Chapter 19
Waking up naked on top of Booker Harris definitely has its perks.
For one, I can admire his gloriously naked body.
The morning light slicing in through the window casts the perfect glow on every inch of his bare chest and abs.
His mouth is slack, still obviously in deep sleep.
But the way he tightens his grip around me even in his REM cycle feels as if I’m in a delicious dream that I haven’t woken up from yet.
But I am awake. So very awake. The soreness between my thighs is proof that this is not a dream.
Booker and I did have sex, not once, but twice last night.
The second time was by my prompting. I rolled over in the middle of the night and accidentally grazed the tip of his erection.
He was out cold, yet he was still hard after going at it once already.
The thought sent such a naughty thrill through me, I couldn’t help myself.
I dipped under the covers and pulled him into my mouth.
I’d barely started sucking before I was yanked up by his strong arms, rolled onto my back, and pinned beneath him.
It was dark in his room, a faint light streaming in from the hallway that he’d purposefully left on for me.
But I didn’t need to see much as he held my arms above my head and thrust inside of me so hard and so unapologetic, I nearly came on contact.
The complete trust and faith I have in him because of our history together makes sex so much more.
Knowing that we know each other so well and that we are doing this together is completely liberating.
It makes me brave and horny and excited and thrilled.
He’s looking at me differently and letting me into his heart, which means I can finally embrace this dark part of my soul that I’ve silenced for far too many years.
I can let myself fall for my best friend.
“You’re awake,” Booker’s morning voice croaks as he stirs beneath me.
I smirk into his chest, biting my lip to stop myself from spewing out all the glorious thoughts raging through my mind. I feel them, but I sure as bloody hell can’t say them yet. “Yep.”
“What are you thinking about down there?” He reaches out to stroke a lazy thumb down my bare arm and I shiver into him.
“Just trying to figure out if dragging my tongue through the ridges of your abs would wake you or not.” I silently give myself a pat on the back for my very clever cover.
His belly shakes with a silent laugh. “Dragging your tongue on pretty much any part of me would wake me.”
I inhale deeply and look up at him. He props one hand behind his head and his bicep flexes a few times before relaxing. “Morning.”
I smirk. “Morning.”
“You look happy.” His fingers push a strand of my hair away from my forehead.
“I feel happy.” I nuzzle into his touch.
“I like seeing you happy,” he states simply.
“Is this really how it’s going to be?” I ask, resting my hands beneath my chin as I toss the serious question out there. I still can’t believe this is actually real life.
“What do you mean?” His dark brows knit and then relax.
“You and me, naked lazy Sundays…All that jazz.” I bite my nail nervously.
The corners of his mouth turn down as he ponders that thought. “Naked lazy Sundays would be difficult to achieve at Harris Sunday dinners, but I’m willing to experiment if you are.”
“You know what I mean.”
I pinch his side and he chuckles while rolling me over and sliding down my body so he can drop soft kisses on my chest and belly. “I want as many naked lazy days with you as I can get. Not just Sundays.”
“You’re doing quite well with this so far,” I state, combing my hands through his thick hair.
“Well, it’s day two…Still plenty of time for me to disappoint you,” he says to my belly.
This makes me frown. I pull his chin up so he has to look at me.
“You’re not going to disappoint me, Booker.
You’re my best friend, and this is already so much more than I had hoped for.
” His stunning eyes soften in a way that shows me he’s thinking about something other than what we’re discussing.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” I add, trying to break through whatever mental dilemma he’s attacking right now.
He nods and kisses my palm. “I want to talk about that fucking vibrator you left out on the bathroom counter.”
This makes me full on belly laugh. “I know, I’m horrid.”
“You are the worst kind of tease.” He shoots up and pins my wrists to the bed, straddling my naked body. His dick is hard and resting on my belly. “I think it’s time for me to tease you the way you’ve been teasing me the last two weeks.”
I bite my lip as he thrusts his hips upward so his cock glides between my breasts. I’m tormented between giggling like a teenager and moaning like a hornball. My voice is husky when I reply, “It was all Belle and Indie’s idea. Most of it, I should say…Some of it was just dumb luck.”
He stops his thrusts. “Bubbly tits?” he asks, his head tilting.
