33. Nash
THIRTY-THREE
NASH
If you’d asked me how my day was likely to go this morning, you couldn’t have paid me to believe that I’d be holding Harper at the end of a leash like a dog, leading her into the living room, my cock harder than a steel beam and making it impossible to walk without a limp. Thank the gods Rowan wasn’t home yet because, hoo boy, I’d never live that down.
Angel had already skittered off either to his room or to who knew where. Harper didn’t say a fucking word as I tugged on her leash and led us straight into my room, closing the door oh-so-carefully behind us as I flipped the lock.
When I turned on her, however, the fire in her eyes was back, and now it was directed at me.
"You know, Nash, you have the worst fucking timing in the history of ever."
I curled a finger beneath her chin and tipped that pretty head back, my gaze scraping over her exposed throat. "And you sure are quick to move from brother to brother. Looks like my refusal last night didn’t put a damper on your plans at all, did it?"
I couldn’t help but dig at her. I didn’t want to, but something in me was fundamentally wrong. And the jealousy and rage I’d felt at seeing Angel bent over her, lavishing her with the attention he insisted he didn’t care to give, sucking her fucking face off while she dry-humped him into oblivion atop Lilly St. Clair’s car, no less?—
It wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t right.
I saw her first.
And now, my dick was nothing more than a fucking pain in my side, something to distract me from doing what I wanted to.
Which wasn’t her.
I certainly didn’t want to fuck Harper Daniels.
No way in hell.
But what I said was —
"Get on your knees, Harpie girl."
She crumbled with a tiny whimper like she’d done this before, and a flash of jealousy raced through me at the thought that some other man had put her in this position. Had collared her like a pet. Had made her kneel at his feet.
He wasn’t worthy of such worship. Hell, no man was, least of all me. But my reality and fantasies were all twisted, and I wasn’t thinking straight.
"Nash," she breathed, and I wrapped the leash around my hand a few times so I could jerk her attention back to where I wanted it.
Eye-level with my cock.
"Take it out," I commanded, thrusting my hips out an inch to let her know exactly what it was.
Her eyes widened, and then those gorgeous blue irises disappeared when the black of her pupils blew wide with desire. Hands that had no business being on me scrambled to undo my belt, shaking as she pulled the leather through the buckle, then the loops at my side. She hesitated, her fingertips barely grazing the edge of my waistband, as she looked up at me with those stunning eyes and searched my gaze for something she had no business looking for there.
"What are you waiting for?"
Those eyes of hers held mine like a magnet, forcing me to watch the slow smile spread across her perfectly plump lips. Fuck, from this angle, she was gorgeous. I felt my heart stutter for a moment as her hands moved to the edge of that button, and then froze as that grin widened.
I was almost afraid to find out why.
And then she leaned in and unbuttoned me with her fucking teeth, and I damn near came right then and there.
"Fuck, Harpie girl," I breathed, eager to touch her, straining against my iron will, but refusing to reach out and grip her hair. Instead, I clenched tighter to the leash, tugging on it as a reminder when her lips grazed my waistband .
Good lord, she had a mouth on her.
I should not be thinking about the other men who taught her how to use it this way.
A stray snarl snuck through my wall of indifference, and Harper froze with her teeth around my zipper, glancing up at me for direction.
"Keep going," I gritted out, my eyes rolling into the back of my head when her nose dragged along the length of my stiff dick.
The little gasp of surprise as my cock sprang free, nothing between it and the air now, was like music to my battered soul. This sort of shock, I could enjoy.
"Thought you’d seen bigger, Harpie girl?"
Her hands slid around the base of it, testing the girth and weight, and fuck all if the damn traitor didn’t jump in her hands with all the eagerness of a puppy. Her tinkling laughter as I tried—and failed—to control the eager twitching at her touch only served to enrage me at my unavoidable reactions. I didn’t want her to know how much she affected me. How deeply she was under my skin.
She couldn’t find out how far gone I was for her. I didn’t deserve her. And she didn’t deserve to be stuck with me. She had a life to return to, and I wasn’t a part of it.
Didn’t mean we couldn’t have a little fun before our time was up.
Angel might have problems admitting what he wanted, but I took what my heart desired. And right now, what I desired was her lips around my fucking cock, sucking the life out of me.
"What do you want, Nash?" she hesitantly whispered. "Tell me."
"You know what I want, Harpie girl. Wrap your lips around it and show me what that pretty mouth can do."
She needed no other encouragement. With a lick of her lips, she dove in, her hands moving to the back of my thighs as she took me in, inch by glorious inch, all the way down to the base. Her nose brushed the smooth expanse of my pubic bone, and I groaned when she swallowed around me, fingernails digging into my ass through the fabric of my pants.
Little moans and soft sighs escaped her, tangling with the other, less graceful noises we made together as I watched her fucking bob around my dick like she’d been made to do it. Crafted just for my pleasure, this vixen in the form of a fallen angel. Her eyes never left mine, those lashes hiding absolutely nothing as my dick hit the back of her throat and I groaned.
Shit.
Shit, she was good.
She was so damn good at this.
My free hand fisted in her hair as she slowed, encouraging her to keep going. I wanted to choke her with my cock. Wanted to punish her for how she made me feel. I wanted to cause her pain, like she did to me every time I thought about what could never be.
Maybe a past version of me might’ve had a chance. But I was far past believing I could do more than taste the fucking nirvana that was Harper Daniels.
