Chapter 29
Lark
From the lowest of the lows to floating on air, I can’t say today started out as the best, but it ended that way.
Harbor turns off the TV after watching, or what it looked to be judging by his face—suffering, Pretty Woman, and we decided to call it a night.
He sends me into the bedroom while he turns out the lights and checks the locks.
I always feel safe in his arms, but I really enjoy how good it feels in his space.
I keep thinking about the offer he put on the table.
Could I move in with him after such a short time of dating?
Would it feel right not to contribute to the bills?
My heart sings from the possibility of having to focus only on school.
As much as that would be an amazing opportunity, I can’t stop thinking about what happens when this school year ends.
It’s not just the living arrangement that concerns me. What will happen to our relationship? Although we talked about it, I worry about the impact.
I open the door and flip on the light. Standing in the doorway, I look back over my shoulder to see him turning the lamp off. “What is that?” I ask, knowing he’s not going to tell me, but it’s fun to try.
“A present. You don’t have to wait for me. You can open it.”
I get closer, but only enough to admire the blue ribbon wrapped around the white box. “Why did you get me a gift?” I ask, loud enough for him to hear me in the living room.
“Because I wanted to.”
Startled because he’s right behind me, I playfully elbow him in the abs. “But I don’t have anything for you.”
“That’s not the point of a gift.” He lifts me and plants me right in front of the present. “Open it. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Fine.” It feels weird to get a gift out of nowhere, and I wish I had something to give him in return.
“If it’s not a big deal, just tell me what it is.
” I run my finger under the ribbon because it’s too pretty to mess up.
It’s a fancy box like I’ve seen in the movies—one where the ribbon comes off the top—and not how people wrap presents in real life.
Harbor sits on the bed next to the box just as I lift the lid and move the tissue aside. I’m already smiling and glance his way. “You did not.”
“See? No big deal.”
“It’s a big deal, babe. It’s a big freakin’ deal, and I love it.”
I pull the shirt out of the box and hold it up in front of me. I can’t resist. I toss it to him and pull my own shirt off over my head. Standing there without a bra or shirt on, Harbor says, “I would have given you this sooner if I’d known I would get to see those tits.”
“Tits. It’s so, I don’t know. Vulgar.”
Shrugging, I say, “I think it’s direct.” He reaches forward and squeezes both at the same time. I stand in front of him and take my gift back, slipping the shirt over my head as he kneads anyway.
“That it is.” But I don’t know if I stand by that the way I used to or even vocalized. He never calls them tits in a crude way, but almost reverential. And what he’s doing now feels so good that I consider leaving the jersey off a little longer just to let him continue.
But I’m too excited over this gift, and the fabric comes down. I run into the bathroom to take a look. From the bedroom, he asks, “How do you like it?”
“It fits perfectly.” A little baggy so I can wear a shirt underneath when it gets cold, but it has a nice cut to follow the lines of my waist. I look at myself from every angle, smiling so much my cheeks start hurting.
“How do I like it?” Admiring it a little longer in the mirror, I then turn to run into the bedroom and tackle him on the bed.
Straddling him with my legs, I run my fingertips over the detailing of the team’s name, the blue embroidered edges even nicer than I remember. “It’s the best present I’ve ever got.”
“Really?” There’s a hint of surprise in the response.
I nod eagerly. “Really. Thank you. I absolutely love it.” Anchoring my hands on either side of his head, I lower myself to kiss him. “What made you buy this for me?”
“You said you’d always wanted a Yankees jersey. No real fan can be without.”
I won’t disagree, but I also know this is officially the most expensive item of clothing I own.
By the way his hands roam my body, I can tell I have him right where I want him.
Squeezing my thighs with him between them is such sweet torture as I feel him growing harder by the second. “I should have warned you, babe.”
“Warned me about what?”
“You’re never getting this jersey off me again.”
He balks in laughter. “Wanna bet?”
“What’s the wager?”
Gripping my hips, he encourages me to rock on top of him. “If I get this shirt off you, you consider my earlier offer? Seriously consider it.”
I already have, but I don’t say anything because getting his hopes up and then saying no could put our relationship in jeopardy. “Okay. I’ll agree to that, but what happens if I win? What’s my prize?”
I run my tongue over my bottom lip, letting it linger in the corner for a few seconds simply because I know it drives him wild. He’s mesmerized. I love that I’ve learned so much about him and what turns him on.
“I’ll let you take my car on a joyride. Anywhere you want to go.”
I loved driving his car the one time I did. The purr of the engine alone had me feeling powerful. I wouldn’t mind it. “Hmm. I didn’t expect the offer to be so tempting.”
