WAKING UP NAKED ON TOP of Booker Harris definitely has its perks. For one, I can admire his gloriously naked body. The morning light slicing in through the window casts the perfect glow on every inch of his bare chest and abs. His mouth is slack, still obviously in deep sleep. But the way he tightens his grip around me even in his REM cycle feels as if I’m in a delicious dream that I haven’t woken up from yet.
But I am awake. So very awake. The soreness between my thighs is proof that this is not a dream. Booker and I did have sex, not once, but twice last night. The second time was by my prompting. I rolled over in the middle of the night and accidentally grazed the tip of his erection. He was out cold, yet he was still hard after going at it once already. The thought sent such a naughty thrill through me, I couldn’t help myself. I dipped under the covers and pulled him into my mouth. I’d barely started sucking before I was yanked up by his strong arms, rolled onto my back, and pinned beneath him. It was dark in his room, a faint light streaming in from the hallway that he’d purposefully left on for me. But I didn’t need to see much as he held my arms above my head and thrust inside of me so hard and so unapologetic, I nearly came on contact.
The complete trust and faith I have in him because of our history together makes sex so much more. Knowing that we know each other so well and that we are doing this together is completely liberating. It makes me brave and horny and excited and thrilled. He’s looking at me differently and letting me into his heart, which means I can finally embrace this dark part of my soul that I’ve silenced for far too many years.
I can let myself fall for my best friend.
“You’re awake,” Booker’s morning voice croaks as he stirs beneath me.
I smirk into his chest, biting my lip to stop myself from spewing out all the glorious thoughts raging through my mind. I feel them, but I sure as bloody hell can’t say them yet. “Yep.”
“What are you thinking about down there?” He reaches out to stroke a lazy thumb down my bare arm and I shiver into him.
“Just trying to figure out if dragging my tongue through the ridges of your abs would wake you or not.” I silently give myself a pat on the back for my very clever cover.
His belly shakes with a silent laugh. “Dragging your tongue on pretty much any part of me would wake me.”
I inhale deeply and look up at him. He props one hand behind his head and his bicep flexes a few times before relaxing. “Morning.”
I smirk. “Morning.”
“You look happy.” His fingers push a strand of my hair away from my forehead.
“I feel happy.” I nuzzle into his touch.
“I like seeing you happy,” he states simply.
“Is this really how it’s going to be?” I ask, resting my hands beneath my chin as I toss the serious question out there. I still can’t believe this is actually real life.
“What do you mean?” His dark brows knit and then relax.
“You and me, naked lazy Sundays…All that jazz.” I bite my nail nervously.
The corners of his mouth turn down as he ponders that thought. “Naked lazy Sundays would be difficult to achieve at Harris Sunday dinners, but I’m willing to experiment if you are.”
“You know what I mean.”
I pinch his side and he chuckles while rolling me over and sliding down my body so he can drop soft kisses on my chest and belly. “I want as many naked lazy days with you as I can get. Not just Sundays.”
“You’re doing quite well with this so far,” I state, combing my hands through his thick hair.
“Well, it’s day two…Still plenty of time for me to disappoint you,” he says to my belly.
This makes me frown. I pull his chin up so he has to look at me. “You’re not going to disappoint me, Booker. You’re my best friend, and this is already so much more than I had hoped for.” His stunning eyes soften in a way that shows me he’s thinking about something other than what we’re discussing. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” I add, trying to break through whatever mental dilemma he’s attacking right now.
He nods and kisses my palm. “I want to talk about that fucking vibrator you left out on the bathroom counter.”
This makes me full on belly laugh. “I know, I’m horrid.”
“You are the worst kind of tease.” He shoots up and pins my wrists to the bed, straddling my naked body. His dick is hard and resting on my belly. “I think it’s time for me to tease you the way you’ve been teasing me the last two weeks.”
