When I started to suck in another breath, Adrian’s tongue filled my mouth, and I arched into him.
Once more, Adrian worked his magic. It didn’t seem to matter if we were in a broken-down greenhouse in the middle of a field, on a beach, or in a candlelit room. He erased the entire world, my past and my future, refused to allow my brain any thought except for him.
Like his touch, his kiss was strong and demanding—slow, tantalizing, and deep. By the time he broke the kiss, my lips tingled from the scrape of his stubble and his tongue traveled down my body, making me whimper. At last, he took me into his mouth, groaning as he swirled his tongue over the head of my cock and then encompassed my shaft, constricting his throat as he sank onto me fully. Though I hadn’t realized I had my fingers in his hair, I gripped, hard, and held him still. “Adrian, you’ve got me too worked up. It’s too much. Stop. I don’t want to come. Not yet.”
Though he didn’t respond, he did as I asked, releasing my cock instantly, though taking one more lick from the base of my balls up to the shaft and swirling around the head again. Then he gripped the backs of my thighs with both hands and pushed, his tongue finding my hole.
I cried out again as he licked at me, the tip of his tongue teasing, then pushing in. Once more, existence blurred and contracted to the pinpoint of sensation as his tongue laved over me, making lazy circles and then soft kisses before darting in again.
I didn’t know such an act could feel this way. He’d taken me at my word. This wasn’t just sex. Not just fucking. He was making love to me, sending fire through every nerve in my body yet causing my heart to nearly burst at his tender ministrations.
My hands found his hair once more as he continued to lick, kiss, and fill me with his tongue. I stroked through the thick silky mass of his hair, clenching tight when he pushed inside, nudging him deeper.
Though I couldn’t imagine the sensations getting any better, they were suddenly not enough.
I released his hair and propped myself up on my elbows slightly. “Now. Adrian. Now. I want you inside of me. Really inside of me.”
After a final stroke of his tongue, Adrian lifted his head and stood, then looked into my eyes. They confirmed everything which the touch of his fingers and the caress of his tongue had claimed.
“I’m dying to be inside of you, Harrison.” Not breaking his position, he reached over and snagged the lube and a condom. “Scoot back on the bed.”
As I followed his direction, he joined me on the bed and settled between my legs once more. He made short work of the condom wrapper, covered his shaft with lube, and did the same to my entrance.
I lifted my legs a little higher, and Adrian moved closer as I wrapped them around him. Holding his cock with one hand, he pressed the other beside my head to support his weight, then lined himself up to my hole.
I met his gaze, his face so otherworldly beautiful in the candlelight. “Now. Fu—” No, that was wrong. “Make love to me. Now.”
His full lips curved into a smile. A little bit cocky and completely happy. Then his lips were on mine, and he pushed inside.
I cried out into his mouth, and he pushed farther. Though he didn’t pause, he breached me slowly, making sure I felt every inch of his length. His tongue filled my mouth, caressing mine as his cock filled me, stretched me. When I wasn’t sure I could take any more, I felt the base of him pressed against my skin, his heavy balls softly smacking against my ass.
Adrian held that position, buried deep, his cock twitching ever so slightly inside of me, his left hand still secured on the bed. His right one slipped under my neck, his thumb pressed against my cheek and tilted my head to deepen the kiss.
Then he began his rhythm. Slowly, achingly, withdrawing, nearly leaving me, and then just as slowly pushing back in. With each thrust he seemed to go deeper, stretched me just a little farther.
His pace was nearly agonizing. But somehow, it heightened every sensation. His tongue and his cock combined in a dance that controlled my body. Unable to think, I simply gripped the muscles of his back and held on.
Adrian held me in place as he moved, the length of his body pressed against mine, his achingly slow thrust causing the hair of his chest and stomach to stroke against my skin, the friction of his body working my cock while he stroked inside of me.
It went on forever. That slow burn. So long that I had to hook my trembling ankles together to keep my legs around him, and he never broke. Securing my head as he kissed me, filling me, and lighting me on fire so much that it nearly hurt.
