Chapter 4
HEATH
My eyes snap open to the dark slant of the loft ceiling and the wet heat wrapped tight around my cock. Holy shit. Harriet's mouth works me slowly, her tongue sliding along the underside while her lips seal around the head.
Her hair brushes my thigh every time she dips down, those soft waves tickling across heated skin and sending sparks racing over my nerves. She takes me deeper, cheeks hollowing with obscene suction, and the sight punches the air from my lungs.
Ten years of wondering what she'd look like like this—on her knees, lips stretched around me, saliva glistening on her chin—and reality hits harder than any blindside hit I've taken on the field.
Fuck, she's perfect. The faint, sweet scent of her skin mixes with the clean cotton of the sheets and the unmistakable musk of arousal thickening the air between us.
"Harriet." My voice sounds gravelly with want.
Harriet doesn't stop. Her hand twists at the base in a rhythm that matches her mouth, slick, filthy sounds filling the small space between our beds and bouncing off the ceiling.
The single bathroom door stands half-open across the room. Everything else in this pressure-cooker attic stays quiet except us—the faint creak of the old floorboards under my shifting weight, the wet glide of her tongue, my own ragged breathing that I can't seem to control.
My fingers find her hair, threading through the silky strands, feeling the way she moves, the subtle bob of her head, the heat of her scalp against my palm.
She hums around me, a low, pleased vibration that shoots straight up my spine and explodes behind my eyes. My hips jerk once before I lock them down hard, muscles burning with the effort.
Can't wake the house. Can't stop this either.
God, I don't want to stop. If this is how I go, buried in her mouth while the lake laps at the shore outside, I'll die happy.
Her eyes lift to mine in the thin moonlight slicing through the window, pupils blown wide, lashes casting shadows on her flushed cheeks. That look—half challenge, half raw hunger—twists something deep in my chest and makes my cock throb against her tongue.
My pulse thuds in my ears, a deafening drum that drowns out everything but the wet heat of her, the soft press of her breasts against my thigh, the way her nipples have tightened into needy little peaks I can just make out in the dim light.
"Ride my cock, baby. Please."
The words fall out before I can cage them. Need claws at me, raw and immediate, scraping every rational thought to shreds until only her remains.
Harriet pulls off with a wet pop that shouldn't sound so filthy but does, a thin string of saliva connecting her swollen lower lip to the flushed head of my cock for one torturous second before it breaks.
She sits back on her heels between my spread thighs, lips shiny and parted, and smirks. Harriet looks flushed, her small breasts rising and falling with each quick breath, nipples begging for my mouth.
Harriet hooks her fingers under the hem of her nightgown. Cotton whispers as it slides up and over her head, the fabric dragging over her skin with a soft rasp.
No panties underneath. Just smooth skin and soft curves catching the faint light. My mouth goes dry, throat clicking.
My chest tightens with something sharper than lust, a decade of quiet longing crashing over me all at once. Harriet. My Harriet. How the hell did I get this lucky?
Harriet swings one leg over my hips. Her knees bracket my thighs, the warm, smooth skin of her inner thighs brushing against me.
She reaches between us, wraps her small hand around my cock—still wet from her mouth—and wedges it in front of her. The first press of her pussy against the head makes my jaw lock tight, her heat so scalding it borders on pain.
Goddammit.
The stretch is exquisite torture, her walls fluttering and resisting before yielding another inch. Every shallow breath she takes scrapes raw against my ears, her exhales trembling.
The heat of her pussy envelops me in slow, devastating pulses, her arousal dripping down my shaft in hot rivulets that make my balls draw tight.
I fist the sheets until the fabric bites into my palms, knuckles white, every muscle locked against another savage need to slam upward and split her open in one brutal thrust.
Slow, Donovan. Don't you fucking hurt her. But Christ, it feels like every tight, rippling inch of her was waiting just for me.
When she's finally seated, her ass flush against my thighs, her clit grinding against my pelvis, we freeze. The faint creak of the mattress beneath us is the only sound besides the frantic hammer of my pulse in my temples. The burn of that perfect stretch radiates through my groin like liquid fire.
