He backed her up against the door, and Harper’s heart flipped. That was so hot whenever she read about it, and it was so much more so in real life.
James braced his hands on the door on either side of her head and stared down at her. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
“So are you,” she said honestly.
He gave her a half grin. “Thanks for curling your hair for me.”
She nodded. “Anytime.”
His eyes heated even as his smile grew. “And I really like this dress.”
“I’m glad.”
He lifted a hand and hooked his index finger in the neckline of the dress. Then he pulled it down. Her body flooded with heat as he also caught the cup of her bra and bared her breast. He’d said earlier he wanted to pull the front of the dress down and suck on her nipple. He didn’t forget a thing, it seemed.
His gaze didn’t leave hers immediately. He just stood, looking into her eyes, her naked breast exposed between them. Her nipple drew tight. Without looking down, he moved his thumb, brushing over the tip.
Harper sucked in a sharp breath as electricity shot from there to her clit.
He did it again, watching her face, not her breast or his hand. Her head fell back against the door, and she flattened one palm on the wood behind her while the other grasped his forearm. “James.”
“Damn, I like that, Professor,” he said huskily.
“More.”
He thumbed her nipple again then added a finger, plucking at it gently.
Everything tingled from head to toe with a sweet ache settling between her thighs. She needed so much more, yet this buildup was so good.
He pulled a little harder, and she gasped.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
Then he dipped his knees and took her nipple in his mouth.
Harper whimpered and had to grip his arm tighter as her knees got a little weak. It was all so crazy. She’d read these things but had chalked it up to fictional drama. People’s knees didn’t really get weak. People didn’t really feel like they were on fire. People didn’t really ache for one another.
She’d been so, so wrong.
“You’re so fucking sweet,” he said against her breast as he teased with his tongue then sucked hard.
Harper had never wanted to be naked more than she did right then. She’d never wanted another person’s hands on her as much as she wanted James’s on her in that moment. She now understood some of the more brazen heroines in the books.
“James, I need you,” she said. “I need you to touch me. I need to touch you.”
He didn’t hesitate, didn’t tease, didn’t question. He straightened, reached behind her, unzipped her dress and pushed it to the floor. Then he unhooked her bra and pulled it down her arms. His hot eyes dragged over her as he stepped back and unbuttoned his shirt, shrugging out of it and tossing it aside.
With his shirt off, she forgot to think about the fact that she was completely naked now. She’d seen him shirtless before, and it had always been a pleasure. But it had never been a prelude to sex, and in this moment, everything about his body was so much more. He was hot and hard and big. His muscles rippled as he unzipped his jeans, and she was fascinated with every move. Those muscles were about to do all kinds of amazing things to her body. He moved with a confidence and a determination that made butterflies kick up in her stomach. She was nervous. She wanted this to be good. She wanted him to feel every bit of heat and want and I’ll never get enough that she was feeling. But she also couldn’t wait. She sensed this was going to be the kind of sex she read about, and she loved knowing that sex like that actually existed.
James pulled a condom out of his pocket before he shucked out of his jeans. He pushed his boxers down, and she saw him fully naked, and fully erect, for the first time.
In the shower, she’d gotten a pretty good idea of what this would be like, and she hadn’t been wrong. He was big. Of course he was big. He had that amazingly, how-can-that-be-real, hot V on either side of his abs. He had six-pack abs. He had hard, strong thighs, and a wide, hard chest. And dammit, this wasn’t fiction. He was a firefighter. He had to work to stay in shape for his job, and every person in New Orleans who might need him to fight to save their families or their homes or businesses should be damned grateful.
She certainly was.
“Oh,” she said softly.
He gave her a cocky smile. “Come here.”
She stepped forward, out of her dress. He reached and snagged her hand, pulling her close. He pressed her against his hot, naked body, running his hands up and down her back. He lowered his head, taking her mouth in a hot, slow kiss.
Harper let her hands roam. There was no way she could help it. She ran her hands up and down his sides, over the bumps of his abs, down to his tight ass, squeezing and pulling him closer. His cock pressed into her stomach, and she felt her inner thighs tighten. She wanted him filling her. Now. She’d never been one to rush into sex. She’d never had to have it. She’d been fine with foreplay and a slow build. But now she needed him.
She reached between them and wrapped her hand around his cock. His sharp intake of breath gave her a heady rush. She squeezed then stroked, and he tore his mouth away from hers, pressing his forehead to hers, sucking in air.
“Holy shit, Harper.”
Harper.
She loved when he called her Professor. She’d learned it was a term of endearment. When he was teasing her or even feeling affectionate. But when he used her first name it was when things were… more. He was feeling more right now and she loved that.
“God, you feel good,” she told him. “I want you so much.”
“You’ve got me. Whatever you want.”
“Will you…” She swallowed. Her favorite heroines had put lots of thoughts in her head and had given her a little shot of confidence and hell yeah about having hot sex with her firefighter-single-dad-sort-of-roommate, but saying it was different. Words mattered. They should be carefully chosen and could have a big impact.
