Chapter 24
Can We Fast Forward to Go Down on Me?
RIFF
What the hell?
For an instant, I’m dead still. Paralyzed. Do I follow her and demand she tell me what’s wrong? Or do I go back to the studio to investigate?
She was fine before I left, so something changed in the few minutes I was gone.
Did an out-of-context message show up on the computer right in front of her? My phone is synced to all my other devices, so it’s possible.
Or maybe she got a message on her own phone—bad news?
Decidedly, I rush to the studio where the Logic files are stacked on the screen. The one on top isn’t ours though—just mine.
With a dialogue box that implies someone tried to close it.
ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO EXIT?
Now I have a real sinking feeling. Not the clever kind, but the kind that serves as a warning that everything is about to go downhill fast if I don’t hurry my ass up and do something.
Thanks to my five-foot-eleven frame (yes, eleven inches, not ten) I catch up to Harmony before she makes it past the sitting room. I catch her by the hand, guiding her to turn toward me.
“Hey,” I say. “Wait. You heard the song?”
She doesn’t answer.
“You listened to it and it … freaked you out?” I guess.
That’s the only explanation. Words upon words upon words of me pouring my heart out, confessing that I want nothing more than to go back in time and do things right with her.
Fuck, this is embarrassing.
Maybe I can downplay it so it doesn’t sound so intense. I can remind her that music is melodramatic sometimes—she knows that’s true—and sometimes we exaggerate emotions like stage makeup because that’s just part of the show we put on for our fans.
Except that I meant every one of those words, exactly as I said them, and I don’t want to pretend I didn’t. Pretending is what keeps screwing up my life. Pretending is why I have the regrets I specifically mentioned in that song.
“It freaked you out,” I repeat, determined not to shy away from my intentions, no matter how tempting it is to do so.
“I … I …” she stammers.
“Because now you know how I really feel … about you.”
Her gaze snaps to mine. “What?”
“Now you know the truth.”
She looks like she’s working out a math problem that isn’t coming together. “M-me?”
I furrow my brows. “Yes, you. Who else?”
“Mikayla. Of course. You were singing about regret, about the past, about letting her walk away, the timing being off, wanting to try again …”
My mind races as I parse those lyrics trying to see how they might apply to both women—and somehow they do.
“No,” I finally say. “I mean … yes, it’s about regret, but it’s not about letting her walk away.
It’s about letting you walk away. The night we met.
There were people coming out, and the press was there, and I got freaked out.
So I let you leave when I should have gone after you and tried harder to explain—made things right—apologized—begged for your forgiveness. ”
Harmony shakes her head. “That … wasn’t your fault. I should have heard you out. I shouldn’t have left.”
“So we both wish we could rewind …”
She regrets it as much as I do?
“Yeah … I guess.” She still seems puzzled.
“The timing thing,” I clarify, “is because I hated that I fell so hard for you when we were pretending—when it was so easy to mistake it for part of the game. Like when I kissed you at daXx’s party …
it seemed like it was an act but it wasn’t—and I didn’t know how to tell you because I didn’t think you felt the same.
We were so in sync before you found out who I was.
Even having just met, it was like … everything I said, you were matching me beat for beat.
It wasn’t awkward. Every minute felt right. Until it didn’t.”
When she looks down and shakes her head like she’s not sure I’m serious, I slip my hand under her chin and urge her to look up at me. “But that song is about you, Harmony. Every … fucking … word.”
Her eyes shine with tears, and she stares at me for what feels like a long time, but I don’t mind. I love looking at her.
Then she whispers, “I wrote ‘Lip Sync.’”
That meaning of that hits me like a stampede.
Now we’re so close and before I can blink,
It’s a whole different kind of lip sync,
I just act — I don’t think,
Your lips on mine like the missing link
All this time …
All this time, she felt it too. She was denying it, lying to herself the same way I was. I thought I was the only one who hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.