She gagged around me and pulled off, a thin trail of her spit dangling between the head of my cock and her mouth, tying us together. My hand gripped the leash so hard I thought I might break a bone, but Harper just moaned as I jerked on it again, one of her hands leaving me to fall to her lap.
And we couldn’t have that.
I leaned over her, jerking her almost off her knees so our foreheads nearly touched. The collar and leash forced her to follow my demands, and she whimpered as the leather dug into her soft skin, fingers wrapped around the coarse material on her neck.
"I didn’t say you could touch yourself, Harpie girl. This is about me. Not about you. I want my dick sucked, and since you were so eager to get in my pants the other day, I’m doing you a favor by letting you do the honors."
Her eyes flashed with a darkness that overshadowed that rush of pleasure, and I feared for a split second she might bite my dick off the next time she got her teeth around it. But she didn’t speak against me. Instead, she bit her lip and nodded, so far into a headspace that even when jerked wildly out of it, she still committed.
Fuck, that was hot.
I wanted her mad at me. Mad Harper wasn’t going to ask me to cuddle after a session. Mad Harper didn’t look for love and sentiment where there was none. Mad Harper would leave me in the dust when she returned to her old life and not spend her nights thinking she’d left something valuable behind.
Only I would have to shoulder the burden of wanting something I couldn’t have.
"Fuck you, Nash," she whispered, her lips wrapping themselves around my cock once more.
I didn’t want to think about later. All I cared about was enjoying this moment. A stolen moment straight from my fantasies.
It was a blowjob. Nothing more.
That was the lie I told myself, anyhow.
"Maybe one day, Harpie girl," I snapped at her, tightening the grip on her leash once more. "Fuck, yeah, just like that."
She dragged her lips off my dick and tipped her head back, dragging that tongue over the underside of my cock, and fuck all if my balls didn’t jump up in surprise at the sensation. She was tempting a monster, a beast, and I was busy doing all I could to keep him from getting loose.
Those nails dug back into my skin, this time with no barrier, as she left crescent-shaped marks on the soft skin of my hips, swallowing me down so I couldn’t find the mental capacity to complain as she marked me intentionally. She was trying to get back at me, trying to hurt me like I had hurt her with my words, but she didn’t seem to understand quite yet how much pain drove me to pleasure.
I would have for sure thought cutting myself while I jacked off couldn’t make it any more transparent, but apparently, she was just as good at denial as I was.
"Harder," I whispered against my will, feeling the edge of my orgasm coming on. "Fuck, grip me harder, Harpie girl. Let me come down that pretty little throat while you make me bleed."
She obeyed with a whimper, her nails finally piercing my skin, and like a rocket blasting off, I jerked my hips into her face one last time and spilled my cum down her throat, filling her until she had no choice but to swallow or suffocate.
And my Harpie girl didn’t disappoint.
Fuck, the way her throat worked around my shaft was like bliss. She sucked me dry, lapping up every last drop as she leered up at me from her position on the floor. Those eyes, once so full of life and confidence, were now filled with a tint of hatred and disgust. Pleasure, sure—she enjoyed this just as much as I did. But beneath it all was the undercurrent of hatred I wanted her to feel for me.
It would make it easier when she had to go.
"Fuck, you suck dick like a pro, Harper." I swiped a hand across my brow and winced as she popped her lips off my dick and nicked the tip of my shaft on the way out.
"Thanks," she spat, her eyes cold and emotionless now as she unclipped the collar from her throat. "I had some great teachers."
Fuck.
And just like that, she was all thorns and blades, cutting me like I’d cut her, giving me back the pain I’d burdened her with in spades. She lashed out in the only way she could, and like a fucking dog who’d been kicked, now it was my heart left wounded and aching.
My hand shot out before common sense could process in my brain, and I watched, disconnected from my own body, almost, as my long fingers wrapped around her throat and yanked her around to face me.
"What the fuck did you just say?" I snarled, all rage and jealousy and not an ounce of sanity or civility left in me at the thought that she’d had her lips around other men. That they’d taught her how to suck a cock this well.
The ways they’d likely defiled her to turn her into this blowjob goddess ? —
Hands that didn’t feel like mine shook her by the throat as she bared her teeth like the dog I’d just equated her to, nipping at my outstretched finger that wagged dangerously in her face. I’d dropped the leash in the little altercation somewhere, and now the only thing holding her here was my own grip.
"You proud of being a whore, Harpie girl?" I dragged her to the broken mirror in the corner of my room and spun her around as she clawed desperately at my hand and rasped for me to let go. "Here. Go ahead and take a look in the mirror at what you’ve become."
My free hand grabbed her hair again, and unlike last time, there was no love lost in the way I dragged her face up to look into the shattered remains of our shared reflection. Just two broken souls, both trying desperately not to get attached. Wanting more than what the world would allow them.
"You’re broken, Harpie. The world chewed you up and spat you back out in a mockery of your old self." I shook her again, wanting her to understand. Needing her to see what I saw every day. Maybe then she’d understand why she couldn’t get close to me, why I couldn’t have her. "A bunch of jagged edges, all looking for a body to dig into and bleed dry."
I wasn’t sure who I was talking about anymore. The way my own reflection mocked me had me seething with rage. "Look at it, Harper. Look at yourself." A malicious laugh left my throat as I released her, the sounds of her gasps digging into my brain, promising to haunt me until the day I died .
She scrambled for the door, so desperate to reach freedom that she didn’t bother to look back once.
The door slammed shut on her, bathing me in darkness and shattered fantasies. I laughed again, but the sound was mournful this time—a mockery of my newfound loneliness.
"Broken. Just like me."