I bite my lip as he thrusts his hips upward so his cock glides between my breasts. I’m tormented between giggling like a teenager and moaning like a hornball. My voice is husky when I reply, “It was all Belle and Indie’s idea. Most of it, I should say…Some of it was just dumb luck.”
He stops his thrusts. “Bubbly tits?” he asks, his head tilting.
“Total accident. That must have been fate’s way of giving me a helping hand.”
He inhales deeply, shaking his head. “I couldn’t stop staring at your chest for days.”
“I noticed,” I snicker and he drops down and attacks my neck with his morning-whiskered chin.
He pulls back and spoons me, his erection delectably stroking up and down my backside as he rolls his hips into me. Unable to stay still, I wiggle back against him, popping my butt out as far as I can.
I want him. Now. And always.
Without asking for permission, he slides one of his glorious fingers between my folds and finds me completely ready. I was ready the moment I woke up. I was ready all night in my sleep. I don’t know if there’ll ever be a day I’m around Booker Harris and not be ready.
Shifting slightly, he positions himself behind me and spreads my legs. I gasp as he pushes himself inside, hitting a spot that rockets through me like wildfire. He begins his slow, languid thrusts, and I turn my face into the pillow and bite the fabric to keep quiet because I don’t want to break this soundless bubble we’re in. It’s not his fluid motions that are turning me on this much. It’s the intimacy behind how he’s taken me. Claimed me. Owned me. Like I’m his. I want to be his so bloody much, and that’s precisely what’s happening. This isn’t a dream.
My heartbeat increases when he reaches around and begins playing with my nipples. Every touch he places clicks all the right buttons until we’re both so frenzied, we can’t help but cry out when we finally come at the same time.
After cleaning up in the loo, we’re back in bed when Booker says, “Let’s go do something today. Like a proper date. I haven’t had a free Sunday in ages and I’d love to spend it with you.”
This makes me want to squeal like a giddy girl, and it’s not only because of the massive number of orgasms I’ve had in such a short amount of time. Instead, I nod. “That sounds cool.”
“Maybe we can explore in the woods behind our houses like old times.”
He looks at me hopefully and my face falls. I squirm out from his hold to turn away so he can’t see the anxiety on my face. Pulling the sheet against my chest, I stammer, “You have a free Sunday. Why would you want to go out to Chigwell?”
He pulls me back to him so he can see my face. Frowning, he gives my protective sheet a yank like he’s offended that I’ve tried to cover myself up. “That park is sort of special I thought. I haven’t been back there in ages, so I’d like to see how it’s holding up.”
I force a smile and quickly heave myself off of the bed, busily picking up my clothes from last night. “I’d rather stay in London today. Let’s go do something fun and different! Oh! There’s this adult ball pit in Hackney that some students in my class were talking about. Apparently the balls glow in the dark. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
“A ball pit?” He arches a skeptical brow at me.
“Yeah, it’s for adults. There are cocktails and everything. You can cop a feel when we’re literally balls deep.” I lean over on the bed and press a chaste kiss on his lips.
He laughs. “I’d never pass up a chance to go balls deep with you.”
“Yay!” I peal a bit more loudly than I intended. Stopping at the doorway, I look back at the gloriously naked Booker and ask, “Shower first?”
Glowy McGlow, formerly known as Ballie Ballerson, is an immature adult’s wet dream. A virtual playpen kitted out with two hundred fifty thousand clear balls set upon an LED dance floor that shifts into different colours.
It’s bloody ridiculous.
Poppy’s eyes alight with excitement over the setup as she all but drags me through the crowd on the second floor where the bar sits. Apparently Ballie Ballerson is the cool place to be on Sunday afternoons because it’s packed with patrons sipping on planet-themed cocktails as they take breaks from the rigorous efforts of ball surfing.
Poppy adjusts her crop top that’s displaying her perfect hourglass figure. I notice heads turn to check her out and wonder if this is always how it was for her, or if I’m just realising it now because we’re together. I can’t fault the blokes for noticing her. She’s striking with her short blonde hair mussed high atop her head with some product. She’s got an edgy yet classy look about her because of her angelic face and graceful neck. The combination is really fucking sexy, and it makes me feel like a lucky bastard.
