by Whitley Cox
Pulling away from our kiss, she sighed. “Sam.”
I dropped my head to her neck, continuing to kiss, lick and bite along her collarbone and chin, slowly working my way down her chest.
“Sam … ” she said again, continuing to grind her pelvis against me.
I pulled one breast out of the top of her sweater and bra, drawing the tight crimson nipple into my mouth. I laved at it. Sucked and flicked, lashed and pulled. She arched her back and her hands found their way into my hair. She tugged. I groaned against her breast, letting the vibration stimulate her.
Releasing her nipple from my mouth, I rubbed my chin stubble over it, enjoying how it tightened even harder and grew even redder.
“Oh God, Sam … ” She tugged harder on my hair. “More.” Brazenly she released my hair and fished her other breast out of her sweater. “Other one.”
I chuckled low as I continued to rub my beard against her nipple.
“You like the beard?”
“God, yes.”
I did as she ordered and switched to the other peak, delivering the same sweet torture before finally giving her what she craved and raking my chin across her sweet flesh.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take it. I wanted her naked beneath me, wanted to see every inch of her body. Caress the curves that have taunted me each and every Monday for the last six months. Feel her respond to my body and beg for more. But I didn’t want to push. If this was all she wanted tonight, I would respect that. It’d only been a week of getting to know Harper, but already I could tell she was something special, and I didn’t want to fuck this up.
“C-condom,” she stammered. Her eyes fluttered closed as she pushed her hips up into me. “Bedroom.”
Apparently she didn’t want to wait. All right then.
“I have one in my pocket.”
“Oh, thank God.”
I laughed and tugged on her nipple. “Impatient?”
She tugged on my ear until I was forced to lift my head and look at her. Sexy pink cheeks, bright eyes and wet lips made this beautiful woman beneath me absolutely stunning. Harper turned on was the most incredible thing I’d ever laid eyes on. She gave me a rueful smile. “Wouldn’t you be?”
“Three years? I think I’d be dead.”
Reaching for the top button on my shirt, she began to unfasten them. “Then resurrect me.”
Fuck, she was something else.
She released the last button, and I let my shirt fall to floor. I was just about to start working on her jeans when a wail from down the hall made us both freeze.
“Maaaamaaa!” Carly cried. “Maaamaaaaa!” I didn’t have to see the little girl to know that there were probably giant tears welling up in her eyes and running down her cheeks. Landon and Gem were the same way when they woke up in the middle of the night, disoriented and scared for whatever reason, be it a nightmare or something they saw in their room. While Gemma’s reaction was more sniffly and quiet, Landon’s high-pitched howl was like a baby wolf searching for its pack. Sad and long and forlorn.
“Shit!” Harper whispered. “I better go see what’s up. Catch her before she makes her way out here. I’ll be right back.”
I moved off her and sat back on the couch. She sprung up like a gymnast and trotted down the hall.
I sat there.
And I sat there.
Ten minutes ticked by.
Then twenty.
Then thirty.
I checked my phone, and it was closing in on eleven. I yawned, stretched and stood up. Grabbing my shirt from the floor, I slouched into it and buttoned it back up as I made my way down the hall. Family photos of Harper and Carly lined the walls. A few from when she was an infant, a candid one in the delivery room, tasteful but still very much in the moment, but most of the photos were recent. Off at Science World or the Aquarium. A few of them at the park or pool. Christmas and family holidays. They’d made it work, their little family of two. My heart swelled inside my chest at the thought of how far my family of three had come in the last year. We’d dug ourselves out of the trenches and were strong, healthy and happy. We didn’t need a mother to make us complete. I was mum, dad and whoever else Landon and Gemma needed me to be.
I spied the glow of a nightlight peeking through the crack of a light yellow door and pushed it open a few more inches. The room was dark, but the double lump of slumbering mother and daughter in the narrow single bed was unmistakable.
Been there, done that, bought the T-shirt. Such is the life of the parent.
Cock-blocked again.
I shook my head and smiled as I made my way back down the hall to the front door. If I had a dollar for every time I’d fallen asleep in Gemma’s room or bed, or on Landon’s floor, only to wake up the next morning with a sore back, I’d be a rich man. I only hoped Harper didn’t wear contacts. On the nights I fell asleep before taking them out, the morning after I wanted to scratch my red eyeballs out, they were so painful. I grabbed my leather jacket off the coat hook and pulled it on, then making sure the television was off, the lights were off, dishes were in the dishwasher and the house was quiet, I slipped on my shoes and left.
I glanced down at my boner and pulled on the crotch of my jeans as I made my way to my SUV. “Down boy. Maybe next time. But tonight,” I twisted my hand in front of my face and shook my head, “it looks like you’ve got another date with Palmer.”
Chapter 9
Harper
Saturday morning, I woke with a mouth that tasted like sewage mixed with wine, aching eyes—shit, I’d forgotten to take out my contacts—and a sore back from having to share a single bed with a squirmy toddler. My clothes from the night before were still on, and the faintest scent of Sam on my skin and shirt reminded me that he hadn’t been a dream, but the sex we’d had certainly had been.
