Chapter 38
THIRTY-EIGHT
EMMA
MAY
Warm, surrounded, actively being doted upon.
Loved.
Not a bad way to wake up.
Liam was at his dad’s, and the Rusties had a break while Toronto and Washington duked it out over who would play us in the conference finals. Harlan and I took advantage of the lull with a night alone at his place.
“Hey, Daddy,” I hummed as Harlan kissed my shoulders. I rolled over and buried my face in his chest. He squeezed me tighter and his chain pressed into my forehead. “This slutty-ass chain strikes again.”
I felt Harlan’s laugh in his chest. “My, excuse me, what?”
“Your chain is slutty. You know it is.”
“No, I do not know that,” he objected. “When did you make this decision?”
“It’s a known fact! You always stick it in your mouth and tongue it around and shit. I’m sure some fifteen-year-old has made an edit about it on the internet.”
Harlan laughed harder. “I think in that case, you are the fifteen-year-old. No one else thinks about my chain like that.”
“Chains are inherently slutty! It was in my sex dream about you before we got together.”
“Wait a minute, that’s way more important. What sex dream?”
I squirmed away from him and he pawed after me. “Nothing! I’m going to the bathroom, bye.”
“Don’t think that’s getting you out of this!” he called after me.
When I returned to the bedroom, Harlan had the sheets artfully draped over one leg, his hands folded behind his head, and his erection on full display. “Did I look like this in your sex dream?”
I cracked up, folding at the waist. “Oh my god, what are you doing?”
He laughed and touched his tongue to his teeth with a wink. “Making your dreams come true, princess.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned it. God. This is mortifying.” I ran a brush over my hair at his dresser.
“No, no. Pose me. Tell me what I did. I’d love to know how your brain objectified me when I was just your coworker.”
“Harlan,” I whined at him, flapping my hands, “it’s not my fault what I dream about.”
He sat up and absently palmed his cock. “I mean, if you were thinking about me all day, that’s gonna transfer to nighttime. I was in your head before I even meant to be.” He turned on his best bedroom eyes. “Come here. Show me. Show me what I did.”
I stood by the side of the bed, wringing my hands.
“Shy now? You sat on my face in your hot tub the first time I came to your house.”
I covered my eyes. “I don’t know! It’s embarrassing. The deepest parts of my brain.”
Harlan sat up and opened his knees, tugging me between them. “And I love your brain.” He leaned in to kiss my breastbone. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just guess until I get it right.”
I tipped my head from side to side. “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.”
He rolled his eyes and clutched my hips. “Brat.”
Harlan tossed me onto the bed and pinned my wrists to the mattress. “Did I do this?”
His mouth traced down my neck, nibbling and licking. He took his time getting to my breasts, hemming my hips down with his own. “Did I do this in the dream?”
I gasped, overwhelmed by what he did to me. “Sorta.”
“Ooh, so I’m getting closer.” He continued kissing and licking down my body, gripping the tops of my thighs and pulling me to the edge of the bed. He licked a stripe at the crease of my leg, the pleasure making me jolt. “Did Dream Me love eating your cunt as much as I do?”
He spat on my pussy before stroking his tongue broadly up my center.
He did this incredible thing I’d only ever experienced with a toy, sucking my clit and flicking it at the same time.
I moaned out his name and rocked my hips into his mouth.
I lifted my head off the bed to watch him, his eyes trained on how my stomach and breasts rose and fell.
When his eyes met mine, he opened wider and flattened his tongue against me.
“Did Dream Me make you come twice?”
I writhed under him, starting to dance with my edge. “I don’t remember. I was so turned on the whole time.”
“So you want me to edge you, princess? Is that how you really like it? You like it when Daddy keeps it from you?”
I couldn’t answer, twisting my head from side to side, digging my heels into the mattress. Two fingers pinched my nipple and I panted until my mouth was dry. “So close.”
I raked my fingers into his hair and pulled until he growled. I repeated his name, over and over, thrusting against his face until I was there, on a knife’s edge, tumbling over and giving in to the feeling.
I pushed myself up, where Harlan gripped my chin and let me taste myself all over his mouth.
“What did I do next?” he asked.
I coughed a laugh. “I need a break.”
He sat on the bed next to me. “Tap my thigh if you need out?”
“Yes.”
A little smirk crossed his lips. “Thought you could get away with not telling me what you dreamed about?” He laced his fingers into my hair and pulled, hard, guiding my face down to his cock. “Stick your tongue out, princess.”