“Joyriding in my car is tempting, but living with me isn’t? If I were a lesser man, I’d take offense.”
“But you’re not.” I wiggle on top of his manhood just to prove a point. Holding out my hand, I say, “You got yourself a deal, Westcott.”
We shake hands on it. It’s an easy bet to accept with no real commitments attached. I was already considering the offer, so I’m halfway there. I’ll still play along, though, to keep the fun going.
When I kiss him again, we roll over with our legs tangled together and arms wrapped around each other. With Harbor on top, the kiss deepens. He can look at me, and my body reacts, but when he moves against me, our bodies are already making love despite the clothes that cover us.
His hands slide under the jersey, finding my breasts again and squeezing to start but then teasing my nipples with his fingertips.
The thin material of my yoga pants allows me to feel every inch of hardness underneath the denim.
I take a deep breath, but the sensations are too intense, and I moan, not holding back.
Here, in his apartment, we get to be us. Loud, quiet, moaning, or talking until three o’clock in the morning. No one is around to tell us we’re bothering them or keeping them up. It’s us, doing what feels good.
Pushing up, Harbor hovers over me. As I search his eyes, his hands roam free over my body. He slows, then asks, “How are you feeling?”
“I’m ready to feel you inside me again.”
“I can make that happen.” We start to kiss, but he’s quick to stop. “I’ve been thinking about what you said in the bath. Are you still open to it?”
I tick through the many things said, but only one stands out to me. “I’m on the pill—”
“How do you feel about not using a condom?”
“I just had sex for the first time. You felt amazing to me. I imagine the connection could be even better, so I’m open to it if you are.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Our lips press together again, but then I stop him this time. “Babe?”
“Yeah?”
“Have you . . . did you . . .” I’m not sure how to say this without sounding jealous.
His hand caresses my cheek, and he whispers, “I’ve never had sex without using a condom.” Why does this make me feel special?
It shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is. We start kissing again, and one thing leads to another. As usual, patience has left the building. I’m working on removing his jeans, and he’s already managed to get my pants halfway down my legs. But the jersey’s still on.
I’m winning.
But Harbor plays dirty, dipping his hand between my thighs and heading straight to the apex of my legs.
As he massages circles over my clit, I move with the sway of his hand.
Until his fingers find my entrance and dip in.
He slowly drags them back out and over my belly and crosses my chest. Then he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them in.
The daring and erotic act is such a major turn-on. I hurry to remove his jeans and then his underwear, ready to slide down on top of him again and re-capture the electricity that leaves me feeling like a livewire buzzing in bliss.
He then runs a finger wet from his mouth over my lips and kisses me as if he’s tasting me for the first time. “You taste as pure as an angel, like heaven on earth.”
As he spreads my legs, his movements are rough, his touch filled with desperation and determination.
He squeezes the outside of my thighs and runs a finger through my lips, then even farther down to touch my ass.
Kisses are erratic as our bodies search for purchase.
But I can’t hold on because the desire is too strong.
I reach between us and angle his penis toward my entrance.
He thrusts into me, forcing out a gasp, and my grip on him tightens dramatically.
“Hold on to me,” he says. “This isn’t going to be gentle.”
I’ve just grasped his shoulders when he starts thrusting.
It’s hard and deep, the stretching and intensity of our connection that I craved returns.
“God, yes. You feel so good.” I dig my nails into the shoulders and then drag them down his back.
As if that was the permission he needed, he starts fucking me like he’ll never get another opportunity.
I hold him and use his body as leverage meeting him blow for blow, thrust for thrust. Sweat glistens on his forehead.
His eyes are closed, clenched tight. The hold on my body is strong like I’m a rag doll.
I don’t mind and secretly crave it. I want him to take me, to use me how he needs because I’ll do the same to him to chase my release.
The fire inside has been lit, the heat starting in my belly and spreading to my limbs. I move against him, with him, taking the fullness and fucking him like he’s doing to me.
As we begin to lose control, I stop chasing and start racing toward the finish line. It doesn’t take much, just a scrape of his nail over my clit, to send me spiraling. “Harbor.”
One name escapes my tongue, and he’s there, looking into my eyes as I fall to pieces. And I know, for certain, that nothing can tear us apart.
The stars shine before the dark sets in, and my body can finally rest. I don’t let go of him, though, not until he’s depleted and falling into peace with me.
His body rests on top of mine, and although it’s harder to breathe under his weight, my arms tighten around him, never wanting to let him go. And I have my answer. “Jersey’s still on, but you’ve just got yourself a new roommate.”