Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
WARREN
I’m torn down the middle. The sound of my willpower splitting in two is audible.
You. I need you.
Please, Warren.
Words have never sounded sweeter. She never has to beg with me, but fuck, if it isn’t sweet falling from her rosy lips.
Skin flushed, long legs bared, tight nipples peeking through her sweater.
Denying Harriet is impossible. Pleasing her is my mission. She wants my help. Wants me to stay. Wants me.
The dilemma: just because I can doesn’t mean I should.
I’ve dreamed of this, reimagined it while fisting my cock, her sweet, musky taste a torturous memory slowly fading. The afternoon in her bathroom did nothing to extinguish the fire burning wildly inside, it simply fed it, leaving me deprived and hungry for a refill.
Refusing her would be cruel, with her crystal eyes glimmering from the early afternoon sun streaking through the blinds. I still recall how they glazed and rolled back in the motel. Seeing her so frustrated is painful, and the kindest thing to do is put us both out of our misery.
Mistaking my hesitation for rejection, her legs begin to close. “Warren. If I’m asking too much from you—”
“Keep them open.” My voice cracks through the air like a whip. “If help is what you need, let me be the one to give it to you.”
Because like fuck am I allowing a stranger to fill my shoes.
I’m a devout servant, happy and willing to give her whatever is necessary.
Only once.
It can only be once.
Harriet curls her plump lips around her teeth and drops her knees again.
My hands tremble at the sight.
The lavender fabric of her panties is wet, clinging to her swollen lips.
“You’re not doing anything.” She exhales shakily.
I step closer to the bed. “Oh, I’m doing a lot right now. Don’t rush me, Harriet. Let me take my fill.”
“I look different from the last time you saw me. If you’re not interested…”
She is different. Different is good, so fucking good. Her breasts are fuller, hips a little wider. The slight curve of her stomach draws a deep groan from me, ravenous and feral.
My eyes narrow. “I know what I’m looking at, and disinterested is the last fucking thing I am.” I lower my hand to my straining cock, palming it. “You were stunning then. Now? Christ, you’re a vision.”
Another step forward.
“Tell me how you want my help.”
A shiver ripples through her, nerves perhaps, but Harriet isn’t one to shy away. “Erotic audio is my go to, but I’m so in my head, and my mind kept…wandering.”
Shins now brushing the edge of the mattress, I tower over her splayed form. “Wandered where?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to say.”
Interest piqued, I drop my chin to my chest. “This will only work if you’re honest with me. This can only happen once, and I want to get it right for you. I want it to be good.”
Her eyes shutter closed while she whispers, “Our night together. I always think about our night together.”
Always.
Sparks of lust ignite. Here I was, ashamed to be the only one who thought about that evening with a depraved need.
“Was there something specific you were remembering?” I toe off my boots and slowly move onto the bed to kneel at her feet.
Every inch closer sends my heart jerking in my chest, cock punching the zipper of my pants. Her pupils blow wide as she adjusts her position, planting both feet firmly on the mattress to spread her thighs wider.
I want to taste her. Smell her. Devour her.
“Everything,” she replies coyly. “Your mouth. Your fingers. Your cock.”
“Fuck.”
This moment is about her pleasure, not mine. We risk toying with the already delicate relationship between us if this becomes mutually beneficial.
“I’ll give you my hands and mouth, but this is about you, not me.”
She doesn’t challenge me.
I shuffle closer. “Last chance to change your mind.”
Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.
“I won’t.” She swipes her fingers through her disheveled hair. “I want you—this.”
Pushing away the pang of disappointment at her correction, I unbuckle my belt, dragging it through the loops before throwing it to the floor. Her eyes widen when I settle on my stomach, face inches from her pussy, dick so hard, it’s close to tearing through the mattress.
“You’re in charge. You tell me to stop or what you don’t like.” Goose bumps rise on her skin when I toy with the edge of her panties. “Can I take these off?”
“Please.”
Purple satin glides down her legs until her soaked pussy comes into view.
“Christ,” I mutter into her skin, closing my eyes tightly before I come in my pants from the sight alone.
She’s so pretty and pink, still glistening from her earlier attention.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about how gorgeous your cunt is.
I’ve fucking missed it.” I blow out a long breath over her center. “Can I have a taste?”
“Yes, Warren. Yes.” Her nervousness falls away when she drags a hand through my hair, drawing me closer.
