41. Harlow
Chapter 41
Harlow
Heath: What do you like when you’re on your menses?
I spit my coffee. He said what?
Me: Beg your pardon?
Heath: Your sister insists I know how to handle you on your cycle. She says if I think “she’s less than agreeable now, then she might as well be possessed when she’s bleeding.” Hence I am asking what you like on menses.
I laugh hard.
Me: Which sister?
I watch the dots come and go on my screen.
Heath: Helen.
I love that woman; she’s trying to help scare him off.
Me: Well, I like things most women like.
Heath: You’re not like most women.
I should like that line, but it doesn’t do anything. Nothing like waking up wrapped in Harrison’s arms.
Me: Chocolate. Wine. My cat.
Heath: Is that all?
Me: Oh, I wasn’t finished. That was the easy stuff.
Me: I want to watch bloody gory movies where men are bleeding to death. I want to get oral without complaint. I want to get a massage and be told how perfect I am, even though I’m bloated and a complete disaster. I want a new dead bug.
Heath: LOL
Did he just LOL me? He knows how to LOL?
Heath: Ok, now what do you really want?
Me: I meant it.
Heath: You want to watch men dying from blood loss?
Me: It’s my cycle, and you asked.
Heath: Fine. What are your go-to movies?
I think back on my last cycle, with Harrison. How he came over each day and massaged me. The movies we watched together and the time we spent just being. He didn’t mind any of the gore. He didn’t mind that I was horny, kind of aggressive, and wanted people screaming in the background while I sucked him off.
Me: I’ll get back to you on that.
I got my IUD years ago when I was with a long-term boyfriend and in no place for kids. I considered getting a three or five-year one, but I hear some women pass out from pain during placement. I didn’t want to be that woman every three or five years, so I got the copper ten-year. The downside to that is I still get my cycle. So, until I’m ready to have this bad boy pulled out, I’m protected but bleeding.
Pulling out my phone, I come to realize that I’ll be on my cycle right before I leave. I wonder if Harrison will be put off by a bloody show at the end. He offered multiple times to help me get off on my last period, but I wasn’t as comfortable as I am now.
I wonder how fast Heath plans on progressing our relationship physically. I just told him I wanted oral during my cycle . . . so I think it would be fair to ask. He asked me about my period, so I can ask him about his physical expectations.
Me: How soon are you looking to be physical?
His answer is immediate; I’m surprised he was able to read and write a response as fast as he did.
Heath: Tomorrow if you want. I could fly you home, or I could come there. You name it.
That’s not happening, especially since I was just intimate with Harrison last night. I don’t know if it’s out of respect for Heath or Harrison. More likely, it’s out of respect for myself and how I don’t want to move into anything too quickly. While I don’t hate Heath, I don’t feel the kind of attraction I did to Harrison when we first started all of this.
Even as my departure gets closer, I can’t seem to kick the chemistry. It’s just there. As I wait for Harrison to show up here tonight, my body is buzzing. I have this attraction to him that I can’t deny. Despite our differences, our bodies seem to know something that is basic.
I go up the stairs of this house and think about what I would do if I had a house like Hunter’s or one even small like this. A home that has its own plot of land and a driveway longer than the length of a car itself. If it was freestanding by itself without neighbors’ homes kissing mine.
Would black walls with gold and brass fit in a home like this?
What color would I want the banister to be?
Me: Well, I’m not quite ready for that. I didn’t think you would be either.
Heath: I don’t think I’ve been subtle about my attraction to you.
Me: I guess you haven’t. I appreciate you giving me the time I need.
Heath: I’m patient when I need to be. It’s a great characteristic to carry when you work in business.
When I get to my room, I pull out one of my notebooks that hold the poems I’ve been working on. Writing these poems has become a large part of my self-care routine. The BDSM novella I wrote is coming to a finish, and it’s exciting to think about writing another one to carry on the series. Giving my female main character the strength to gain control of her life and find enjoyment sexually after her extensive abuse is . . . healing.
I’ve only had what I think are healthy relationships, but being with Harrison and talking to Heath are making me realize that they were too superficial to last. Heath offers stability and a promise that my other partners didn’t. Harrison offers passion and understanding, which I think some of my partners had, but not like this.