Though I didn’t know it was possible from that position, I felt my orgasm build as his hair continued to scratch against my cock.
Reading the increased trembling of my body and my shortened pants into his kiss, Adrian slowly built his speed, his invasion intensifying gradually until his hips pumped, and the smack of his balls against me filled the room as his tongue pummeled my mouth, even as he groaned.
When his fingers tightened painfully at the back of my neck, I released with a cry, my orgasm bursting almost painfully between us, spurting from me until my cock and my body felt utterly empty.
As I attempted to suck in a breath, Adrian let out a cry of his own into my mouth, gave a final, powerful thrust, and came.
He shoved deep again, and again, and then again. Then he slowed once more. He broke the kiss, at last, and sucked in a ragged breath with his final thrust.
He remained inside and met my gaze. Though there were no words, his eyes said it all. They made love to me as surely as his tongue and his body had.
He wrapped his arms around my head, buried his face in my neck, and let his weight rest fully on me as he stayed buried deep.
Even as we crawled under the covers shortly after and I fell asleep on his chest, Adrian’s power remained. There was no world outside of the bedroom. Nothing at all. It was heaven. And when I slept, there were no dreams, no worries. Just contented, peaceful rest.
Sixteen
Adrian
Harrison arched his back above me, the muted morning sunlight stealing through the slanted angle of the blinds to travel over his beautiful skin as he moved.
I had to be dreaming. The night before had to have been a dream as well. I’d never had sex like that before. Ever. It had been years since I’d been able to count how many times I’d had sex, or even how many men I’d had it with. It had never been out-of-this-world good. If sex was based on the experience with Harrison, then it seemed like my first time, because I had never had anything come close. Not only the physical sensations, but the intensity of his touch, the feel of his body, and the earth-shattering passion of our connection.
I fucking got it, finally understood it. Why Alex could turn his back on our family for the man he loved, why he managed to look past all the struggle and pain that came with loving Alan. And though it scared me, I thought I understood how Andre could hurt so badly after losing Meghan.
And it wasn’t just sex. Though that honestly would have been enough. What that more was… I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t put a label on it. But whatever that nameless quality might be, I’d experienced it for the first time while I’d been inside of Harrison, as we kissed, as we fell asleep.
Then I relived it all night long in my dreams.
And there we were again, and I couldn’t pinpoint the moment of waking. Maybe that was because I was still dreaming, but hands had roamed over my body, gentle kisses and licks coaxing me to consciousness, a mouth—talented and hot—over my erection. I blinked awake, at least I thought I had, to find Harrison rolling another condom over my cock and then sinking onto me.
It was the only explanation. I had to still be dreaming. There was no possible chance I’d experienced what I had the night before and then woke to the sight of the definition of masculine perfection riding my dick. In an attempt to validate this was truly happening, I stroked my hands up his tree-trunk thighs, intent on taking his cock, which bounced tantalizingly as he rocked.
“No, don’t touch.�
�� He pushed my hands away. “Just feel.” And then he rode, his abs bunching tight as he sank fully onto me, and smoothing again as he reared back, readying for another plunge down.
It didn’t matter if it was real or a dream, just as long as it never ended. Harrison didn’t show any of the self-consciousness I normally felt from him. He seemed completely captured in the sensations of me inside of him. And what a view that was. What a rush to see the pleasure he was taking from my body.
As he continued his rhythm, he clenched tight around my shaft, squeezing, releasing slightly to take me a little deeper, and squeezing again. With this rhythm, even with a condom, I wouldn’t last long.
Harrison’s eyes closed, his head tilted back, exposing his chiseled jaw and the line of his Adam’s apple. A trail of sweat ran down his neck, over his clavicle, and mapped its lucky way down the planes and angles of his body.
I started to tremble.
