Like the rest of America, like the rest of the world, I’d seen Harrison countless times in his underwear. In ads, covers of magazines, hell, I’d sat beside him while I’d seen clips of him and Will in barely there towels on their show. But I hadn’t expected Harrison to truly look like that in real life.
I took a step away and gaped. Every single part of his body was smooth muscle. Bulky and thick, but not too much. Not in some roided-out athlete physique like I might’ve expected. He was simply beautiful. So very male and beautiful. Droplets from his wet hair fell and traveled down the wide expanse of his chest and then coursed over the ridges of his abs, to find the light treasure trail that disappeared into his soaked jeans.
The sight of him stopped me cold. Brought me back to reality.
This was Harrison Getty. Football star, model… he was on TV. The man I’d known from the periphery over the last several months and the American heartthrob fused into one and the same before my eyes. It made no sense that he was with me. Half-naked with me. And he was in this dump of a glasshouse, with rain pelting through the swinging front door and wind whistling through cracked windows.
Not real. No way it could be real.
Harrison stood still, trembling, probably freezing, though I wasn’t, despite being drenched. Or maybe he’d simply come back to reality and arrived at the same conclusion as I had. He was Harrison Getty, and he was in a dump with a farmer. “Sorry. You’re right to stop.” I took a step back. “Sorry.”
“You want to stop?” Harrison’s voice was breathy as he lowered his hand self-consciously in front of himself, and I followed the movement. Cold or not, his body’s reaction made it perfectly clear that I was not imagining things. And the damp denim only served to highlight just how much he wanted this, even with his hand trying to cover himself.
There were other reasons I should take another step back, but for the life of me they weren’t coming to mind. Thunder crashed again, and lightning struck nearby, lighting up the glasshouse and making his skin glow.
Instead of answering him, I closed the distance between us once more and pushed his hand aside.
He didn’t resist, not at all. Though he continued to shiver.
I unhooked the button of his jeans, slid down his zipper, and began to tug down his pants. The soaked material clung to his skin, and I paused long enough to look up into his brown eyes, giving him another chance to come to his senses before we plunged over that line.
“Don’t you want me?” There was a mix of unfathomable insecurity and lust.
“Fuck yes, I want you.”
“Then take me.” He yanked his pants down to his midthighs for me.
I could’ve shot in my pants from that alone.
He straightened, naked to midthigh—wet muscles heaving with his panting breath—and revealed his body. There was no thunder to hide my whimper. His massive cut cock stood straight and tall between us, lightly pink, thick, and dripping. Or maybe it was just the rain.
Completely overcome and powerless, I sank to my knees and took him into my mouth.
Salty-sweetness covered my tongue—so not the rain.
Above me, Harrison made a sound similar to mine, and pushed deeper into my mouth.
Letting my body have free rein, I slipped my hands around him, gripped the rock-hard globes of his ass, and pulled him forward to bury him deep in my throat. Shoving my nose against his tight, damp curls, I breathed him in.
I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t think about making it last, didn’t consider trying to enjoy the once-in-a-lifetime-ness of Harrison Getty, I just devoured him. Reveled in his thick cock stretching my lips and throat, his heavy balls against my chin, the feel of his smooth ass flexing and releasing as he started to thrust.
I slipped off him enough to have access to the swollen head of his cock, took a second to run my tongue up his shaft before returning to the head to slip my tongue into his slit, getting as much of his salty tang as I could, and then capturing the length of him once more.
I’d barely begun to build a rhythm of taking him deep, then bobbing back up to his head only to do it again when Harrison’s panting became ragged above me. His fingers clutched my hair almost as tightly as I gripped his ass. I let my fingers dive into the crease of his ass and elicited a shudder from him. Still keeping my rhythm on his cock, I tested a little further, diving deeper to touch his hole.
Harrison let out a strangled cry, and his fingers gripped my hair so tightly, tears of pain sprung to my eyes.
I pushed in.