I write a poem about masking. About how sometimes we aren’t comfortable enough with ourselves to let others see our vulnerable parts. About peeling off the layers of shielding we have to put on to be around others. About washing away that mask and being able to breathe again.
When Harrison shoots me a text, I smile at my phone and feel myself relax deeper into my bed before reading it.
Harrison: My parents wanted you to come to dinner tonight. I told them that yesterday was enough. I did grab enough beef stew for two. Should I still pack that bag?
I read over the last line again, and my brows furrow deeply. I think about why he would ask that, and my first feeling of doubt regarding us rises. Our relationship is unique and easy.
I wouldn’t have offered for him to stay the night if I didn’t mean it. Sure, one of the clauses when we first wrote it was to sleep separately, but after the hotel and the barn, I figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. I spend a few minutes mulling over what to say to him. I don’t want to say no and seem like a flake, but I also don’t want to make him uncomfortable if he doesn’t want to.
Me: Beef stew sounds amazing. Thank you for giving me a little time with them. I’m not sure how much I should see them since I’m just a guest.
Me: Yeah, if you want. Then we don’t have to worry about time, and you can get up on time for work.
Those three dots immediately appear as he writes his response.
Him: You’re also our friend. As much as Cassidy talks about you and Hunter grumbles, they want to spend as much time with you as possible.
I smile, thankful for his reminder that I’m more than just a guest. I’m not usually the girl who needs reassurance. Or at least I didn’t think I was. Being the black sheep of my family and in most social situations I’ve had to build thick skin.
Me: Okay, then I’ll see you soon.
Before I know it, he’s at the bunkhouse. I hear the sound of knuckles knocking on the door. I had heard his truck pulling up, so I was already heading down the stairs, but the knocking stops me at the last step.
Is he knocking? Since he’s been coming over almost every night, he just texts me when he’s on his way and lets himself in. It could just be for appearances since his parents are on the property again .
He stands there with a reusable canvas bag but that’s it. No overnight bag. I feel my stomach drop a little, and my face falls. Before he can notice, I fix my expression and welcome him in.
“Hello, Mr. Hill. Thank you for dropping by. Is that bag for me? Another welcome gift by chance?”
Harrison recoils. “Don’t ‘Mr. Hill’ me. It’s weird.” He steps inside and kicks off his boots before taking off his hat and pressing his lips to mine. It comes to my attention that he does not realize it was an instinct to kiss me after our greeting. It’s obvious by the way he freezes an inch away from my lips afterward.
“Welcome home,” I tease.
The next thing I know, the bag is dropped to the floor. He grabs me at the back of my neck and wraps his other arm around my waist. His hard, desperate lips press against mine and I respond immediately. Our lips are pressed against each other with a bruising intensity before he pulls back and kisses me gently.
“Don’t fuck with me, Harlow. I am about two jokes away from locking your rich ass up in a cellar.”
A laugh escapes me, and I kiss him with delight.
“Don’t make bad promises a good boy can’t keep.”
Harrison tosses his hat on the banister post before hoisting me into his arms and jogging up the stairs. My giggles fill the air as he tosses me onto my bed.
“Good boy?” he questions, pulling his knit shirt over his head. I lick my lips in anticipation.
Please be bad.
“Yeah, you’re the goodest boy I know.” I lie back and stare up at the ceiling. I hold out my fingers and tap each one as I name all the reasons he’s good.
“Reliable. Sweet. Kind. Gentle. Couldn’t hurt a fly. ”
I feel his rough hands grab my ankles and pull me down toward the edge of the bed. He flips me so I’m bent over the end, and I almost squeal with excitement. I hide my joy to keep pushing him.
“Tries to act all tough but pulls back that last second.”
“You’re right,” he states, and I deflate before I feel my leggings and panties being pulled down.
“I am reliable, sweet, and kind. I wouldn’t hurt a fly.” He drags his rough hands up the backs of my sensitive thighs. “Lucky for us, you’re not a fly. You’re a witch.”
“I—” Before I can finish my next word, his hand comes down hard on my ass. It reverberates through my body and takes my breath away. I suck in air loudly as he rubs his calloused hand against the smarted skin. It hurts so fucking good.