When we make our way down the stairs to the pit, she looks over her shoulder and smiles brightly, her white teeth glowing in the black light. Hesitating before we step down into the balls, she yells over the loud music, “Come on, Booker! Stop looking so serious and go balls deep with me!”
“We could have stayed home for that,” I yell back with a wink. She giggles, holding her hands out to me, fingers wiggling, body shaking with anticipation.
With a dramatic eye-roll, I plunge into the depths with her. The balls are waist deep on Poppy and hit high on my thighs. We move past a few groups of people until we’re in a corner that’s less congested. Laughing the whole time, we toss balls at each other. At one point, she tries to trip me with her foot and shove me backwards, failing miserably and managing to topple herself over instead.
I laugh and help her up out of the balls, snaking my arms around her bare waist and squeezing until she squirms. She feels so good in my arms. So right. I love that I can press my lips to her neck whenever I want. Being with her like this is surprisingly easy.
I catch her completely off guard when I wrap my arms around her and fall back, pulling her down on top of me. Her gleeful laughs are all I hear as the balls engulf us, sinking us lower to the colourful ground.
“This is fantastic!” she shrieks, face close to mine as the colours shift from pinks to purples, to blues, to greens, illuminating her happy smile.
“It’s all right,” I smirk from behind her neck.
She rolls over so we’re face-to-face. “Shut up! You’re loving this and you know it.”
“It beats singing competitions in the woods,” I exclaim.
Her eyes narrow and she begins wrestling with me in the balls, trying and failing to pin my arms beside my head. She wraps her legs around my hips, and I roll us so I’m the one on top. I hold her hands above her head and slowly thrust my pelvis into hers. The gasp she sucks in makes me smile.
“Yeah, I’m hard,” I whisper in her ear.
“You’re insatiable!” she giggles, looking around nervously.
“It’s your fault for looking so bloody gorgeous all the time.”
I stare down at her affectionately and she gives her own hips a little thrust. “You better get control of yourself, Harris, or we’re going to end up in the papers like your brothers.”
Shaking with laughter, I release my hold on her and we go back to playfully chucking balls at one another. Truthfully, it’s the most I’ve laughed in ages. Playing with Poppy like we used to when we were kids but with the added benefits of being able to kiss her is a pretty fucking fantastic combination. It makes me wonder what life would have been like if we’d tried this when we were younger. Would it have worked out? Will it work out now? There are really no guarantees. I just have to trust that if it doesn’t, she’ll hold up her promise to not let it ruin our friendship because Poppy is not someone I’m willing to lose ever again.
After playing in the balls for almost an hour, we’ve both worked up a sweat and decide to make our way back to the psychedelic bar for a drink. I order a beer and Poppy gets some sort of Saturn drink garnished with a floating balloon.
She looks so bloody happy as she sucks the red liquid through the straw. “This is so much fun! My mum and dad never let me play in ball pits growing up.”
“Why is that?” I ask, taking a pull from my bottle of beer.
“They said children piddle in them.” My nose crinkles and she giggles adorably.
Setting my beer down, I reply, “Until Vi had Rocky, I had no clue what that parental fear is like. But after watching her a couple weeks ago, I have a newfound respect for parents. There are a lot of scary things that could happen to her in the blink of an eye. It’s a lot of pressure to be a parent full-time. Makes me content to just be an awesome uncle forever.”
“Not forever, surely,” Poppy scoffs.
I frown. “Probably forever.”
She looks confused. “You’re saying you don’t think you’ll want kids, Mr. ‘I love my big family that I see every single week and can’t go a day without texting or talking to one of them?’”
My eyes narrow. “Just because I’m close to my family doesn’t mean I want to make a family of my own. I’m busy enough handling all their mania. Creating my own would be exhausting.”