Harriet begins to move. Tiny, testing rolls of her hips that drag her swollen clit along my pelvis with every downward glide.
Her palms brace on my chest, nails biting crescents into my skin that sting in the sweetest way, grounding me while her brown eyes go glassy and heavy.
I can't look away from her face—the way her lips part on every exhale, the flush crawling up her throat, the sheer concentration as she works herself on my cock.
Her pussy grips me so tightly. The bed frame only sighs beneath us. No telltale thump against the wall.
The restraint is driving me out of my goddamn mind.
I surge upright without warning. The sudden shift in angle punches a sharp gasp from her lungs, her walls fluttering wildly around me.
My mouth latches onto the soft skin just above her left breast, sucking hard enough to bruise, pulling blood to the surface until I know she'll wear my mark for days.
The primitive satisfaction that floods me is almost violent. I switch to her other breast, tongue laving the stiff peak before I draw it deep into my mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make her arch and cry out.
"Heath."
Her tits fill my palms perfectly as I knead them, thumbs flicking the sensitive buds until she's trembling. The motion grinds her clit harder against me, and her pace fractures—hips snapping faster, chasing the friction.
The bed creaks louder. Once. Twice. On the third roll, the frame smacks the wall with a dull, echoing thud that seems to reverberate through the entire quiet house.
We both stop.
Her cunt clenches hard around my cock in the sudden, electric stillness, squeezing so rhythmically I have to bite back a groan. My heart thunders so violently I’m certain she can feel it where we’re joined, the thick vein along my shaft pulsing against her inner walls.
No footsteps on the stairs. Only the distant lap of lake water against the dock outside and the roar of blood in my ears. The night breeze slips through the cracked window, doing nothing to calm the inferno between us.
Harriet's breath fans hot and ragged against my collarbone. Her arms loop around my neck as I grip her thighs, thumbs sinking deep into the soft, yielding flesh, and shift us both to the edge of the mattress.
My bare feet hit the cool wooden floor, and I stand. Gravity does the rest, letting her sink even deeper onto my cock until I'm seated, her pussy stretched around my thickness.
She understands instantly. No words needed. Her legs wrap tight around my waist. Her face buries in the crook of my neck, lips brushing my racing pulse.
I spread my hands wide over her ass, fingers digging into the plush curves, and begin to lift and drop her. Hard. Deep. Her soaked pussy takes every inch of my cock.
She rides me like this, using my shoulders for leverage, nails raking down my back, while I meet her halfway—hips snapping up to bury myself to the root again and again.
When she comes, her teeth sink into my shoulder, the sharp bite of pain sharpening every sensation into crystal clarity. She shatters ion my arms in a torrent of soft cries and spasms.
Her walls flutter and squeeze in pulses that drag me right to the edge with her. I keep moving through it, fucking her through the orgasm, hips pistoning into her tight, spasming heat as her juices coat my thighs.
"Fuck, Harriet."
A surge of heat, violent and sudden, courses through me as my body responds to her in thick, liquid pulses, flooding her pussy until I feel it leaking out around my cock with every shallow thrust.
The pleasure whites out everything—thought, sound, breath—for one blinding second. There is only her. The hot, trembling clench of her cunt. Her frantic breath against my neck. The sting of her nails in my back. The way her whole body shudders in my arms.
We stay locked together, my cock still buried deep inside her as aftershocks ripple through both of us. Sweat cools on our skin. The faint scent of water and pine curls around us, grounding me back into my body.
I turn my head and kiss her hard, no finesse left, just raw need and relief and the taste of her on my tongue.
"That's my kind of alarm clock, baby. Your mouth around my cock, then your hot pussy."
Harriet lifts her head. Those eyes meet mine in the dark, that familiar dry spark flickering back to life even now. She shifts her hips once, making us both hiss at the raw overstimulation that shoots through my spent cock.
"Don't get used to it."
The corner of my mouth tugs up despite the way my chest is still heaving. I tighten my grip on her ass, fingers sinking deeper into the soft flesh, keeping her impaled exactly where she is.
"We'll see."