CHAPTER TWO
I jolt awake. The kitchen is dark, as is the living room. I look around and find the place empty.
“Harlow?”
Thank fuck my ability to speak is back. The sleep must have restored me. It usually does.
I pull my phone from my pocket and glance at the time. My eyes nearly pop from my head. I conked out for three hours?
What. The. Fuck?
Worse, she didn’t answer. Did she decide I’m a deadbeat who can’t put out and catch a ride to one of her brothers’ pads? Or worse, decide she was better off finding someone else more capable of scratching whatever itch she has? Normally, if a hookup was too horny to wait and didn’t care who she dropped her panties for, then she would be more than welcome to find some douchebag to cozy up to for the night.
Thinking that Harlow might be on the prowl both angers me and fills me with a dread that makes zero sense.
Seriously, what is wrong with me tonight?
Stomping up the stairs, I call her name again. No answer.
Quickly, I figure out which bedroom she occupies. It’s the one that smells like her, island vanilla and gardenia. It’s the one with lacy panties folded on the dresser next to a strappy bra. A pair of red wedges are strewn around the room as if she kicked them off the second she walked in. Her suitcase peeks out from a luggage rack in the closet, visible through the cracked door.
At least if she left, she hasn’t left for good.
On her nightstand, I see her tablet, a thick biography about Elizabeth Blackwell. I have no idea who that was or what she accomplished. But after I find Harlow, I’ll Google it and figure out what fascinates the woman who’s beginning to fascinate me.
Right now, I just want to know where the hell Harlow has gone.
A check of the other seven bedrooms in this place, including mine, proves pointless. I stomp back downstairs and look from room to room—office, formal living, formal dining, exercise room—empty. I rake a hand through my hair. Where has she gone?
Then I hear splashing outside, along with the distinct sounds of Evanescence.
Darting for the pool, I see Harlow’s little red bikini lying on a lounger. She’s skinny-dipping? I glance around for confirmation and find the woman herself clutching a pool noodle with one hand and a glass of wine with the other.
“Hi, Sleeping Beauty.” She grins my way.
“Sorry about that. I can’t remember the last time I just fell off.”
“You obviously needed it. Feel better?”
“Tons. Thanks. How about you?”
“Great. I love drinking alone.” Her smirk says she’s poking harmlessly at me again. “But you gave me time to finish the dishes, do some laundry, read War and Peace…”
“Stop,” I groan. “Three hours is a long nap. I admit it. You going to ease up now?”
“When teasing you is so fun?” She raises a brow. “What do you think are the odds?”
Shitty. “How can I make it up to you? If you want to hop out of the pool and come to my bedroom, I’ll do my best to put a big smile on your face.”
“I’m intrigued,” she admits. “But in between chapters of the sad Russian saga, I Googled you. You’re, um…a big deal.”
I feel heat rush to my face. I’m used to people talking about me, but I’ve never been completely comfortable with it. “I’m told I was. But like I said, I’m retired now.”
“Hall of Famer, for sure.”
“So my agent assures me.” I shrug. “I’m trying not to linger in the past. I still have a lot of life to live.”
She splashes around a little more. “I don’t know. You’re practically ancient compared to me.”
Is this woman going to rib me about everything? Probably. And I still think it’s oddly adorable. It’s way more entertaining than the bowing, scraping, and yes-sirring I’ve been hearing for years. “How much older?”
“Almost nine years. When you were graduating from high school, I was starting junior high. These days, do you need vitamins before sex or a little blue pill?”
Now she’s laughing, and I find myself smiling in return. “Fuck you.”
“That is the idea…”
“Come here, baby.”
Her eyes sparkle under the moonlight, and it’s all I can do not to jump in after her, clothes and all. I want my hands on her now.
“Why don’t you drop trou and come in after me?”
“You’re all wet.”
She purses her lips together, and I know she’ll make one hell of a sexy bad girl. “Don’t you want me that way?”
The way I feel now? Every day, all day. “Just your pussy. That should be juicy and swollen and ready for my cock. The rest of you shouldn’t be wet unless I’m making you sweat in pleasure.”
“You sweet talker, you…”
I’m wondering if I’m really going to have to take my shorts off and jump in after her when she finally kicks her way to the steps of the pool and shoves the noodle toward the deep end. I wish the moonlight were a little brighter or that the surrounding deck had better garden lighting. Yeah, I can see her vague shape under the shallow water, which looks damn fine. But it’s all shadows and dusky grays in the dark. I want some damn LEDs out here so I can really see her.
I put that on my mental list of home renovations.
“If it gets you out of the pool and into my arms, I’ll keep talking.”
Harlow smiles. “It just might. But in all seriousness, I have a question.”
“Shoot.”
I haven’t seen this woman be serious yet, so I’m expecting her to ask about my condom size or lasting power. That’s not at all what I get.
“How many concussions have you had over the course of your career?”
I rub at the back of my neck. It’s a sore subject since it’s the reason I was forced to retire. “Five officially. But a couple more in practices, peewee, and high school leagues. I’m better now.”
