38. Elliot
ELLIOT
Amonth of dating Harper like a ‘regular person’ had me constantly searching for regular people's date ideas. And, yes, that is a popular search prompt.
I had called Caleb when community service activities popped up in my search.
Because, how was cleaning up garbage sexy?
But apparently, being good to your community and the environment is an attractive quality.
So I went with it, and Harper seemed to have a great time, slowly coming out of her shell, chatting with strangers who did not know they were talking to the sole heir of one of the wealthiest American families.
Tonight we were at the Art School end-of-year fundraiser show, Harper tucked snugly at my side. I loved that she was allowing me to hold her again, openly being affectionate with her.
Was I taking daily cold showers? Absolutely.
Because even though my brain understood her need to do this slowly and have me earn back her trust… my cock was not on board. He wanted the steamy sexuality Harper, and I had enjoyed, before I blew it all up. But I wanted to prove to her that I loved her for more than her body.
The event is intimate, with low lighting, except for the spotlights on certain pieces around the room.
Harper seemed lighter since she opened up Will’s room, like she was finally giving herself permission to live fully.
She stopped by a large canvas of bold colours, her head titling from side to side, her lips twitching, like she was trying hard to find something positive to comment on from the piece that looked like a leftover paint can was knocked over and the artist had and called it a day.
So I pulled her closer and whispered into her ear, "That's either a profound commentary on capitalism or someone dropped paint."
The bark of laughter that comes out of her is pure joy, and I feel my heart swell.
I made her laugh like that.
People turn to look in our direction, and I nod at them in return. My eyes say, “Yes, I see you seeing us, but you will not be ruining this for her.”
We keep moving, Harper giggling into her drink as I keep her close.
This feels like the version of us we should have been from the beginning, playful with a side of that heat and tension, and witty banter we loved to challenge each other.
I continue to run whispered commentary in Harper's ear, and she continues to gift me with her laugh. And then I see it coming in real time: a young woman, maybe twenty, recognizes Harper. She looks nervous, excited, and absolutely star-struck.
"Oh, my God... You are... you’re her!"
Harper immediately braces herself. I feel her body go tense beside me, feel her putting up the shields to protect her from whatever comes next.
The girl has stars in her eyes and doesn't even realize that Harper is shrinking right in front of her. I feel the shift; Harper straightens, the tight public-facing smile creeps onto her face, but fuck that. So I reached my hand out to the girl before Harper could respond, saying, “Hi, I am Elliot, and this is my girlfriend, Harper. It’s so nice to meet you…”
I feel Harper’s eyes on me, but I keep my focus on the girl before me, hoping she understands and plays along. She looks from me to Harper, and the colour drains from her face, as if she realizes what is happening, and I don’t want her to feel bad. So I repeat, "It's really nice to meet you…"
Immediately she relaxes, her hand finding mine in a tentative shake, saying, “Emma, my name is Emma. Nice to meet you too.”
Harper squeezes me, and when I look down at her, her eyes are shining, and she mouths, ‘thank you’.
I am about to move on to the next area when Emma blurts out, "I just wanted to say... thank you."
I look back at her, but she is looking directly at Harper, who is looking back at her, confused.
Emma clears her throat and explains, “I am in school for journalism, and we have been talking about your family.” Harper tenses, and Emma must notice because she brings her hands up and adds, “In a good way, everything that has been brought up, even how you have handled situations as a public relations manager…
We've actually done case studies on them in one of my classes. It has started a conversation, and people have been speaking openly about being harassed online, about social responsibility, and the issues our generation is facing with being keyboard trolls, and what that means about journalism in an age of fast, public-led media.”
Emma looks like she is holding her breath after that round of verbal diarrhea, but my attention is on how Harper is taking what she just said.
I see her process the information, and then she gifts Emma with a soft smile, saying, “It is a tough and important topic to discuss. There are so many implications for what should be allowed with free speech and yet how people don’t treat others as humans when they get a phone in their hand. ”
I whisper to Harper that I will get us fresh drinks and step away briefly to let her chat with Emma.
I keep an eye on her as I wait at the bar and make my way back, and that is when I notice a guy off to the side where Harper is talking passionately with Emma; he is trying hard to make it look like he is studying a sculpture, but he has his phone out at an angle that shows him taking video of Harper.
I walk in front of his line of sight, blocking his phone. The guy looks up at me and swallows hard. I smile in return, saying, “Hey, my name is Elliot. Did you want a picture with us?”
The guy freezes, and embarrassment floods his face. My instinct is to lose my shit on this guy for invading Harper’s privacy, but he isn’t the root of the problem, and me causing a scene won’t fix anything.
The guy is beet red and stutters, "Uh..."
I try to make my smile less predatory and more comforting when I say, "It's okay."
I gesture to Harper, my eyes going to her to make sure she is ok; she is watching me with curiosity but seems fine otherwise, and then I look back at the guy, saying loud enough for people to hear, “It’s better if you ask.”
The guy apologizes, and we take a quick picture with him.
The rest of the night I can feel Harper’s eyes on me, a look I pray I am not misunderstanding, because that look is giving me so much hope.
But that hope dwindles on the ride back to the Montgomery Estate. Harper is quiet, staring out the window into the night. The further we drive, the more I panic and spiral, worried I did something wrong. So I blurted out, "Did I embarrass you?"
Harper turns to me, her face unreadable as she says, "No."
"The phone thing?" I ask, the panic edging in further.
"No," she repeats.
"Was it the art?"
"Elliot..." Her voice is soft, and she doesn't seem angry, but maybe it's soft because she’s decided she doesn't want this with me?
"Was it the weird cheese?" I ask and have no idea how my brain latched onto that causing her silence.