Harrison grabbed his cock and began to pump. As he did, a low growl built in his chest and his rhythm increased on my dick. In a matter of moments, he was grunting, and angled his hips so I hit a new spot inside him, the curve of him rubbing against the head of my cock perfectly.
With a guttural groan that sounded like a victory cry, he released, his come arching between us and splattering over my chest.
That glorious sight combined with his perfect rhythm was all I needed, and I joined his release.
Several minutes later he lay beside me again, covers around our ankles, both of us sticky with sweat and sex.
“I could die right now and be completely happy.” I grinned at him, meaning every word. “I mean seriously, what else is there to live for? It doesn’t get better than that. It’s all downhill from here.”
He chuckled softly, his grin revealing he was slipping back to his more self-conscious state, sadly. “I think that just means we need to take that as a challenge and find ways to top it.”
“Has anyone told you that you’re brilliant?” Before he could answer, my stomach let out a long rumble. I covered it with my hand as if that would help. “Sorry. Guess I’m hungry.”
Harrison shifted slightly so he could reach something behind him. When he turned back around, he had the bowl of grapes in his hands “We forgot about these last night, but now we can have breakfast in bed.”
I felt my cheeks heat in embarrassment at the sight of the grapes. I’d forgotten about them. “That was dumb. Sorry. Kind of pointless without the wine and the cheese.”
“No. Not at all.” He shook his head, and his tone was extremely serious. He kissed me, sweet and firm, before pulling away. “Like I said last night, the thought you put into that made me feel special. Made the moment special.”
“It was special.” I met his gaze, hoping he could see the sincerity in my eyes. “You are special.” Good God, some aspect of the Adrian I had been just a few short days ago made gagging sounds from somewhere in my psyche, but I ignored him. More for show than anything, I popped a grape in my mouth and chewed it for a second before my stomach growled again. “I’m gonna need more breakfast than this.” I sat up, leaning against the headboard. “I hate that I have to leave you. But I really need to get some work done today. With… everything… I’m behind on stuff at the farm.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want to be an inconvenience at all.”
Well, shit. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know. I didn’t take it that way.” He smiled, though he seemed a bit sad. “I don’t have anything to do today.” He rolled his eyes. “For the last week, I’ve been hiding in the apartment, not really sure what’s next. Guess it’s time to figure that out.”
“Why don’t you come to the farm?” The words were out before I had a chance to consider them. Like Harrison Getty would be caught dead working on a farm.
“Really?” He brightened and sat up straighter. “I’d love that.”
He’d what? I waited for the punch line. Long enough that his gaze flicked to me and then away again. “Are you serious?” Although, he’d said he and his mom loved plants. Though working in a flower shop was a helluva lot different than working in the dirt all day.
He opened his mouth and then seemed to change his mind, as he closed it again and shook his head. “Oh, you were kidding. Sorry.”
He was serious. I grabbed his hand, trying to fix my error. “No, I wasn’t. I just didn’t think you’d consider it.”
“I told you, it’s been a long time, but my mom always said I had a green thumb.” He sighed, somewhat wistfully and then nodded, finally really meeting my gaze again. “It sounds nice. I really would like to, if it’s okay. And I’d get to be with you.”
The July day was pleasantly warm and clear. The sun beat down on us. Harrison’s T-shirt was soaked through and clung to each bulge and divot of his torso.
He’d catch me staring at him every so often and just grin.
What I didn’t tell him was that the work we were doing wasn’t what I’d planned for the day, nor what needed doing the most. But I wanted him to myself, so I’d brought him back to the new field.
Actually getting Harrison to myself took a while. Reporters had still been outside my home, and they’d followed us to the farm. The Lavender Shores police were kind enough to give their assistance. Technically, they wouldn’t have had to, as my farm is outside of town. But most of us had known each other our whole lives, and there were some perks to being one of the founding families. Probably another perk, for them, was getting to be part of the Harrison Getty saga.
Even so, I kept scanning the perimeter for the sun glinting off the lens of a camera. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t going to take the chance of accidentally having Harrison star in another sex tape. Though I wished we’d recorded the night before and that morning. I’d watch it on repeat and never get anything else done.