Well, getting there. But some days I struggle more than others…like today.
“And your last one was in January? During the NFC championship game two weeks before the Super Bowl?”
“Yeah. Why the interest in my medical history? You want my blood tests, too? Find out if I’m sexually-transmitted-disease free?”
“Are you?” she asks as if her question is a passing curiosity. I’m not sure if she actually wants to know or is downplaying her nosiness.
“Of course. I’ve always been careful.” Meticulous, actually. I met a lot of women in the NFL…many of whom had made the rounds. I wasn’t keen on my bare junk rubbing against some chick who’d been banging my teammate the week before. “You?”
“Practically a monk. I haven’t had sex in at least six months. But that’s not where I was going with this. Your concussions… You often have those verbal fogs? Lose track of the conversation? Find yourself tongue-tied?”
Her words feel like a bullet, fast and unavoidable, nailing me right between the eyes. I try not to stagger back at the impact. But she definitely scored a direct hit, and I’m trying to figure out how to answer her without sounding defective.
“I was just tired,” I hedge.
She purses her lips at me. I don’t know this woman well, and nothing else on her face changes…but I see she’s not pleased. “Does it happen more often when you’re tired?”
“What are you getting at? I was beat and I didn’t feel like talking.” I hear myself getting defensive and I realize I’m being an ass. But I don’t want this woman seeing my vulnerabilities. Hell, I don’t want anyone seeing them.
“Look, my master’s degree is in speech pathology. What you’re experiencing following repeated trauma to the brain is not uncommon. Have you ever heard of Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy?”
I put my fists on my hips and resist the urge to back away. “Of course. I played for the league for a dozen seasons. I know what the players who came before me say they’ve endured after repeated hits to the head. But I’m not depressed, impulsive, moody, or aggressive. I don’t lose my memories.” Just blip out in conversations once in a while. “I’m not emotionally unstable. And don’t have tremors. I don’t have trouble seeing or smelling or walking or talking.”
“But you are experiencing intermittent problems with your speech. Have you had a brain scan?”
She sees right through my denials. I let out a breath and look away with a shake of my head. “What do you want?”
“I’m sorry if I’m upsetting you. I just want to help. It sounds as if you’re experiencing some apraxia of speech. It’s a motor speech disorder where the messages from the brain to the mouth are disrupted. Do you feel as if you can’t move your lips or tongue the way you need to form words sometimes?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I can’t afford to. Okay, so it’s partially a macho thing. I hate the idea of looking weak in her eyes. But it’s also my second career on the line. I can kiss my chance of being a football commentator good-bye if word gets out that, at random times, I can’t speak a word.
“I know it’s frustrating.”
“You don’t know anything.”
“I’ve never had the condition personally. You’re right,” she goes on as if I didn’t just refute her. I can’t miss the empathy in her voice…but it still rubs me wrong. “I’ve heard you speak, so I know the muscles you need to move your mouth aren’t weak. So you seem to have some aphasia, which is a speech disorder as a result of neurological damage. How often does it happen?”
I press my lips together. “I’m done talking. Do you want to fuck or not?” Now that she knows I’m broken? I scoff. “Of course you don’t. I’m going to bed.”
Before this conversation goes further south, I turn away and head for the house. I suspect I’ll be spending the night with my cock in my hand, thinking about Harlow. My head was already banking on the fact that I’d be getting horizontal with her and my dick certainly didn’t need convincing that sex between us would be spectacular. Now I’ll have to resign myself to pointless jacking off. Goddamn it.
“Noah?”
At the sounds of splashing, I turn to find Harlow emerging from the pool, walking up one step at a time, dripping, swaying with every step, and completely blowing my mind. Her long hair clings to her pretty breasts, flirting with her plump nipples. Her waist dips in, then flares out to a pair of hips I want my hands on. She’s sleek and sexy and stunning.
I can’t find words for an entirely different reason than before. She leaves me speechless.
“Can you hand me a towel from over there?” She points to the patio table.
On autopilot, I back toward the surface, never taking my eyes off her. When I bump into the glass, I grope behind me until terry cloth fills my hand. Then I race toward Harlow. “Need anything else?”
She takes the towel from me, and we’re standing so close I can smell her scent mixed with a tinge of chlorine. “A shower. Then an orgasm or two, preferably that you give me.”
Did I hear her right? “You sure?”
Harlow nods, her gaze tangling with mine. “I want to fuck.”
It takes a split second for her declaration to sink in. I was convinced she wouldn’t want me after she figured out I’m just a man with flaws. Then again, she was never looking to get laid from someone ESPN hailed as a football god. She just wants pleasure.
The way she holds my gaze singes me with heat. It sizzles across my skin, burning the flesh under my surface. I can’t quite breathe.
I have a feeling she’s going to be trouble—and I don’t care.
“Let’s do it.” Taking the towel from her grip, I jerk it until it unfolds, then wrap it around her back, covering the dripping ends of her hair. Then I tug her against me. Her skin feels cool pressed to my overheated chest. I don’t dare kiss her now. The way I want her, I’ll lay her out on the first available surface, and I’d rather save my knees the agony of looking for the leverage to fuck her properly on a chaise lounge.
