Mister O (13 page)

O
n the train
the next afternoon, she steals glances at me.

Family surrounds us. My parents, Harper’s parents, her very hungover, cock-blocking friend Jen, and my siblings are spread out in the first few rows of the car.

Harper sits by the window, next to my sister, and I’m in the seat that directly faces her. It kills me to be this close. I spread the Sunday paper over my lap, grateful that the crossword puzzle serves twin purposes today. Distraction and cover-up. I fill in a clue and then sneak a peek at the hot redhead I intend to fuck in so many ways.

Her head is bent over her e-reader, and she nibbles the corner of her lips as we roll along the Connecticut coast. A swath of hair falls over her forehead, obscuring the side of her face. Briefly, she looks up at me, and her eyes are hazy with lust.

Her gaze sends a charge through me, and I adjust the paper more over my thighs.

I don’t dare text her now, because I don’t know who’d peer over her shoulder and see my words. Probably Wyatt, and I might as well hire a skywriter if that happened.

My sister types on her phone, and Wyatt leans over the armrest, chatting with my dad across the aisle. My mom talks to Harper’s mom in the row behind us, discussing when the first Holiday grandchild will be born. As soon as those words land on my ears, I tune them out and put in earbuds. I toggle through my music, hunting for something to occupy me for the next hour as the train roars along the coastline, headed for New York.

When Band of Horses appears on my scroll of songs, I stop, remembering when Harper said she loved the song in the coffee shop. Casting my eyes around, I confirm everyone is busy, so I raise my phone, briefly flashing the screen at her.

I’m rewarded with a sweet smile, as she mouths,
Love that band
.

She returns to her book, and I lift my pencil, ready to tackle more clues. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice her slide her thumb across the screen. Then she brings her finger to her mouth and runs it absently across her bottom lip.

Desire slams into me, full-force, unabated. I would do just about anything to grab her hand, tug her into the train restroom, and kiss the fuck out of her. Because I know what she’s doing. She’s remembering how I touched her, how I kissed her, how she let go with me last night.

She’s lingering on the memories, and I wonder if she’s even fully aware. Her eyes are on the screen, but she shifts in her seat like she’s turned on.

This train is a straitjacket. All I want is to touch her, talk to her.

She raises her face once more and locks eyes with me. I mouth,
Are you wet
?

She doesn’t answer with words. She simply nods once. As she returns her gaze to the screen, a little grin forms on her lips. An
I-know-what-we-did-last-night-and-I-loved-it
grin.

Briefly, she draws her eyes back up to meet mine, maybe to gauge my reaction. After a quick scan to make sure no one’s looking, I lick my lips once, enough to let her know where my mind is, too.

Her shoulders tremble, and she blinks, then she seems to force her focus back to her book.

That silent exchange is enough for any ounce of concentration left in me to disintegrate. I can’t even pretend to return to the crossword puzzle. Not when all I can think about is how she tastes. I close my eyes, listen to music, and let the scene unfold on the movie screen of my eyelids. This is the best X-rated show I’ve ever been to.

One interminable hour of a constant hard-on later, the train rattles into Grand Central and comes to a stop. It takes longer than I want to get out of here because we’re all together, tumbling onto the platform, wandering through the terminal, hunting for late Sunday afternoon cabs and cars. The crew splits up with some heading downtown, some to the Upper East Side, and some to the West Side, like Harper, Josie, and me.

I let my sister sit in the middle of the cab, where she conducts a post-wedding recap on her favorite moments. We shoot across town, the traffic mercifully light, then up Central Park West. I get out first, give my sister money for the cab, then say good-bye in a light, easy tone. No lingering, burning stares at the woman I want. Nothing to reveal my hand.

As I head into my building, I take out my phone to text her. But it’s too soon, since Josie lives five blocks away and they’ll still be in the car. I drop off my bag, take a piss, wash my hands, and grab some condoms. I bet Harper doesn’t stock them.

I check the time.

Josie should be gone by now, and Harper will be alone. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t think twice about sending her a text. But with so many people around who know us both, we need to be careful.

T
wenty minutes ’til
that show that you like is on
.

