Chapter 9 #2
“That was delicious. The eggplant parmesan was mmm, chef’s kiss.” She kisses her fingers.
“Unlucky for me, I wasn’t the chef, and we can thank the general store. That place is a gourmet store with a whole deli of food to take away and heat at home in the oven, then pretend you stood over the stove for hours,” I quip.
She licks her bottom lip, amused.
I’d already decided this morning that going out for dinner wasn’t really appealing. Being alone and catching up without people around was more our calling. Harlow couldn’t have agreed more.
“Want some dessert?” I offer.
“Absolutely not. I had about two cookies pre-dinner plus wine, so my sugar intake is at its limit.” She looks around, figuring out which topic to switch us to. “Considering Christmas is in a few weeks, you’re not very much in the festive cheer.”
“I bet you have a small tree that is in decoration overload. We can decorate a cactus tomorrow if you want,” I propose.
She chortles. “Nah, it’s okay. And yes, I do have a festive tree.”
I run my hand through my hair. “I just live off my brother’s house to fulfill the holiday-decorations quota.”
A fondness appears on her face. “You’re very close with him.”
“We’ve always been close. Now that he has his own family, I think subconsciously I’m interwoven into their world, and they’ve only had a baby for a few months; they are new together themselves.
But it feels like a family. One unit with all of us.
We never really had a big family with aunts and uncles growing up.
I want to be there for him, especially since he has to travel with the Spinners so much,” I explain.
“Sounds like something special.”
“It is.”
That silence hits us again. Only for a few moments, though.
“Do you think we can head upstairs?” Harlow asks. “It’s been kind of a long day.”
“Yeah, sure.” Actually, this is kind of cruel, she’s throwing me morsels, but fine, I digress.
Upstairs in no time, we get to my room and get ready for the night. It seems to be natural for us, as if we live together. Once we’re in my bed, we turn to face one another on our sides, not ready to turn the lights off.
“Hi,” she greets me delicately, and her eyes nearly sparkle.
“Hey,” I reply.
I’m broken by her lips landing on mine in a passionate and deep kiss. It takes me by surprise, but no complaints.
She pulls away. “I kind of wanted to do that.”
“I kind of noticed.” I smirk. I’m too lost in her eyes to register that her hands find mine, until she begins to lead them slowly down.
Her look is a confirmation that she’s comfortable with something, but I’m not sure what.
“Touch me,” she rasps softly as she brings my hand to her thigh.
I want to hesitate, but I can’t. I’m at her mercy, and I’m following her. Instead, I give in to an urge that I’ve been doing a damn good job suppressing. My fingers swirl on her bare thigh, and her lips part open gently. Her eyes close for a second before they open with approval.
I swipe my fingers further up slightly, to test the waters as our eyes hold. Harlow gently nods her head. She does more than that; her hand stays on top of mine, and we move together until I pause by the cloth of her panties; they’re damp, and I want them off.
Her hand doesn’t desert mine, which is why I slip my finger underneath her panties and feel her soaking pussy, and she gasps.
We don’t say any words, but our eyes remain locked.
I stroke, I circle, I explore her, and she releases a moan.
I feel as though she will combust far too soon.
I begin to slide my body down then pause.
“I want to taste you,” I whisper.
She’s taken aback, but she doesn’t seem to be closing the book on that idea. But then she traps her bottom lip between her teeth, and her cheeks rise from a smile she’s trying to hold back.
I coast down her body until I’m lying on my stomach between her thighs that naturally seem to part for me, and I tug the fabric to the side.
I would much prefer to rip them off, but in a way, that feels as though it’s too big a step.
I peer up at her, and Harlow seems mesmerized as she watches.
I then focus on my task and lick the tip of my tongue over her in one lap, up and down, then I find her clit to circle and flick.
Her head falls back, and she struggles to lie still on the bed, but it’s the best kind of hips swirling.
I go slow at first, but her sounds only encourage me to pick up my speed.
I take a moment to study her taste, distinct and perfect.
Resting my palm on her belly to ease her down, I continue to stroke her with my tongue, devouring her, and her murmurs are the perfect sound in my room. Somehow my hands travel to hers, and we interlace our fingers while my head stays put between her legs.
“Stone,” she breathes heavily.
It only causes me to smile against her flesh. She’s experiencing pleasure, and it’s because of me which is why I’m on my quest to bring her to an orgasm.
Her body feels so damn close. Normally, I wouldn’t be satisfied with making a woman come so quickly, but I can imagine it’s been a while for her.
“I’m going… to—” she pants softly.
Then it happens. Her body begins to convulse and vibrate against my mouth. Harlow clasps my hands tighter as her body shakes it all out. When she’s calmed, I lift my lips away to look up at her with a grin on my face.