The label must have lied to her like they did me, taken that song from her, told her it was for a potential collab. I guess technically it wasn’t a lie, but I’m sure she didn’t think they meant a collab with me.
God, it must have been torture to have to sing that to me—and in front of everyone.
Well I don’t want her tortured anymore. I want her to feel only good things. And I want to be the one make her feel those good things.
She looks at me like she thinks I might be upset by her news.
Instead, I pull her lips to mine and taste her deeply. She moans at the abrupt motion but then grabs my shirt and holds on while I steer us to the sofa, kissing her frantically the whole way.
I drag her onto my lap, facing me, her knees on either side of my hips. Call me psycho, but I want to pick up where we left off more than a year ago—because I’ve been dreaming of that ever since.
This time, though, I can feel her so much better through her thin leggings and my loose joggers.
In between cupping her round ass and kissing her neck, I say, “All my ‘Hate to Love’ lyrics … were about you too, by the way. In case … there was any … doubt about that.”
She sighs and grinds against me—so much like before—making me even harder than I already was.
Then she undoes the top two buttons on her blouse. I gaze at the swells of her breasts, propped up by a Barbie-pink bra.
Is that what she’d called “magenta”?
Whatever it is, it works for me.
I finish undoing the rest of the buttons like I’ve never seen a button in my life, all thumbs because I can’t slip them out of their holes fast enough.
Harmony’s bare skin makes my cock twitch in anticipation.
She discreetly tries to cover her midsection—probably because that’s all anyone can talk about whenever she’s shown it—but I nudge her arms away and caress every inch of her.
She’s soft in multiple ways and she feels good in my hands, especially after I adjust her blouse so that it falls off her shoulders and down her arms and onto the floor where it belongs.
Blushing, she lets her bra straps fall too, and now my heart is pounding like a kick drum, directing all my blood downward.
I might be worse with the bra hook than I was with Harmony’s buttons, but I don’t quit until she’s completely topless. Then I’m clutching her bare breasts and she’s grinding on me again and I think I might lose my mind.
To make matters worse, she says in the sultriest voice, “This time, I want you inside me.”
Something animal in me takes over and, while she’s still straddling me, I maneuver her onto her back along the length of the couch. I yank off my own shirt and lie on top of her, skin to skin.
At this point, I have to slow down because if I don’t I’m going to come right now, so I take a breath and just try to savor the feel of her.
“Are you okay?” she asks, brushing a tuft of hair off my forehead.
“I … don’t think … I’ve ever been more okay … in my life.”
Harmony laughs softly. Her eyes are glassy, but in a good way. Has she seriously been holding onto these feelings as long as I have?
When I catch my breath—kind of—I trail my fingers down to her waistband. I’m dying to know how wet she is, dying even more to feel her wetness on me.
I do have the briefest flicker of a coherent thought and remember that I need to consider safety.
Moving to get up, I ask, “Should I grab a—”
“No,” she breathes. “I’m covered.”
Awesome.
With her help, I halfway remove the leggings and her scant underwear (scant, I’m assuming, because women don’t like the lines to show or whatever, which of course is fine by me) but I can’t resist stroking her sweet spot right this minute.
Her body tenses beneath me.
“Is that alright?” I ask.
She nods. “It’s … it’s good. I promise.”
So I keep going, gently pushing through her folds until I find her entrance, which is …
Fuck.
My fingers slide over it so easily. I tease her, spreading the wetness until her back starts to arch.
For real, I’m going to explode.
But I want her to come first. Always and forever. And I want her fully comfortable when she does it.
Using all my self-restraint, I stop what I’m doing and finish undressing her.
“Yours too,” she tells me, glancing at my joggers.
I push them and my boxer briefs off, too eager to think about my own insecurities. The urge to stroke myself a few times is strong, but I don’t dare.
Crawling up her body, I pause with my head between her legs. I give her clit a little nibble. And then I linger, sucking gently. She squirms and I swirl my tongue at her entrance before nudging it into her a few times.