S
nagging my keys
, I head for the door. But I stop when my hand wraps around the doorknob. I inhale sharply as I make a critical change in the batting lineup. This pains me. Truly it does. But I’m a patient man. I remove the condoms from my pocket and toss them on the kitchen counter, benching the possibility of sex as I leave them behind.

She wants lessons in seduction. One of the most important ones is how to wait for it. Besides, there are so many other ways to make her come.

I arrive at her building, and she buzzes me in. When I reach her door and knock, she opens it, and I’m pretty sure I growl—low and guttural like an animal—because of how she looks. Her face is flushed, her cheeks are red, her hair falls wildly, and she’s changed into shorts and a white T-shirt.

“Hi,” she says.

I don’t look around. I don’t take in the decor of her tiny apartment. I roam my eyes over her, but it’s not the new outfit that gives her away. It’s the rosy glow on her cheeks. I shut the door behind me, bring my nose to her chest, and drag it along her flesh up to her ear, whispering harshly, “Did you just masturbate while waiting for me to get here?”

I wrench back, and the answer is evident in her eyes. They have that caught-red-handed look, and oh what I wouldn’t give to have walked in on her a few minutes ago.

She swallows and nods. “Are you mad at me?”

I shake my head and grasp her wrists, pinning them at her sides, crowding her against the wall by her door. My body is pressed to hers. “Do I feel mad?”

“You feel hard.”

I push against her, and a jagged moan falls from her lips as she feels my erection. “I would never be mad at you for coming. But tell me something—why couldn’t you wait?” There’s no anger in my tone, only a pulsing curiosity. I want to hear her answer. I grind my pelvis against her.

Her eyes flutter closed as she moans. “I was so turned on on the train. It was all I could think about.”

I dip my head to her chest, letting go of one wrist to tug at her shirt. I brush my lips against the swell of her breast then nip her soft flesh. “What did you think about when you were getting off?”

“
You
.”

The way she says that one word unleashes a current of desire under my skin. “What did I do to you?”

“It was what I did to you.”

That stops me. I raise my face. “What did you do to me?”

In a flash, her hand darts out, and she presses it against my hard-on, palming my dick through my jeans. I hiss. Fuck, that feels good.

“Got down on my knees and took you in my mouth,” she answers, and my dick is practically ready to smack me upside the head for ditching the protection. What was I thinking, wanting to be patient? I want to be inside her for the rest of the night. I want to go through one, two, three condoms or more. She is so fucking hot, and my mind is swimming in a sea of lust.

“Is that something you want to do? Something you want me to include in our lesson plan?” I bring my hands to her sexy little shorts and pop open the button, then tug down the zipper.

Her hips wriggle. “Yes. So much. I want to give it to you exactly how you want it. I want to do all my homework.”

I’ve never looked forward to an assignment so much. Because
with her tongue
is exactly how I want a blow job.

But not now.

I meet her gaze and arch an eyebrow. “Good to know. Now you have to wait for it. Because I told you I was taking care of you first, and I’m not changing my mind, princess, just because you’re so fucking wound up for me.”

“I’m so wound up,” she says, clasping my face, running her hands over my beard like she did that night on the street outside her home. I wonder briefly if she was touching me then in an exploration, like she is now, with fire in her fingertips, with lust thrumming in her body, with this same dose of raging hormones that I feel.

“Have you ever come more than once?”

“In a day?”

I roll my eyes, laughing briefly. “No. I’m going to presume those busy fingers have polished the pearl more than once in a day. Let’s say, in a thirty-minute timespan. As in, one right after the other?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think I can.”

“First time for everything.”

I yank her shorts to her knees, and they fall to the floor. She steps out of them, and I inch back to look at her. I drag a hand over my jaw. She’s so stunning. Her legs are long and toned. Her panties are black lace with a tiny pink bow on the front. It’s dainty and sexy at the same time. And it’s for me.

My temperature shoots through the roof.

“So you were so worked up you couldn’t wait,” I say, as if I’m musing on the topic. I drag my hand down her belly then under her shirt. My fingers trace her soft stomach.

She trembles as I touch her. “I was so wet, Nick.”

