a turn-on but I’m as hard as ever. Something’s nagging in the back of my head, something important, but I can’t remember.
Not with her here, taking over every one of my senses. Her arms are soft as hell, her clothes too. Her mouth knows just how to take and give, follow and lead. Fuck, I want her.
I want her bad.
I kiss the words out of her: “But… Greyson…”
And then I remember. We pull away at the same time.
“Shit, sorry, I…” I trail off.
She’s breathing heavy, her gaze still stuck on my lips, me.
She looks over at the door, then at me. I understand without a word.
I go over there and lock it. When I turn around, she’s sitting on a table, legs swinging. “So.”
I don’t move.
I can feel it, the last of my self-control dissolving the longer I’m in the room with her. When it’s gone, there’ll be no turning back.
“So,” I say.
This is risky and I know it and yet, with her there in front of me, tangible and sexy and irresistible, ‘risk’ seems like the most abstract concept in the world.
“Greyson—” she says.
“Harley,” I say, not moving.
I should leave. I need to stay.
“We shouldn’t,” she says simply, correctly interpreting my pause. “Tell me to leave. Look at me, and tell me to leave.”
She knows I should. I know I should.
It’s the right thing to do. The only thing.
I swallow. I have to do this.
“Fine,” I say hollowly, turning away.
“Go on,” she urges me. “Tell me. Say it.”
Next thing I know, I’ve strode right up to her, taken her face to mine and kissed the words right out of her mouth.
Our tongues tangle, lips snag. She knew I was hers as soon as she sat on that table and started swinging her legs.
I kiss her to the table so she’s sitting on it again, undo her blouse, the mocking blue tie that was made to be untied.
“We shouldn’t do this,” I growl, kissing at the newly bared skin, lapping my way down, sucking a nipple into my mouth.
“We shouldn’t,” she agrees, hands gliding over my pants where my erection is.
The slightest of nibbles, and she squeals. My gaze swings up to find her mouth a sexy ‘O’.
“Then stop.”
She grabs my dick and strokes it, hard. “You first.”
My hand drops to her skirt, then up it, pressing into her wet panties. “You.”
She unbuttons my pants, rips down my boxers, grabs my cock, and, with hungry eyes, hisses, “You.”
My ‘you’ turns into a moan when she clambers her body to mine. What follows is pure instinct.
I grab her and turn her around so she’s on the table, pussy and ass raised to me. I rip off her panties, shove myself inside.
And finally—finally, finally, finally—everything is as it should be.
There’s no more words—there’s no need for them. Just me and her. In and out. My cock reveling in her perfect, tight slit.
In and out, deep and deeper. Her wet warmth is enough to bring me to the edge already, except that I want to hear her moan my name first. I want her to come for me.
The table scrapes across the floor as I pound her, but I don’t care. All I know and need is what I’m buried in, right here, right now.
I slap her ass, and her groans get more harried. “C’mon. Come for me, baby. I want to hear you moan my name.”
She’s reduced to monosyllables now, her whole body shaking, pussy clasping hungrily at my cock with every thrust.
It’s so hot, so fucking hot that I can’t take it. Can’t take this. Her.
“Grey-son, oh Grey-son, oh yes Greyson!” she shrills, taking my hand and slapping it over her mouth to muffle her cries as she comes, over and over again on my dick.
Seconds later, I’m losing it too, exploding into her. Fuck. Fuck yeah. Uh…
We sink onto the carpet, half-entwined, limbs akimbo.
I’m mumbling nonsense, holding her not because I want to but because, for whatever reason, I can’t seem to let her go. “My Harley, my girl…”
Her eyes, when they open, are the happiest I’ve seen them. Sleepy and happy and surprised. A little worried, too.
“God,” she murmurs, “You take a sex god course or something? That was amazing!”
“How’d you guess?” I yawn, and find myself dabbing a kiss onto the tip of her nose.
She giggles. “You into my nose now too?”
“Hell yeah. That light sprinkling of freckles. The Seussical slope shape. So hot.”
Her grin warms me.
“I like you,” she declares.
“And I like you.”
It feels more intimate and