Digging for restraint, I drag in a rough breath. If I’m already having trouble resisting her, how bad will the craving be once I’ve had a taste?
I shove the thought aside. “I won’t go easy on you.”
“I never thought you would.”
“I won’t be gentle.”
“Good. I may be small, but I’m not fragile.”
“I won’t be quick. Expect me to be at you all night.”
A sly smile curls up the sides of her lips that turns me on even more. “I’ll hold you to that.”
I run out of ways to warn her that I intend to turn her inside out and wring her dry before I let her leave my bed. But fuck it, I’ll let my body do the talking.
Bending, I lift her to my chest. She’s a tiny thing. Given her boobs and hips, I thought she would be heavier to carry, but I’ve curled barbells that weigh more. “Then let’s go.”
Her smile becomes a grin as she wraps her arms around my neck. “Consider me happily along for the ride.”
We head inside the house, and I’m glad as hell for the accordion glass doors along the back. Nothing to open or close, just open air, the Hawaiian breeze, and a hot woman.
Inside, I take the stairs two at a time. I’m impatient; I admit it. I can’t wait to lay her across my bed, turn on every light in the room so I can have a good look at her, then watch her face as I sink inside and see the sensations overwhelm her. I can do that to her. I was damn good on the field, but I’ve also been told I’m a legend in the bedroom. Lots of practice through stupid years of partying. I might be a little rusty now. I haven’t trusted myself around a woman not to have a lapse in speech at the most inopportune moment in months. But riding a woman is like riding a bicycle, right?
When we reach the master suite, I kick the door open and make for the bed. Before I can set her down, she wiggles out of my arms and heads for the door.
I frown as she leaves. “Where are you going?”
“Um, I’ll just be a minute. I need a shower.”
Why the hell would she think that’s necessary now? “You don’t.”
“Ten minutes. I promise.”
She darts away before I can stop her, and I’m left scratching my head. This woman gives off more mixed signals than a malfunctioning traffic light.
Since I’m not standing here with my dick in my hand while she rinses off, I open the first of my two giant suitcases. Moving from the mainland was an undertaking and the rest of my things should arrive in a few weeks. For now, I pluck out some toiletries and rinse off in my own shower. I should march down the hall and hop into Harlow’s with her. If we’re going to have sex, why not get naked together now?
But I give her privacy. The downside is, I shower in less than five minutes and emerge from the bathroom, towel wrapped around my waist. The overhead spray revived me a bit and cleared my head, sure. But now I’m alone and waiting impatiently.
I turn down the bed, put a few things in my suitcase away, and open the balcony doors to the full-frontal ocean breeze. Still no Harlow. I haven’t stared at my empty doorway much longer than ten minutes, but as far as my cock is concerned, that’s nine and a half minutes too long. She doesn’t need to groom for me. She just needs to be naked and willing and in my bed.
Scowling, I prowl down the hall and across the open loft space that separates the master wing from the rest of the upstairs bedrooms. The first thing that assaults me is the whirring sound of her hair dryer. The door to her bedroom is cracked, and I can see straight through to her attached bath.
The sight of her bent over, dark hair dangling as she wields the handheld device, her gorgeous ass waiting for my hands, nearly stops my heart. God, her derrière is pale and pert and round. I want to run my lips across those globes, sink my teeth into them.
My stirring cock stands up straight, ready to perform—or beg. Whatever gets her attention.
On silent footfalls, I sneak up behind her and grip her hips, fitting that pretty ass against my raging erection with a groan.
Harlow shuts the hairdryer off and tosses it on the counter, standing upright with a flip of her head. A rush of breath slips from her lips. “Noah…”
“I couldn’t wait anymore for you, baby.” That’s doubly true now that I can see every one of Harlow’s valleys and curves under the bright bathroom lights.
Mercy… The woman is a work of art, full of symmetrical dips and swells. Slender shoulders, round breasts, a tapered waist, and a smooth, bare pad between her legs.
Our eyes meet in the mirror. Hers are a moss green, verdant and bright. As I raise one hand to her breast and cradle it in my hand, I exhale roughly. In response, her pupils enlarge. Her nipples tighten. Her cheeks flush. And her body melts against mine.
“Your touch feels good.”
A woman who communicates. I like it. “I can make you feel so much better. Come to bed with me, baby.”
“That’s my plan.” As I pinch the taut tip of her breast between my thumb and finger, her eyes slide shut. “My hair is almost dry.”
I skim my other palm up her waist, over her ribs, then plunge my fingers into the thick, silky mass. It’s barely damp. “Close enough.”
“I’m trying not to leave wet spots on your sheets.”
No way I can resist a sly grin. “Oh, I’m hoping you do. C’mon, Harlow. I need to be inside you.”
I met this woman a few hours ago and slept through most of them. I haven’t even kissed her yet. But I already feel as if I’ve waited far too long for her. It’s insane. And I don’t give a shit. Something about her just feels right at the moment.