I hum and breathe out hard. “I bet you’re still wet. I bet you’re even wetter now that I’m here. Is that right?”

She swallows and nods. “Find out,” she says, rocking her hips into me, rubbing against me.

Goddamn, this woman is a livewire. She’s crackling everywhere. This is how I want her. Ready to shatter. My fingers turn south, and I toy with the little bow. Her eyes blaze with desire, a hot, wild neediness. I dip a finger inside the waistband, brushing over the curls of hair on her mound. She gasps as I slide my fingers between her legs.

Lust slams into me from all corners, as if it’s invading my every cell. Because she is so fucking wet. So slick. “Look at you. Look at how wet you get, even after you come,” I say as I glide my fingers through heaven.

As I stroke her slippery sweetness, she grabs at my arms, curling her fingers around my biceps. Her breath paints my cheek. Her wetness coats my fingers as I glide them over her pussy lips then up to the soft rise of her clit. When I touch her there, her moan is desperate.

“Did it feel like this when you fucked yourself a few minutes ago?”

She shakes her head.

I rub faster over her swollen clit. “Like that?”

She rocks against my hand. “No. Not even close.”

My fingers explore her more, sliding over her silky heat. The fact that she’s this turned on drives me wild. “How long did it take you? When you sucked my cock a few minutes ago?”

“Not long,” she pants, her nails digging into my arms, her body rocking into me.

My God, I haven’t even pushed a finger into her, and she’s flying to the edge. Her legs are shaking, her breath is coming fast, and her eyes squeeze shut.

With one more stroke through all that heat, I push in, and she cries out “Oh God” as she dips down onto my fingers.

“And what about this?” I add another finger and crook it just right, hitting the spot that could send her soaring. “Did it feel like this when you fucked your hand?”

“No, God no, not even close.”

She tightens around my fingers.

“Go wild on me, Harper. Fuck
my
hand now.”

She moans, gripping my biceps, riding my fingers, fucking me in a mad, fevered frenzy. She clenches around me, so tight, so hot, so fucking good. Then she screams, a wild, gorgeous sound that makes me want to push down my jeans and bury my cock inside her right this second. My dick throbs, begging to be freed from the jail I’ve locked him in.

But the lack of condoms means I can keep doing my favorite thing—focus on her—and I’m not even remotely close to done. When her panting slows and her moans soften to murmurs, she opens her eyes. I crush my mouth to hers, kissing her lips for the first time today. She tastes as good as she did last night. Maybe even better.

She breaks the kiss. “My God, Nick. What did you do to me?”

Her voice is a little hoarse, a lot breathy. Her eyes shine with the afterglow. This is what I’ve always wanted to see. I saw it last night for the first time, and I love the way she looks when I make her come—blissed out and beautiful.

I gently remove my fingers, bring them to my mouth, and taste her. Salty and sweet, and so fucking good. “You wanted to learn what you liked. I showed you that you like it a lot when I reach your G-spot, princess,” I whisper, then slide my hands to her bare ass. I’m rewarded with more sweet murmurs as I lift her up. “Wrap your legs around me.”

She does, locking them around my ass. “Are you going to fuck me like this?”

“I have other plans for you.”

Her apartment is tiny, and I carry her to her nearby couch, setting her down gently on the purple surface. She sinks into the cushions, her body looking relaxed and warm, probably from having come so hard. The rich shade of purple frames her face. Deep red and sparkly silver pillows cover her sofa. All these colors seem perfect for her. They match her personality—bright and vibrant.

But it’s not her personality I’m thinking about this second as I kneel on the floor between her legs, placing a hand on each of her knees.

“You know that menu of things I like, Harper?”

“The all-you-can-eat buffet?”

I nod. “I still like everything, but if I had to choose . . .”

“
T
ake off your shirt
,” I tell her.

She shakes her head, darts forward, and tugs at my shirt. In a flash, she pulls it over my head. Her eagerness to strip me sends a hot charge down my chest, on a beeline for my cock. She tosses the shirt on the floor, and I set my glasses on the corner table.

“You’re so hot, Nick,” she says, then smiles guiltily. “I said that last night. I must sound like a broken record.”