“Anything,” he said gruffly.
The sincerity in his tone made her heart flip. She believed him. She also knew that she could say anything to him.
“The first night you were over here with Ami, you were sitting on the couch with him, and I wanted to climb into your lap and…”
James put a hand on her face and dragged his thumb over her bottom lip. “Say it, Harper. Please fucking say it.”
He was begging. His voice was rough, and when she looked into his eyes she could see the swirling, hot emotions.
She swallowed. “I wanted to climb into your lap and ride you.”
He blew out a little breath. But for some reason that didn’t feel like enough. She hadn’t gone far enough. She needed to be fully honest, fully raw here.
“I wanted to climb into your lap and fuck you. Right there, on my couch, just like that,” she said.
James froze for a second, then he pulled back to look at her more directly. “Tell me you want that now.”
Her hand was wrapped around his massive, hard-as-steel erection. She was bare naked, pressed up against him. He’d read her favorite erotic romance just because he’d wanted to know what she liked. They had a tree, a lizard, a dog, and a baby together. Sort of. But it was enough.
Fuck should be a graphic, not-romantic, not-meaningful-enough word.
Instead, it felt perfect. It was meaningful because it was not one she used regularly or casually. It was not one she’d ever used with another guy. It was raw and dirty and yes, graphic. It felt just right because of all that.
“I want to sit you down on that couch right now. I want to climb on top of you, and I want to fuck you right there where I first realized that you are a great guy inside this hot-as-hell-and-knows-how-to-use-it body. I want this”—she squeezed him—“filling me up and making me come hard. And then I want you to flip me over onto that couch cushion, and I want you to put one of my legs over your shoulder, and I want you to fuck me unti
l you come harder than you ever have before.”
So apparently once she opened her graphic-talk dam, it all came flooding out.
James made a little growling noise, reached between them, rolled the condom on, and then lifted her with his big hands under her ass.
Thrilled, Harper wrapped her arms and legs around him, his cock nudging and teasing her entrance as he stalked to the couch.
“I’m going to give you all of that,” he told her, his voice low and rough. “I want to hear a ‘Fuck yes, James,’ when your sweet pussy comes all over my cock. And then when I flip you over and pound into you, I want to hear it again. Got that, Professor? Fuck. Yes. James.”
She wasn’t sure she could help saying all of that. Hearing him ask for it was so incredibly hot. She knew that he wanted it because it would mean that he’d gotten her to do something she normally resisted, something she was typically too reserved to say. He wanted her to give him something that wasn’t easy or usual for her.
She could do that.
“Got it,” she said breathlessly as he sat down on the middle cushion, his cock sliding up against her clit.
He squeezed her ass. “Your sweet, sophisticated, classy mouth saying fuck for me is the hottest damned thing. And that makes me an uncouth, vulgar bastard, and I don’t really care.”
“It doesn’t—” she started to protest.
But he shifted her forward and took her nipple in his mouth again, sucking hard.
“Oh, God.”
He pinched her other nipple, making her inner muscles ripple in anticipation.
“Reach down and play with yourself,” he ordered gruffly.
She reached between them and ran a finger over her clit, her muscles clenching.
“Harder,” he demanded.
Oh yes, he was going to be bossy, too. She loved that in the books. He knew that. She loved that he knew that. Reading what she read was a definite look into her fantasies, and she loved that he’d done that. She wanted to hear his, too. She wanted to tell him hers. She wanted to read a book for the first time together and talk about why it was hot.
But right now she wanted him inside her. Deep. Hard.
She circled her clit harder and faster with her finger, feeling the tension and pleasure building.
Then suddenly he shifted her back, and she slid down onto his cock.
She moaned. He groaned, deep and low. It was a tight fit, but it was exquisite. He stretched her deliciously, and she soaked it in, feeling the waves of pleasure coursing through her whole body.
“Dammit, Professor. You’re fucking perfect.”
He shifted, thrusting up, squeezing her ass, settling even deeper.
“Oh! James.”
“That’s right.” He squeezed her again. “Now ride me, Harper.”
Harper. Damn, that made her hot.
She started to move. She lifted and lowered herself, the friction and heat and pressure glorious.
Her nipples beaded as goose bumps erupted over her skin, and her muscles clenched around him as if to hang on to the best thing they’d ever felt. But she couldn’t stay still. She did it again. And again. Taking him deep, slowly, relishing every inch. Every hot, hard, holy-crap-that-is-so-so-good inch.
He just let her go for a few minutes, watching her, holding her hips tightly but letting her move and shift and circle. And enjoy. Because she was. She so was. This was amazing. His jaw was tight, his eyes hot, but he just let her do her thing.
Until he didn’t.
“Harper, damn, girl. More, baby.” He pressed her down on him hard as he thrust upward.
“Oh!” She loved that fullness and the feel of him getting even deeper. “Yes!”
He brought her forward, to kiss her, yes—and he did, hot and long, stroking her tongue with his—but also to bring her clit against him where a press and a rub shot tingles of heat and pleasure zinging through her. He squeezed her ass with one hand and lifted the other to a breast, rolling and tugging on a nipple making her inner muscles clench.
