by JC Harroway
Harley stopped breathing. Her pulse thundered in her ears. Please don’t let him change his mind; leave her hanging here on the edge of ecstasy.
But he simply stared between her legs, his jaw clenched and his nostrils wide, breathing hard.
‘Fuck, you’re beautiful.’ He traced the narrow strip of blond hair until his fingertip rested on top of her clit, his greedy stare drinking her in while she fought the urge to squirm and close her legs.
She’d never been so thoroughly inspected. So devoured. Warmth spread from her belly, burning beneath his motionless fingertip and snaking a tingling path along her thighs.
‘Later, I’m going to eat at you for hours.’ He lifted his eyes to hers, so intense, so full of carnal promise. Just like his words. ‘But now, I need to get inside you.’
She nodded. Speech impossible. Totally down with that plan. Grown up Jack was hot as hell and she longed to go up in flames.
The finger on her clit began a slow rhythmic stroke. Harley whimpered, her head falling back against the wall and her eyes fluttering closed. She snapped them back open again when he stepped closer, widening his feet and spreading her thighs with his.
‘Stay with me, Harley. Look at me.’ He continued to stroke her clit as he notched the head of his cock into her entrance.
She’d never been so open before, her previous sexual encounters rather robotic and perfunctory. But Jack completely commanded her body and wheedled his way into her mind, saying exactly the right thing to banish any awkwardness and make her hotter, more desperate, closer to the edge.
She gripped his waist. They were really doing this. Her breathing turned choppy. Short bursts of air that did little to quench the burn in her lungs or the buzz in her head.
Jack’s jaw bulged, his hot eyes locked with hers as he pushed inside, one slow, delicious inch at a time. She battled the desire to close her eyes, fighting the immense pleasure he kindled, attacked from all angles. Her thighs gripped his in a feeble attempt to control so much stimulation—stretched from the inside, her sensitive nerves petted outside by his clever fingers, the pulse of endorphins from his eye contact flooding her bloodstream. She was embarrassingly close. And he’d yet to move. She bit down on her lip, staying the waves of delirium, savouring the seconds, the sight of Jack half naked, face taut with the pleasure of being inside her.
‘Yes,’ he hissed, flaring his nostrils and fluttering the pad of his finger over her clit in light swipes. He licked his lips, eyes raking over her body. ‘Pull down the cups of the bra.’ He gripped her hips in his large hands, a move that both pinned her to the edge of the table and pulled her towards his steady, shallow thrusts.
She obeyed, her hands clumsy in her haste to do anything he asked. Because she knew she’d reap the rewards. Already this was better than anything she’d ever experienced. She didn’t consider herself a prude, but she was far from an adventurous lover. But the way Jack made her feel, effortlessly drawing out the hidden exhibitionist she hadn’t known was inside her...she’d become a veritable nympho for the orgasms he promised.
With her breasts pushed up over the cups of lace, she lost his eyes. He groaned. Then his stare slammed open, his lids heavy as he gazed at the tight peaks of her breasts. He leaned forward over her, lowering his mouth, which couldn’t quite reach due to the awkward angle of her unconventional sprawl on the furniture.
‘Help me.’ Frantic eyes darted between her face and her nipple. ‘I want to taste you.’
‘Yes... Oh, yes.’ She cupped her breast, lifting it to his hot mouth. Her cry stuck in her throat as he lashed the aching peak with strong swipes of his tongue.
Then he began muttering in French, words garbled around the flesh filling his mouth, his hips still rattling the table against the wall and his finger still stroking a sublime pulse over her clit.
She’d never mastered his native language, had no idea what he said, but it didn’t matter. The look on his face told her all she needed to know. He was there, with her, climbing this euphoric peak. And he could have been reciting a grocery list—the foreign language naturally sensual. Or perhaps it was just Jack and the way his sinful mouth caressed the sultry words.
