2. Harper
2
HARPER
“ W hat’s your name?” He cocks his head.
I frown and follow him. He sidesteps me, and before I know it, he closes the door and leans against it. My bag dangles from his fingertips.
“Name,” he repeats, his tone hardening.
“Harper.”
“Well, Harper , you cost me tonight.”
I roll my eyes. “I cost you a cheap lay, it seemed like. You didn’t even take your pants all the way off.”
He lets my bag fall from his hand, and his fingers land on the doorknob. With a slight twist, he locks it.
For the first time, a sliver of awareness slides through me. He’s cute—no, no, he’s devastatingly handsome—but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. It’s never quite translated that way in my limited experience.
I take a step back, and he smirks.
“I should go.”
He doesn’t move. His gaze sharpens, watching me carefully. When I swallow, his attention falls to my throat. Then lower. I’m grateful for the oversized hoodie, the thick fabric that doesn’t cling to my curves. Even though, right now, it feels like I’m more exposed than the girl who was just spread naked on his desk.
“You have to pay the toll to pass,” he says.
“You could go out there and easily find another girl to fuck.” I shake my head. “Instead, you’re trying to talk me into it?”
“I don’t want to fuck you.”
I still. A mixture of relief and uncertainty course through me. If not sex?—
“I’d settle for a blow job.”
“No.” I stare at him. “Absolutely not.”
“Don’t worry, little voyeur. The door is locked. No one will walk in on us. Our little secret.” He tilts his head again, appraising me. “Unless you’re an exhibitionist, too.”
“I’m not either.” I grit my teeth and glance around the room. “And it’s in poor taste to borrow a room during a party just to have sex with some girl on a desk.”
He laughs. “Yeah. Like it’s in poor taste to throw yourself at a hockey player.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Of course not.”
I stare at him.
“I can give you another option,” he eventually replies.
“Great.” I raise my hand in a come on motion. “Let’s hear that.”
“You give me your bra and panties.”
I wrinkle my nose. “What the fuck for?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Tax. Toll. Fucking penance. Take your pick.”
My face flames as I consider it. I go to the window and look out at the backyard. There are more people out back than there were in the front. A fire in a pit crackles, sending embers floating into the sky. Groups of people are gathered out there. The pulse of music, while fainter here, can still be felt.
There’s nothing on this side of the house to help me down. Going out the window is… not happening.
Blow job or giving up my underwear?
I shake my head carefully and unbutton my jeans.
The guy behind me lets out a low whistle.
My sweatshirt hides most of my ass when I wriggle the jeans down, then my panties. They’re black with red hearts all over them. Cotton. Full coverage. Not sexy in the slightest . I have to take my shoes and jeans all the way off to untangle myself. The cool autumn wind brushes my bare legs.
I straighten, clutching the thin fabric. It’s warm from being pressed to my body.
And he’s right there.
In front of me.
He pushes me back against the window, and my ass hits the sill.
“W-what are you doing?”
“Changed my mind,” he says roughly. “You gonna scream, Harper? Will you fight me?”
I—
I don’t know.
I stare at him, and instantly, I’m turned on. Like a switch flipping, I go from scared to intrigued . I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting the rush of adrenaline.
He reaches around me and closes the window. I lean on the glass when his fingers go to the insides of my knees.
I don’t know his name, and he’s tracing a path up my inner thigh. To a spot no one’s touched in a really fucking long time.
My eyes flutter shut when he gets to my pussy. He pushes a finger inside me, and I let out a low whimper. It just comes out, escaping past my teeth.
This is really fucking wrong.
He slides the single digit in and out, the friction cranking my arousal. It’s not enough to get me over the edge, and I grip the windowsill to keep still. It builds, slowly. I can’t look at him. My eyes are screwed shut.
The sensation disappears, and suddenly, I’m sliding off the sill.
To my knees.
I gasp, and his cock presses into my mouth. He doesn’t wait—my eyes pop open, but he has me caught. His hand in my hair, his hips thrusting forward.
“Be a good girl,” he orders.
My mouth opens wider, and he sneers. His lips hold a cruel tilt. His grip tightens, tugging at my bun, his nails scratching along my scalp.
This isn’t a blow job.
When he moves, he fucks . I imagine it’s a similar sight to the one I walked in on—but this time, it’s my face accepting the brunt of it. He hits the back of my throat, then pushes deeper. I gag around him, my throat constricting, and he groans.
He pulls out, then back in. Deeper. I reach up, but he catches my hand in his, pinning it on top of the one already in my hair.
I take snatches of breath when I can. Saliva runs out of my mouth. Tears prick my eyes.
My other, traitorous hand finds its way between my legs. I touch myself to distract—but it just adds to the sensations. The pain in my scalp, the burn in my lungs.
Fuck .
How did this happen?
He groans and shudders and abruptly pulls out. He cranks my head back and releases my hand. He strokes himself once, twice, and then comes.
On my face .
I close my eyes tight as the hot ropes of cum hit my cheeks, my lips, my nose and chin.
His fingers slip from my hair, and he steps back. His presence looming over me disappears, and I sag back to sit on my heels. I carefully wipe at my eyes, then open them. He’s already put back together. Jeans in place, shirt smoothed. I don’t know if he ever took it off.
“Not bad,” he says. “Usually, they try to take over. You just… let it happen.”
I swallow my reply and climb to my feet. My knees knock together. It’s like I just went on a roller coaster. The adrenaline has left me shaky. I brace myself on the window and watch him move back to the door. He crouches next to my bag, unzips it, and dips into it.
“Hey—” My voice cracks, hoarse from the beating he just bestowed on my throat.
“Shh.” He finds my student ID in my wallet, which lists what dorm I’m in. He takes his phone from his pocket and snaps a picture of it. “Until next time, Harper Shay.”
Then he unlocks the door and slips out.