36. Jude
Jude
I needed to stop playing pretend. My heart couldn’t tell the difference.
This photoshoot was a carefully curated kind of torture, just for me. Holding the girl I wanted under my apple trees, staring into her deep brown eyes, and holding her lips only a few inches away from mine, just for a photo.
It had been forty more minutes, and I was about to break.
I watched as Margot took solo shots of Harlow, her short dress swirling out around her, revealing more of her thighs as she spun, and the camera captured her like a still from a movie. Immediately my mind filled with images of her in the corn maze.
Job offer in Vancouver. Remember that. I needed to sort myself out and figure out what that would mean for us.
“I think I’ve got everything.” Margot smiled at us both. “The blog post should be up by Monday.”
I helped her carry her equipment back to her car and said goodbye. But I was quickly drawn back to the string light-covered trees. Harlow sat beneath them, leaning against a trunk.
“You still look stressed.”
She scoffed. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, I just—” I dragged a hand through my hair. “Do you want to talk?”
She sighed and finally admitted what I’d been worrying about. “If I have to go, I think Vancouver will be too far to give us a real shot. You deserve something more permanent than me.”
“Something more than you?” I crouched down beside her, the rational part of my brain knew she was talking about our proximity, but I was still dumbfounded that she couldn’t see how there was no one better out there for me than her. She’s all I want.
That realization should be jarring. But it just felt right.
I paused for a second, and thought of the compromise I’d been mulling over. This didn’t need to end before it even started. Harlow Spencer and I weren’t done just yet.
“What if it all goes to plan?”
Her expression softened. “Then, of course, I would want to stay in Autumn Creek. I want the job and I want my life here.” Then she added slowly, “I want you, too.”
My voice was rough as I stared into her eyes. “So let me have you then.”
“Even if I have to leave?”
The compromise wasn’t what I expected. I wouldn’t be able to drive to see her, but I could let myself live for a few days without overthinking what would happen next. We still had two weeks before we’d know if she could stay.
No matter what happened, I wanted a glimpse of us. I wanted her for as long as I could have her. Forever or a day.
“Whatever I can take, Harlow.”
Her eyes widened, and then she finally replied breathlessly, “Okay.”
My heart rate finally slowed and I leaned in closer. “So, you’ll be mine?”
For now. I left those last few words unspoken.
“Yours.”
A deep hum left my throat as I pulled her closer.
“But,” she added, “I think we need to be subtle around other people. Until we’re sure.”
A sure yes or a sure no?
“If that’s what you want, sweetheart. But I don’t care what anyone thinks but you.”
“Just for two weeks, let’s keep it quiet.”
“Two weeks,” I replied.
She burrowed in closer to me and sighed.
“You’re not still worrying, are you?” I asked.
“It’s taking up some space in my mind.”
“Well…” I locked my gaze on her. “Do you want me to take your mind off it?”
She paused against me. And then a second later, her hand was brushing down my back. “I could be tempted.”
I released a satisfied breath and dragged my hand up her thigh, over her bare skin, edging closer to where her dress ended.
A gasp left her lips.
“Wait.”
I loosened my grip on her. “Do you want—”
She pulled away and sat up on her knees. There was heat in her gleaming eyes. “I think…” She placed a hand on my chest and pushed me back until I was resting against the tree trunk. “Being busy would distract me more.”
Then her hands traced down to my belt. Fuck.
“I should be the one taking care of you.” My voice was strained, but she was already dropping lower right beside me. Her skirt pooled on the grass as she lifted her eyes in question.
“May I?”
My cock twitched, trapped beneath too many layers. My plan was gone; my thoughts were a mess. I’d do whatever she wanted right now.
“Yes. I want to watch you suck me off, sweetheart.”
Harlow licked her lips and pulled at my belt, before slowly undoing the zipper of my jeans.