Harlow reaches behind her head to grip the back of my neck at the same time she sways her hips, grinding against my cock. Only a towel separates us. It would be easy to set her on the bathroom basin, spread her legs, lose the terry cloth, and thrust inside her. But it would be too quick, like skipping over a scrumptious feast and eating only a bite of dessert. Nothing wrong with it when that’s all you want. But I’m hungry for more. I want this woman under me, where I can take her in every way I’m craving.
For now, I let my lips skate a path from her shoulder to her neck. Even fresh from the shower, I inhale a teasing whiff of her vanilla gardenia scent that revs me up. Then I give a gentle tug to her scalp until she cedes more of her velvety skin to me. A little gasp slips from her lips before she tilts her head so I can explore her throat at will. I feel as if I’ve won an important skirmish. She’s stopped stalling and started surrendering, and nothing could be more arousing.
“Noah…”
“I’m here. Tell me what you like.”
“Exactly what you’re doing,” she breathes.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I wouldn’t complain if you kissed other parts of my body.”
I grin. “Oh, I plan on that. Let’s go back to my room.”
Her lashes flutter. Her eyes open. She looks at me, then glances at the bed behind us reflected in the mirror. I see the moment she dismisses whatever crossed her mind. “Lead the way.”
“I’m not letting you put any space between us tonight.” Before she can say a word, I turn her to face me and haul her body to mine, grabbing her ass in my hands and hoisting her body up. “Wrap your legs around me.”
Harlow does as commanded, folding her arms behind my neck, too. Our gazes meet. I feel the impact of her stare down to my cock. Even without a speck of makeup, she’s one of the most hypnotic women I’ve ever seen. I may have glimpsed—even dated—females more beautiful. But none who flip my switch quite the way this one seems to.
Is that because my dry spell has been way longer than usual? Or because there’s something special about Harlow?
“You going to kiss me yet?” she asks.
“Once I get you in my bed, sure.”
“Why not now? Am I supposed to just stare at you as you walk down the hall carrying me?”
“Yep. Anyone ever tell you that you ask a lot of questions?”
A little smile curls up the corners of her lips. “All the time.”
And she’s not going to change her behavior a bit. I don’t know Harlow well, but I suspect that she’ll always march to her own drum and anyone who doesn’t like it can fuck off.
I can’t help but grin back at her as I head for the master suite. “You’ll thank me later for not kissing you now. I doubt you’ll miss the rug burn on your back. My knees already appreciate my restraint.”
She bites her lip and sends me an amused glance. “Impatient, are you?”
Why lie? “Like I might come out of my skin in the next three minutes if I don’t get my hands and my mouth on you.”
I reach the threshold of the master suite and save her from a reply. It’s not her conversation I want right now anyway.
Arms wrapped around her, I plant one knee on the bed and let her fall to the mattress. Before she’s even settled, I follow her down and tumble on top of her, pinning her with my legs. I anchor my elbows on either side of her head and grab her hair so she can’t look away.
Her breathy little gasp turns me on even more.
“Now I’ll kiss you, and when you come up for air a few orgasms later, I swear you’ll be completely satisfied.”
“Those are big promises,” she taunts.
“I’ll deliver.”
Something about her strips my usual cool reserve. I can normally hold back, maintain casual distance. Nothing about her or this moment feels casual at all. I don’t understand it. I only know that my whole body is tightening, my heart thudding, as I snare her gaze and lower my head.
Harlow meets my kiss halfway. She might have teased me earlier, but there’s nothing coy about her response now. Her fingers grip my neck and press me closer in silent demand, even as she parts her lips and her thighs, allowing me between both. Sexual heat smolders down my spine. As soft as her lips feel, it’s her flavor that shocks my system with a fresh jolt of desire. I taste wine on her tongue. But under that, I also taste her strength, her sensuality, her need.
Grabbing more of her hair in my fist, I settle my hips between her legs and give my towel an impatient tug. It’s damp and it won’t budge, damn it. With a pissed-off snarl, I rise up to my knees and whip it free, tossing it who knows where. It’s out of my fucking way and nothing else matters but pressing my skin to Harlow’s again and getting inside her.
When I focus on her again, her lips are slightly swollen. Her pupils have dilated even more. And she’s looking straight at my cock.
“Problem?”
Her gaze never wavering, she shakes her head. “I’m looking forward to getting every inch of you in my mouth.”
Oh, fuck. She couldn’t have said many other things that would have thrilled the hell out of me even half so much. “Baby, I’m dying for that moment, too. But first things first… I promised you orgasms.”
She lifts her gaze to my face with a grin. “So you did. Do your worst, jock.”
The snappy comeback on the tip of my tongue dissolves as she arches her back and spreads her legs wider. I wish like hell I’d turned on more lights in the room, and I vow I’ll fuck her tomorrow too, when sunlight floods this suite and I can see every inch of her ivory perfection.
“I plan on being your best fuck ever.” I mean that sincerely as I lower my body over hers again, pressing skin to skin, fitting my cock against the soft pad of her bare pussy.
