Chapter 32 Emma
THIRTY-TWO
EMMA
APRIL
HARLAN
I’m waiting.
I sniffed a shaky breath, schooling my features into my best “casual” look.
“Um, I have to step out for a minute,” I said to Miguel.
“Okay,” Miguel said, not really looking up.
“I’m taking a . . . smoke break.”
His hands stilled and he turned to me. “You smoke.”
“Sometimes. Yeah. Nervewracking game and everything. Anyway, I’ll be back . . . soon.”
He shook his head and laughed. “Tell him I said hi.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I threw over my shoulder as I sped toward the parking lot, my purse on my arm.
It was mortifying enough that Miguel caught us getting handsy in the galley, and now he had new fuel for messing with me.
Guess that beat the alternative, which was blabbing to someone.
Harlan had a few cars, but today he was in his Alfa Romeo, leaning a hip on the hood. “‘Bout time.”
I took my voice a little higher than normal. “You wanted me to look at some knives?”
He smirked and pressed his tongue into his cheek. “Right this way.”
He opened the door to his backseat, ushering me in before sliding in behind me. He barely had the door shut before we were all over each other, with me straddling his lap and our mouths fused together.
“Can’t believe you think I’m hot in a polo shirt,” I laughed against his lips.
“You’d be hot in a fucking grain sack, Emma,” he growled, kisses spreading under my jaw and down my neck until he sat back. “Take it off.”
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I whipped my shirt over my head, my elbows grazing the ceiling. Harlan’s hands clawed up my thighs to my ass, kneading while he lodged his face between my breasts. “Did I tell you how hot it was watching you play?”
“You didn’t tell me. But you can show me.”
“How’s that?”
He shoved the cup of my bralette to the side and sucked freely at my nipple. I was just starting to get absorbed in him when he pushed me back again. “Pants off.”
I fumbled with my tab and zipper, having chosen my polo and pants combo rather than my chef’s coat with elastic waistband pants for this day.
Harlan took over, but I had to flop into the seat next to him to drop my pants and remove them at the ankle.
In that time, Harlan took his shirt off and shoved his shorts and underwear to his knees.
His cock slapped his stomach, the piercings glinting in the low light of the parking garage.
“This backseat is tiny,” I said.
“I wasn’t exactly concerned about baby seats when I bought the thing,” he shot back.
I straddled his lap again, now just in my bralette and otherwise naked. “Were you thinking about fucking the chef from work when you bought it?”
I raked my fingers through his hair, suspending my face over his and relishing in our closeness: his arms sealed around me, one hand tracing up my spine, his cock pressing against me, his head resting on the seat behind him, similar to the angle he had in my hot tub.
Harlan’s lips hooked upward and his eyes softened. “It might have crossed my mind.”
“You’re such a liar,” I said.
A spank cracked across my ass and a jolt of lust filled my veins. “Quit berating me and ride my cock.”
“I finally get to have it?” I asked.
“All yours, princess.”
I winced. “Is it going to hurt? All the piercings?”
“Not if you’re wet enough,” he said, dipping to tease my nipple with his mouth. “You get wet for me?”
His fingers crept from my lower back to my ass until he found my center, wet and waiting. “Very good, Chef. Now show me how my princess rides.”
Nerves tingled in my stomach. This was our first time having penetrative sex, and I had to be the one in the lead. “It’s been a while,” I warned, reaching to line us up between my legs.
“Hey.” Harlan waited until my eyes locked with his. “I’m not looking for some porno-perfect performance. I want to celebrate with you.” He brushed a lock of hair behind my ear, and I did the same to him.
“Did I tell you how proud I am of you?”
He chuckled. “Not in those specific terms. When did you stop hating me, Chef?”
“I didn’t,” I tried, but I was interrupted by the intense pressure of Harlan guiding me onto his shaft. My jaw dropped as he lowered my ass slowly. His lips grazed my breastbone as I descended, bar after bar of his piercings passing inside me.
I closed my eyes against the sensation, letting myself feel the impact. “So full,” I managed.
Harlan plied me with messy kisses while I adjusted to him. I opened my eyes to find him smiling up at me.
“Did I tell you how proud I am of you?” he parroted back at me.
I lifted my thighs, testing how quickly I could move on him, each piercing adding another sensation. “Oh god,” I breathed against his mouth, cupping the back of his head and the side of his face.
“Feel good?”
I nodded, exhaling hard against his lips as I lowered on him. Harlan groaned and curled his hips, pushing himself deeper.
“Next time I’ll get you from the back,” he said. “Should feel even better.”
Slowly, I began to ride him, working to rub my clit against his stomach along the way. He buried his face in my breasts again, my bralette doing very little to impede their incessant bouncing. His lips surrounded my nipple and another “oh god” escaped me.
“My name’s Daddy, princess.”
“Yes, Daddy,” fell out of my mouth, and Harlan rewarded me with a deep kiss. His hands guided my ass and accentuated my movements.
“So perfect riding me. You should see how fucking gorgeous you look.”
“It’s so much,” I cried.
Harlan reached down to lace his fingers with mine, folding our hands between us. “I know, Emma. You’re taking me so well, though. Perfect, tight little pussy.”
“Hold me,” I begged. “I’m close.”
Harlan tucked me tighter to him, arms wrapped around my back and his chin hooked over my shoulder. “You got it, come on.”
My inner thighs screamed as my knees went wider, digging into the seat behind him. I was perfectly spread, and I took the liberty of rocking faster against his stomach. My nipples tightened against his chest and I started to shake.
“Push through it, baby.” Keeping me close, he dropped a hand to grab my ass so hard it pulled on my pussy.
“Fuck, Daddy,” I whimpered. “Fuck me.”
Harlan growled through gritted teeth as his pace turned ruthless, taking over where I was too weak and overwhelmed to lead anymore.
The car had to be rocking in a completely obvious way, but all I could think about was coming with him, feeling his release, and savoring this moment together.
His hand gripped my ass harder and I started to cry out.
“Show me,” he demanded. “Show me your face.”
I held myself up on his shoulders and rested my forehead on his. I tried to focus on his eyes, but they blurred into a mass of deep blue. “Fuck, Harlan, Daddy.” White spread across my vision as everything in my body condensed, then exploded.
“Fuck. Fuck. Goddammit, Emma,” he cried before stilling inside me, his hands covering the expanse between my hips and my waist. I sat forward and captured his lips, sweet tenderness flowing between us.
“I’m so in love with you,” he blurted, coughing out little laughs as he looked between my eyes.
Every part of me wanted to melt into a boneless puddle on him and relish in the affection.
I wanted to be able to say it back, but there was that tiny, insecure voice that told me he was just like the others.
He’d leave now, as was customary. I was Call for a Good Time Emma.
Single Mom Emma: Great Pussy, Too Much Baggage.
I wasn’t someone you stuck around with long enough to love.
I felt so much for Harlan, for the way he showed up for our family, for the ways he was becoming better for himself, for the wonderful man he was despite a facade of buffoonery.
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to feel it, deeply.
But I wasn’t ready. I needed more proof, not because of him, but because of all the good-for-nothings who came before him.
So, I deflected.
“Easy to say right after you come,” I said. “Let’s see how you feel later.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek and shook his head with a knowing grin. “I’ll prove it to you, then.”