Chapter Thirteen #2
“Oh yeah? And how are you going to do that?” I almost roll my eyes.
Raising up on her tiptoes, Harper tells me exactly how she’ll do it.
I choke on my breath, heat flooding my cheeks, my cock jolting to attention, and that’s before she licks the shell of my ear.
Her hand lowers to my sweatpants, palming my shaft through the fabric.
I groan just as Fiona walks into the kitchen, affronted by our display.
Turning Harper around, I use her to block the sight of my erection to the woman who’s been more present in my life than my own mother.
Alas, this only serves to plant my dick between Harper’s ass cheeks, the curve stroking my piercings. Fuck, this is worse. So much worse.
“Should I prepare some dinner?” Fiona asks, averting her eyes to anywhere Harper and I aren’t. Clayton arrives back from whatever tour he took himself on, equally as impressed by the opulence of the kitchen.
“Dinner would be excellent,” he smirks. Fiona looks at the newest addition with annoyance, and I join in that sentiment. Over Harper’s head, I glare at Clayton, my nostrils flaring slightly.
“Making yourself at home, I see.” Clayton shrugs, drumming his fingers across the island separating us.
“I have no reservations in spending your father’s money.
He owes us as much.” My glare quickly subsides.
I’m not sure when Clayton started considering himself as part of ‘us’, or why he thinks my father owes him anything, but I’m not mad about it.
Take the bastard for everything he’s got and then some.
Readjusting her stance, Harper’s ass grinds against me, a shot of lust burning through me.
“Fuck,” I hiss, gripping her hips to cement her in place.
After the display I was forced to watch last night, I’m strung tight enough to blow if she so much as wiggles the wrong way.
A butler I’m not familiar with steps into view, announcing that the bedrooms are ready.
Perfect fucking time, I think to myself as Clayton extends his hand out to Harper.
“Shall we?” he grins knowingly. To my dismay, Harper accepts his beckoning and strides over to take his hand. I jolt at the sudden exposure, grabbing for the first object that comes to hand. It turns out to be an antique plate which is usually just for show, but has now become my cock cover.
Clayton’s grin widens insufferably while Harper’s lip does a little tuck-and-bite thing as if she’s trying to hold back a laugh.
I scowl at the pair of them as I stand here, half-hard, utterly humiliated and somehow weirdly proud that I can make Harper smile despite everything.
I’ll never be able to understand that girl’s resilience, but I admire it.
“Are you coming?” Harper asks, a snort escaping at her choice of words.
I run a hand over my face, willing my dick to settle down.
It’s no use, and there’s no point covering the tent pitched in my grey sweats when everyone in the room is painfully aware of it.
Readjusting myself into my waistband, I toss the plate aside with a clatter.
My strides eat up the space between us, the staff present making a conscious effort to ignore me.
“We’ll take our dinner in the library,” I tell Fiona as I grab Harper’s other hand and drag her out of the kitchen and up the right staircase.
There’s no point asking which bedrooms have been prepared, as it’ll be the only two aside from my father’s that aren’t covered in dust sheets behind closed doors.
Harper trips on the stairs, staggering to keep up with me.
“Wait, library?!” She breathes, momentarily distracted by the portraits of dead relatives lining the wall, each scowl more prominent than the last as we climb closer to the chandelier’s glimmering.
I pray to whoever will listen that my face never ends up on that wall, although I probably shouldn’t worry.
My father finds me far too inadequate to sit alongside his ancestors.
At the top of the stairs, I make a beeline for a set of open double doors, dragging Harper with me. Just before we cross the threshold, I pull her to a stop and stare at the tail she’s still clinging to.
“Your room is across the hall,” I jerk my chin to the open doors opposite, “if you don’t mind fucking off.
There’s time before dinner for the situation in my pants to be dealt with.
” I surprise myself with my politeness. The old me who would have simply punched Clayton in the face and thrown Harper over my shoulder.
The woman in question smirks, still holding Clayton’s damn hand as she raises her brow at me.
“Is this a pent-up rage thing?”
“No, this is a ‘I watched my girl be fucked by someone else last night with commendable restraint’ thing.” I give her a deadpan look.
Biting down on her bottom lip, Harper releases my hand and lifts it to rest on my chest, not so slyly grazing my shaft on the way.
I jolt, locking the groan tight in my throat.
“So noble,” she comments, stroking the fabric of my T-shirt. Her touch drives me insane, and she’s not even skin to skin with me yet.
“I know, but no need for a medal. I’ll accept my prize in the form of your lips around my cock.
” Not budging, Harper hums under her breath, prolonging this insanity.
Fucking hell, it’s like she’s edging me in the hallway.
Even Clayton seems to be enjoying my torture a little too much, his face splitting open with a smug grin.
Sometimes I’m open to having an audience, but this isn't one of those times. Cupping her face, I lower mine so that Harper’s eyes are all I can see. “Just…please.”
“Okay,” Harper shrugs as if it’s the easiest decision in the world.
That doesn’t quite match up with how she strung me along until I was literally begging, but whatever.
I’ll take it. Turning out of my hold, she addresses Clayton whilst I grip her hips, ramming her ass back against my dick again.
It’s where her ass belongs at all times.
“Do you mind?” she asks him. Fucking asks his permission to pleasure me.
I growl like an animal, the leash around my neck starting to choke.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” Clayton says, raising her hand and kissing the back of it like the gentleman he is. Finally retreating to his room, he calls back loud enough for the mic to pick up his voice. “Just don’t forget whose dick made you squeal and squirm until you couldn’t stay away—”
I drag Harper inside the room, slamming the doors closed between us and that smug asshole who’s becoming far too confident for my liking. I preferred him meek and silent.
“How would you like to do this?” Harper asks, practically distracted by the four-poster bed. I grip her hair in my fist and drag her south, my teeth grinding hard enough to crack.
“No talking. Just get on your fucking knees and suck hard enough to hurt.”