Mister O(39)

I’m rewarded with another oh God, as she moves faster, rocks harder, picks up the pace. She grabs my face, grips my jaw, and holds me as she dry-humps me. Every single thing about her turns me on—her need, her want, her wild lust, her sounds, and this ass. It’s spectacular—firm and so damn soft at the same time. I grip the flesh hard, how she likes it, and she lets out a sexy squeak.

“I f*cking adore your ass,” I say roughly.

She moans something unintelligible.

I dig my fingers inside the lace on her rear, guiding her moves, making her ride my erection faster and wilder. “You’re so close, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” she cries out. “Oh God, Nick. Oh my God.”

Those are the last words I can make out. The rest is just noise—pure, carnal sound as she rides me to the edge, and then trembles, shaking as she comes on me. So hard. She comes so f*cking hard on me, clothes on, the friction itself all she needed to get there. I lace my fingers in her hair, pride surging through my entire being as I take in the flush in her cheeks, the shuddering in her shoulders. I want to remember every detail of what it feels like to make her shatter this first time.

Truth be told, I kind of want to draw a picture of her, too. Because she looks amazingly beautiful like this.

“I want to make you come again. I want to hear you go wild, and make you fall apart,” I tell her as she breathes hard, panting in my arms.

She runs her fingers over my face and brushes her lips on mine. “I want it all.”

After she comes down from her high, she blinks. Her blue eyes register surprise, as if it’s just dawned on her what she did—dry-humped me. Which is completely awesome in my book, but in hers, I have no idea. I tense, waiting for Harper to slip into that armor she wears so well.

Instead, she loops her arms around my neck. Okay, that’s much better. Then she says, “There’s something I want to tell you.”





18





I’ve never been a huge fan of those words, so it’s time for me to don my own trusty shield. I unsheathe the sword of humor and brandish it. “You want to strip me naked and have your wicked way with me?”

She smiles and nods. “I do.”

Well, I’ll just keep up this tactic. Since that particular weapon, if you know what I mean, is all the way up. “Great. Start here,” I say, pointing to my belt.

She laughs and then grips my shoulders, lowering her voice as if she’s about to admit a secret. “But seriously. I have a confession. As soon as I learned her name, I read J. Cameron’s newest book.”

Sighing, I run a hand through my hair, unsure why we’re back on this topic. “You did?”

Her eyes dance with naughty delight. “It’s so delicious. It’s so hot. And it made me curious,” she continues, and maybe I don’t mind her bringing up the ex at all right now. Not if those books get her turned on rather than ticked off. Hell, maybe I should gift her some.

“What did it make you curious about?”

Harper sits up straighter on me, as if she’s about to make a Big Pronouncement. “I know this may shock you, given how utterly cool you’ve seen I can be, what with getting my hair caught in a zipper and speaking in tongues,” she says, then stage whispers, “but I’ve never been tied to a fridge. Or done it on a desk.”

“And do you want that?”

“That’s the thing,” she says, an excited undercurrent to her words. “I only know what I like to look at. What I like to read about. I have an idea of what I might like. But . . .” She lets her voice trail off.

“But what?” I ask, because I’m dying to know what comes after that.

She takes a breath, purses her lips together, then speaks. “I was a virgin until I was twenty. I’ve only had sex with two guys, and none of it was very memorable. None of it was on a counter, or the dryer, or even in a hotel bed,” she says, patting the mattress.

Maybe it’s the dark of the night, maybe it’s her, maybe it’s just that the only thing better than having hot sex with the woman you want is talking about hot sex with the woman you want. Or, just possibly, it’s that she’s opening up to me for real now. Perhaps that’s why I open up to her.

“I was twenty the first time I had sex,” I say, serving up a detail I don’t share with many people, because it’s personal.

Instantly, her eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

“No, I’m lying,” I say sarcastically.

She pushes my shoulders, nearly toppling me on the bed. “Stop it. I want to know the truth.”

“I was a sophomore in college when I finally ditched the V-card.”

“You were a late bloomer,” she says softly, something like wonder in her voice.

“Girls were a complete mystery to me before then. I didn’t know how to act around them, or what to say. Sort of how you feel sometimes, too.” I realize that maybe Harper and I aren’t that different. I just got over my awkwardness around the opposite sex well before she did.

She gives me a sweet smile. “I guess we do have that in common. Among many other things,” she says, and my chest heats up as she inches closer. “Was she a sophomore, too?”

I shake my head and laugh. “No. She was a grad student. She was the teaching assistant in my animation class.”