23. Harper
HARPER
My breath catches as I swallow a moan. My eyes go wide, my free hand clutches his wrist.
He presses a finger to his lips.
Bastard. I glare at him even as my hips start to move against our hands.
Another creak. Footsteps move past my door toward the bathroom.
My heart is pounding so hard I’m sure Luke can hear it in the silence of my room. His eyes are locked on mine in the darkness, electric and bright with the danger of being caught, the thrill of it.
The bathroom door closes.
A minute passes. The toilet flushes.
Water runs.
Finally, footsteps retreat down the hall and a door closes—Dad’s bedroom.
I gasp softly, my body arching, wishing it was his fingers playing with me instead of my own.
He grins at me. “That was close.”
“You think this is funny?” I’m so turned on I don’t know what to do.
“I think it’s hot as hell.” He leans down, his mouth brushing my ear. “You, in your girlie room, trying not to make a sound while I touch you. Trying not to let your old man hear what I’m doing to you. It’s like a redo of high school, only a hundred times better.”
I hiss as he moves my fingers to push into me. “Luke—”
“Shh.” He kisses my cheek, and the sweetness of it contrasts the naughty way he’s fucking me with my own fingers so my brain practically short-circuits.
“You’re going to be very, very quiet for me, aren’t you?
Because if you make a sound, if you let him hear you, he’ll know exactly what I’m doing to you.
And I’ll have to stop, and then you won’t come. You want to come, don’t you, sunshine?”
“Stop calling me that,” I say with a moan, my hips arching up.
His cheek grazes mine, his stubble deliciously raspy on my skin. “Answer me. Unless you want me to stop.”
I almost sob at the thought. “I’ll be quiet.”
“Good girl.” He kisses my cheek again before resting his forehead against mine. “You’re so goddamn beautiful. Do you know that?”
I’m not, but also I’m not stupid—I’m not going to say anything that’ll make him stop, not when I’m this close to what feels like the best orgasm of my life. As he moves our fingers back out to rub over my clit, I let my gaze go down to watch. “Luke, I’m going to come.”
“I know you are,” he says, his voice rough. He kisses the corner of my mouth, and I feel the lick of his tongue. “You’re going to come all over our fingers. And maybe next time, if you ask me nice enough, you can come on my tongue.”
The orgasm hits me like a freight train.
My entire body goes taut, every muscle locking as pleasure crashes through me in waves.
I bite down hard on my lips, tasting copper, turning my head to moan into my pillow, my other hand clawing Luke’s wrist, probably marking him.
But he doesn’t stop—just keeps working me through it, drawing out every tremor until I’m climbing again into another peak, not stopping until I’m boneless and gasping.