When he released her breast, new determination shone in his eyes. He jerked his chin, voice gruff. ‘Touch them. Don’t stop. I’ve got you.’ He gripped her hip tighter, fingertips flexing.
Perhaps he meant he wouldn’t let her fall from her perch on the table. Perhaps he meant he’d take care of her orgasm, they’d take care of it together. But she had no time to ponder. She followed his instructions, embracing the libidinous woman he unleashed, all self-consciousness forgotten.
She let go of the edge of the table and used both hands to stroke her tingling nipples to attention. The more his eyes darkened to pools of molten metal, the faster she strummed, releasing her cries and moans unhindered.
Jack grunted a sound of approval, his hips picking up speed and his finger pressing down on her clit with greater pressure.
Harley whimpered, losing the battle to keep her eyes on his. The table banged the wall as he pummelled her again and again. She locked her ankles behind his thighs, holding him captive, drawing him closer.
When she opened her eyes again, his stare burned her breasts. ‘Tweak them, Harley, as firm as you like it.’
Her teeth clamped down on a wail as she listened, pinching and rolling her tortured nipples until her blood sang, a direct path to her clit.
‘Yes.’ Another hiss. ‘You’re swelling up.’
How could he tell? And yet it seemed he was correct, because he thickened or she tightened, the friction between them building in intensity. ‘You’re going to come soon. Look at me.’
Every command, every bitten-out order should have irked her, but had the opposite effect. Because his words were more like prophesies. And he was spot on. Her nipples ached. Her sex grew slicker, tighter around his shuttling cock. Tendrils of fire shot out over her belly and thighs from beneath his working finger and as she opened her eyes to the unbridled lust burning in Jack’s stare the lightning struck.
‘Jack.’ Her throat closed on his name as her orgasm hit, firing every nerve in her body. She clung to him—her eyes, her legs, her sanity latching onto the source of such overwhelming pleasure like a lifeline.
He gripped her tighter, his fingertips punishing. She didn’t care. She still pulsed around him. Wave after wave of euphoria. He’d lifted his finger from her oversensitive clit, but continued to softly stroke her belly, her thighs and her buttocks, intensifying the aftershocks that rattled her from head to toe.
But there was no time to recover. His pace picked up once more. Harley clung. Sweat beaded his brow as his jaw muscles bunched and his hips lost some of their smooth rhythm.
He looked down at her, his fervid stare darting over her breasts then swooping down to where they were joined until he gorged his fill.
His face twisted as he met her stare. ‘I want to make you come again...’ He shook his head, his chest heaving.
Harley gasped, all the reaction her boneless body could muster. ‘I can’t.’
He nodded. A flash of regret. ‘You will. Next time.’
Was he seriously lamenting his stamina after the single most erotic sexual experience of her life? She had no time to comment. He hammered into her, his hips jerking erratically and one hand trailing a hot, possessive path over her breasts and down her belly.
His shout, when he came, echoed off the walls. He collapsed forwards, every muscle taut as he pumped into her and kissed her through the last of the pulses racking his body.
Reality returned. The edge of the table dug into her butt and although he wasn’t placing all his weight on her, his arms braced beside her hips, and she struggled to breathe.
She brushed her lips over his ear, enjoying the tickle of his hair on the end of her nose.
‘Next time?�
�� She stifled a delighted, if a little girlish, giggle. Wow. She doubted she’d be able to walk after that performance. But already she looked forward to the promised next time.
He groaned into the side of her neck, his scruff scratchy, no doubt leaving its mark on her skin. ‘Give me ten minutes.’ He disengaged from her and helped her down from the table.
The narrow space between them widened. Harley pulled up the cups of her bra, wishing she’d chosen a less sheer design, and yanked up her panties, which were tangled around one ankle.
He stood in her entranceway, his urbane clothing rumpled and dishevelled, his softening cock still wrapped in latex and his clear blue eyes still touching on her near naked body with impressive hunger, considering the wall-banging session that had just taken place.
Harley reached for her purse and handed him a tissue.
