Cupid

Chapter 17

I’m standing in front of Harper’s apartment door without a plan.

Not even an inkling of what I want to say to her but I was pulled here by some unknown feeling that wants me to spill my guts to her.

She’s been a ghost the past two days. Barely answering my texts, doing whatever she can to not be in the same room as me at work, and it’s slowly killing me.

I’m consumed by Harper and I don’t want to stop. It’s more than sex, it’s more than any physical pleasure she pulls from my body. It's bigger than our dynamic, and deeper than anything I thought I could find or deserve.

In my fifty-two years on this earth, I’ve spent most of them alone.

Filling my time with work, a few friends and more passing flings than I can even recall and all of it was fine.

I was fine. I built a life I was comfortable dying in while the world moved around me, and the idea of love never crossed my mind.

Until Harper. And now she’s the only thing occupying my mind.

Muffled footsteps come from inside once I finally draw the courage to knock.

When the door swings open, I don’t quite know what I’m looking at.

Most of my time with her is spent at work, when she’s styled in a way that meets all the business standards and yet still hangs onto her whimsical aura.

Her hair is usually in soft curls or tied nicely at the nape of her neck.

She wears such little make up, I would never think to be shocked to see her without it.

But I am.

Because she’s not just dressed down for a night at home, her entire appearance looks like she’s straddling the edge of frazzled and a full on breakdown.

I can’t even get a breath out before she bursts into tears and buries her head in her hands. Without an invitation, I rush through the door, scooping her in my arms and kick the door shut.

“Baby, what happened?” I asked, ready to avenge her, like a knight with a sword at the helm, for whatever or whoever did her wrong. Her only answer is a choking sob against my chest.

With a slight bend, I scoop her up, cradling her against my chest and look for the couch. I’ve never been here before but Harper seems to live like any other average twenty-five year old.

Falling carefully into the couch, I grip Harper tighter as to not let her slip off my lap. It takes a couple adjustments but soon enough she’s cradled in my arm, face still buried into the front of my shirt, soft cries still coming. And I feel utterly helpless.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know where to start. There’s never been a time I’ve felt the need to fix all the wrongs in the world for one single person, and I’m afraid if I prod her with questions, it will only make it worse.

So I don’t say a word. My arms grip her tight to my body as I press my check against the silky strands of the hair piled on top of her head.

And I wait.

It’s amazing the things you can learn about someone from just their home.

If I walked into five homes blindly, I would still guess this one would belong to Harper.

Warmth oozes from every corner, seeping into your skin the longer you stay.

Art decorates every wall, prints and canvases, some that look as if she drew them herself, making it seem as if we’ve landed into a museum and not a living room.

It’s all her, every inch.

Minutes tick by and with each one that passes, her breathing evens out, and she melts deeper into my arms. It’s a feeling unlike anything I’ve ever encountered and all at once, it's like a missing piece of me quietly slides into place.

I love her.

I love her, and I want this. This moment where I’m her comfort, every day. Every day for the rest of my days.

Harper stirs. Her face is still pressing into my chest when I look down at her. “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. Her next breath is heavy, warming where her lips are pressed against me and a weak answer is muffled by my shirt

“No.”

I brush a few fallen tendrils of hair back so I can see her. One eye peels open and looks up.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“I’ve ruined everything.”

“Everyone makes mistakes but I doubt you ruined anything.”

Harper sits up in my lap. “What do you know about making mistakes? You’re perfect.” Her face screws into a glare when I laugh. I lean forward and place a kiss against her cheek, and then the other until her face softens.

“I wish that was the truth, Sweet Girl, but I am the furthest thing from perfect.”

She huffs out in disbelief, rolling her eyes as she does. “I called the manager of the band I scheduled months ago to confirm they had everything for Saturday and they told me, my assistant called and canceled them a few days ago.”

“What?”

She expels a large breath. “I don’t know how it happened, or why, but I didn't call to cancel and there was nothing I could do to get back on their books. It’s like someone is sabotaging me.

” Anxiety pushes her voice up an octave as she talks.

“I don't know what to do. I’ve ruined the ball, which helps so many departments which I’ve now also ruined.