“So this is pig weed?” Harrison dug into the base of the plant with small white flowers on top and yanked, managing to pull up a good portion of the root with it. He hadn’t been kidding, he was good at it.
“Pig wheat, actually.” The plant achieved the impossible and drew my attention away from the sex god in front of me, earning itself a scowl as a reward. “It’s all over this field. More than I realized when we bought it. Not that I would’ve changed my mind, but the shit adds a lot of work and a huge expense.”
Harrison studied it. “Why’s it so bad?” He sounded genuinely interested.
“Forms large mats in the soil and makes it hard for anything else to survive.” I bent and pulled out one of my own. “You know, kinda reminds me of those tabloid reporters. A little bit suffocating.”
“Said like someone who hasn’t had to deal with them for very long. They’re a lot more than a little suffocating. As far as the pig wheat, can’t you just spray some stuff and kill it?”
“One of the joys of being certified organic—it’s not quite that easy.” I tossed the weed to the ever-growing pile we were making. What I didn’t say was that we had more effective ways of ridding ourselves of them than hand pulling. But I didn’t want other people around us or any machinery. I couldn’t be bothered to really care about a wasted day. “But we’ll get it; we always do. One of the joys of owning a farm.”
When I turned back, I found Harrison studying me, with an expression that probably matched mine as I’d been captivated by him.
He didn’t look away, even though he’d been caught. “This is pretty wonderful. I could get used to this.”
“You think you would enjoy working on a farm?”
“Why do you sound so surprised by that?” He tossed his weed on the pile as well but didn’t reach for another. “You enjoy it, don’t you?”
“Yeah I do, but don’t you think it’s a little bit of a fall from grace? Football-and-TV star working in the fields?”
He pointed at me. “Spoken like a member of the founding families. I’m surprised.”
I supposed he was right. I wondered if I really did consider it a fall fro
m grace somehow. I knew most people would.
Harrison walked closer. “Isn’t this what you always wanted to do? Do you really think there is shame in being a farmer?” I didn’t hear any judgment in his tone, more like curiosity.
“No, I don’t think there’s any shame in it. Not at all.” At least that much I was sure of. “As far as this being what I always wanted to do….” I shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s anything I always wanted to do.” I attempted a joke, trying to lighten the mood. “I know you said you didn’t dream of ending up where you are either, but not all of us can accidentally stumble into such illustrious careers like you did.”
“Trust me, there was no stumbling involved. Just because it wasn’t my dream when I was a kid doesn’t mean I didn’t work my ass off for it.” Though Harrison didn’t laugh like I hoped, he didn’t sound offended either. “I do like it out here, though. You’ve built yourself a good life in Lavender Shores.”
“You know, I think that’s it right there. At least part of it. Granted, I always had a safety net, but I did build this life. If I’m being honest, I know I didn’t choose farming because I loved farming. I chose it because it was one of the many things on the ‘founding families don’t do this’ list. Every member of my family, save one, toed the family line. Either choosing a career full of prestige and money, or like my twin when he joined the military, at least he had honor.”
“Isn’t there honor in working the land?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You really are a Midwestern Bible Belt boy under all that Hollywood glitz, aren’t you? Working the land.” I chuckled. He was utterly charming. “As for your question, to my family’s way of thinking, while they wouldn’t put it like that, no. This is most definitely not a career suited for a Rivera.”
He closed the last bit of space between us and ran a hand down my arm. “From where I’m standing, it suits you just fine.” For a moment, I thought he was going to kiss me, but then his gaze flicked toward the glasshouse. He hesitated, and once again, though this time it was more a feeling than being able to see them, I was aware of his thoughts churning. After a few more moments, he looked back at me, his expression changed, his smile slightly devious and heated. “We’ve been working quite a while. What do you say we go in there and build up a different kind of sweat?”
The Glasshouse (Lavender Shores Book 6) Page 16