Before she can come back at me with a saucy reply, I seize her mouth again, take her lips, delve deep. When she hits my senses, the impact makes me groan. She melts on my tongue. She’s sweet and tart and addictive. I’m going to have to have more of her, I can already tell. A night may not be enough. But this works in my favor. She needs a place to stay until she returns to San Diego, one where she won’t have to hear her brothers procreate. I can give her that. She can stay in my house, in my bed, where I’ll be able to sink into her any time I want, day or night, until I sate this raging need clawing at my self-control.
Beneath me, all her sass and teasing turns to eager compliance. She’s in the moment with me in every way, her hands busy mapping my back, her lips clinging to mine, her legs folding around my hips.
How easy it would be to notch down her body enough to slide inside her, feel her without any barrier between us, and take her the way I’ve never taken any woman. The urge is there. I don’t even understand why I want her bareback so bad. But that’s a decision we have to make together.
“Are you on the pill?”
“Yeah,” she pants into my face.
I know another teammate who fell into this trap, believing his one-night stand was on the pill when it was a total lie. She’s wrung a fortune from him and made him jump through ridiculous hoops just to see his son ever since. But Harlow isn’t the sort of girl looking to get pregnant for a payday. I’d bet my life on that.
“I’m clean, I swear,” I tell her.
“I am, too,” she promises, trailing kisses up the column of my neck and nipping her way toward my lips.
It’s really hard to think when she does that…
“Can I have you bare? I might sound crazy, but I want to feel all of you. I don’t want latex—or anything—between us.”
Harlow breaks away and blinks. “I-I… I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I went off the pill for a bit and I haven’t been back on it that long. I might still be able to get pregnant.”
On the one hand, I’m disappointed that I can’t just tunnel inside her and enjoy her without a barrier separating us. On the other hand, I’m grateful for her honesty. For a moment, I wonder why she just started the pill recently when she said she hadn’t had sex for months. Female issues? I don’t know and it doesn’t matter. What does is that I’ve got all night with her and I intend to make the most of it.
“Totally understand. I’ve got condoms.”
She gives me a halting smile. “I’m glad one of us is a good Boy Scout.”
“I’m not quite that good, but I always try to be prepared.”
“There you go. So, about those orgasms… What did you have in mind?”
“I could tell you, but I think it will be far more fun to show you.”
Because I can’t help myself, I dip my head for another sweet taste of her mouth. It’s like crack. I can’t make myself back away. I can’t stop tasting her over and over, feeling her grasp me, melt into me, beg me for more with her urgent fingers digging into my skin. Yeah…
But I can’t kiss her to climax, so I start making my way down her luscious body with a sweep of my lips across her jaw, a nip at her neck, a tongue tracing her collarbones. Right away, I remember the other reason I love fair-skinned girls. Not only do I get a perverse satisfaction of seeing her pale flesh under my bronzed hands, I see the flush of her arousal right away. With every touch and whisper, her response is obvious. The rosy stain blooms in her cheeks and works its way down her body as I do. It follows me wherever I plant my mouth, wherever I glide my palm across her flesh.
When I hover over her nipples, they not only blush but tighten even more, especially when I swipe gentle thumbs across the tips.
Her fingers curl around the back of my head in demand. “Suck them.”
“Is that a please?” I can’t resist teasing her.
Harlow’s lashes flutter open, and I’m stunned by the aroused green of her eyes. I’m trying my best to rob her of breath, but everything about this woman is stealing mine, too.
“It’s a request. I’m telling you what I want. You’re not one of those who demands manners in bed, are you? Please, Sir and thank you, Sir and all that?”
I never have been before. I’ve always preferred equal partners. But the thought of bending Harlow to my will with the pleasure I give her trips my trigger more than I would have thought. “What if I am?”
Something passes across her face, so quickly I can’t tell what she’s thinking. But I get the impression she actually doesn’t hate the idea.
“Well, that’s not my thing.”
Now I know she’s lying—whether that’s to me or herself, I’m not sure. I can’t even put my finger on the reason I’m convinced she absolutely wants a man to command her in bed. Maybe the breathless way she denies it? I tuck the knowledge into the back of my head for now and shrug. “Whatever you say, baby. I won’t make you beg.”
At least not at the moment.
Harlow bristles. “I don’t do that.”
I think I can make her—and I will…when the time is right. I’ll ease her in, let her get comfortable, until she thinks she knows exactly what sort of commodity I am between the sheets. In the meantime, I’ll learn her body, read her cues, see how she responds. I’ll pounce once she’s ripe and she least expects it.
“No sweat. I assume you have no issues with me putting my mouth on your clit and sucking until you scream your throat raw?”
She inhales a sharp breath and struggles to find her voice. “None at all.”
“Excellent. You told me to do my worst, so…”
I let the insinuation dangle. She can interpret that however she wants. I intend to get busy.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Harlow’s shaky nod. But I’m already fixated on her nipples—and the rest of her body I haven’t had the opportunity to explore yet.