Maybe you’re not perfect but I doubt you’ve ever nearly taken down a town with your job. ”

“Have I told you why I’m here, in Cupid?”

A few of the coiled tendrils framing her face shake with her head.

The story isn’t even shocking, but it sits in my chest and I’ve been walking around with this shameful medal since I got here.

My fingers slip up and down her leggings, a soothing pattern that was initially for her but now it’s the only thing tethering me to this moment.

Harper is the least selfish person I’ve met, I doubt that once she finds out, she’ll leap from my lap and cast me from her house, but I hook my hands around her hips as if that will keep her here anyway.

“I’ve belonged to Midnights since it began, before it even began. I gave Maxine the start-up funds to open the place,” I begin, brushing my thumb along the sliver of skin showing between her bottoms and the small tank top.

“You know Maxine?”

There's an unmistakable infliction in her voice. “Not like that. Maxine and I are friends, and only friends. We met in business school. She came from a family where she had to work nights and weekends, with no days off to even afford school, and I obviously had money to spare. I don’t remember how we found out each of us preferred a certain type in the bedroom but as a gift for her one of her birthdays and for myself I gave her the funds to start Midnights.”

“And you two have never been together?”

I laugh at the skeptical glimmer rolling through her eyes like a slow fog as she leans back, glowering in my direction.

Maxine is beautiful so I don’t fault her for asking, but even if Harper doesn’t see it, I belong to her and only her.

“Never, we’re friends only. Besides, Maxine is a lot like me in the bedroom, and that can be challenging to say the least.”

“What does Midnights have to do with your job?”

“Exactly what I asked my father when he found out that not only am I a silent partner for a sex club, but that I also frequent said sex club.” She shifts on my lap and while I want to push into her flesh and keep her, I’d never force her to stay.

“My father didn’t like that the board edged him out as CEO when he turned seventy and then appointed me.

He told me that if I stepped down quietly, he wouldn’t leak to whatever press outlet would listen, how I’m a sexual deviant who likes to prey on helpless women in order to control them. ”

A soft gasp falls from her mouth and her warm, earthy eyes widen. An outpouring of relief runs through me. As if someone was finally seeing it from my point of view. “He did not,” she whispers.

“Unfortunately, he did. My first thought was to call his bluff but something like that could not only ruin everything I’ve built for myself, but it could ruin the company, and worse it could destroy everything Maxine worked for.

If it was just me, then I probably would have told him to shove it and deal with the consequences but I couldn’t let my proclivities bring down the people around me. ”

“He had no right. What you do in the bedroom is nobody's business but yours and whoever willingly consents to being with you. Just because you like things a particular way, doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Doesn’t it, though?”

Her head tilts to the side, eyes pinging around my face with a softness I’ve grown to crave. “I don’t understand,” she says, and I wish I never opened my mouth at all, because what if this is where I lose her?

“But what if he’s right?” I approach the question as I would a wounded jungle cat, ready for the answer to destroy me.

“I’m not helpless, Nolan.” Her voice immediately defensive.

“I know.”

“And you don’t control me.”

“I know.”

“ I can say no or stop or leave at any time.”

“Of course you can. I don’t want to control you, I never wanted that.”

“So fuck him.” She’s smug when she says it.

My head rears back as the words burst through her perfect lips. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard Harper curse. The vulgar sound is harsh coming from her but pulls a laugh deep from my chest.

“I’m serious. What we have or are doing is no one’s business and even if it was, it’s not wrong, so fuck him for thinking he can try and out you to get what he wants.”

“Are you sure you’re real?” I muse out loud as I press forward and capture her lips with mine. It’s a tender action, millions of miles away from our usual embraces but feels intricately right.

A heavy sigh crawls up her throat at the first touch, and I swallow it down, hungry for anything she gives me.

Because she’s right. Fuck him. Harper was never someone to control, or someone I tricked into my bed.

I presented an option, she said yes, and it immediately became a privilege to be with her.

But I want more. So much more. I yearn for her obedience, but I need her more.

My arms circle around her waist, and one hand snakes up her spine and into her hair as I deepen the kiss. Exploring with my tongue as her jaw drops open with a heavy pant, allowing me to slip through. It’s the kind of sound a man can get drunk on, one simple noise and my head is the clouds.