“Fuck, Adrian. Fuck. I’m going to come.” Tighter still. “Let me go. I’m going to come.” As he grunted out the words, his fingers continued to tighten in my hair. There was no way I could pull back, even if I wanted to.
I didn’t want to.
I shoved my finger deeper inside him while securing him tighter against me with my other hand and buried him as deep in my throat as I could, this time not attempting to rise back up or risk missing the moment of his climax.
Harrison bellowed as I managed to get the tip of the second finger inside him, and he came, his thick cock pulsating and stretching out my throat while he shot jet after jet of come into me.
His fingers were still tight in my hair, holding me to him as he trembled. While he began to soften, he didn’t let me go.
Slowly, I pulled my fingers free and began to stroke gently over his asscheeks then up the lower part of his back, even as I attempted to breathe with his cock still in my mouth. He smelled of soap and rain, and something that had to simply be Harrison.
When he finally loosened my hair, I began to curse myself. Too fast, much too fast. I should’ve made it last.
I’d never even thought of wanting him, not really. But now that he was there, now I’d had him, it was over too soon, the whole thing probably taking less than three minutes.
“Sorry.” He released me suddenly and yanked free of my mouth.
I should’ve expected that to be the first word he spoke. Of course he would be sorry. The reality of who he was, crystal clear after his orgasm. Funny how nothing mattered when your dick was hard and how quickly an orgasm ushered in regret.
I let my hands fall free of him.
Harrison managed to step back, even though his wet jeans still constricted his movement. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to come so fast. I didn’t mean to come in your mouth. I wasn’t trying to hold you that tight.”
Unbelievingly I glanced up from my kneeling position and met his gaze. That’s what he was sorry for?
“I wasn’t trying to be selfish or make you do that.”
Really? That wasn’t at all what I’d expected. Though I could’ve knelt before him in worship the rest of the day, I forced myself to stand. “Trust me, there is not one thing for you to be sorry for. I wanted you to come. Just like you did. Though I wish I could’ve made it last longer for you.” I wished I could’ve spent time exploring every inch of his body. Take his load over and over again.
He broke my gaze and glanced down, pausing at my crotch. “You did?”
How could he even ask that? “Hell yeah.” Might as well be honest. “I’m ready for your next load this instant if you want.”
His eyebrows lifted in inexplicable surprise, and then his gaze dropped to my painfully straining bulge. “Can I… help you get off?” He sounded as if he expected me to say no.
“I don’t expect that.”
Then he looked at me again. He was nervous. “I’d like to. Please?”
Before I could wrap my head around the fact that Harrison Getty stood before me and sounded slightly desperate for me, he reached out and tentatively touched my chest. He let out a shaky sigh and then pushed his fingers through my chest hair. “God, I knew you’d feel like that.”
What the fuck? I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. I wanted more time—seemed like I got it. As his other hand joined the exploration of my chest and arms, I undid my jeans and pulled them down as far as I could without acc
identally breaking contact.
“Oh, fuck yes. You’re so beautiful.” His hand left my chest and circled my erection, and he gave a dark, pleased chuckle. When he met my eyes once more, some nervousness seemed to have vanished. “Will you fuck me?”
My dick twitched in his grip.
He glanced down and then looked back up. “Yeah. Will you fuck me with that monster?”
And again, what the actual fuck? I made some noise. Several noises. Each of them meant to be yes, fuck yes, hell yes, yes, yes, yes, but they were all I could manage. He was mind-blowing. His beauty and his confusing blend of lust, uncertainty, and abrupt directness.
He began to stroke me, using his thumb to spread the slickness oozing from me over my cock. “I want you to fuck me, Adrian.” There was more thunder and another flash of lightning, which only accented the heated gleam in his eyes. “Will you?”
“Okay.” The word was little more than a croak, but it was all I could get out. And seriously? Okay? That was all my brain could come up with? I searched for something else. Anything else. “Okay.” Apparently, yes. That was all I was capable of.