My hand gripped at the rug beneath us, just to hold myself back. It felt so wrong to watch this woman on her knees for me when I wanted to be the one making her feel good. But I’d be lying if I said it didn’t look like a scene out of my dreams.
She pulled at my jeans and boxers, freeing my length. I let out a hiss at the cool air on my heated skin. But I could barely focus on the temperature for long, because I was already as hard as stone.
And then, Harlow’s mouth was on me. Her pretty lips wrapped around my cock.
I groaned, pressing my head into the bark behind me as she lowered her mouth.
“You take me so well,” I murmured, and I could feel her smile. “Such a good girl for me.”
She hummed against my shaft, sending a shiver down my spine. She was so responsive. I loved having the proof that my girl liked to be praised. Because I enjoyed telling her how amazing she was, just as much as she did.
“Just like that,” I said tightly as she bobbed her head and swirled her tongue around my tip. “So fucking good at this, aren’t you, Harlow?”
She hollowed out her cheeks, and I involuntarily bucked forward. She just moaned in reply. I couldn’t help but reach for her body, which was bent over me. I rubbed my hand down her spine. Then from her waist to her hip, and lower, grabbing her ass through her skirt.
She whimpered around my cock and her hand, working in tandem with her lips, moved quicker.
My fingertips wandered beneath her hemline as she drove me crazy. They landed on her soft skin and I massaged her as she worked her mouth over me. Then I dipped lower, pushing her underwear aside. I groaned at the feeling of her slick cunt against my fingertips.
Holy shit.
I was a lucky man. I couldn’t believe that blowing me had gotten her this wet, but I was fucking glad it did.
I slowly pressed a finger inside her and felt her clench around me.
So tight. I remembered how it had felt to fuck her just days ago—the sight of her desperate and spread out underneath me.
I wanted to feel her come around me again, but I also needed to stop thinking like that if I didn’t want to lose it right this second.
“That’s it,” I murmured. “Fuck, you’re going to make me finish soon if you keep going like that. Let me get you off.”
She moaned around me, and I let out a hoarse noise as I watched her dress ride up. I had the perfect view of my hand fucking her, dipping inside of her over and over again.
I should really take her home, fuck her in my bed. But I wanted her in a million different ways—bent over the ciderhouse bar, in front of my fireplace, just like this. I wanted it all.
Again, my mind filled with all the ways I wanted to make Harlow Spencer come. And if she stayed, I wouldn’t need to rush to get to them all.
I reached my other hand out, meeting hers where she held the base of my cock. It was kind of romantic.
“Slow down, sweetheart. I want you to come first.”
She lifted her head to catch her breath, and I took the opportunity to move as she braced herself on all fours. I brought my thumb to her clit, and finally, I could hear her cry out clearly.
I wanted that noise pressed into a record.
She writhed against me, and dropped her head back to my cock. Sucking hard. She whimpered as she ran her tongue over me frantically.
I whispered praise into the sunlit apple orchard, telling her how pretty she looked while I filled up her mouth and as she tightened around my fingers.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
I circled her sensitive skin, and I could feel my own muscles tensing, ready to explode. Then her pussy shuddered around my fingers and let out a muffled cry. The sound of her beautiful moans had me edging closer to release too.
She kept moving her mouth around me as she came, her strokes becoming messy but they had me toppling over the edge. She took everything I gave her and swallowed.
She’s going to be the death of me.
“So good,” I told her again as she slowly sat up, looking perfectly disheveled with a soft smile and half-lidded eyes.
“Was it?”
“You’re perfect.”
I fixed up my clothes and cracked open a bottle of soft cider from our set. I handed it to Harlow and she took a long sip from the bottle, as she got up. Before it left her lips, I swept my arms underneath her.
She was still trembling, unsteady, and far too easy to snap up.
She let out a squeal as I pulled her body close to mine, the cider bottle still dangling from her hand. “What are you—”
“We’re going home, sweetheart.”
Despite her objections, she wrapped her arms around my neck. And I carried her the entire way back.