37. Harrison
Chapter 37
Harrison
S he’s been in the bathroom for a while, soaking in the tub and relaxing. I open a duffel I packed but left in the truck until now. I hope she doesn’t find my suggestion rude or ridiculous.
Once the canvas bag is unzipped I pull the sides open and look inside, and a deep red rushes to my cheeks. A rope, a blindfold, a riding crop, a leather flogger, handcuffs, a cock-ring, nipple clamps, and a few other items in a beginner BDSM kit are all sterilized and ready to go. My internet search into the BDSM world was both shocking and intriguing.
As the quintessential good boy my whole life, my pornographic tastes were just as vanilla as the rest of me. The idea of tying Harlow up made me feel both sick and turned on.
I don’t think I could bind her up as much as I had seen in some of the pictures and videos I skimmed through, but I could use my belt to bind her wrists. I couldn’t imagine using a flogger on her, but the riding crop had an unusual appeal. The idea of taking the crop to her ass, both in jeans and without made me hard in an instant. For the sake of Harlow’s inspiration, I got two different BDSM kits in an effort to let her explore her curiosities.
I lay all the items out on her bed and set up some simple restraints under my mattress. Stripping down to just my black boxer briefs, I lie on my bed. I pull out my phone to select a playlist suggested for a simple sensual mood, and Alina Baraz’s voice cuts through the room. Before I click out of the app, I see the playlist Harlow and I made on the way here.
Grape Jammin’.
I smile; I can’t wait to hear all the songs we decided were worthy on the way home. It’s going to be the perfect end to this little trip.
As I sit on my phone, I scroll through some simple black-and-white photos of women for sketching inspiration, but none of them seem to pull me in the way Harlow does. I see curly, sweet, light bobs, and I think about Harlow’s thick, raven locks. I even study them down to their feet and think the woman in the hotel bathroom’s feet are somehow more beautiful.
I’m about to go down a whole wormhole of self-doubt in my ability to get through this arrangement when the bathroom door opens. I close out all the apps on my phone and accidentally cut the music. It only makes me feel weirder that I had sultry music on, and I shut it off when she walked out.
Harlow’s black eyes framed with long wet lashes zone in on the items on her bed. While she looks, I open the music back up and turn it on. Her hair is all wrapped up in a towel, her long neck out and on display. She’s wearing one of my Hill Farm shirts from my bag instead of the clothing she packed for herself, and I catch the sight of her black cotton panties just below the hem.
“What’s this?” She arches a brow. “More spa services?”
I can’t help but let out a laugh.
“You could call it that.”
I watch the creamy skin of her neck and cheeks turn pink. It’s an addictive sight.
She pads over to the bed and inspects each of the items, not saying a word. When she sees the riding crop, her eyes widen. As a woman who rides English, she uses this tool often. I’m sure she’ll love it when I use that one on her the most.
“Come,” I think I say firmly.
Harlow’s head whips over to look at me, a dark smile spreading across her face. When the sinister look reaches her eyes, I worry about what I might have just gotten us into.
“Come?” Her voice is strong . . . stronger than mine. I thought she would listen in this setting.
“No no no,” she says as she glides over to me and holds out her hand. “Give me your phone.” I listen.
“Lie the fuck down, Harrison.” I start to slide down in the bed, and I realize how royally fucked I am now. Her blush, her excitement, her studying the toys . . . it was because she was thinking of using them on me.
Once I’m lying on the bed, Harlow stands over me, the blindfold in her hand. She sets the fabric down next to me once she notices the under-bed restraints.
“Where are the cuffs for these?” Her voice is silky.
“On your bed.”
She turns and grabs them, moving quickly. She kneels on the bed next to me, reaching over my head and attaching a set of cuffs to the straps above me. Silently, she takes each of my hands and fastens them. She tightens them and pulls hard to test their strength. Once she sees that they will hold, she grins. I shift my feet a little, reminding her they’re free. She notices and moves on.