“James!”
“You know what I want to hear, Harper,” he rasped against her mouth.
His rough voice added to all the sensations, and she felt the coiling of her orgasm, delicious and tight. “Yes,” she told him breathlessly. She wanted him to hear it, too. She wanted to come hard, his name on her lips. But not quite yet. This was all so good. Just being connected like this, his big body around her, part of her, filling her.
He shifted her again, rolling her hips, rubbing her against him, pinching her nipple, and she felt herself on that precipice. She moaned. She wanted to linger there. Enjoy it. Anticipate it all.
But he was having none of that. He surged up into her, pressing her down at the same time, kissing her deeply, breast in one hand.
“You are so damned sweet,” he told her. “I love how you’re just soaking this up. I’ve never seen someone just…” He blew out a breath. “I’ve never watched someone just freaking enjoy like this.”
In spite of the heat and fullness, the way her whole body was insisting that she move and take, she laughed lightly. “I am very much enjoying this. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”
“It’s… different with you.”
She looked at him. He seemed confused. Or amazed. Or something. It was usually easy for her to put words to things. It seemed significant that she couldn’t just now. It also seemed right that they would be talking during sex. Words mattered to her. He knew that. The fact he was using them right now mattered.
He also had a point.
“Enjoyment is used in a lot of ways,” she said. He was buried deep, their bodies were hot skin to hot skin. They were as intimate physically as two people could get at the moment, but she was going to give him a language lesson. Because this mattered. “It can definitely mean getting pleasure and satisfaction from something. But it can also mean fun. And my favorite meaning is gladness.” She took his face in her hands and looked into his eyes. “I’m glad to be here. I also like the related words ‘savor’ and ‘relish.’ Both are related to enjoyment. Both apply here.”
He stared at her. “Damn, I like you, Professor,” he finally said.
That might have been the best thing he could have said in that moment. Because she was certain he’d never said that to another woman in quite that way in this type of moment.
“I like you, too,” she told him.
He got a hot, almost mischievous look in his eye. “I know you do. And you think me being a firefighter is hot.”
She laughed. “Dammit, I do.”
“You have from the very first day.”
“Yes.”
“Knew it.”
“You know what else I find hot?”
“My lizard?” He gave her a wink.
She did like Henry, actually. But she wouldn’t call him hot. She leaned in and put her mouth against his ear. “That you know what I mean when I say baise-moi.”
He gave a little groan, gripped her hips, and said, “Gladly.” Then he lifted his hips, thrusting deep.
They might have taken a little break from the motion and friction, but the pleasure flared hot instantly, and Harper felt herself teetering on the edge of her orgasm again within only a few strokes. She also knew it was because of this man and her feelings for him and her experiences with him to this point rather than because of what they were doing physically.
Though when his big hands on her ass shifted her again just right and pressed deep, she couldn’t deny it was also what they were doing physically.
“James.”
“Little more, Professor. I need a little”—he thrust up—“bit.”—he thrust again—“more.”
She came with a cry. “Fuck yes, James!”
His breath hissed out, and even as the waves were still crashing over her, he flipped her over and thrust deep. So deep. Harper thought maybe her eyes rolled back. Her brain definitely short-circuited for a second. He hiked one of her legs up, propping her calf on his shoul
der, just as she’d asked, and then he took her. She’d never been taken. Not really. Not that she now knew what was possible.
She wasn’t sure she even breathed during the next few minutes, but she couldn’t think of something as mundane as that when she had James Reynaud doing the things he was doing to her.
Harper was shocked to feel herself climbing toward a second orgasm—something else she’d chalked up to fictional fantasies only—and she cried out and clamped down around him as he roared her name and came.
He let her leg down but didn’t change much else about their positioning as he lowered himself to the couch and pulled her against him on the cushions.
Their labored breathing filled the air, and Harper enjoyed every bit of the heat and hardness of his big body against and mostly on top of her as they recovered.
As far as James was concerned, things were pretty fucking perfect.
Harper Broussard was amazing. Her sharp mind and humor and willingness to feed a bearded dragon flies, and the way she called him on his bullshit and was not really okay with but still stepped up when it came to baby poop. She was also the best sex he’d ever had.
Not just because she had a body he was sure he’d never get enough of, but because of the way she had sex. She had made sex with him seem like something she just absolutely loved. Everything from the slow way she’d moved, seeming to just absorb it all, to the look on her face, had been so different from any he’d ever had. Women liked sex with him. They had a good time. Orgasms were handed out, and everyone left with a smile on their face. But he’d never felt relished. She’d used that word, too. As if it were all something she just wanted to wallow in and remember for a long, long time.
In spite of the fun he’d had with other women, he wasn’t quite cocky enough to think he was a never-forget-it guy to all of them. A couple, maybe. Possibly even several.
But none of them had ever looked the way Professor Harper Broussard had looked.
Getting Off Easy Page 13