“I want you,” she says on an exhale, breath dripping with sweet desperation. She could ask for anything, and I know I could never deny her.

“You have me, Harper,” I confess, not even scared, that for once, I’ve told the truth. I don’t care about what the fallout may be from my words, if she’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my life devoted to her.

Her hips roll, the friction is almost unbearable. Unbridled heat radiates from between her thighs, drowning me in warmth I want to wrap myself in. She does it again and a slight whine fills her chest that my cock responds to, hardening to a painful threshold in my slacks.

“You like that, Sweet Girl?”

Her head lolls in a slow nod as she continues to rock back and forth.

“Use me, Harper,” my words strain, already on an edge. “Rub your needy cunt on me, make a mess of me.”

She rocks back and forth, the thin fabric growing wetter with every slow passing. “What’s the lesson for tonight?” She mumbles against my lip, sliding her arms around my neck, pulling me closer.

“No lesson, just you and me, baby.”

She pulls back, searching my face. There's a million things I can say to her right now but that's not what she needs.

Without a word, she moves like water, pliable and willing as I guide one of her legs over my thigh. It's not enough, not nearly enough for what I want to give her.

“Are you particularly attached to these?” My voice rattles with want as I skim my fingertips along the waistband of her leggings.

I love that she answers without pause. “No, Sir.”

Thin fabric rips like tissue paper, exposing her to me. Harper sucks in a sharp breath. Under her leggings, she’s completely bare. Bare, glistening, and perfect. I guide her down onto my thigh, until she’s enveloping me in a heat I’ll gladly die in.

“Take what you need, baby.”

Harper’s hands press against my shoulders, fingers intertwining with the fabric, and slowly tilts her hips, dragging her center along my thigh.

Shudders rattle our chests simultaneously. My head falls back to the couch as hers dips forward to press against my chest. “Do it again,” I strain to say, barely hanging on by a thread.

She pulls back and rocks forward again. “Yes, Sir,” she breathes and I feel the smile playing on her lips.

I’ve died and gone to heaven. If there was anything past heaven, I would have transcended there as well.

Harper is relentless, picking up speed, slowing down and rolling her hips into me with abandon.

Without shame. She takes what she wants, rubbing her slick, wet cunt against my leg, whimpering for more with each stroke.

“That’s my girl.”

With her head thrown back, each labored breath has her breasts straining to stay contained in the tight, thin strapped shirt she has on. “Am I? Am I your girl, Sir?”

My fingers thread into the hair along her neck as I crash my mouth into hers.

Desperate to show her exactly how much she is mine and how much I am hers.

Harper’s lips meet mine with as much fervor as I was pouring into her.

Her mouth is as sweet and soft as cotton candy as I run my tongue along her bottom lip, nipping at the reddened flesh.

“You must think I’m terrible.” I pant as she grinds harder and faster. “For not telling you every second, of every fucking day, that you’re mine.” I’m unable to stop myself from meeting each rock of her hips.

My cock weeps in my pants, a ludicrous amount of pre-cum coating the inside of my boxers and my own climax barreling to the surface.

I haven’t came in my pants since I was a pre-teen but I’ll quickly have to adjust that streak, because with Harper using me to chase her orgasm, I’m minutes away from spilling all over myself.

She whines as I bury my face in her chest, pawing at her top until tits are free and hanging heavy with need.

“So fucking perfect.” My tongue darts out, licking a stripe across her right breast, pulling back only long enough to say, “So fucking mine.” Harper cries out my name and a slough of profanities follow when my lips latch onto her hardened nipple and she arches into me. “And I’ll tell you every day.”

Her hips grind down harder, fingers dig into my shoulder as she tips over the edge. My dick pulses, and I lose my battle with trying not to finish as my climax washes over me, heavier than a tsunami wave.

We stay locked in a tight embrace as we float back down from the clouds, as she toys with the hair on the back of my neck, her head resting on my shoulder.

I’m not sure she even realizes it as she drifts off but her last words, as faint as they are, are clear. “I’m yours, Nolan.”