5
Greedy - Tate McRae
H orror movies? A big no from me.
Every loud noise feels like a personal attack, and my grip on the couch has gone white-knuckled. “This is crazy!” I exclaim. “Why would anyone choose this?”
Isla looks over, stifling a laugh. “Next time, we’re watching a rom-com.”
By the time the credits roll, relief sweeps over me. I stand, grabbing my jacket. “Alright, I’m out.” And then it hits—no fucking car. My dad dropped me off earlier after a grocery run, and of course, I didn’t think about how I’d get home. Perfect.
“You need a lift?” Isla asks, already stepping toward the door.
“Nah, Uber’s fine.” Classic deflection, even though I’m praying no one checks my bank account. I wrap Isla in a hug, her warmth a stark contrast to the awkward tension buzzing around me. “Thanks for tonight, babe,” I murmur before stepping outside.
I pull out my phone, scrolling for the app. Before I even have a chance to open it, Harrison is beside me in no time, his presence impossible to ignore.
“I’ll take you home,” he says casually.
“No thanks. Uber works.”
He jingles his keys. “Don’t waste your money. Besides, we’re heading out, anyway. Right, Mikey?”
Michael gives an exaggerated nod. “Ladies in the front,” he adds, shooing me toward the passenger seat. Reluctantly, I climb in, and in seconds, Harrison’s car is rumbling to life like a goddamn beast. It’s obnoxiously loud, and as we pull out, I regret every life choice that led to this. Breaking the silence, Michael’s voice pipes up from the backseat. “Oi, Harrison, Mum says she hasn’t seen you much. What’s up with that?”
The shift in Harrison is instant; his hands tighten on the wheel. “I’ve been busy.”
“She’s worried. Thinks you’re avoiding her.”
“Tell her I’ll make time.” The tension in the car thickens, and not another word comes from either of them, leaving an unspoken heaviness that settles like fog.
Harrison’s grip on the wheel stays tight, and I can’t help but wonder why he’s avoiding his own mother. Not that I care—except I clearly do, since I can’t stop thinking about it. He lives with her, yet he’s clearly avoiding her. Strange .
Harrison pulls into their driveway to drop Michael off first, insisting it’s on the way to mine. Sure, I’ll believe that—right after I bet every cent I have. He planned it this way. Now it’s just the two of us, confined in his ridiculously noisy car. Perfect.
My track record of not getting sucked into his orbit? Yeah, it’s been non-existent lately. The other night was proof enough. The silence between us isn’t uncomfortable, but it buzzes with something I can’t place. Harrison’s never this quiet. His usual chatter? Gone. Why?
I lean back, shooting him a side-eye. “What’s with the vow of silence?”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t look away from the road. “Just focusing.”
“Oh, so serious. What happened to the guy who never shuts up? Can’t multitask?”
“You’re distracting me.”
“From what?” My brow arches as I cross my arms. “Your riveting thoughts about car engines?”
“From trying not to think about you.” The corner of his mouth curls higher. “Because when I do, it gets me fucking hard.”
“Jesus Christ, Harrison,” I groan, dragging a hand down my face. “Go back to being quiet.”
He snorts. “Admit it, you love it.”
“Love what? Your inability to filter anything before it comes out of your mouth?”
“Nah.” He shrugs, a cocky grin plastered across his face. “Just saying it how it is.”
“Right. And how it is, is perverted,” I shoot back. “Your brain’s as functional as this car is subtle.”
Harrison’s laugh rumbles. “Subtle’s boring. Thought you liked a little noise, Immy.”
“Ugh,” I huff, turning to the window, my cheeks burning. “You’re impossible.”
“I can’t help it. You’re fucking irresistible.” I don’t bother to respond or turn to face him. I keep my eyes locked outside—on the blurred, dark scenery.
“Just up the road, where the red ute’s parked,” I mutter, praying he’ll just drop me off without any more of his bullshit. Harrison slows, his grip on the wheel relaxing as he pulls up to the curb. The car idles, a low growl filling the thick silence between us. My thighs press together instinctively. Christ. Get out, Imogen. Now. But my dumb ass stays put, glued to the seat like a moth to a flame.