So fucking sweet.
“Riff …” she chokes.
“Not Riff,” I correct her. “Say my real name—please. Like you did when you came on me before.”
“Right. Sorry,” she tells me. “I’m so used to trying to distance myself from you. Trying to tell myself I … don’t want you.”
“But you want me now?” I ask before I suck on her again.
Her voice is strained. “Yes. Griffin … James … Hurley. I want you—all of you, and only you.”
I grin and go back down on her.
“Wait.” She bites her lip. “I … I want to … come on your cock.” Her tone is timid, like she’s not used to feeling like she can say what she wants in a situation like this. I’m glad, even with her uncertainty, that she finds the courage to say it to me though.
“Don’t worry,” I tell her. “We’ll get to that. I’d just really love to get you off like this first. Is that okay? You don’t have to of course …”
“That just … seems like a lot of work for you,” she says.
I position her legs so that they’re over my shoulders, and peer up at her. “Babe, whichever asshole made you think this is work … deserves to choke on broken glass.”
Harmony is about to say something—maybe argue, or double check if I’m sure—but I bury my face in her and suck her clit into my mouth so fast, she cries out in pleasure instead.
Yes. That’s it …
Her fingers wind through my hair and she moves her hips to get more and I keep going and going until she arches her back all the way and holds her position. She exhales over and over in staccato bursts.
Music to my ears.
Once she relaxes, I stay where I am and kiss her down there before I surface.
Since she’s still got her hands in my hair, she walks them down to the base of my neck and pulls gently. She wants me up higher now. Completely at her service, I obey her silent command and position myself until we’re aligned.
I tease her entrance with the tip of my cock—simultaneously making my own body hate me for not allowing myself to release yet.
Harmony groans. I know she’s spent, but I love that she still wants me in her anyway.
Dragging myself up and down her seam, I kiss her mouth at the same time, wondering if she can taste herself on my tongue.
She kisses me back slowly, deliberately, and while she does that, I also grope her breasts.
I want to touch and feel her everywhere, and more importantly I want her to know how much it pleases me.
Her hand curls around my shaft and now it’s my turn to groan. Damn, that feels so good. Not just the pressure, but the fact that it’s Harmony’s hand on me. She tightens her grip and moves it up and down, perfect strokes.
I’m starting to see stars so I have to stop her. “Not yet. I can’t … I won’t be able to control myself.”
“That’s okay.”
“No. It’s not.” I take her hand off me and kiss her. “You deserve everything you want, and more.” Then I carefully start to push myself inside of her.
She sucks in a breath but her expression tells me it’s not from pain.
I go until I’m buried to the base and we are both trembling as our lips brush.
I can’t believe this is actually happening. I can’t believe she’s here with me right now, naked under me, flushed and out of breath. It’s got to be a dream, or a vivid hallucination.
Once again, I have to take a minute. If I move, it will all be over. And while I want that with every nerve ending in my body, I won’t be fully satisfied until I’ve pleased Harmony Sonora at least twice, consecutively.
For a few minutes I just caress her and kiss wherever my whims guide me within reach.
She parts her legs wider and I manage to get a bit deeper, and soon she tilts her hips in a way that tells me she’s ready for what comes next.
It takes my full concentration not to let loose, but then she starts moving and I instinctively mirror her and match her pace, and before I know it my fingertips are pressing temporary dents into her luscious thighs and I’m thrusting recklessly and I’m about to finish and—
She cries my name—my real one—and I feel her pulse around me. That alone threatens to be my final ruin, but I hold still so I don’t disrupt her, savoring the effects of what I’ve done.
As her last spasm fades, my body can’t take it anymore. I spill into her, finally releasing not only the tension that has been building since I started kissing her at my house tonight but the tension that has been building since we met and became mortal enemies.
Do I think it’s a good thing that we had to fight so much to get to this point? No.
But did it make this moment a prize worth waiting for?
Absolutely.