Harlow picks up the soft blindfold and leans over me, looking into my eyes.
“Best. Spa. Ever,” she states, kissing my lips lightly before each of my eyes as I close them. The cover slips over them, and everything goes black.
I am suddenly listening more than I ever have in my life. If my ears could perk up physically, they would. I listen and feel her rustling on the bed to stand, and then I hear her footsteps as she moves away from me.
As if she knows I’m trying to hear her, the music I started to play gets a little louder, and she moves the phone close to my head. Once it’s settled into place, I can’t hear much of anything else.
My body is tight with anticipation, and my chest feels cold. I curl my toes and fist my hands, unsure of what to do.
I wait.
I listen to the music.
I wait some more. The same song that started when she moved the phone is still playing, but it feels like an eternity.
When I finally feel her, it’s not even her skin, it’s her pointed nail. Behind my blindfold, I can envision her. Harlow’s nail drags down the column of my neck, it stays against my skin as it moves farther down to my nipple where she circles it, then flicks across it. I shudder.
It’s almost embarrassing how hard I’m getting from this. I would have never done something like this before her. If one of my past girlfriends had suggested it, I would have laughed it off as a joke.
As I lie here, I feel like I’m living and breathing for her touch.
Once her nail dips into my naval, it makes the last trip to the waistband of my briefs. I crave the feeling of her skin on mine. Over the fabric, I feel her hand glide over my erection lightly. Her fingers don’t curl over it, she doesn’t squeeze it, she just drags her digits across the top.
The music seems louder suddenly, but I know it’s just my imagination.
I feel her glide both of her hands down my legs until they hit my calves. Her strong fingers knead into my tired muscles, and I let out a sigh. I work on my feet all day so to say they’re sore would be an understatement.
“Does that feel good?” she asks. If I thought I couldn’t get any harder, I was so wrong.
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, witch. It feels so good.” I think I hear her laugh, but I can’t be sure because of the music. I squirm a little bit under her scrutiny.
Harlow’s hands pull down my underwear painfully slow. My skin is on fire. I feel as though I can see her eyes traveling all over my naked body. I know my cock is standing at full attention, and I flex a little as if to draw her eyes there.
It's silent, and I wait. I’m lying naked on a hotel bed, blindfolded, and tied up. This is the kinkiest thing I’ve ever done. I want to beg for her touch, but I know it would just make her deny me longer.
Without any preface, I feel the tip of the riding crop slide up my thigh and along my hip bone. The leather is light, but I know with the snap of her wrist it would bite. I worry about the sinister side of her and what she might be capable of. She uses a crop often on horseback, so I don’t really know what I’m in for. I suddenly start to feel a little more nervous than turned on. The crop slides up the middle of my abs to my left nipple. She taps lightly and then pulls back.
“Harlow, wait!” I say before she can give me more.
There’s nothing from her. The crop is gone, and it almost feels like her presence is farther away, too.
“Harlow?” I turn my head side to side to try and hear her movement over the music.
“Witch?” There is a small crack in my voice, so I clear my throat.
Still nothing.
Then, suddenly, a loud jovial laugh cuts through the room. Harlow has laughed in front of me before, but this is different. She can barely breathe in between her laughter. She tries to take a deep breath, but that only spurs her on more. I didn’t feel her do anything particularly funny, so my mind is reeling with what she’s laughing at.
She could be taking a picture.
She could be lining up toys to use on me.
I try to run through everything that came in the pack, but my mind suddenly seems a little lost.
I squirm a little, trying to shield myself a bit, but it’s no use. My movements only make her laughter more hysterical.
Before another word leaves me, the blindfold is pulled off and I’m temporarily blind as I adjust to the lighting.
Once I can see, I’m faced with a truly beautiful sight. Harlow is kneeling against me, still wearing my Hill Farm shirt, legs tucked under her, her wet hair is tossed up in a claw clip, and she is a vision of pure joy. Her cheeks are red and splotchy, her eyes filled with tears. Her lashes are wet, and somehow look prettier that way.