What now? Invite him in? Offer him a drink? Suggest he stay the night?
The chill of the dark apartment infected her, and she sought her likely ruined dress while Jack tucked himself back inside his pants.
‘There’s a washroom there.’ She indicated a door to the right, grateful for the few seconds of reprieve while he disposed of the condom.
He opened the door and flicked on the light. While Jack binned the evidence of their coupling and washed his hands, Harley dived for her dress, holding it in front of her nakedness in a ludicrous display of modesty that left her cheeks hot.
She’d just come like a supernova around him, touched herself in front of him, allowed him to fuck her on an antique table she’d inherited from her grandfather. Now she back-pedalled?
Jack returned, scooping his wallet from the floor and pocketing it before reaching for her hand. He made no comment on the dress shield, slanting her a crooked grin as he tugged her closer and swiped his mouth over hers with surprising ardour.
She opened her mouth, her tongue sliding over his. Her arm came around his neck, the dress barrier forgotten as she indulged in another of those drugging kisses.
‘Harls? You home?’ A disembodied voice blasted from the intercom next to the entrance door.
Harley jumped away from Jack, her eyes wide and her heart hammering in her throat. She darted to the intercom, pressing the button to speak to her brother.
‘Yes.’ Harley winced, clutching her dress with one hand, her temples with the other. She turned her back on Jack, head bowed. Why hadn’t she just ignored Ash? Her back burned and she clenched her butt, hoping the heels she still wore presented her ass to its best advantage.
‘You alone?’ said Ash. They often got together late at night, sharing a nightcap and tales of their day.
Damn. What could she say? No, I’ve just fucked the enemy on Pop’s antique table... If she told the truth, tomorrow she’d have her brother here for breakfast on a fact-finding mission. And then she’d have to confess she’d messed up the Morris deal, too. Another dose of humiliation.
‘Yes, of course.’ Shoulders high, she scrunched her eyes closed, the lie raising the stab of a thousand pinpricks over her exposed skin. She could practically feel the chagrin pound her back in waves. Or perhaps it came from within.
‘Pour me one. I’ll be down in two.’ The ominous silence from the intercom started a deafening countdown. Harley turned to face Jack, an apology bubbling up in her throat.
He’d already donned his jacket and buttoned his shirt, his face blank.
She clutched her dress tighter, holding it to her sides with rigid arms.
‘I...’ What could she say?
I didn’t want my brother to know I just had the best sex of my life with Joe Lane’s son.
Manhattan was small enough. With a little digging, Ash would easily discover Jack was the head of Demont Designs. That he’d re-entered her life. Crashed back in, bells, whistles and horns blazing more like.
Jack stepped closer, one finger brushing the hair from her cheek.
‘Bonsoir, Harley.’ His hand dropped to his side, and he slipped the other hand into his pants pocket, a casual move that reassured her and irked her at the same time.
She swayed towards him, her eyes begging him with words she couldn’t articulate.
He stepped aside, turning at the door. ‘You’d better look in the mirror—you look well fucked...a look I personally like, but one I doubt your brother will appreciate.’
With those parting words and a blank expression, he left.
CHAPTER FIVE
JACK SLID THE scissors under the wide red ribbon, his smile finding the handful of camera lenses aimed his way. The hospital administrator gave him the nod and he cut the ribbon to a round of applause from the small crowd gathered outside the new wing of the Bronx Hospital for Children.
While the sense of pride he felt for donating his professional time for free to certain worthy projects warmed him, his face ached with the pressure of maintaining a benign smile. He despised ass kissing, both dishing it out and receiving it, preferring to judge and be judged by action.
His usual tolerance for making polite small talk deserted him. He blamed last night. Harley’s abandon to their explosive chemistry had shifted something in him, a piece he hadn’t known was out of sync until she’d entrusted him with her body and her orgasm.
The memory of her splayed under him, hair wild as she teased her pert breasts, her languid stare trained on him as he’d pounded them both to completion made his cock twitch. She’d unfurled before his eyes, stunning, uninhibited, claiming her pleasure like a goddess.