Cradling one breast in my hand, I dip my head and lave the distended tip. The bead is hard against my tongue. I drag it in and nearly moan at how plump it feels as I suck it deep. I’ve always been oral during sex. I enjoy getting my mouth on a woman and watching her squirm and pant as she races to climax. Already, I suspect Harlow will be different. She won’t lie back passively and let me go down on her. She’ll want to put in her two cents so she has some semblance of control.
That’s not happening.
She threads her fingers through my hair. There’s not much to grip, but she manages to dig the tips into my scalp enough to send a tingle racing through my entire body. I shudder as I shift to the other breast and wrap my lips around the taut bud.
“Harder,” she demands.
“How hard?” I admit I have a caveman streak. I love being rough with a woman’s nipples. I love to squeeze, bite, torment, and suck them until they’re red and throbbing and sore. “I can make them ache, baby.”
“Can you make me feel it tomorrow? So that every time they rub against my bikini top I’ll bite my lip and remember?”
Besides food and music, this is another place where we’re absolutely in sync. “That’s like asking if I know how to breathe. It comes natural. If that’s what you want, I’ll be more than happy to give it to you.”
Her breath sounds choppy as she nods. “Do it.”
I give her a lazy smile. She has no idea what she’s inviting…
When I bend my head and lick one hard tip again while pinching the other, she gasps. I don’t even let her recover before I hoover her into my mouth, add a bite of teeth, then soothe it with my tongue again. As I switch to the other nipple, her hips move restlessly. She gives a not-so-subtle tug of my hair. The arch of her back, lifting her breasts closer to my mouth, tells me she’s loving this.
That makes two of us.
I keep at her, and the sounds of her whimpers grow louder, closer together. She wraps her legs around me and digs her nails into my scalp with every drag and draw on her nipples. They’re swelling in my mouth, and I swear the flavor of her on my tongue is only getting sweeter. I can fucking smell her arousal in the air between us, and it’s all I can do not to grab the nearest condom and start plowing her until she screams. But I have to make this so good for her that she’ll never forget. I need her to be as desperate to have me inside her as I am to get there.
I’ve always been competitive. Succeeding has been bred and hammered into me since my first peewee football coach, my dad, insisted that I should never try less than my best and that dreams unfulfilled are merely aptitude wasted. No way am I not succeeding at arousing Harlow—what’s her last name?—out of her head with desire.
“Holy hell…” she pants out. “That’s so good.”
“Your nipples sore yet, baby?”
She nods almost unconsciously. I wonder how much control she has over her brain with all the desire coursing through her blood. Her hugely dilated pupils say it’s not much. “Yeah.”
“You like it.” I don’t ask; I know.
“Love it.” She cradles her own breasts and gives the nipples a tweak, tossing back her head and digging her heels into the mattress.
Have I ever been with a woman who arouses me this much? If I have, she’s gone from my memory bank now, replaced solely by this one.
“I feel everything now. Every lick, every pull, every nip. My nipples and my clit seem connected, and every drag on one”—she pinches the hard tips again and groans—“pulls between my legs.”
As it should be. “How you going to hold up when I get my mouth down there, baby?”
Her lashes flutter. Her lips part. I’m enjoying the hell out of undoing strong-willed Harlow. “I’ll come hard.”
“That’s exactly what I want to hear,” I murmur as I take over pinching her taut beads.
Her nipples are probably reaching max stimulation, but I can’t quite let up. I toy and tease, just one more slow, soft pass of my tongue or a tiny brush of my knuckles over the tips. She shudders, writhing under me. She doesn’t need much stimulation now to feel my every caress, and watching the unvarnished reactions pass over her face is like magic. For sure she’ll be tender after her orgasm—and probably for the next few days. But I don’t want these sensitive buds so worked over that I can’t indulge in this oral treat again tomorrow.
Still, I’m reluctant to let up. The gentlest lick against them has her tensing and struggling to breathe. I exhale on them, kiss all around them, skim the barest touch over them. She closes her eyes, whimpers, and melts into the mattress.
This girl is so fucking responsive. She makes me feel less like a guy who knows his way around a bedroom and more like a man commanding his woman’s body. A few hours ago I would have resisted that idea. First, I’ve known how the female form works since Leilani Iosua during my tenth-grade season. I can get women off. But Harlow is different. This is so heady. And that’s scary. My whole attitude and approach to her feel oddly possessive. I’m not in the market for attachments. My life is too up in the air.
But everything about this woman sizzles me and fries my brain.
“Noah, show me how hard you can make me come,” Harlow says, her voice not quite even.
It’s not a demand…but it’s more than a request. I’m happy to oblige. “I’ve been looking forward to this.” I slide down her body, kissing my way across her tummy, then down again to that bare, puffy triangle of flesh, so wet now I can already see how slick and welcoming she’s going to be. “Spread your legs wider for me.”
When she does, my jaw nearly drops. She’s all pale and pink and perfect. If a pussy can be pretty, hers definitely is. Between the swollen lips, I see a hint of rosy folds and the tiny opening I’m desperate to fill with my cock.