“Well… thanks for the ride,” I mumble, and even to my own ears, it sounds pathetic.
Harrison leans back, a slow smirk creeping across his face. “You sure you don’t want to stay a little longer? Have a… About the last time we were together?”
Heat floods my face instantly, the memory of that night flashing through my mind before I can stop it. “No.”
He leans in slightly, the heat of his gaze scorching. “Funny. Yet, you’re still sitting here. Starting to feel like déjà vu.”
My breath stumbles, heart racing like I’ve just been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Anywhere but him—I focus on the ute, the mailbox, a damn tree—anything to avoid looking at him. “Why must you always persist?” I’m deflecting. Again .
“Because I like seeing you all riled up,” he says, his voice dipping into that cocky drawl that makes me want to slap him—or climb into his lap. “It’s sexy as hell.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Hm, maybe,” he hums. “I bet you’ve thought about it. About how good it’d feel to stop fighting this.”
“Stop talking, Harrison.” My voice wavers just enough for his grin to widen.
“Why? Is it turning you on?” His gaze dips down my body before snapping back to mine. “You can deny it all you want, sugar, but your body’s telling a different story.”
My nails dig into my thighs, trying to ignore the pull of his words. “If you think I’m going to let you fuck me, you’re dreaming.”
“Oh, I don’t think, sugar. I know .” He leans in, dangerously close now, “And trust me, when we fuck? It’ll ruin you for anyone else.”
I shut my eyes, desperate to block him out, but his words seep in, sticky and insidious, painting filthy pictures I can’t unsee. Heat coils low, pooling between my legs as my thighs press together, a useless attempt to dull the ache.
“I should go,” I mutter, grasping for self-control that’s dangling by a thread.
“I think you should stay.” His voice drops to a whisper, and he turns his car off. Oh, my. “You had your fun the other night. Now it’s my turn. Seems only fair, don’t you think?”
A sharp breath escapes me as his fingers skim up my thigh, slow and deliberate. My body betrays me, shuddering under his touch like it’s been waiting for him to set it off.
“Do you ever not have anything to say?” His mouth needs a fucking mute button. It’s not helping the war raging in my head—or between my thighs.
“Nope. And if you think I talk too much now, wait until you hear me in bed.” He wiggles his eyebrows. My eyes betray me, flicking south to his groin. Now I’m picturing him naked, wondering just how big the problem is under those jeans. My thighs clench.
“Not happening,” I spit out, the words landing harder than the disgust I’m pretending to feel.
“Come on, Immy. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. The way you moan... how you made yourself come on me.” His voice is practically dripping sin into my ear.
A shudder ripples through me, thighs pressing tighter, but his hand is already there, creeping up my leg. The relentless throbbing between my legs mocks me, daring me to ignore it.
“Is that right?” my sarcasm bites. “You’ve got quite the imagination.”
“Imagination’s nothing compared to the real thing. I want you, Immy. Need you. Can’t get you out of my fucking head. Your taste, your body—”
“Ughh.” I groan, loudly. Fuck it.
I lean over the console, grab a fistful of his shirt, and yank him toward me. Our lips crash together in a fierce, desperate kiss. A guttural growl rumbles from his chest, reverberating through me like he’s some kind of wild animal. His tongue pushes past my lips, tangling with mine in a clash of heat and frustration. So much for all my words and protests—yeeted straight out the window like they never existed.
Oh, how the tables have turned. This isn’t about romance. It’s about shutting him up, burning off the tension simmering between us, and silencing the chaos in my head. Just for now.
Nothing more. Absolutely nothing. But, goddamn, it’s like a drug—raw and wild, the kind of kiss that wrecks you and makes you beg for more. The fight leaks out of me, leaving only want as he yanks his seat back. He grips my hips and lifts me like I weigh nothing over the console to straddle him. His cock, hard as a fucking steel rod, presses into me, rubbing exactly where I need it.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” he rasps, his lips grazing my ear. A gasp slips out as his hips grind up, making me see stars.
“Is this all you ever think about?” Sarcasm drips from my lips, but it’s weak as hell.