He’d been right. The sex between them had surpassed his imaginings. He’d planned to spend the entire night making her come. Reacquainting himself with her body and discovering every facet of the fully fledged woman she’d become.
And then she’d dismissed him. Again. Her denial to her brother as good as kicking him out of her apartment before the sweat had dried or their heart rates had settled to normal.
Hadn’t that been a knee in his still-throbbing balls? But it shouldn’t have bothered him. After all, he’d got his revenge fuck, hadn’t he? And while spending the night between her shapely thighs might have been a pleasant added bonus, he’d always planned to walk away—she’d simply expedited matters.
He choked down the bitterness, the contrast of her perfect abandon and her awkward brush-off still grinding his teeth. But it was a timely reminder that, although physically they were thoroughly attuned, she’d abandoned him once before.
With a fixed smile on his face, he accepted several handshakes from hospital officials, the mayor and patient representatives, his encounter with Harley souring the morning. He cast a discreet eye around the parking lot for Trent, keen to get out of here now he’d done his ribbon-cutting duty.
His eyes slammed to a halt.
Harley stood to the side of the lot, her big stare on him and her fine wool coat flapping open in the light breeze. Seeking him out for the third time in two days? Damn, she just couldn’t get enough.
At his small nod of acknowledgement, she crossed the lot, her hips swaying and a glint of determination in her green stare. Only Harley would come here this morning, after unceremoniously kicking him out last night, with an agenda. Hadn’t he already declared this...fuckfest would happen his way? On his terms?
Nevertheless, his body reacted to the sight of her. He forced his muscles into submission and adopted a casual pose while his heart thundered and his blood surged, hot and thick.
She stalked him. Sassy, confident, probably determined to get whatever she wanted, whether it was her beloved Morris Building or the orgasms he’d promised.
Her presence here, her stalking him down, offered a new and intriguing dimension to their game. How far was she willing to go? How far could he take her? Push her?
Fuck, what a turn-on. The urge to taste her in the back of his car flooded his mouth with saliva. He’d had a brief sample last night in her pr
ivate elevator, but it wasn’t enough and he’d planned to gorge himself, smashing his dry spell apart. Until she’d invited her brother to join the party.
He excused himself from the thanks and congratulations around him, his lips twitching, and met her halfway across the lot. He placed a perfunctory swipe of his mouth on both her cold cheeks.
‘Careful—’ he glanced left and right ‘—we might be seen together.’
Her cheeks flushed pink, the colour reminding him of her nipples as she’d circled them with her fingers. Her chin lifted, wisps of blond catching in the light breeze.
‘I...’ She glanced down at her toes, seemingly lost for words.
Rather than a surge of satisfaction at calling her out, he missed the light in her eyes, now dull with embarrassment.
Damn, what was wrong with him? But he was still uncertain of her motives, especially after the way she’d ruthlessly ejected him from her apartment last night. And he wouldn’t be duped; better she understood that from the start.
‘If you think last night changed anything, if you’ve come to plead for a fast track on the Morris Building, save your pretty mouth. I haven’t changed my mind.’ Although the things he wanted from that pretty mouth had certainly clarified.
Her head shot up and she stared at him for long, silent seconds.
‘I came to apologise.’ No demands, no coercion, no bargaining.
His tie flapped in the breeze. He tucked it inside his jacket and fastened the button.
‘For?’ He stared her down, guard firmly in place. Yes, he knew the way her breathy moans caught in her throat seconds before she climaxed and he’d learned the perceived thrill of being caught excited her, but she was largely a stranger.
She rolled her eyes and then sighed, shoulders dropping. ‘I behaved rudely last night. I...’ A bigger sigh, her sincere eyes lifting to his. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight.’ She laughed and flushed at the same time, reminding him of her pretty, post-orgasmic glow. ‘Damn, I could barely think at all.’