I did as requested and he fit himself into my mouth, the angle putting his piercing at my left cheek. Steering me by my hair, he moved me up and down on his shaft, letting me control how deep I went.
“Perfect use for that smart mouth.” He pulled me up to look in his eyes, spit falling from my lips. “Don’t you think?”
“You want me to spit in your face again?” I challenged him.
He shoved me back down on his cock. “Nah. I’d rather have your spit right there.” He thrust into my mouth, tossing his head back when I tasted a little burst of precum. “Did Dream Me have all these piercings, huh?”
He pulled me up by my hair again. I licked my lips and glared at him. “No.”
“You’ve got one last chance to show me what I did in the dream. Otherwise, I’m going to spill down your throat.”
I got my legs under me and straddled his lap where he still sat at the edge of the bed. I placed his hands on my thighs and started to rock against him. “You clawed into my thighs like this.”
His fingers dug in, and that part felt just as good as the dream. “You told me I didn’t really hate you at all.” I lifted up and notched him against my pussy, sinking down on him to our collective sigh. “You called me Chef.”
I bounced in his lap, curling my hips so my clit rubbed his stomach. I held onto his shoulders for leverage.
“This was a good dream,” he said. “I bet you couldn’t stop thinking about fucking me like this.”
I gritted my teeth and placed his hand on my throat. “You held me like this but I could see it somehow.”
His breathing got faster. “We can do this in front of a mirror sometime. But now I’m too close to blowing.”
His one hand still held my ass while the other stayed on my throat. “My hand is hotter than any chain on you, princess.”
Grinding harder, starting to shake, eyes locked, I made my final request. “Say it. What you said in the dream.”
Harlan smirked, eyes cataloging where we joined, my tits bouncing, his hand on me, my lips likely red from sucking him, and finally meeting my gaze. “You don’t really hate me at all, Chef.”
I held both sides of his face to kiss him, his arms sealing behind my back while I rolled my hips.
“I don’t hate you,” I whispered against his lips. “I love you so fucking much.”
“Fuck,” he groaned. His hands dropped to my ass, moving me on his cock just the way he wanted. I squeaked out his name, coming intensely while he was still going. “I could never hate you, Emma.”
His breath stuttered until I felt his pulsing release inside me. I pushed him to his back and planted my elbows by his head, kissing him while his hands followed the curve of my waist. Our noses touched and he chuckled.
“Guess what?” Harlan used both hands to tuck my hair behind my ears.
“What?”
“I’m still in love with you.”
I giggled, my grin spreading wide. “That’s good. Because I still hate you too.”
He pulled me in for a smiling kiss. “I’d expect no different.”
“Put a lid on the pan,” I said around the massive strawberry I just stuck in my mouth.
“It’s rude to talk with your mouth full, Chef,” Harlan said, teasing eyes flicking up to mine.
“It’s rude to talk back to your chef, Chef.”
“Heard, Chef,” he deadpanned.
I sat at Harlan’s kitchen island, wearing one of his shirts and enjoying our afterglow over a breakfast cooking lesson. We were tackling omelets and cheesy grits, plus the fruit we cut up to snack on. We had music on, and a coffee cup warmed my right hand.
A perfect moment in time.
As long as I didn’t consider the possibility that he would maybe move in a matter of weeks.
But I was actively practicing the art of not looking down.
Harlan was still futzing around, so I reiterated my advice. “Lid on, Chef.”
“Why?” He threw his hands wide. “Chef.”
“Look who’s a brat now,” I mused. “Can’t take an order to save your life, but I’m trying to save you from a crusty omelet.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I like a little crust.”
“The crust smells like wet dogs,” I objected. “Please just put the lid on and taste it. If you truly like crust better, I’ll let you crust all you want next time.”
He sighed and opened a cabinet to get a lid, setting it on top of the pan. “There. Happy?”
I popped a piece of melon into my mouth. “Very.”
He started to wash the prep dishes and peered at me over his shoulder. “I hope we have a lot more next times.”
My lips curled up. “Me too. You’ll owe me a couple since you’re taking me to meet your parents later. I’m starting to think you like me.”
Harlan turned off the water and walked my way. He opened my thighs and stood between them. His fingertips caressed my cheek and those pretty blue eyes took in each feature on my face. I was just about to question what he was up to when he spoke. “How dare you think I like you.”