“Say it again. I love hearing it from you.”

She leans forward and places her hands on my chest. I shudder, and my eyes close. I want to savor this moment when she touches my naked chest for the first time. My breathing intensifies as her nails trace over my pecs, along the outline of the tiger.

“I love looking at you,” she whispers. “When I checked out your tattoo on my phone, I wanted to touch it.”

My eyes snap open at this admission that she was attracted to me over the summer. “You did? Back then?”

She nods, dragging her nails down my chest to my abs. “Is this okay?” she asks, her eyes meeting mine, her question reminding me of the score. We might have a connection, but I’m here because she wants to learn what she likes, and what guys like.

“Yes,” I say, as her fingers trace lines between the grooves of my abs. “You’re doing great.”

“I remember lying back on this couch that night and opening my pictures, zooming in on that one. I ran my finger over the screen, thinking about how I’d touched you briefly in the park, just for fun. I loved the way you felt, even for those few seconds. All I wanted was to touch you again. To know if you’d like . . . this,” she says, running her hands across my waist now. Pure pleasure floods my brain.

“I do like it.” I want to exist in this moment for a little while longer as her soft, talented fingers explore my body. I want to be her playground. But the more she touches me, the more vulnerable I become, and the more I can see myself feeling something deeper for her.

I reach for her shirt and pull it over her head.

My dick practically begs for freedom now, mad as hell and banging on the jail bars. Her breasts are one layer of black satin away from me. She unhooks her bra, and I stare, a groan rumbling up my chest. Her breasts are sublime. They’re not big. They’re not small. They’re just perfect. Creamy skin and rosy nipples, tipped up and calling for my mouth. I dip my head to her chest, and suck on each delicious peak as my hands travel to her thighs.

“I’m going to spend a lot of time getting to know these beauties, but right now, I need my mouth between your legs.” My fingers roam up her thighs to her wet, hot center.

“Nick,” she starts, nerves racing back into her voice. “I’ve never come like that before.”

Those are my favorite words to hear. Little excites me more than the uncharted terrain of a woman’s orgasm, especially this woman. The chance to be the first to taste that sweet moment of shattering is like a winning lottery ticket. Out of nowhere, a possessiveness curls through me, and I want to be the only one to know this part of her. I want her pleasure to belong to me, and only me.

“Well, that’s about to change, isn’t it?”

She smiles, and it’s a wicked sort of grin, full of carnal delight. “This is what I thought about the first night we sexted,” she says, and I burn up all over, the red-hot memory slamming back into me as she confirms what I suspected she was up to.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve gotten off to eating your pussy.” I brush my fingertips along her thighs. “But there’s one thing I need you to do as I go down on you.”

“What do you want me to do?” she asks, breathless, as if she’s eager for my direction.

“When you really like something I do, when it drives you crazy and makes you want to beg for it, you need to tell me, okay?” She nods. “I know you love to say dirty things, and I want to hear them all. The more you give in to your own turn-ons, the more you’ll enjoy every single second of what I’m going to do to you, and the harder you’ll come.”

She nods several times now. “Coming hard sounds pretty damn good.”

“Oh, believe me, it will be so fucking good for both of us. Let me give you some suggestions. Off the top of my head,” I say drily, and she giggles, “you can say things like,
that feels so good
, or
I’m going to fuck your face, Nick
, or
I’m going to come so fucking hard all over your face
.”

Her eyes light up, twinkling with pure naughtiness. I brush a kiss along the inside of a thigh.

She quivers. I like that response.

I kiss a path up her leg, the intoxicating scent of her arousal growing stronger. I rub my face against her, letting her feel the bristles on her smooth skin.

“That,” she moans, low and long. “I like that.”

I grin as I slide my hands under her ass, cupping those luscious cheeks.

“That, too,” she says on a quick gasp.

I squeeze her rear. “Then tell me if you like
this
,” I say, and I just can’t wait any more. I kiss her pussy, and she bucks against me.

“Oh God, yes!”

Best answer ever.

I flick my tongue against her, then lick a long, delicious line down her pink flesh then back up, drawing her clit between my lips and sucking. She groans. “I like everything. Your tongue, your face, your lips,” she whispers in a broken pant. “So much.”