She reaches over me as her lips roll inward to hold in her giggles.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.” She lets out on a light sigh.
I feel wild. A little embarrassed, but mostly just gone for this girl.
“What is so damn funny?” I say, as she undoes each wrist.
“I don’t know,” I can hear her holding back. “You were just lying there, waiting. Then . . . you got scared and I . . . I lost it. I felt so uncomfortable and out of my element, then I saw that you were too. It was just so . . . not for us.” She says as if remembering something and beginning to laugh again. I growl and quickly move to tackle her.
When her back hits the bed, she squeals and laughs harder.
“Stop, Harrison! I’m sorry!” She’s literally going to combust.
“What. Is. So. Funny?” I say, burying my face between her jaw and shoulder. I bite down on her neck, and she squeaks.
“Stop! You’re still . . . you’re still . . .” She can’t talk.
I pull back, looking down at her. Tears are falling down her face as she giggles.
“I’m still what?” I bark out, biting the side of her hand that covers her face.
“Hard!” she cries.
I look down and I am. I am rock fucking hard.
“Well, shit.” I roll off her and grip my erection firmly. “Damn thing has a mind of its own.”
Harlow drops her hands to her chest and takes deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. I situate myself so I’m lying right next to her. I wait until she has calmed down before opening the conversation again.
We turn and look at each other, the flush staying on her cheeks as she grins over at me.
“I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in . . .” She scrunches her nose up. “Well, I don’t think I’ve actually ever laughed like that.”
Harlow looks down at my erection and I sigh, grabbing a pillow and covering myself. It won’t lie flat, and Harlow giggles again. I give her an unamused look, and she makes a poor attempt at a serious face.
“Well, it was hot. Really, it was. You are like sculpture-worthy hot. You were so patient and sexy. I thought, ‘Wow, this is so hot.’ But then I wanted to touch you more and to have more interaction. I tried to push those feelings down, but I couldn’t. I could tell you wanted it too, but you were nervous. You were also flinching . . . a lot.”
I was?
“Anytime you thought you heard something, your body would jerk, and I would have to remember this is what they call a scene. I would get pulled out and just want to undo you and do things the way we usually do. So I pushed myself and grabbed the crop to try and get back into the zone, but you were terrified. Literally shivering, while sporting a massive erection.”
I roll my eyes. I did not shiver.
“Then, I touched your nipple, and you yelped and called out my name. I fucking lost it. Like this is not for us.”
I grab her and pull her slightly on top of me; she looks down at me and smiles.
“Me bein’ scared funny to you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I think I was just so out of my element. Then you were too, like, very out of your element,” she states before kissing my lips. “I love that you were willing to go to such lengths.”
Anything for this woman.
“Of course, I don’t want your inspiration to die out.” I hope I sound charming and a little more confident than I had a few minutes ago.
She kisses me again. “I can’t hurt you. It doesn’t turn me on. It makes me sad. You’re like a tied-up puppy.”
I bite at her bottom lip, and she giggles.
“Do you want to tie me up?” she asks earnestly.
“Not like this. I can’t hurt you, either,” I admit.
“What do you mean, not like this?”
“I think in a spontaneous moment I’d like to try something a little different.”
Harlow’s smile turns from sweet to sultry.
“Well, you better get on that. We only have so much more time.” She presses her lips to mine, and for the first time tonight, my dick starts to soften.
She’s leaving soon. Throughout all of this, I sometimes forget that Harlow is going to get on a plane soon and fly states away. That she’s going to accept another man’s proposal. I have to push those thoughts away because although that may be happening in a few weeks, it’s not happening now.
“Wouldn’t be spontaneous if I told you when I was going to do it.” I roll us over and put my mouth on hers. She opens quickly, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me back passionately.
I will take whatever I can get from Harlow in these last few weeks. As real as all this feels, it’s not . . . and I feel like I will know better than ever now when I find that dream girl of mine.