8. Jace #3
“Any who, back to Ms. Gregory.” She rolls her eyes in a self-deprecating manner, quickly changing the subject.
“She’s been trying to play matchmaker between me and her son, Thomas, for at least three years now.
I guess she sees you as competition.” She chuckles to herself, staring at her fourth tart.
I’m getting full after just three, but I’ll be damned if I let her out eat me.
Relief washes over me when she announces she’s going to save the fourth one to take home as well.
“Are you interested in Thomas?” I prod, knowing I sound pathetic, but not caring.
She snorts, covering her mouth and rolling her eyes again. “Well, I guess that answers the embarrassing quota question. But no, I’m not interested in Thomas. He’s nice, and not unattractive. It’s just he’s…” her words trail off, and I find myself dying to know how that sentence ends.
“Just what?" I drag a knuckle over the back of her hand, loving the way her eyes jump to mine at the touch.
“He’s just so boring,” she groans then rushes to continue, “I know that’s mean, but he never laughs or goes out.
He prefers to go to stuffy restaurants and wine tastings.
Our one and only date was an unmitigated disaster.
I was so bored I feigned a headache and left in the middle of dessert.
Things must be dire if I miss dessert,” she deadpans.
The sun is setting rapidly, and all the booths are closing. Harper looks around at the commotion then turns to me. “That’s my cue to get going.” She sighs wistfully.
“Why?” At her questioning stare, I go on, “Why do you have to go? Aren’t rides and evening things about to start?
” She looks off into the crowd, working that lip again.
It’s a struggle to not tug it free and rub my thumb across her plump lip.
When she turns back, her eyes are more guarded, and her posture is a bit too stiff.
“I just have somewhere to be.” Trying to hide the disappointment, I smile, handing her the bag of packaged tarts. “Enjoy the rest of your visit, Jace. It was nice meeting you.”
Harper leaves, stopping to say something to Wren before disappearing into the crowd. Blake waves as he heads into the rides area with Wren. I turn in the opposite direction toward the parking area. Suddenly, I’m not interested in the festival at all.
Since I’ll be in and out a lot over the next few months, I rented a cabin on the outskirts of town.
It’s small, and simply furnished, but the deck that overlooks the river is what sold me on it.
I grew up with land all around me. Most of my favorite childhood memories were from times spent at our old cabin with family.
Even once I was an adult, there was always something about being in nature that has grounded me and given me peace that nothing else could.
Grabbing a beer, I step outside and inhale deeply, watching the water drift by.
The sounds are so soothing, so familiar.
As I sit on the deck and listen to the water flow below, I realize it’s the most peaceful I’ve felt in some time.
If I’m being honest with myself, living in Portland is starting to feel claustrophobic, but this place is already releasing tension I’ve been carrying for far too long.
My golden retriever, Tink, comes out onto the deck, making a beeline to me and sitting at my feet.
Reaching down, I rub her head then scratch behind her ears.
Tink leans into my touch, slowly melting, until she tips.
Her face darts to mine, asking what happened, like she doesn’t tip over all the time, then wiggles on the ground a bit to get comfortable.
Leaning back, I let my mind wander as the day's events wash over me. No surprise, my thoughts keep circling back to Harper. She has bewitched me in a way I’ve never experienced.
I’ve dated but never found anyone that I could see myself settling down with. It was one day, and I know it’s crazy, but my brain is already ten years down the road, Harper at my side, smiling, and filling every room with her laughter.
Desire for her consumes me. The way she moaned around that tart filled me with pictures of her mouth wrapped around my cock, humming her pleasure against me.
Every touch, smile, and sound that came from those lips turned me on.
My cock throbs painfully against my jeans.
After being ignored all day, it refuses to be put off any longer.
Downing the rest of my beer, I head into the cabin, stripping out of my clothes and stepping into the shower.
Standing under the spray, I finally give in, gripping my cock, straining with need.
Bracing my other hand on the shower, I lose myself in the mental images of Harper.
With rough brutal strokes, I pump my cock from base to tip, imagining her cheeks hollowing around me as she swallows me down.
My hips buck, driving my cock harder into my hand as my abs tense.
“Fuuuuck, Harper!” I cry out, letting my release wash over me.
Panting, I lean back against the shower wall.
Fuck, I can’t remember the last time I came like that, and it isn’t enough, because it wasn’t her.