Cock-blocked again! Damn it.
And we couldn’t even try again tonight, because my sister was having a big family dinner upstairs, complete with our parents and Rick’s parents.
Carly was still snoozing, which was rare but welcomed, so I pried my sorry ass out of her bed and schlepped my way to the shower. I stood in front of the bathroom vanity, taking in my appearance. I looked like a hot mess. Well, more just a mess. My mascara had fallen off my lashes and into the pores beneath my eyes. I had pillow creases on my face, my lips were swollen, and when I looked further, I had what appeared to be a light chafing on my cheeks and around my lips. Was that from Sam’s beard?
I stripped and quickly inhaled from the snap of pain caused by the rubbing of my bra against my nipples. I pulled at my tender buds, gasping again. They were sore. He’d been rough with them. Tugging and biting, relentlessly grazing his beard back and forth over their sensitive skin. I’d loved every minute of it, and now I loved the reminder.
We hadn’t had sex, but he’d given me a taste of what he’d be like in bed. Demanding and dominating. Rough and forthright. But he was also tireless and so generous. And his kisses. Dear sweet lord, the man could kiss.
I turned on the tap and stepped inside, letting the warm water sluice over my skin and wake me up, thunder down on my tired muscles and loosen them up for a new day. The thought of Sam and his mouth, Sam and his hands, Sam and his beard had me cupping my breasts with one hand while the other one trailed down to the V of my legs. In no time at all, I was panting and crying out as the orgasm tore threw me. My body rippled around my fingers, and I flicked my thumb back and forth over my clit, randomly delivering a nice little smack before continuing on with my rhythm. My fingers weren’t Sam, but for now, they and my imagination would have to do.
When I stepped out of the shower, I came face to face with a groggy-eyed child. She was clutching her beach-bucket of dinosaurs in one hand, her favorite blanket in the other, and her chestnut hair was an unruly mass of loose curls coiling up out of her head like Medusa’s snakes.
“Mama, what you doing?” she asked.
“I just finished a shower, sweet pea. You all right
?”
“Arly tired.”
“You’re tired?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, then why don’t you go back to bed for a bit?”
I draped a towel around myself and saw that my phone on the bathroom counter was blinking.
“No, no more bed. I wanna watch dinosaur ’ocumenny again.”
“You want to watch the dinosaur documentary again?” I asked, grabbing my phone and following her out of the bathroom and down the hall.
“Yeah. And waffles.”
“And you want waffles for breakfast?”
She yawned wide and nodded. “Yeah. Waffles.”
Not too demanding, this child of mine. I rolled my eyes and plunked her down on the couch.
“All right, baby. Mummy will get your bottle sorted. You can watch your documentary while I get dressed, and then I’ll make waffles.”
“My wand!” she smiled, pointing to the coffee table.
I glanced over to where she was pointing and quickly snatched my vibrator off the table.
“Gimme,” she demanded, holding out her sweet little hand.
“Uh-uh. What has Mummy said about going in her nightstand? Off limits, young lady. Next time I find you in there, you lose your bucket of dinosaurs for two days.”
Her eyes turned fierce, and she glared at me as she clutched her bucket close to her chest like it was her own child. “Mama no take Arly’s dinosaurs. Mine!”
“And this,” I said, waving the toy around but then regretting it immediately and stowing it behind my back, “is mine. Not a toy. Okay?”
I waited for her to nod. She did, followed by a “Sorry, Mama.”
I kissed her on the head, picked up the handcuffs as well and then made my way back to my room.
“Dinosaur ’ocumenny!” she called after me. “Bottle.”
Shit! Right.
Tossing the toy and handcuffs on my bed, I ducked into the kitchen to deal with her bottle. Then I put on her documentary. Once I knew she was content and would be occupied for at least a solid five minutes, I ran back to my room and tossed on my yoga pants with the tear in the bum and a gray hoodie.
I needed coffee.
As much as my shower and morning orgasm had helped dislodge the cotton from my brain, my caffeine addiction needed to be fed, so I headed into the kitchen to make some coffee.
I was just pouring the creamer while simultaneously waiting for the waffle iron to heat up when my phone on the counter caught my eye again. It’d been beeping and flashing at me since I woke up, but one thing or another had distracted me and diverted my attention. I slid my thumb across the touch screen, and a slew of text messages from Sam popped up, making my heart do a happy little leap.
S: She’s lucky she’s cute, that little cock-blocker of yours.
S: Any chance we can try again tonight?
S: I’m jealous you have that curry for lunch. I might have to go and grab more for myself.
S: Despite the lack of a “finish,” I had a really great time with you last night. You free tonight?
I texted him back.
H: Yes, her cuteness gets her out of a lot of trouble. Otherwise, I’m sure I’d have abandoned her with a pack of wolves by now. And as much as I’d love to try again tonight, my sister is having a big family dinner. Yum, yum. I am very much looking forward to my leftover curry lunch. Should have stolen it when you had the chance there, Forsyth.