Her blank look seems to be due to an uncertainty of how she should feel, but then her lips tip up.
“I… I can’t believe I…” Harlow’s speechless.
I grind up her body to lie next to her again on my side. “You don’t need to say anything. I think I found my new favorite hobby. You’re beautiful when you let go.” I brush a few strands of her hair behind her ear.
Her hand moves to touch my cock, but I’m quick to grab her wrist.
“I should…” she begins.
Returning the favor is not going to fucking happen. She deserves to enjoy her step.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll survive,” I downplay it.
She seems unconvinced but still slants her lips to the side. “For tonight, anyways.”
I nod with a closed-mouth smile and reach to turn off the light before we cuddle into one another.
Harlow steps one foot in front of her and then the next.
“Uhm, you should try skating instead of stepping. It’s the whole point of being on the ice,” I tease her.
We slept in, had yogurt, then I decided to take her to the ice rink since the Spinners are away for a game. But ice-skating Harlow is, well… a disaster. She has not one ounce of skating talent.
“Listen, hockey player, I’m ensuring I don’t fall on my ass because a bruise would ruin my bikini lines,” she responds.
I circle around her body. “I gave you figure skating skates. It would probably be worse if I gave you hockey ones.”
“There are two different types of skates?” Her voice rises.
I shake my head, disappointed. “Did you not study this for your hockey exam that I still have yet to give?”
Her wide smile forms quickly. “Kidding. I know there’s a difference.”
I take hold of her hands as I skate backwards and tug her along. “The first ten minutes are the hardest, and then your body gets the hang of it,” I promise.
“Until I need to brake to stop,” she deadpans.
I chuckle. “Damn, this plan for our daytime activity really was not my best idea.”
She ignores watching the ice and stares at me. “Nah, I kind of enjoy seeing you in your territory. You’re like a child at a toy store.”
“Keep talking to me,” I encourage.
Lines form on her forehead. “And say what? It’s cold, and there are girls here skating around in t-shirts and gloves, which makes no sense.”
“It makes sense. The temperature actually isn’t that cold when you move around.”
“Tell that to someone who believes you. So tell me, how many hours would you be on the ice when you played?”
“On average, 12 hours of training per week on the ice and a hell of a lot of hours in the gym,” I explain.
Harlow hums a sound. “Do you miss the scuffles with other players?”
I laugh. “Truthfully, yes. It’s good to get out some aggression, and I was right defense, so I had to defend my turf,” I attempt to make her smile.
She chortles in response. “I can’t imagine you being aggressive. You’re kind of soft.”
My eyes grow into saucers. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I’m only soft around you and a baby, a true exception. If you only knew how I was with other people and in the bedr—” I stall, because I just don’t want to put any pressure on her.
She doesn’t flinch, and I know I need to distract us to another topic.
“Look at you skating,” I inform her.
She was so lost staring at me and in our conversation that she didn’t realize she’s no longer stepping on the ice. I might be pulling her along, but she’s skating in a way.
Harlow looks at the ice and then around, as if this isn’t happening. “Oh, so this is how it goes? I’ve been skating.”
“Ready to let go? You’re no longer taking steps,” I say, and if only she knew the underlying meaning.
But her face relaxes, and she’s on the same wavelength as me.
“I’m ready,” she softly announces.
I let go.
…and she falls instantly onto her ass.
Turns out she still needs me to help her along.
We walk into my room after a day of ice skating and a dinner which was takeout from Catch 22. We’re tired, so our plan is to just relax in bed and maybe put something on TV.
But as soon as we’re in the middle of the room, Harlow twirls to face me.
“Kiss me,” she demands.
It’s my favorite nighttime routine that we’ve developed. No reason to argue, I do exactly as she requests. I cup her face and pull her into a slow, hard kiss that seems to absorb whatever thought or nerves are running through her.
When she pulls away, her eyes gleam with intent and a plea. “The thing is, I don’t want to sleep. I don’t want to think. I just know that for once I feel safe, and this desire is so over my head that I can’t ignore it. It twists inside of me until I might burst. Do you understand?”
My eyes narrow in on her as I digest what I believe she’s thinking. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t want to sleep, Stone. Nor can we tiptoe around what I know you’ve been patiently waiting for, and so have I, if I’m being honest.”
Now I wonder if it’s me who is getting the sympathy.
Harlow grabs my hands confidently, setting them on her obliques, ensuring that our eyes hold before she inches my palms lower to her waist. “Something more and now,” she rasps, her eyes vulnerable.
For some reason, I’m going to follow her cues, but also not. It makes no sense. I just know somehow one of us will lead the way.
I could scream finally, but I know this is a profound moment for her.
And truthfully, for us too.