And so do I. I’m turned on beyond anything I’ve ever experienced as I kiss her sweet, hot center. I swear I’m drinking her, lapping her wetness, and she’s all over me. She’s the most intoxicating thing I’ve ever had, and she gets me even higher as her fingers slide into my hair. She curls them tightly around my head, holding on.

She floods my tongue, and lust pounds mercilessly in my body as I eat her. Her taste is addictive. She’s better, so much infinitely better than she was in my dirty dreams. She’s all real, all wet, all heat as she rocks against my face. She grips me tighter, thrusts harder, and I lick, suck, kiss, and devour her delicious pussy.

I can tell she’s almost there. I can tell by the way her legs fall open. By how much wetter she gets with each stroke of my tongue. By those wild sounds falling from her mouth. It takes all of my strength to pull away for a second to remind her. “Tell me. Tell me what you like,” I growl, then return to her.

That’s when she lets go. She clutches my hair, wraps her legs tightly around my neck, and fucks, and fucks, and fucks. “I’m going to fuck your face,” she cries out. As soon as those filthy words fall from her lips, she’s there. “Oh God, I’m going to come so hard on you.”

And she does, on my lips, my tongue, my mouth, my jaw. My face is just buried in her as she pulses around me, so wet, so crazed, and, I hope, so fucking satisfied.

That about describes me to a T, too. So fucking satisfied, especially as I watch her come down from her high. Her lips part, her breath is fast, and she drags one hand through her hair, the other over those gorgeous tits. This is an image I could jack off to over and over—Harper, high on my mouth, not an ounce of self-consciousness as she touches herself while floating down.

Come to think of it, I take a mental snapshot. I’m totally going to draw this image later. Don’t judge. I’ve only been obsessed with capturing a woman’s O face since, well, forever. And hers is like the holy grail.

So I decide to make it a double. Without giving her a chance to protest—not that she would—my lips are on her again, and just like that, she’s moaning, groaning, and writhing into me once more, flying into another orgasm in mere minutes. Judging from her wild sounds and her crazed cries, this one was just as good as the last. When I look up at her, she seems lost in a world of bliss.

Excellent.

I press my lips to her thigh, giving her a soft, gentle kiss, then I toe off my shoes and join her on the couch, lifting her feet onto it so we’re lying down, tangled up together. I pull her close to me, my arm wrapped around her as she breathes hard. “I think I’m going to call you Princess Come-A-Lot now. That work for you?”

She flashes me a woozy smile. “As long as you keep earning the right to call me that.”

I pretend to doff a top hat. “I am dedicated to your service.” Tugging her closer, I kiss her temple. “Wait. You don’t mind that I kissed you after I did that? I’m kind of covered in you right now.”

A light laugh falls from her lips. “I pretty much gripped your face and locked your head in a vise until I came all over your beard, and you think
I
mind that you’re kissing me?”

“When you put it like that . . .”

She shifts in my arms, then her eyes darken. “Kiss me again,” she whispers, low and dirty.

I oblige, all too happy to have my lips anywhere on her. I groan as she takes control of the kiss, her lips hunting me, her tongue searching my mouth. She is ravenous, and she kisses me like I’m her dinner, and holy fuck, it makes me delirious. Her hands are on my shoulders, and she pins me, pressing her deliciously naked body to my side. Her skin is so warm, and her lips are so greedy. Her hand slinks down my chest, her nails running through the hair on my pecs, and in seconds her hand is on my jeans, unbuttoning, unzipping, and scooting them down.

I’m helpless to resist. Not that I want to, mind you. Not the fuck at all. I just can’t. Because this girl is steering the ship. She shoves my jeans to my knees then off. In a heartbeat she breaks the kiss and stares at me stretched out on her couch.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asks, her tone an accusation.

“What?” I ask, confused. “Tell you what?”

She curls her soft fingers around my hard shaft, and I hiss out a breath. “Fuck,” I groan, as she touches my dick.

“That you were packing this kind of heat,” she says, grinning like the very naughty girl she is.