His response was almost immediate.
S: She’s awake! Good morning, Melody. Gem and Lando are the same. Cute and tough to get mad at. It’s not impossible though. I threaten to leave them with bears. Wolves are a good idea, very Jungle Book-esque. I thought about stealing the curry, but then I figured it wasn’t very gallant, and if I have any desire of one day getting into your pants, stealing your food is not a good way to start the foreplay.
My face caught fire. I hadn’t even taken a sip of my coffee yet, and already my cheeks were warm and tingly. Damn, now I wanted to cancel on my family dinner, make my sister take Carly and invite him over for curry and sex. But I decided to play it cool.
H: Oh, so you think you have a chance at getting in my pants, do you?
S: I wasn’t the one who said c-condom, last night.
Shit! He had me there.
H: Fair enough. I’d say the fact that there is still curry in my fridge means the chances of you getting in my pants are still very high.
S: That is if our children ever let us.
H: Next weekend?
S: If my balls don’t explode by then, absolutely.
H: Ah, I hear ya. I had to take matters into my own hands this morning.
Crap!
What the hell had I just done? I hadn’t been thinking. I still hadn’t had my coffee, and my brain wasn’t functioning properly. This was something I would have texted to Amy or Quinn, but never to a man. At least not a man I’d just started seeing and hadn’t even slept with. Oh dear God, I’d just admitted to Sam that I’d masturbated this morning. I noticed smoke out of the corner of my eye and realized the waffle iron was still on. I turned it down a bit, then ladled some batter on before pressing it shut. There was no vibration, no ding of my phone. What the hell had I been thinking? What was Sam thinking?
Finally, it vibrated, and with the speed of a ninja on crack, I checked the message.
S: Damn, that’s hot. I’ll admit it, I had to take care of things last night myself. Couldn’t sleep otherwise.
My bottom lip nearly hit the counter. The thought of Sam touching himself, his big hand on what I can only assume was an anatomically correct and well-endowed cock, made my belly stir and my panties damp. I went to text him back, but my fingers were sweaty and just slid over the screen. What would I say back? That’s hot, too. No! But I didn’t have a chance to answer him before my phone buzzed again.
S: Did you use your toy or your fingers?
Holy hell. I opened up the waffle iron and pulled out the first fluffy golden square of goodness, flopping it onto a plate. I ladled on more batter and closed the iron. Should I tell him? Tell him that I touched myself in the shower as I thought of him. Thought of his tongue, his lips, his hands, his beard. My phone vibrated again.
S: It’s too early to send you a dick pic, but know that knowing you touched yourself this morning has made me hard as hell.
I took a sip of my coffee. My mouth was suddenly incredibly dry. I crossed my legs where I stood and felt them glide over each other. So that’s where all the moisture in my mouth went.
H: Fingers. Shower. I was thinking of you.
He texted back almost immediately.
S: I’m going to fuck you tonight.
Wait, what?
I’d just told him I had a family dinner to attend; was he expecting me to cancel? A giddy frisson of nervousness raced down my spine as I flipped the second waffle out of the iron, and like a robot on autopilot spooned on more batter. Was he planning to come over in the dead of night and do a wham bam, thank you, ma’am kind of thing? Not that I didn’t want to have sex with the man, because lord knows it all but consumed me, but I’d kind of hoped our first time wouldn’t be so rushed.
S: You’re so fucking sexy, Harper. You know that? Carly’s upstairs with your sister, and you’ve left a key under the mat. I enter and lock the door. I hear the shower running. I remove my shoes and my jacket, then walk toward the bathroom. I open the door. It’s steamy inside.
What the heck was going on? Is that what he wanted to happen tonight? Did he want me to leave Carly with Quinn? I was so confused, but at the same time so freaking turned on. I flipped another waffle and poured on more batter, thinking about what I could text back that would even remotely add or match what he’d so eloquently and sexily described. But he didn’t give me a chance.
S: All I see when I walk into the bathroom is the outline of a body. Curves that won’t quit, beautiful creamy skin. Sexy dark hair hugging a long neck.
Was this sexting? Was Sam sexting me?
We were sexting! I’d never sexted before, but apparently Sam had, because the man knew how to seduce and arouse. I flipped another waffle and poured on more batter. Closing the iron, I picked up my phone.
H: But you’re dressed, so I order you to undress. While you remove your jeans and shirt, I begin to soap up my body. I pour body wash onto a bath pouf and lather myself up. My body is quickly covered in bubbles, all over my breasts, my belly, my pussy. I run my fingers over my nipples and they’re so hard.
S: I’m naked in seconds. I step inside the shower and you make room for me. You’re so wet.
H: So wet for you.
S: You’re good at this.
H: You’re better.
A giggle escaped me as I continued to make waffles and sip coffee. I could hear the dinosaur documentary in the living room and Carly randomly repeating the different species as the documentary discussed them. “Hadrosaur.” “Therapod.” I thought I heard her say, “Archaeopteryx.” The girl can’t pronounce her own name correctly, but she can enunciate Archaeopteryx like a pro.