“I’m no witch,” I spit, moving to stand. Harrison pushes me back down and brings his hand down to my other cheek. I moan this time as he rubs his rough skin over me.
“You are. Ever since you came into this town, you’ve put everyone under a spell.” I hear him drop to his knees behind me. His large hands rub up and down my hamstrings, and he places firm kisses where he spanked me.
He rests his cheek against my ass and breathes onto my core. A hand leaves my thigh and moves to my wet center. Lazily, he drags two fingers around my sensitive flesh, making sure not to make contact with my clit or my aching opening.
“Every person in this town thinks you’re as sweet as pie. They think you’re just what this town needed to have a little extra flair on the outside but loyalty on the inside. They love the way you listen and laugh. They think you’re beautiful and charming.” While he speaks, he plays my body like a fiddle, a song that he knows by heart. My cheek is flat against the mattress, my eyes tightly shut.
“I’m the one who has it the worst.”
“Harris—”
“Your spell has me thinking about you day and night. Every breath I take is for you. I would move the goddamn stars if you told me to. That’s how powerful you are.” He kisses my ass where his cheek was before settling back into his spot.
“You don’t even realize it, but when you walk, you leave a trail of people hypnotized behind you. They stare without a care in the world about anything else but you. Me? It’s not just when you’re around. I walk around in a complete daze, waiting for your next command.”
I think I feel something wet slide down to my temple. I refuse to acknowledge the single tear as it hits the mattress. I nod as he speaks.
“Then touch me,” I croak.
He places kisses on my ass and the small space between my thigh and groin. His tongue darts out and licks my inner labia, still not touching my clit. I feel him circle my opening, and it clenches in anticipation to be filled.
“More.” Impatience resounds in my voice.
When I finally do get more, it’s not nearly enough. His tongue barely dips inside me before it flits across my clit with light pressure. My ache grows as he plays. I push against him, but it’s no use. He just pulls back.
“If you truly are under my spell, then make me come.”
I hear a small, pained laugh barely escape him before he flips me onto my back and puts his mouth over my throbbing clit. His tongue works in mysterious ways as I feel it work up and down rapidly. When I feel his hand slide from my ass to my opening, I whimper with anticipation. I know he’s going to make me come in mere seconds. I love when he fucks me with his fingers while giving me oral. He doesn’t care that it’s messy. He doesn’t care that he’s crowding himself while he’s going down on me. From his eagerness, it’s apparent how much he enjoys it. He’s doing it for himself as much as he is for me.
I feel myself grow tighter around his fingers as my abs tighten and I bear down. This wave is coming fast, and I won’t suppress it. My moans are loud and lewd. It spurs him on, but he doesn’t change pace. Harrison won’t risk me losing my momentum.
The sound of his groaning while my pussy starts to clench and spasm on his fingers is my undoing. I knew I was wound tight and ready for release, but this orgasm came too quickly, and there is an unsettling feeling of desire left. My moans quiet as I come down from my short euphoria.
I let out a huff and pinch my brows together.
Harrison not only notices but almost looks pleased. He pushes me up on the bed and removes my top before taking his pants off. I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful he is, or how ignorant he is to it.
I watch his chest rise and fall as he moves toward me. I see the muscles of his abdomen and legs flex when he gets into the bed and positions himself over me. My legs open immediately to accommodate him so that his erection can lay against my wet and wanting cunt. It’s hard, long, thick, and dripping with precum.
When my eyes travel back up to his face, I notice that the pleased look I saw before is still there, but it’s mixed with a desire of his own.
“Like what you see?”
He doesn’t even know the half of it.
“Very much. Ready to really get me off?” I drag my hand from his shoulder down to his chest and abdomen before I wrap my fingers around him. His eyes pinch shut as I lightly stroke him. “Doesn’t it suck to be teased?”
“Was it not enough?” His voice is strained.
“Not nearly.” I squeeze him, and he groans.
“I will try harder, my sorceress.” He pumps into my hand and kisses me deeply.
Our kiss is intense and desperate, only stopping whenever I stop moving my hand. Harrison braces himself on his elbows and pulls his hips away from me. His cock slips from my loose grip and I drag that hand back up to my breast. I massage the achy flesh and look down to see him line himself up to my opening.