What can I say? I’ve never had any complaints about the size of the machinery; I’m just glad Harper likes what’s under the hood. “Whew. I thought you were . . . I don’t know . . . pissed about something.”

She shakes her head in an exaggerated fashion as she strokes me. “Not pissed. Try
excited about something
.” She runs her hand up and down my cock. “Excited about riding you.”

A shudder wracks my body, and I grab her face, thread my hand in her hair. “You don’t need lessons in anything. You say these wildly dirty things that turn me on.” I tip my forehead to my cock, thick in her hand. “Feel that. Do you feel how hard I get when you say that stuff?”

She shoots me a sexy smile. “All these things I want to do are in my head. Now I want to try them out. With you.”

“We can try anything you want, but I didn’t bring condoms tonight.”

She pouts but then picks up the pace, curling her hand tighter. “Tell me how you like it.”

“A hand job?”

“Sure.”

“Haven’t had one in ages. But it helps if you get it wet.”

She lets go of me for a second and dips her fingers between her legs. Holy fuck. She’s lubing me up with . . . herself. I push my head back against the couch pillow, blown away by this girl. Returning her hand to my erection, she spreads some of her wetness on me. “Like that?” she asks, breathy and sexy.

“Yeah, that’ll do just fine,” I say, as I thrust up into her palm. I can’t even remember the last time I had a hand job. At a certain point in life you just graduate to fucking and sucking. But the way she grips my dick—twisting her wrist, sliding up and down my shaft—sends hot sparks through me and makes me wonder if I’ve been missing out.

On hand jobs . . .

Or maybe I’ve just been missing out on her. Because the way she looks at me, her eyes roaming between my face and my dick, as if she’s appraising her work and checking for a reaction, makes me want to let go with her, too. To give in to whatever she wants to do right now. Let her touch me anytime, anywhere.

“Tell me how you like blow jobs so I can give you what I was fantasizing about,” she says as she sits up, nudges my thighs, and then kneels between my legs. She doesn’t let go of my cock the whole time, and I’m really fucking thankful for her commitment to the task at hand.

I groan as her thumb catches a bead of liquid from the head of my dick, then spreads that over me, mixing her arousal with mine. It’s so hot what she’s doing. Makes thinking hard. “I like a lot of tongue,” I say, trying to collect my thoughts. “I like it when you wrap your lips nice and tight, but lick as you move up and down.”

“Mmm. That sounds delicious,” she whispers on an upstroke, her eyes blazing with desire as she watches me.

“I like a lot of suction, if you can.”

She draws an excited breath. “And deep? Do you like it deep?”

Electricity radiates in my body with that word.
Deep
. “Fuck, yeah. I want to hit the back of your throat,” I groan.

Her hand keeps busy, moving faster now, like a tight, hot tunnel. I thrust up into her fist, gritting my teeth as desire climbs inside me.

“And what about this?” she asks, then brings her other hand to my balls and cups, playing with them.

“Love that,” I grit out. “Love it when you lick them, too.”

Her hand flies faster, head to base and back. “But you don’t like hand jobs?”

“Now I do. I really fucking do,” I say, groaning as I fuck her hand. I might have to reconsider my position on mouths being better, because Harper’s hand is blowing my mind. But when my eyes land on those red, naughty lips of hers, I’m sure what I want. “Know what makes a hand job really great?”

“What?” she asks, her voice so damn eager.

I grab the back of her head, meet her gaze, and tell her. “When you put your mouth on it.”

In an instant, her lips wrap around the head of my dick, and I moan. A long, hungry moan that feels like it lasts forever. She follows my instructions, making her lips tight, and flattening her tongue. She takes me deep in one swift motion. Pleasure crackles all through my body, barreling down my spine, racing through my veins, and lighting me up everywhere.

It’s like a sneak attack. An ambush orgasm. I don’t even have time to give her a heads up. I just come hard in her throat in mere seconds.

“Fuck, Harper,” I grunt, and she sucks me tight until she swallows it all. She gives me a long, lingering lick, then lets go with her mouth. But bless her wicked heart, she keeps her hand on my dick, and gives one last stroke, making my whole body jerk as I groan once more. She grins, looking like the cat who ate the canary’s whole clan.