Her face falls and she huffs, “Well, only because you let your brothers push you around.” Her tone is sharp.
“They don’t push me around,” I snap back.
She arches a skeptical brow. “Booker, they are nosey buggers and you fold whenever you’re around them. And you drop everything to help them whenever they need you. Same with Vi.”
“They do the same for me. And they’re my family. That’s what Harrises do for each other! What else would you have me do? Ignore them?”
“Of course not because you’re a decent person. But I think you need to live your own life and create your own adventures. They still treat you like the baby brother all the time.”
“They don’t treat me like the baby,” I bark, gripping my beer tightly in my hand.
Her eyes fly wide. “They do, Booker. Don’t get me wrong, I love your family. But you are blind to how different you are with them than you are with me. I mean, bloody hell, you keeper me without hesitation and that’s because I’ve always treated you like an equal.”
Frustration and confusion envelope my anger. “Will you please explain this keeper me phrase again because I still don’t know what you’re going on about when you say those words to me.”
She blurts out her words in a rush. “You just…fucking flourish.” She shakes her hands out in front of her and gets a heated look in her eyes. “It’s hard to describe, but I find it sexy as fuck. And I don’t know if you even know when you’re doing it, but it’s like you get ultra-focused and commanding and you just…intensify every part of your body. It’s…” She shakes her head with a shiver like the thought is turning her on, which then begins to turn me on. “It’s hot, but it can also be intimidating. I think you need to apply that strength to your brothers sometimes and then you wouldn’t feel so pushed over.”
I want to argue with her, but deep down, I know there’s validity to her claim. Before Poppy came back, I was feeling downright desperate around my family. Clinging to what we’ve always been and not giving them space to start their own lives without me. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Hayden or Indie or Belle. I just didn’t want to lose sight of my connection to my siblings. It probably dates back to being younger and having Cam and Tan always running faster than I could keep up. It used to make me crazy that they’d take off knowing I wouldn’t be able to follow.
I’ve always felt like I’m trying to hold onto them all a bit tighter than they’ve held on to me. Maybe it’s because I lived with Dad for too long and became too codependent on that constant presence. It’s probably why I play for his team and have never considered going elsewhere like Gareth or Cam. It’s also probably why Vi found me a flat near her, and why I let Cam and Tan push me into calling Sidney for the wedding. I always do what everyone tells me to do.
I look at Poppy through wide eyes and marvel at how insightful she is, even after all these years apart. She’s always seen me as the man I want to be. Even as a child, she looked at me like I was Booker, not a Harris Brother. The idea of caring about someone enough to have children with them terrifies me, but maybe if I start seeing myself the way Poppy sees me, I will warm up to the idea someday.
My voice is soft when I utter, “Sometimes I wonder what I would be like if I never met you.”
“What do you mean by that?” She looks offended, but it’s only because she’s not seeing herself through my eyes. She doesn’t know how instrumental she is to my happiness. How utterly better my life is because she’s in it.
“When we were kids, you just…showed up at the perfect time. You and Pink. You’ve always just…been there.”
“That doesn’t sound very attractive,” she baulks and fiddles with the straw in her glass.
I reach out to cradle her face so she can focus on what I’m about to say. “When you spend a lifetime chasing after people who were always running away from you, having someone to sit still with can be really fucking attractive.”
Her mouth falls open and her green eyes darken as she says, “There you go again.” Her voice is like gravel. I tilt my head in silent question as she swallows and adds, “Keepering me.”
The corner of my mouth lifts as I watch her lower lip pop out from between her teeth. I lean forward and connect us, parting her lips with my tongue, tasting her, encircling her, pulling her into my arms and clutching her to me like she’s my most prized possession. I want to taste more than her mouth. I want her back in my flat, in my bed, between my sheets. With me.
I break our connection. Both of us are breathing heavily as I whisper against her lips, “Maybe I do it because you’re a keeper.”
She swallows slowly and whispers back, “Maybe I want to be kept.”