Chapter 3
HARRIET
The kiss crashes into me like a storm I never saw coming.
Heath's mouth claims mine, and for one stunned second, my brain shorts out completely. This isn't happening. Not after ten years. Not after I ran from him at the firepit like some scared teenager all over again.
But it is. His lips move against mine with a hunger that matches every filthy fantasy I've buried deep. Better than those fantasies. So much better.
The scrape of his stubble, the way his tongue teases the seam of my mouth until I open for him. Everything.
I slide my arms around his neck and push up onto my toes, kissing him back with everything I've got. He groans into it, the sound vibrating through my chest, and presses me harder against the rough bark of the oak.
The world tilts. One of his big hands cups my ass, the other hooks under my thigh, and suddenly, my feet leave the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist without thinking, ankles locking at the small of his back.
The position lines us up perfectly. His hardness presses right against my center through our clothes, thick and insistent, and heat floods between my legs so fast I feel dizzy.
"Tell me to stop," he rasps against my mouth, pulling back just enough for me to see the wild look in his blue eyes. In all the years I've known Heath, I have never seen him like this.
"No."
The word barely leaves my lips before he's kissing me again, deeper this time, like he's trying to memorize the taste of me.
His mouth trails along my jaw, finds the sensitive spot just below my ear that makes my toes curl, and ever lower to the frantic pulse at the base of my throat, right between my collarbones.
Jesus Christ.
Every press of his lips sends sparks racing down my spine.
He pulls back again, breathing hard, forehead pressed to mine. "Loft?"
I nod, not trusting my voice. We break apart and run toward the house, feet pounding over the grass.
The moment we hit the porch steps, we slow, forcing ourselves to walk like normal people instead of two adults about to combust. My heart slams against my ribs. Between my legs, my pussy throbs with every step, already slick and aching.
The house sits dark and quiet, every window black. Everyone has retired for the night. Thank God.
We climb the narrow attic stairs in silence, the old wood creaking under our weight. The second the door clicks shut behind us, Heath spins me around and kisses me again, backing me toward the wall. His hands frame my face, thumb rubbing my bottom lip and smearing more of my lip balm.
"We have to be quiet," he whispers against my lips.
"I can be quiet."
He smirks, that same easy grin from earlier now edged with something darker, and flashes me a hot glance. "Can you really?"
Heath doesn't wait for an answer. His mouth crashes into mine once more, and when a moan tries to escape me, he swallows it down, tongue stroking against mine in a rhythm that makes my knees weak.
One of his hands slides down my side, grips my hip, guides me backward until the edge of the bed hits the backs of my thighs.
He lays me down gently as his fingers hook into my flip-flops first, sliding them off and letting them drop to the floor with soft thuds. Next come my denim shorts, the button popping open under his thumb.
He peels them down my legs along with my panties in one smooth motion. My shirt follows, tugged up and over my head. His hands reach behind me to unclasp my bra, and then, I'm completely bare beneath him, chest rising and falling rapidly.
I really should feel self-conscious since I'm well aware I'm nowhere near as hot as the women who surround him. But right now, with the way he stares at me, raking his gaze up and down my body, it feels enough. I feel enough.
Heath straightens up. Without breaking eye contact, he kicks off his shoes and shoves his denim pants down strong thighs dusted with dark hair. The flannel shirt gets unbuttoned with impatient fingers and tossed aside. Finally, his boxers hit the floor.
And oh my good Lord. I've always thought he was probably gifted in the manhood department. But thinking it and seeing the real thing are two different things.
His cock springs free, thick and heavy, the head already glistening. I stare, unable to look away. He's huge. Long and veined, curving slightly upward, the sight of him making a fresh gush of wetness slick my inner thighs.
My pussy clenches around nothing, desperate for him already.
He hovers over me, one knee braced on the mattress between my spread legs, and kisses me slow and deep. His mouth moves down my throat, tongue tracing the valley between my breasts.
"You feel like sin, Harriet."
I don't have a response. My mind is nothing but filth.