I spread her open with my thumbs as I settle my shoulders between her thighs. I’m getting comfortable down here because I intend to stay until she cries for mercy. Maybe longer.
Under my hands, she’s turned still, anticipation freezing everything except the air shuttling in and out of her lungs. Those are working overtime as she stares my way. Yeah, she wants it. I can’t wait to blow her mind.
“I hope you’re a screamer,” I growl because I’m too aroused to find my normal tone of voice.
“Not usually.”
With a sly glance up her body, I zero in on her watchful gaze. “Let’s see if we can change that.”
Then words are no longer necessary, and I turn my attention to the pouting flesh inches from my lips. I’m practically salivating. She’s so ripe and juicy, and my oral addiction needs another fix, especially when I see how red and engorged her clit is before I’ve even touched it.
This is going to be so easy…and so satisfying.
I stroke my tongue through the furrow between her folds, ending at the apex. I lave the knot of nerves in a slow swipe that has her gasping and fisting the sheets. She grinds her ass into the mattress, then lifts up to my mouth, restless and eager.
“Oh, Noah…”
“You like that?” I know the answer but I want to hear her admit it. I have a feeling that, usually, she’s a tough nut to crack.
“Yes,” she says on an outrush of breath.
“You want more?”
“Yes.”
Say please. The demand is on the tip of my tongue. I’m not normally that sort of guy, but with Harlow the urge is almost compulsive. I’m not even sure if that’s because I merely want to bend her or totally own her in this moment. But I stifle the urge to push her now. If tonight is all we have, I don’t want to spend it fighting a battle of wills. If I can hook her now, the power struggle that may come later will be much easier to win. And victory will be so sweet.
Until then, I stiffen my tongue and flick her hard pearl. As I do, I fit a pair of fingers inside her. The sweltering heat of her nearly burns me. Jesus, she’s snug. And as I take her clit between my lips and suck in gentle pulls, I feel the corresponding clamp of her vaginal muscles on my fingers.
She’s going to be so tight to fuck. That will be a thrill all by itself. But I love the idea of turning this woman inside out and wringing every ounce of pleasure out of her I possibly can. I want to addict her. I haven’t even fucked her yet, and already I fear she’ll be like heroin. The pull to her will be strong, the craving too hard to resist. Hours after one fix, I’ll need another…and another…and another.
Or maybe it’s just been so long since I’ve had sex and I’m so horny that everything about Harlow feels new and different and amazing. Yeah, I’ll go with that.
My internal BS meter is pealing in alarm. But I’m ignoring that for now.
Instead, I dive into Harlow headfirst, opening my mouth on her pussy as if I can kiss every part of it at once. Her tangy-sweet cream is abundant and addictive. Holy shit, I’ve always loved pussy, but this woman… I moan and grip her thighs. If she’ll stay beyond tonight, I’m going to make her my breakfast. I’ll need snacks during the day, too. I wonder how she’ll react if I suggest she take to wearing skirts and ditching her panties. I want twenty-four-seven access. I want this cunt—and this woman—to myself.
Harlow’s breathing edges up a notch. Every exhalation sounds shakier and noisier. I flick her clit with my tongue again, finding the very tip and working it with the flat, absorbing everything about her into my taste buds. In response, she whimpers and plants her feet on the bed, lifting her hips to my mouth.
I open wider, take her flesh in deeper, at the same time I turn my wrist and flick my fingers against her most sensitive spot. It’s not hard to find. It’s the one that feels smooth and flat and makes her cry out and bow her back when I rub it.
“God, you taste good,” I tell her as I wrap my free hand around her shin and shove the leg up to her hips. “Grab your knees and hold yourself open for me. I want to taste every part of you.”
She hesitates, watching me lick her essence from my lips, then dip my tongue through her folds again. Then she shudders, struggles through another breath, and complies.
Good girl.
I duck my head and focus all my attention on her wet, swelling flesh once more. If anything, she turned sweeter, headier. I stroke her from her soft opening all the way to her knotted clit in one long swipe before I circle around the distended pearl again and again.
“Noah! I’m going to…” Her breath catches before she can finish. “It’s big. I don’t know if I can hold out.”
“Then don’t. Believe me, I’ll be doing this again.”
I already have plans. I think I’ll lay her across the dining room table and make a brunch out of her come Sunday. No, that’s too many days away. Besides, I can have brunch any damn day I want. The idea of pouring champagne over her and licking it from all the intriguing dips and valleys of her body, watching the bubbly trickle to her pussy and tonguing it from her, is enough to jack up my desire even more.
She fists the sheets even tighter. “Suck my clit in your mouth and rub that spot again.”
I will…in time. “You’re awfully demanding.”
“Because you’re driving me out of my mind. Oh, my god…” She bucks and tosses her hips up, trying to force me to put more pressure where she needs it.
Perversely, I ease back. “You like this?”
“I’ve never been much of a fan of receiving oral before but…wow.”