Harrison released me, and though his movements revealed some pain, he removed his shoes and pants while grasping a wooden table for balance.
I followed suit, kicking off my boots and stripping myself naked.
Once he was free, he turned around and gripped the same wooden table, spread his legs slightly, and glanced over his shoulder. “Fuck me.”
I didn’t know which was more disconcerting—the sudden command in his tone or the confirmation that his ass was as stunning as it had felt in my hands. As were his tree-trunk thighs and chiseled calves.
I reached him in two steps and started to run my hands up the flexing muscles of his wide back. He looked at me and shook his head, his voice trembling as he said, “No. Just fuck me. Now.”
It seemed this wasn’t going to last long either. But maybe he didn’t want it to. Good enough. There was no way I could be inside him and last. Moving my hands from his back, I gripped his hips, and he arched, the cheeks of his ass spreading slightly, revealing his entrance.
“Now, Adrian. Fuck me, right now.” There was a desperate keening quality and just a hint of domination.
Holy shit. He was hotter than I could ever even have imagined but combined with him needing me the way he did, commanding me to use his body, it was beyond comprehension. Beyond my hottest fantasies.
Releasing his right hip, I gripped my cock, lined myself up, and pressed against his hole.
Harrison groaned and arched back farther. I was already fully slicked with precome, and the head of my cock popped into him easily. “Yes. Fuck, yes, Adrian. Fuck me. Hard.”
God, this was unreal. Completely unreal. I began to push in. Lightning crashed around us, lighting up the windows and his stunning body. I watched as my cock began to disappear inside him. Thunder rattled the glasshouse. It seemed to shake.
I froze, some modicum of reality shoving itself into my brain, and I yanked free of him.
Harrison cried out, though I couldn’t tell if the sound was pain or disappointment. He craned a look over his shoulder once more. “What are you doing? Fuck me.”
God I wanted to. It was nearly more than I could handle. I wanted to just shove myself back inside him, bury myself as deep as I could inside his body. “Condom. I forgot. Condom.”
He stiffened, his eyes widening. “Shit. Shit.” He blinked rapidly and then seemed to shake it off, his tone growing hard again. “Do you have one?”
If only. If only I could snap my fingers and have one appear. “Not with me. Do you?”
“Fuck.” He sounded angry. “No. Fuck it.” He arched back a little farther. “Whatever, just….” He shook his head. “Don’t go in, then.” His voiced changed, a hint of resigned longing breaking through. “Just let me have you against me.”
I hesitated. I could run and get a condom. Did I have one in my car? Even if I did, how long would that take?
“Now, Adrian. Please.”
I didn’t pause longer to question his command. I just obeyed. I gripped both his hips and fixed my erection in the crease of his ass. Again, he arched back, and when I didn’t move quickly enough, he rocked slightly, causing me to groan at the friction.
“Adrian.” There was some sort of warning in his tone. “Please keep going.”
I began to thrust. A few long strokes.
He whimpered. “Do it.”
I arched back and then slammed forward, the slick smoothness of his ass caressing my shaft. Without a pause, I did it again and again, smacking against him so hard things crashed to the ground from the table he gripped.
“That’s it. Keep going. Just like you’re inside me. Keep up that rhythm.” Part demand, part desperation.
My God. My God. My God. The feel of his body combined with the growl of his voice, and the sheen of the sweat mixing with rain glistening over his skin in the crash of lightning and thunder. It was all too much.
I lost control of the rhythm and just jerked against him in a frenzy.
“Yes! Fuck, yes, Adrian!” He arched, shifting the angle.
I released his hip with one hand and encircled his chest, pulling him back against me.
“That’s it, let me feel that hairy chest against me as you fuck me.” One of his hands gripped my forearm and dug deep. Only command remained in his tone now. “Now blow your load like you’re emptying into me.”
