One pillow under her hips. Another one. And then he got his palms on either side of her thighs and started in on her.
Too slow.
Too slow.
She had her hands in his hair, trying to get hold of it, but it was too short, and she couldn’t. She was so far past embarrassment now, except that she wasn’t, because when she started calling out, she tried to choke the sound back. She was trying to pull his head into her, trying to get him to go faster, but he didn’t seem to hear her.
She said, “Please. Please,” and tried to do it again, and this time, he lifted his head.
Did he promise her he’d hurry up? No, he didn’t. He said, “You’re kind of a slow learner, aren’t you?”
“Hurry. I can’t … I can’t wait any longer.”
He said, “Oh, yeah. You can. You only had one rule. I’m afraid I’m going to have to take care of that, baby.” He grabbed her hands in his and shoved them against her thighs. And then he pushed her legs farther apart, almost to the point of discomfort, and way past the point of helplessness. And he still had her hands. She tried to pull them away, and he tightened his grip.
“That’s better,” he told her. “But you just made it last longer. That’s what happens when you don’t mind.”
He worked her over until she was shaking. Until she was trembling. Until she was calling his name. Until she was begging. And then he got both her wrists in one hand, held them tight, slid a finger into her, and started to suck.
The circles inside her got tighter, then tighter still. All there was in the world was this. His mouth. His finger. He wound her up, and the closer she got, the more he slowed down. He got a second finger in there, and his hands were so big. She was keening, her hips rocking, her wrists held fast.
And he stopped.
He said, “Are you going to be good?”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes.”
“How good?” he asked. His grip tightened on her wrists, and his fingers were still moving inside her. Finding the spot, the one she’d never believed in, and she was … she was …
“How good?” he said again.
She couldn’t answer. She was over the edge, her head starting to bang against the mattress. The waves took her, and they tossed her. Over and over and over, and when he set his mouth to her again …
She wailed.
She was shaking. She was trembling. She was trying to form words, and she couldn’t do it. And all he wanted in this world was to stand her up, bend her over, grab her wrists, and fuck her hard from behind.
She wanted exciting. She wanted wild. He wanted it, too. And he knew exactly how to do it.
But there was that foot.
He fumbled in the bedside table, found the box of condoms he’d thought he’d never get a chance to use, and got one on in a great big hurry. And then he got on his knees and sat over her, took her ankles in his hands, and spread her wide.
Flat on her back. Legs in the air.
She was squirming, saying, “Harlan.” He let her do it. He got up close, pulled her in by the ankles, and said, “You want another one of those?”
“Y-yes,” she said. “Yes.”
“Then take it,” he said. “Show me how you do it.” He had one hell of a view. There she was, spread as wide as a woman could get, and she couldn’t do anything about it.
“Only if … you do it, too.”
“Do what?”
She was trying to scowl. It was so cute. Tumbled red hair, white skin flushed with the force of that orgasm, her breasts heaving, that curvy mouth twisting. “You’ve just … teased,” she said. “Over and over.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I have.” He pushed her legs a little farther towards her face and moved in until he was straddling her. Almost there. So close. “All you’ve got to do is tell me. Tell me what you want, and I’ll do it.”
“I want you … inside me.” It was a gasp, and she was trying her best to squirm closer.
“Not good enough,” he said. “Get your hand down there. Time to use that skill of yours. Time to show me what you’ve got.”
He was an idiot. He needed to be inside her more than he’d ever needed anything, she was begging him to do it, and he was still holding back.
He said, “Do what I tell you.”
Her face was flaming. He was willing to bet that she’d never masturbated in front of a man in her life. She sure as hell hadn’t done it when she was wet and slick and swollen, propped up on pillows, and displayed for him, when her ankles were in his hands.
She did it. And she was right. She was good at it. And when he couldn’t stand it a single second more, he slid inside her.
Hot. Tight. Wet.
He tried to keep it slow. He tried to drag it out a little more. But he was watching it all happen, and …
Oh, yeah. But he wasn’t ready yet. He still needed to make her say it.
She was getting closer. Her eyes closing, her mouth opening. He was moving faster, too, because despite his best intentions, despite his discipline, he couldn’t hold back anymore.
Her keening breath. His hands tight around her thighs now, pulling her into him with every thrust. He said, “Tell me.” Barely able to get the words out.
He could see her back arching, her thighs tensing, one arm flung over her head, clutching at the sheet. The fabric twisting in her fist as she tried to hold on.
She opened her eyes. Gold in the firelight. Wide. Focused only on him.
He said, “Yeah. I’ve got you. I’ve got you. Tell me what I want to hear.”
She said, “Harlan. Harlan. Fuck me. Please.”
Going so deep inside her, her inner walls squeezing him tight. Her eyes on him, watching him the same way he was watching her. Knowing that what she saw was exciting her more. Hearing her say things she’d never said, watching her do things she’d never done.
It felt so good, it hurt. He couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t …
He forgot to be slow. He forgot to be careful. He took her hard.
He made her come, and then she kept on doing it, and he was slamming into her like a wrecking ball, his arms wrapped tight around her thighs, his voice groaning out her name. And when he was finally there …
He honestly thought he was going to die.
28
Everybody’s Fine
She couldn’t catch her breath.
Harlan was still over her, but he’d slid up and lowered himself down to kiss her. Deep and hot and possessive, the same way he’d felt inside her. She tasted herself on him, and despite the two most mind-blowing orgasms of her life, just tasting that, and knowing he wanted her to, made her go even more warm and liquid inside.
And then he rolled off her and said, “Shit.” And not in a I-can’t-believe-how-good-that-was way. In an I-just-bounced-a-check way. Which was not what she’d been expecting.
“What?” she asked, and tried to joke, even though it didn’t feel one bit funny. “No good, even with all those rules?”
He said, “Condom broke.” And she realized that the liquid wasn’t just arousal. It was … liquid.
“Hang on,” he told her, and headed into the bathroom. When he came back, he was holding a hand towel, and she was struggling up to sit. Which wasn’t easy, because her foot hurt. A lot.