That’s pretty forthcoming for Harlow, and I realize I must be getting to her if she blurted that. Vaguely, I wonder who are the inept assholes capable of botching oral pleasure. Whatever. They don’t matter now. I’ll show her what it should be and have a shit ton of fun doing it, too. I love being this close, this intimate, able to sense every rise in her pleasure way before she’s willing to admit it. Guys who don’t get the beauty of that are fucking losers.
I give her a lingering look. “I’ve always been an enthusiastic giver, but you’re a special treat. I’m going to insist on more of this.”
She doesn’t answer, just wriggles with the next drag of my tongue over her sensitive flesh. And the one following. She’s definitely close—right on the edge. This is the perfect time to press my position.
“You’re going to give me more, right?”
“What?” Her breathless question tells me she can barely follow the conversation, and I smile. Almost there…
“You’ll spread your legs and let me put my mouth on your sweet pussy whenever I want, won’t you?”
“Tonight? Yes. Hell yes.”
“Tomorrow, too.” I caress her sensitive inner thighs with a drag of my thumbs up, then back down…just shy of her steely red clit. “I want tomorrow.”
I don’t mention that will probably extend to the day after, too. Hell, probably the next week. Why not give myself plenty of time to really work this beauty out of my system?
Providing such a thing is even possible. Maybe she’s simply my sexual Kryptonite, and I’ll always be willing to gnaw my way off my leash to have her. It’s a crazy thought, but if that ends up being true… Well, I’m willing to live with it if I can have her.
Harlow doesn’t answer right away, so I stop everything. I let up stimulating all the nerve endings I’ve been skimming and strumming with my tongue. A split second later, she bolts up enough to grab my head in her hand and urge my mouth closer.
I back away. “Promise me tomorrow, Harlow. Promise me a day with your legs spread and my feast waiting.”
“Yes. Tomorrow. Whenever you want,” she concedes.
I don’t think she knows just how serious I am…but she will. “And wherever I want.”
I’m thinking hard about that long dining room table downstairs, about sitting at the head of it and pulling her right up to my chair so I can enjoy her like a meal. The more I visualize it, the more I want that.
I’ve never in my life failed to pursue what I want until I get it. Harlow won’t be different.
“If there’s privacy, yes.”
I can appreciate that caveat. The last thing I need now is any sort of scandal threatening my future. I have to be squeaky clean to keep my endorsement deals, and especially if I’m even going to entertain the notion of accepting this broadcasting offer. I would never want to embarrass or jeopardize Harlow in public, either. But in private, I want to be dirty as hell with her.
“Done,” I promise. “And I’ll hold you to it.”
“Fine,” she pants. “Just make me come. Please…”
Ah, those are the sweetest words. One little breathy plea, and my cock feels as if it’s ready to burst. I’m going to enjoy wringing even more begging out of her soon.
“My pleasure, baby,” I assure her as I focus my undivided attention on her pussy again, lapping and licking, stroking, flicking, and nipping.
Within seconds, she’s heaving air in and out of her lungs, every inhalation a bit louder as she keens her way up and up. Finally, her body freezes, her bliss breaks, and her voice splits into a wail that bounces off the walls, peals around the room, and fills my ears with the sweet sounds of her ecstasy.
Nice to know she’s a screamer, after all.
Her orgasm seems to go on forever, and her body bucks and shudders. I grip her hips, hold her down, and keep at her until I wring every last bit of shivering pleasure from her body. Until she falls limp against the mattress with an exhausted sigh.
I can’t remember the last time satisfaction was so sweet—and I haven’t even found my own climax yet.
“What did you do to me? My legs are Jell-O,” she murmurs.
“How about the rest of you?” I ease away long enough to reach for a condom.
A little smile spreads across her rosy lips. “I’m floating. But who knew I could see black spots and stars during climax?” She opens one eye to look at me. “I admit I was skeptical when the clothes started coming off, but you were amazing. Is that oral technique something they teach you in training camp? Maybe you learned how to lob the ball up one day and go down on a woman like a god the next?”
I laugh. “I’m afraid training camp was never that entertaining. I might have liked it a whole lot better. But instead, I was trapped for weeks with sweaty dudes in hot climates, wishing like hell fall would hurry up.”
“So you’re just naturally orally gifted, then?” She sighs and goes on as if she doesn’t expect me to reply. “I feel like a lucky girl.”
“Good. Then you won’t regret agreeing to let me eat my fill of you tomorrow.” I give her a wide grin.
Harlow struggles up onto her elbows. “You were serious?”
“Why would you think I wasn’t?”
“I just assumed it was…you know, sexy talk.”
“Nope. I expect to have my mouth on you tomorrow whenever and wherever I want. You agreed.”
She nods slowly, some of the flush receding from her cheeks and chest. “I did. You can go down on me, but since you haven’t had your orgasm yet, I think it’s the perfect time to make a bargain of my own. I’ll throw in sex now and whenever you want tomorrow—if you agree to let me help you with your post-concussive speech issues. If not, well… I got mine. I feel damn good. I could roll over and sleep like a baby all night now. How about you?”