“Fuck yes, Harrison. Fuck.” I dug my fingers into the heavy muscle of his chest. “Take it. Take it.”
He growled as he rocked his ass, not missing a single centimeter of my length. “Now. Shoot now.”
I did. With a near scream, I arched back, my chest losing contact with his skin, and I shot, feeling as if I was inside him, rope after rope of my come shooting between us and covering his back. I kept thrusting until I was empty, until I could barely breathe. Then I collapsed against him, both of us crashing against the top of the table.
I don’t know how long we held that position, both attempting to breathe and trembling almost violently. Long enough that the rain and sweat soaking our skin began to cool, and we both continued to tremble. Outside the glasshouse, the storm started to abate, but still the breeze drifted in through the cracked windows, chilling us further.
The draft not only brought in the chill, but a cold dose of reality. The fallout from orgasm I’d thought happened before began. I could feel it slipping through me and into Harrison. Maybe it was the other way around.
Gingerly I stood, an unpleasant wet noise sounding as my chest separated from his back.
He shivered, hesitated a second, and then straightened. He began to turn around to face me, but his knee lurched. Harrison managed to grip the edge of the table and remain upright. Taking a steadying breath, he finished the rotation and looked at me. “I… we….”
My thoughts exactly.
He blinked rapidly and then glanced down my body, a shocked expression covering his face, like he just realized we were naked, a look that would’ve been humorous any other time, but it wasn’t. Not at all.
Though the rain was little more than a drumming pitter-patter on the metal roof, thunder crashed in the distance. Maybe in mockery, or judgment.
Leaning his hip against the table, Harrison struggled to get back into his jeans. “I came here to tell you I was sorry for kissing you.” He finally managed to get his pants all the way up as he sounded slightly baffled. “Just for kissing you.”
Suddenly, I was aware that I was the only one naked, and I yanked up my own jeans. Clearly, Harrison felt guilty. I did too. But I also wanted to do it again. “You didn’t need to say you’re sorry.” I started to move toward him again, wanting to touch him, and, oddly, wanting to soothe. “But I’m glad you came here.”
His eyes widened. “You are?”
“Yeah.” I gave in to the impulse and gripped his arm. “I am.”
“So, you don’t… think this was a mistake
?” Harrison obviously thought it was, but again, I might have caught the sound of hope in his voice, that he wanted me to convince him that it wasn’t.
Sometimes trying to figure out the right thing to say is too much work. If I’d learned anything over the last several months, it was that I knew nothing at all. So I opted for the truth. It was easier and the most I could handle. “I don’t know. I have no fucking clue, Harrison. But I think I’m glad it happened. I don’t know if it should’ve, and I doubt we should ever do it again.”
He looked away, nodding slowly in agreement.
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it again. Right or wrong.” I laughed, seemingly unable to stop speaking the truth now that I’d started. “I think we both know it’s wrong. For endless reasons.” I started to rattle them off. He’d almost been married less than a week ago, clearly we were both emotional fucking wrecks. Either I figured they were obvious, or I just didn’t have the energy to list them. “I think, if I keep talking, I’m going to say the wrong thing. And I have no clue what the right thing to say is.”
“Me neither.” He smiled and took my hand.
We stayed like that for a while. Seconds or minutes, I’m not sure. Long enough I was soothed, and I thought he was too. Long enough I began to look around where we were for the first time. The place was a wreck. It matched the outside. Several wooden tables were covered with various pots, planting tools, and bags of soil. Things had fallen over around the space and the floor was littered with broken and rotting wood and dead plants. I couldn’t hold back my laugh. “Well, one thing’s for sure, we picked a hell of a place to do it. Holy shit. Sorry. Whether what we did was right or not, you deserve a much better place than this to do it in.”
Harrison looked around as well, then shrugged. “I like it.” Then he chuckled as well. “Kinda reminds me of that scene in The Sound of Music. Just a lot dirtier.”
The Glasshouse (Lavender Shores Book 6) Page 8