She laughs and says, "Pull over."
Immediately, the panic is a bubble in my throat threatening to pop; my hands grip the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white. I am terrified, and I do not know what is happening.
"Harper..." I don’t know if it's a plea or if I am begging, and I am not even sure what for just yet. But I will beg...
"Elliot, pull over."
I can’t look at her, or I may lose my shit altogether. I try to breathe through the fear and find a quiet overlook where there is room to park safely. I pull over. Shift to park, my heart in my throat, ready to beg, plead my case. Because Harper owns my heart, and this can’t be it.
I turn towards her, my words bubbling out, “Harper, just talk to me, tell me what I did…”
But she is unbuckling her seatbelt and climbing over the console before my brain realizes what is happening.
And she steals my breath when her lips crash into mine; I am surrounded by her scent, the feel of her pressed into me, straddling my lap.
Her hair falling around our faces as she pours everything into a kiss that has me groaning into her mouth.
I kiss her back with equal intensity because I may not have any clue about what the fuck is going on right now, but Harper is in my lap, initiating a kiss that could make me cum in my pants.
We kiss for what could be an eternity, because I lose track of time.
After we pull away, our eyes locked, she smiles softly at me, and I can’t help blurting out, "I definitely misread this situation."
Harper laughs, and it feels like sunshine and fucking rainbows, like someone threw a glitter bomb around us that we don’t have to clean up. She presses another kiss to my lips, this one softer, whispering, “You see me.”
I swallow hard because when she pulls back, the intensity in her eyes has me feral.
She drags a nail across the scruff on my jaw, saying between kisses, "Not Harper Montgomery." Kiss. "Not a headline." Kiss. "Not a scandal." Kiss “Or an heir.” Kiss "Just..." She pulls back, her eyes glittering, as she whispers, "Me."
I wrap my hand in her hair behind her neck and pull her to me, saying everything I am feeling in that moment with a kiss. Harper starts to move in my lap, grinding on me, and I try my hardest to slow this down.
Not because I don't want to get back to this part of our relationship, but because I am worried that we are rushing and I don’t want to push anything.
I pull her close, trying to slow her frantic movements, and of course she notices, "Why do you keep stopping me?"
Harper bites my lower lip, and I groan, "Because I'm trying to do this right."
She pulls back from me, studying my face for a moment before she shifts back enough to expose my belt and zipper, saying, “Your restraint is incredibly attractive, Mr Vale. I appreciate it; I appreciate you.” Her eyes move from her hands that are now slowly undoing my belt buckle to mine as she continues, “But right now what I would really appreciate is the Elliot who understands the logistics of fucking me in the front seat of this SUV.”
Then Harper smiles a mischievous smile that I don’t think I have seen from her before, and all my restraint snaps.
In one motion, I slide the seat all the way back and recline, which has Harper tumbling forward with me, a giggle bursting out of her.
With one hand, I reach up and brush the hair back from her face and the other cuffs her throat, just enough to say that it's there, and lower my voice when I say, "I've dreamed about this every night. "
Harper whimpers, the sound going right to my cock, which I can feel pulsing, putting pressure under my zipper. As Harper lifts her hips to get more room to free me, I slide my hand from her hair down her body, watching the goosebumps follow my touch as she struggles with my belt.
I pull my hand back and then slip it under her dress, finding the panties soaked already for me.
Her body shivers, her hips stuttering, as my fingers trail to the edge of where I can feel her soft, bare, pussy lips. We both groan at the same time, and I squeeze the hand that is still wrapped around her throat, saying, “What’s taking so long?”
Harper laughs as she finally gets the belt free and aggressively pulls the button and zipper. Her eyes lock on mine as her hand slips into my boxer briefs and wraps around me, at the same time as I push a finger inside her.
Harper snaps forward with a cry, and I hold her to me while we kiss.
It isn't pretty or particularly loving; its teeth and tongues and pants mixed with sounds I hope we are the only people to hear.
Harper moves her hips, fucking my hand as I slip another finger in, and she whimpers my name into my mouth.
Her hand is tight and shaking around me, and I am desperate to be inside her after all this time.
She must feel it too because she does her best to free me from my confines, and I slip my fingers out of her ripping the gusset of her panties as I go for better access, licking my fingers and she grinds her dripping pussy up and down my cock chanting my name, I almost lose it there, the feel of her on me.
I tilt my hips the best I can in this crowded space but then remember, fuck…
“Harper,” I groan, but I really want to cry, “I don’t have any condoms.”
I see the cloud of lust clear from her eyes, just enough that I know she is thinking clearly. She nibbles on her bottom lip, and my dick twitches, which causes her hips to react, and I can feel myself notched and ready to go. My hands shake as I hold us still.
Harper kisses me, saying softly, “I am clean, and you are the last person I have been with. I am on the pill...”
It takes a minute for my brain to catch up to what she is saying, and I blurt out, “Me too”, which causes Harper to laugh and my fucking dick to inch in just a little more.
I can feel her tightening around me, a pulse either trying to push me out or pull me in. We are both panting, as I clarify, “I am clean, and you are the last person I was with.”
Something passes over Harper's expression as she leans into my hold on her throat, whispering, “I trust you.”
Those words make me blink back tears, but Harper sees it, and she watches me closely as she pulls back slightly, tilts her hips and slowly, ever so fucking slowly, lowers herself on me.
The feel of us bare together is almost too much. My body is shaking while I try desperately not to cum before she even has all of me in.
Her eyes are glassy and so full of love as she finally settles on my lap, and I am fully seated inside her. Our eyes stay locked as our bodies say everything words could never get right. And I know without a doubt I have found home.