual smirk.
“Can’t help it.” I rolled my hips, watching with fascination as Harley’s eyes fluttered closed, his lips parting on a gasp. “You’re beautiful like this.”
The scent of his patchouli-and-lavender bodywash mingled with the muskier notes of sweat and sex, creating an intoxicating combination that made my head spin.
I’d always loved how Harley smelled, but now it was downright addictive, making me want to bury my face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in until I was drunk on it.
Finding a rhythm that worked took some trial and error, but Harley was patient, guiding me with gentle touches and encouraging words.
When I shifted the angle of my thrusts, his back arched off the bed, a strangled moan escaping him that put us in genuine danger of my family interrupting.
But even if my sister broke down my door, I wasn’t stopping until we finished.
“There,” he gasped, his fingers digging into my shoulders. “Oh, right there.”
I repeated the movement, watching with growing confidence as Harley responded, his body telling me everything I needed to know about what felt good. I tightened my grip on his hips, pulling him more firmly against me as I drove deeper. My reward was a string of colorful curses that amused me.
“Something funny?” Harley joked.
“Even during sex, you’re still you.”
“Would you prefer I be someone else?” He raised an eyebrow, challenging me as his body moved with mine. “Because I’m into role-playing.”
“God, no.” The words came out more forcefully than I’d intended, surprising both of us. “I want you. Only you, Harley.”
His usual playful confidence seemed to dissolve, his smirk softening at the edges until it showed the same vulnerability I felt.
It wasn’t about physical experimentation anymore.
I wasn’t scratching an itch or satisfying my curiosity.
It was making love to someone I deeply cared about, maybe even loved, though the thought was too new and fragile to examine too closely when I was balls-deep in the man.
It was like a switch flipped in a room I didn’t even know existed in my head. I’d had sex, sure. Plenty of it. But I’d never made love to a person who knew me so completely, who accepted every part of me without question or judgment.
“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Harley asked, reaching up to brush his thumb across my cheek.
“I never knew it could be this way.” I turned my head to press a kiss to his palm. “With you, it’s different. Better.”
“Yeah, it is.”
The moment stretched out, heavy with unspoken feelings, until Harley rolled his hips, reminding me of the more immediate matter at hand. I groaned, the physical pleasure rushing back to the forefront of my consciousness.
With renewed focus, I set a new pace that had him clutching at the sheets, his head thrown back in abandon. The sight of him lost in ecstasy because of me was intoxicating, making me bolder, more confident in my movements.
I experimented with different angles and speeds, cataloging each response, learning what made Harley gasp and what made him moan. When I spread his thighs wider apart so I could go deeper, the sound he made was almost a sob of pleasure.
“Fuck, Ryker,” he panted, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that stole my breath. “You’re a natural.”
“I have a good teacher.”
“And don’t you forget it.” Harley grinned, then reached between us to wrap his hand around himself.
I watched, mesmerized, as he stroked himself in rhythm with my thrusts. I’d seen Harley that day in our apartment when I’d walked in on him with another man, but it was different now because he was with me.
“Are you close?” I asked, feeling my release building, a pressure at the base of my spine that threatened to overwhelm me.
Harley nodded, his movements becoming more erratic. “Yeah, please don’t stop.”
As if I could. As if anything short of the apocalypse could tear me away from him in this moment.
I maintained the rhythm he needed, watching with awe as his face contorted in pleasure, his body tensing beneath mine.
When he came, it was with my name on his lips, his release spattering across his stomach in hot pulses.
Combined with the way his muscles tightened around me, it was enough to push me over the edge.
My orgasm hit me with more intensity than anything I’d experienced before.
Even with the barrier of the condom between us, the sensation of coming inside Harley was overwhelmingly intimate, a connection that went beyond the physical.
I collapsed forward, barely catching myself on my elbows to avoid crushing him, my forehead pressed against his as we both struggled to catch our breath.
For a long moment, we stayed like that, bodies still joined, the only sound in the room our ragged breathing.
I felt different somehow, changed in ways I couldn’t quite articulate.
It wasn’t that I’d had sex with a man for the first time, although that was certainly significant.
It was that I’d made love to Harley, my best friend, the person who knew me better than anyone else in the world.
I wanted to do it again. And again. And again. For as long as he’d let me.
“You’re thinking too loud.” Harley traced lazy patterns on my back.
I lifted my head to look at him, taking in the satisfied curve of his lips, the softness in his eyes. “Sorry. I’m processing.”
“Good processing, or the ‘Oh, shit, I’ve made a terrible mistake’ kind of processing?” There was a hint of vulnerability in his question.
“Definitely good,” I reassured him. “Amazing, actually. Mind-blowing. Earth-shattering. Pick your superlative.”
Harley chuckled. “I mean, I would have said ‘transcendent’ or ‘life-altering,’ but that’s me.”
“Very funny.”
“And yet here you are,” he pointed out, his expression turning serious. “Inside me, in fact.” He clenched around me to prove his point, making me groan.
The reminder made me aware of our intimate position.
I withdrew, both of us wincing at the sensation of separation.
For all the intimacy we’d shared, I felt awkward and exposed as I dealt with the condom, tying it off and wrapping it in a tissue before tossing it in the small trash can beside my bed.
I turned back to Harley, who sprawled across my sheets, looking thoroughly debauched and pleased with himself. The sight of him flushed, sweaty, completely at ease in his nakedness, his stomach covered in cum, sent a flutter through my chest that I wasn’t quite ready to name.
“Hold on,” I said, reaching for my nightstand drawer. “Let me grab something.”
I pulled out a pack of wet wipes I kept for, well, similar situations, though usually after solo activities. The irony wasn’t lost on me that I was now using them to clean up my best friend after we’d had sex.
Harley arched an eyebrow. “You’re well prepared, considering you were never a Boy Scout.”
“Don’t get cocky. It’s only basic hygiene.”
“Oh, I’m definitely cocky,” he replied, gesturing at his body. “And you just proved how much you enjoy that about me.”
I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossibly charming,” he corrected, watching me with curiosity and amusement as I grabbed a wipe.
“This might be cold.” I hesitated before pressing the wipe against his stomach.
Harley sucked in a breath, his muscles tensing under my touch. “A little warning next time?”
“I literally just warned you,” I pointed out, snorting with amusement as I cleaned the mess off his skin.