Chapter 11
Asher
She’s struggling. This is stupid.
I can hear her through the bathroom door.
The back and forth, the catch and release, she’s in turmoil.
I’m not gonna lie, knowing that I have deconstructed her moral path a little gives me a bit of an ego boost. Who stays a virgin for the sake of being a virgin anyway?
It’s not like the St. James’s are known for their straight and narrow ways.
No, I don’t believe righteousness is involved at all.
I think Harper is afraid. I also don’t think she has any reason to be afraid with me.
Kissing her is so natural. It’s so different from any other person I’ve ever kissed before.
Most girls are hasty, trying to prove that they are good kissers.
It’s forced passion that comes off as eager and needy.
Not Harper. Harper kisses like she’s curious while revealing a part of herself no one else gets to see.
I want more. Everything that just happened out there only made me want more. Even if it was more than I could have imagined doing with her, ever.
“Fuck,” Harper’s irritated whisper comes from behind the door, and I hold my breath. I don’t want her to know I am standing here, listening to her trying to work out her frustrations in the shower.
I can hear her panting. She makes tiny moans that I am sure she is trying to keep quiet. What I wouldn’t give to be on the other side of the door. To watch her touching herself. To do it for her…
“Come on,” she says with worked up irritation. Then another, higher pitched gasp. She whimpers again, but only slightly. It’s as if she is forcing it, attempting to will the pleasure into existence.
“Ash…”
I stop, my attention jerking to the door, and I hold my breath waiting for her to say more.
Did she just say my name? Or did I imagine it? Fuck. My dick is as hard as granite listening to her right now, imagining her in there. Is it wrong to beat one out while standing here? It’s not like I’m watching her. And even if I were, she’s practically moaning my name anyway.
I reach in my shorts, still wet from the beach and the pool, and clasp my cock in my hand. I stroke it once, just enough to release a little pre-cum. Just enough for a small bit of relief. I am on the fast track to a nasty case of blue balls right now.
“Fuck!” Harper blurts out, and the shower shuts off. And that’s it. No climactic scream. No quivering shriek. Nothing.
She didn’t get off.
I back away from the door and seconds later she comes out in a towel.
Without looking at me, she takes a hard right into the bedroom and closes the door.
I let out the breath I have apparently been holding for the last six minutes and hop in the shower myself to rinse off.
When I get out, I put on one of the spa robes and make my way to the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge.
Harper comes out a few minutes later with wet hair and flushed cheeks.
She’s wearing a pale pink oversized t-shirt with no sign of a bra underneath, short, gray cotton shorts that barely cover her ass and nothing else.
She smells like coconut and vanilla and flowers, and my balls go two shades bluer.
“No luck?” I ask. I am sitting on the couch nursing a beer. It’s some kind of amber ale from a local microbrewery. I didn’t even know Costa Rica had microbreweries.
“What are you talking about?” she asks, grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge.
I take another slow sip of beer and point to the bathroom. For a second, she looks lost, then her eyes widen and her mouth pops open.
“Were you spying on me?” she asks.
“No,” I lie. “You weren’t exactly quiet.”
Harper’s cheeks flush red, and it spreads all the way down to her neck.
I sit up. “But you weren’t exactly loud either, which leads me to believe that it was less than satisfactory.”
“I cannot believe you were spying on me!” she cries out, and I stand up.
“Well, it’s kind of hard not to when you’re cussing in frustration,” I point out. I could mention that she said my name, but I decide not to. I’m not actually looking to fight with her right now.
I round the couch and walk into the kitchen. “You know it can be much better, right?”
Harper lets out a grumpy sigh. “What can be much better? What are you talking about?”
My lips tip into a smirk. She’s still playing dumb. It’s hard not to ruffle this girl’s feathers when they’re already so rumpled.
“Even when you’re doing it yourself, it can be very, very good if you know your body well enough…” I go on.
“We are not having this conversation!” she shrieks. She’s storming around the kitchen, refusing to look at me, and I can’t help but bite back a grin.
“Why not?” I ask. “We’re adults.”
“Because it’s inappropriate,” she argues. “What I do, or don’t do in the shower, is none of your business.”
“It kind of is, though. When you’re doing it in the shower that we share, and I can hear you, it kinda makes it my business.”
She glares at me but at least it’s eye contact.
“What do you know about it? About what makes a woman…” Harper can’t seem to finish the sentences, not without her throat rising and falling as she works herself into a frenzy.
“What do I know about women?” I repeat the question, moving to stand right in front of her. “I hate to admit it, but a lot.”
“Oh really?” She asks with a nervous laugh.
“Really.”
“Like what? Men are all talk.” The girl is literally grasping at straws right now.
“Hmm, let’s see. Like lowering my voice so my tone is raspy and makes their skin prickle as if my words are brushing across their skin.
Or when their nipples are hard and begging to be touched, when you tease them just right, it’s nearly enough to get them off without anything else.
The right amount of pressure with my thumb or tongue against their pussy is enough to start a fire.
But flicking their clit, that soft, sensitive spot just before their opening, is the key to a truly explosive orgasm that will leave them helpless, forgetting even their own name. ”
For a moment, it looks like Harper has forgotten to breathe. When she takes a breath, it’s more like a gasp; light and desperate. She blinks fiercely and looks away, fumbling with her water bottle.
“But, like you said, what do I know about it?”
I walk back into the living room, leaving her standing in the kitchen, unsure what to do with herself or knowing exactly what to do with herself.
Later that night, we sleep in the bed together. She is under the sheets; I’m on top. Back to back, she even puts a pillow barricade between us, which is fine.
I am nearly asleep when I feel the bed shift.
Harper gets up slowly, carefully, hoping I don’t notice.
She tiptoes into the living room, leaving the door cracked as she goes.
I roll over, and while I can’t see much, I can tell she’s on the couch.
At first, I think maybe she just wants to get away from me, then I hear it.
Soft whimpers. Tiny moans. Heavy breathing. Sharp, jagged breaths that become panting.
“Oh fuck,” she whispers softly. So softly that if the villa wasn’t dead quiet right now, I wouldn’t have heard it at all.
Fuck it.
I roll on my back and bend my knees, reaching down I grab my dick by the shaft. As her breathing becomes more jagged, I stroke. She gasps, a little more audibly this time, and I stroke faster.
“Yes,” she says shakily.
Yes.
I can see her fingers in my mind, doing everything I told her. Flicking her clit. Caressing her nipples. I can picture her wetness dripping slowly from her opening, making her soft, warm skin slick. Easier to pleasure. More sensitive to touch.
“Fuck,” I groan softly, hoping she doesn’t hear me. Praying she won’t stop. If she stops it will end me, and not in a good way.
But Harper is lost in her own pleasure to pay any attention to what’s going on in the bedroom. If I had to guess, she is feeling everything for the first time. A meteor could crash into the pool outside, and she wouldn’t notice it.
Harper’s breathing quickens and I stroke faster, harder as she moans, unable to control the volume at this point.
“Yes, baby girl, just like that,” I whisper gruffly as she pants. I can hear her writhing on the couch as the orgasm nears. I can also feel my own, rushing through my thighs, burning and threatening with each stroke to break loose.
“Fuck,” she whimpers.
“Yes,” I say a little louder, almost hoping she can hear me.
“Oh, fuck…”
“Come for me,” I say through my teeth.
She cries out. No hesitation, no control. I come hard and the orgasm rips through us. We both fall silent and just lie there, me on the bed and her on the couch. There is at least twenty feet of space between us, and yet, somehow, that was the most satisfying thing I’ve ever done.
Like the waves crashing outside crashed into us, leaving us both completely undone.