“Total accident. That must have been fate’s way of giving me a helping hand.”
He inhales deeply, shaking his head. “I couldn’t stop staring at your chest for days.”
“I noticed,” I snicker and he drops down and attacks my neck with his morning-whiskered chin.
He pulls back and spoons me, his erection delectably stroking up and down my backside as he rolls his hips into me. Unable to stay still, I wiggle back against him, popping my butt out as far as I can.
I want him. Now. And always.
Without asking for permission, he slides one of his glorious fingers between my folds and finds me completely ready. I was ready the moment I woke up. I was ready all night in my sleep. I don’t know if there’ll ever be a day I’m around Booker Harris and not be ready.
Shifting slightly, he positions himself behind me and spreads my legs.
I gasp as he pushes himself inside, hitting a spot that rockets through me like wildfire.
He begins his slow, languid thrusts, and I turn my face into the pillow and bite the fabric to keep quiet because I don’t want to break this soundless bubble we’re in.
It’s not his fluid motions that are turning me on this much.
It’s the intimacy behind how he’s taken me.
Claimed me. Owned me. Like I’m his. I want to be his so bloody much, and that’s precisely what’s happening. This isn’t a dream.
My heartbeat increases when he reaches around and begins playing with my nipples. Every touch he places clicks all the right buttons until we’re both so frenzied, we can’t help but cry out when we finally come at the same time.
After cleaning up in the loo, we’re back in bed when Booker says, “Let’s go do something today. Like a proper date. I haven’t had a free Sunday in ages and I’d love to spend it with you.”
This makes me want to squeal like a giddy girl, and it’s not only because of the massive number of orgasms I’ve had in such a short amount of time. Instead, I nod. “That sounds cool.”
“Maybe we can explore in the woods behind our houses like old times.”
He looks at me hopefully and my face falls. I squirm out from his hold to turn away so he can’t see the anxiety on my face. Pulling the sheet against my chest, I stammer, “You have a free Sunday. Why would you want to go out to Chigwell?”
He pulls me back to him so he can see my face. Frowning, he gives my protective sheet a yank like he’s offended that I’ve tried to cover myself up. “That park is sort of special I thought. I haven’t been back there in ages, so I’d like to see how it’s holding up.”
I force a smile and quickly heave myself off of the bed, busily picking up my clothes from last night.
“I’d rather stay in London today. Let’s go do something fun and different!
Oh! There’s this adult ball pit in Hackney that some students in my class were talking about.
Apparently the balls glow in the dark. Doesn’t that sound like fun? ”
“A ball pit?” He arches a skeptical brow at me.
“Yeah, it’s for adults. There are cocktails and everything. You can cop a feel when we’re literally balls deep.” I lean over on the bed and press a chaste kiss on his lips.
He laughs. “I’d never pass up a chance to go balls deep with you.”
“Yay!” I peal a bit more loudly than I intended. Stopping at the doorway, I look back at the gloriously naked Booker and ask, “Shower first?”
Glowy McGlow, formerly known as Ballie Ballerson, is an immature adult’s wet dream. A virtual playpen kitted out with two hundred fifty thousand clear balls set upon an LED dance floor that shifts into different colours.
It’s bloody ridiculous.
Poppy’s eyes alight with excitement over the setup as she all but drags me through the crowd on the second floor where the bar sits.
Apparently Ballie Ballerson is the cool place to be on Sunday afternoons because it’s packed with patrons sipping on planet-themed cocktails as they take breaks from the rigorous efforts of ball surfing.
Poppy adjusts her crop top that’s displaying her perfect hourglass figure.
I notice heads turn to check her out and wonder if this is always how it was for her, or if I’m just realising it now because we’re together.
I can’t fault the blokes for noticing her.
She’s striking with her short blonde hair mussed high atop her head with some product.
She’s got an edgy yet classy look about her because of her angelic face and graceful neck.
The combination is really fucking sexy, and it makes me feel like a lucky bastard.
When we make our way down the stairs to the pit, she looks over her shoulder and smiles brightly, her white teeth glowing in the black light. Hesitating before we step down into the balls, she yells over the loud music, “Come on, Booker! Stop looking so serious and go balls deep with me!”