Heath closes his lips around one nipple and sucks hard, and I arch off the bed. His hand finds my other breast, kneading the soft flesh, rolling the nipple between thumb and forefinger before pinching lightly.
The sharp sting melts into pleasure.
"O-oh G-god, Heath."
"Shh, Harriet."
He switches sides, sucking the neglected nipple into the wet heat of his mouth. My clit throbs. I'm panting now, trying so hard to stay quiet that my teeth sink into my lower lip.
His free hand slides down my stomach, over my hip, and finally between my legs. Two thick fingers stroke along my slit, spreading the slickness there, circling my swollen clit with just enough pressure to make my hips jerk.
He pushes one finger inside me, then two, curling them, and I almost bow off the bed. The wet sounds of his fingers working in and out of my pussy fill the small loft, obscene in the quiet night but only makes me even wetter.
I'm close already, so close I can taste it, when he suddenly pulls his fingers free. I whine at the loss, but the sound dies when he brings those same fingers to his mouth and licks them clean, eyes locked on mine the whole time.
Jesus. This feels like one of those dreams you have that is not even within the realm of possibility.
The sight of his tongue dragging over his knuckles is going into my core memory.
"Ready for me, Harriet?"
I've been ready for years, but I don't tell him that. "Y-yes."
Heath wedges the broad head of his cock at my entrance, rubbing it through my folds, coating himself in my wetness. Then he pushes in, stretching me open inch by inch until he's buried to the hilt, bottoming out on the first trhrust.
The fullness is overwhelming. I feel every ridge, every vein as my walls flutter around his thickness.
A whimper escapes me before I can stop it. His hand clamps over my mouth immediately, palm warm and firm.
"Gram's right below us. You wouldn't want any of them up here, catching you getting railed like this."
"Oh God, Heath."
The slowness of his first thrusts drives me insane. Each drag of his cock against my inner walls has my toes curling, but it's not enough. I need more. I wrap my legs around his waist again and dig my heels into his ass, urging him deeper, harder. His eyes widen in warning, but he doesn't stop.
Every filthy stroke has me seeing stars.
He keeps the pace controlled, hips rolling in a way that grinds against my clit with each thrust. The bed doesn't bang against the wall, but the frame still creaks softly under us.
I bite the inside of my cheek to stay silent, tasting copper, even if all I want to do is moan and whimper.
"Harriet? You already in bed up there?"
My dad. Oh my God. No, no, no, no.
I swallow the moan building in my throat. Heath freezes above me, cock buried deep, his hand still partly covering my mouth. His eyes meet mine, dark with lust and a hint of panic.
"Y-yes," I manage to call back, voice only slightly strained. "I'm in bed."
"Good night, honey."
"Good night, Dad."
The footsteps retreat. The moment they're gone, Heath's smirk returns, wicked and full of dark promise. He starts moving again, faster now, still careful but with more purpose.
His hips snap forward in short, powerful thrusts that hit exactly where I need him. The angle has his pelvis grinding against my clit on every stroke, and the pressure builds fast and sharp.
He kisses me hard, tongue stroking deep, muffling the sounds I can't hold back anymore. One hand snakes between our bodies, fingers finding my clit and teasing it in tight, perfect circles.
My thighs start to shake around his waist as a tsunami of pleasure hits, rolling through my body in a powerful wave.
"God, Heath. Oh God."
"Give it to me, baby. Come."
He kisses me again, and I moan into his mouth, the sound vibrating against his tongue as my pussy clenches rhythmically around his cock. Waves of warmth rip through every muscle, leaving me trembling and gasping.
I'm still reeling by how intense my orgasm is when Heath's thrusts become wild and coordinated and he slams into me one last time. He moans into my mouth as he comes, hot pulses of come flooding deep inside me.
His hips jerk with each spurt, drawing out the aftershocks for both of us until we're both spent and panting.
We stare at each other in the dim light filtering through the lake-facing window. His forehead drops to mine, sweat-slick skin sticking together. He kisses me there, soft and lingering, right at my hairline.
"Well," he whispers, voice rough, "we really are having a good night."