I’m ready to praise and worship. At the first swipe of my tongue, her taste bursts in my mouth, and I know right there I’d stay on my knees for this woman for an eternity with a simple Please, Warren.
“Oh god,” she moans, grip tightening on my scalp.
Using my index and middle finger, I spread her to lavish the tiny bud with quick flicks of my tongue before pulling away to circle her slick entrance. She doesn’t need to tell me she likes it. Her breathy gasps and needy mewls tell me enough.
She hiccups in surprise when I press my middle finger into her, and I find the spot that made her wild last time. Her legs squeeze the sides of my head, voice pitching with desire. One time was plenty to imprint every fine detail of this gorgeous woman.
“Warren, holy shit. Right there. Don’t stop,” she demands.
I double down my efforts.
She clenches around me, cruelly reminding me what it felt like to have her wrapped around my cock. My briefs are a mess, cock leaking and painful. Her hips move in time with my hand as she chases her pleasure. When her movements become desperate and moans grow louder, I know she’s close.
I draw her clit into my mouth, swirling it once before sucking hard.
She explodes, body going rigid before shaking uncontrollably. A sharp pain sears my scalp at her death grip as she unravels. Stunning, so fucking stunning.
My ministrations slow when her body slackens underneath me, and a happy, content sigh blows past her lips.
“Jesus. That was…” She blinks down at me, cheeks ruddy from her orgasm. “Better than I remember.”
I’ll fucking say.
Possessed by whatever just happened, I draw my fingers into my mouth, savoring her taste one last time.
She tracks every movement with hooded eyes.
“Do you feel better?” I rise to sit.
“Yes.” Her expression turns bashful. “I know this wasn’t part of the agreement, and I swear, I’ll never ask this of you again. It got me out of my head following today’s meeting.”
I grimace. “It didn’t go well?”
She tugs on her sweater, the wool falling past her hips, and she moves to fold her legs underneath her. “I wasn’t what they were looking for. Which is fine, that’s the industry, but one of them implied I’d stolen someone else’s work.”
“They fucking what?” I rear back.
She shakes her head. “It was humiliating, and it reminded me why I’m not cut out for this.”
“Hey.” I lightly pinch her chin, raising her gaze when it drops to the mattress.
“Don’t do that. You work incredibly hard, and I understand why you’re feeling the way you do.
They don’t deserve your music and it’s their loss.
Listening to your songs is one of my favorite things to do after a long day. ”
Her eyes flash in surprise. “You listen to my songs?”
There’s no point in denying it. “Yeah. Even created a social media account. One of the probies had to show me how to do it.”
She smiles for the first time since I blasted in here. “You’re just saying that, but thank you.”
“I don’t have to say anything. I mean it.”
Harriet works relentlessly, writing and recording whenever she has a spare minute in between bartending, sets at the distillery or private gigs, and growing a human.
There’s a lot more I want to say to reassure her, but considering she’s half naked, and I’m sporting the world’s most excruciating hard-on, now isn’t appropriate.
“I hope you’re feeling better. If it helps, take a few days off from writing, but do not listen to them.” Rising from the bed, I pick up my belt and boots before pointing at the door. “I’ll come check on the hinges later in the week. Sorry for storming in here.”
“You’re leaving?” She frowns. “You could stay for dinner.”
I envy Harriet’s easy outlook on life. To her, what happened is a simple transaction. To me, it threatens to derail my constraint.
“Maybe another day.” I edge away.
“Or maybe I could come to you,” she offers. “Your kitchen must be finished soon?”
I freeze.
She hasn’t been to my house once, and for good reason. I feel awful for pitching her the lie about the renovation, but it’s easier than explaining the truth. Lines were epically crossed today, and the remaining boundaries have to stay untouched. It’s for her own good.
“Soon, yeah.” My tone is casual despite the pounding in my temples. “I’ll get out of your hair. Forget what they said. They don’t know what they’re talking about. Call me if you need anything.”
My foot hovers over the threshold when Harriet calls my name. I turn to find her crawling across the bed, a cautious look on her face.
“Thank you.” Her gaze falls to where she fists the bed sheets. “Not just for today, but for everything. I know this isn’t what either of us planned, and I don’t take our friendship for granted. You mean a lot to me, Warren.”
Dagger to my heart.
Friend-zoned at forty-years-old.
Because that’s what she asked for. That’s what you agreed. It’s all you can offer.
I force a smile. “You mean a lot to me, too.”
More than I’m willing to accept.
More than I’ve cared for anything in a long, long time.