“Every damn minute.” His fingers dig into my hips, guiding me against him, relentless and sure. My body rolls into him like it’s been starved.
“You’re infuriating,” I mutter, a weak jab that earns me a cocky grin.
“Infuriatingly good,” he murmurs, nipping at my ear, his teeth teasing.
Grabbing his stupidly perfect face, I press my lips back onto his, silencing him before any more words dare to come out.
It’s chaos after that. Hands everywhere—gripping, tugging, tearing at fabric. His jeans resist like they’re welded on, my fingers fumbling at the zipper while he rips his shirt over his head. His jeans finally give way, but my pants tangle around my knees like a cruel joke. Neither of us cares. He drags his hand down my stomach before they find purchase on my clit.
I bite back a gasp. The shock of his touch, fingers gliding through my folds, sends waves of heat straight up my body.
“Fuck, you’re dripping. All this for me, sugar?”
I nearly growl in impatience. His fingers push inside, slow, deliberate, and I nearly fucking lose it. The pleasure’s intense, too much, and I fight to keep the moan buried in my chest. It’s been too long since I was touched like this, a man’s hands on me, and hell, I need more. He withdraws his fingers and brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a filthy sound that makes my stomach flip. “I can’t wait to have my mouth on your sweet pussy.”
“Keep dreaming, buddy. This isn’t happening again.”
Ignoring my protests, his hands move to my bra. The relief when it falls away is instant. He stares at my tits like they’ve got a fucking halo around them. His hands are rough as he cups them, and the jolt of pleasure shocks through me.
“Jesus Christ,” he growls. “Best fucking tits I’ve ever seen.”
His mouth closes around my nipple, his tongue circling it before he sucks hard enough to make my back arch. The sharp pull of pleasure escapes me in a gasp that bounces around the tight space. He switches to the other breast, tugging and teasing, his grip rough and unrelenting. Every lick, every bite, sets a fire low in my belly.
“Need more,” I rasp with impatience. “Get your cock out.”
“Yes, ma’am.” There’s no hiding the strain in his voice as he shoves his briefs down. When his cock springs free, my breath catches for a second. Holy shit! Either my vibrator is ridiculously small, or Harrison’s packing the kind of weapon that should come with a warning label.
Silver barbells glint along his shaft, just under the swollen tip.
“Oh, my God!”
His laugh rolls over me, low and smooth—like whiskey. “First time seeing a pierced cock, huh?” His grin widens. “You’re in for a fucking ride, Immy.”
“Do I need lube for that thing?” I ask, still in shock.
“You’re dripping all over me, sweetheart,” he smirks, giving his cock a rough stroke that makes my breath snag. “Pretty sure we’re good.”
Ribbed dildos, thrusting dildos, vibrating rabbits—I’ve tried the lot. None of them come close to the raw, unapologetic thrill of Harrison’s cock. It’s not just the size or the piercings; it’s the fucking promise of it, like he’s built to ruin me and knows it. With one swift move, he yanks me up and lines me over him. The hot, thick head presses against me, teasing my entrance. His free hand tangles in my hair, yanking hard enough to tilt my face toward him. His lips crash into mine, all heat and desperation. His breath is ragged against my cheek as he teases my entrance, pushing the head in just enough for me to feel the piercings and adjust to them.
“I’m clear, by the way,” he murmurs. “Haven’t fucked anyone in… fuck, I don’t even know how long.”
“Great. Me, too,” I gasp, gripping his shoulders. “Now’s not the time to chat, Harrison. Just fuck me al—” The words vanish in a sharp cry as he pushes upward, sheathing himself in one swift, devastating motion. A choked gasp escapes me, my body trembling as I adjust to his girth. A low groan rumbles from his chest, vibrating against me as I clutch his shoulders tightly.
“Holy shit... Just... stay,” I manage, and he huffs a laugh, staying rooted deep for a moment.
I exhale shakily and shift upward along his length, my body shuddering at the feel of him, the damn piercings driving me insane.
“Can I move now? You okay?” he asks, his voice strained.