I love watching him slide into me; I feel a strange satisfaction as we connect on a deep and raw level.
He makes small pumps, only getting the thick head of his cock into me before pulling back out. Without a doubt, if I tried to push up, he’d pull back. I feel his hands cup my face and pull my gaze up. When my dark eyes meet bright blue irises, I see his pupils dilate as he slides all the way home.
His nostrils flare, and our eyes stay locked as I feel him slide out and all the way back in. He adjusts himself to hold me in place with one hand, his thumb at my chin while his fingers fan across my cheek and jaw. The other hand is dropped to the bed as he pushes himself up for better leverage.
“Eyes on me, witch.” I roll my lips in, wetting them before I nod.
“On you.” He only nods in response as his hips begin to pump into me.
Every inch of him is welcomed into my body. It lights us both up, and I know he’s seeing in my eyes what I see in his .
Will I address it? Abso-fucking-lutely not.
My hands move on their own accord, one into the mess of blond hair at the base of his skull and the other to where we’re connected.
I don’t want his thrusts to become erratic or his pace to change. I want only this. The feeling of him sliding into me like it’s the only place he’s ever wanted to be. More than just into my body, but into my soul.
I pull him down to kiss me, but it’s short. My lip is captured by his teeth, and he pulls back, letting it go. I look down to his lips for a moment while he licks them, but his hand quickly tightens on my jaw and forces my gaze back to his.
“Harrison.”
“Fuck.” His heavy thrusts continue at a relentless pace. “Harlow, I—” He stops himself and speaks through his eyes. People aren’t lying when they say that eyes are windows to the soul. Those blue irises and dilated pupils are more than just part of his anatomy, they tell me everything.
That he is close.
That he is lost.
That he belongs to me.
“Stop,” I moan because I won’t let him or me say anything else. Only good feelings in this safe space. We won’t utter words that will lead to hurt. That’s not why we’re here.
I move both my hands to his chest, and he stops completely. He drops my chin for the first time since he took hold of it, and my face feels cold from the loss. I push harder on his chest and jerk my chin up.
He knows what I want. With skilled and slow movements, we are shifted in the bed. Harrison lifts me with ease, keeping his throbbing cock inside me. My legs wrap around his waist until he settles against the headboard with me on top.
My arms wrap around his neck, and I kiss his temple just as I start to move. I try to keep things slow, so this doesn’t have to end.
His grip on my hips is tight, but he doesn’t move me. He just squeezes a little harder every time I fully seat myself. I ride him and try to breathe evenly, avoiding dragging him along my G-spot. I was getting close, and I’ve already come. I know if I do while he’s this close and inside me, he’ll follow.
The air around us is thick, and I bury my head between my arm and his neck while I make slow even pumps.
I hear his heavy breathing and whispered curses as his grip tightens and loosens in rhythm. His calloused skin drags from my hips, up my sides, and then up to give my breasts attention. He kneads and pinches before moving up until his left hand hits my shoulder, his thumb dragging along my collarbone. I’m forced to lift my head as his right hand takes hold of my jaw again.
I’m struck in the chest. The look he gives me is desperate. My brows knit, and I pull my bottom lip in between my teeth. I don’t have long to think about it because he starts to pump up, meeting my ride with deep thrusts.
He tilts his hips and knows where he’s dragging his length. Fireworks are lit, and I feel the fuse getting shorter and shorter as we reach our climax.
Our gazes locked.
Our movements synchronized.
I let out soft pants as he whispers against my lips.
“Fuck. Come.”
I’m so close. I pinch my eyes shut but he squeezes my jaw, HARD .
“My.” He pumps into me.
“Beautiful.” Another agonizingly perfect piston.
“Witch.”
He looks into my soul as I come undone.
Not once in my life have I been fucked like this.
“Harrison,” I whimper and watch him reach his climax. I can see the fireworks going off in his eyes as he spills into me. He seats me completely, his dick twitching and jets of cum filling me.
I physically feel the slickness between us as his semen slides down my legs and onto his pelvis.
I emotionally feel the adoration between us as our eyes finally close, and he moves his hand to cup the back of my head and leans my forehead against his.
It’s in this quiet moment I realize that we didn’t fuck.
Harrison just made love to me . . . and I liked it. A lot.