I nod, and that’s all the permission he needs. Slow, deliberate thrusts quickly turn into hard, urgent movements as he pushes upward, meeting me stroke for stroke. Each rough, relentless movement sears through me like wildfire.
“Fuck,” he growls into my neck. “You’re taking me so fucking well, baby.”
My nails dig into his shoulders, desperate for an anchor as I ride him. Every lift and grind is frantic, the scrape of his piercings hitting just right, again and again.
“Holy shit… That feels good . ”
His chuckle is dark, his grip punishing as he drags me down harder. “You feel so fucking good. Your pussy’s clenching around me—I’m trying so hard not to come right now.”
A shudder rips through me, the pressure building fast. Each thrust slams into me, rough and relentless, the sound of wet skin and gasps filling the air. His fist tightens in my hair, yanking my head back, a sharp cry slipping out as his teeth scrape my neck, marking me.
My body responds, grinding harder, chasing the madness he’s pulling me into.
“Ride me, sugar. You’re close, aren’t you? I can feel you squeezing me like a vice.”
His thumb finds my clit, and the tension snaps. Pleasure explodes, white-hot and overwhelming, my body seizing as I come, soaking him. Literally.
“Oh—fuck! Yes—shit, Harrison—” I gasp between moans.
“Fuck,” Harrison growls, and his eyes drop to his lap, where we’re joined. “You squirted all over my cock, Immy. So fucking hot.”
I keep riding him, trembling, still reeling from the aftermath of my orgasm. “Fuck, keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” he groans.
I bounce once, twice, and he grabs my hips, pulling me down hard. This time, his body trembles under me. His lips crash onto mine, swallowing his groans as he spills inside me, heat flooding deep. The slap of our bodies echoes once more before slowing, our breaths ragged. His forehead falls to mine, inked arms locking around me, holding tight as his muscles tremble with his own aftershocks. My thighs are a sticky mess, the air thick and humid in the cramped, fogged-up car, which is still bloody idling.
Harrison’s chest heaves with heavy breaths, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his stupidly handsome face. Tattoos cling to his sweat-slicked skin, looking unfairly good for someone who just destroyed me. His hands grip my hips, marking his claim, his half-lidded gaze full of smug satisfaction.
“So much for me dreaming about fucking you,” he rumbles, his voice deep enough to spark something in me. “You’re something else, Immy.”
“Don’t let it go to your head, champ,” I snap, but the shaky breath escaping me ruins the effect. His grin widens, and I point a finger at him. “This isn’t happening again. One-time thing. So, don’t get any ideas, Price.”
“We’ll see,” he says, mischief dancing in his eyes. I move to slide into the passenger seat, but the instant I shift, I freeze. Something warm and unmistakable drips out of me, and realisation slams into my chest. My stomach twists into knots.
Fuck. So stupid.
The high from the best orgasm of my life? Completely obliterated. My mind races, taunting me with one glaring truth. We didn’t use a condom.
“Immy?” Harrison’s voice cuts through my spiral, his brows pulling together as he studies my face. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head quickly. “Nothing. It’s fine.”
His frown deepens, and he reaches out, his hand brushing my arm. “Did I hurt you?”
“No!” I snap, yanking my arm back and hating the way his concern only stirs more chaos in my chest. “I’m fine. Really. I should just... get going.”
“Imogen—” But I’m already out of the car, slamming the door behind me before he can finish. My shoes echo against the footpath as I march to my front door, heart hammering in my chest.
Jesus Christ, what the hell just happened?
I pause at the door, gripping the handle as I try to steady my breathing. I’ll take the pill. I’ll be fine. This won’t ever happen again. I close my eyes at the memory of his hands on me, his breath against my neck, the way his stupid grin made me feel like I was floating.
Get a grip, woman.
But even as I scold myself, I can’t bring myself to regret it. Not really. I press my forehead against the door, letting out a shaky exhale. It wasn’t smart. It wasn’t planned. It definitely wasn’t the kind of thing I should be doing with him. But damn it, for one fleeting moment, it’s hard to pretend this wasn’t exactly what I needed.
And that? That might be the stupidest part of all.