Libra Rising

by Stacy M Wray

  My eyes close as I lose myself, and the addition of fingers has me clutching at the sheets of my unmade bed. When his thumb presses on my clit, I nearly come unglued, especially when his free hand slides up my stomach and pinches my nipple – hard. Jesus!

  “That’s it…” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper, full of lust. “I want to feel you come on my fingers, Harper. Let go…”

  I don’t need any more coaxing than that. My orgasm rips through me, setting my body on fire, stealing my breath like a thief.

  “You’re so beautiful when you come,” he says, kissing me above my pubic bone.

  As I lie in a state of bliss, I finally open my eyes to find him slipping on the condom, his eyes on me instead of what he’s doing. They reflect the three words he’s never spoken. And that’s okay. I see it and I feel it, and for now, I’ll bask in it.

  I’ll take his silent words and his Libra air that keeps my fire stoked, locking them inside me, deep down, where it matters the most.

  As I continue to love him.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Reed

  May 2017

  She’s flushed pink from her face to her toes. And she’s fucking gorgeous. When she finally opens her eyes, her lids heavy after her orgasm, she smiles at me with those plump, rosy lips. I swear, my dick just got harder.

  “Thought I killed you,” I joke, stroking myself, hovering over her, balanced on one hand.

  “Death by orgasm…not a bad way to go.”

  Her eyes travel down between us, watching me pump myself. Dropping her knees to the sides, she slightly raises her hips as an invitation. I slowly slide the tip of my erection into the slick, tight walls of her sex, her scent filling my nostrils. Fuck, but I love her smell.

  “I want it hard, Reed. Think you can handle that?”

  Fuck me.

  I don’t answer with words but with thrusts – hard and quick, causing her to inch up the bed with each one. Her moans are response enough to let me know that I’m giving her what she needs. I don’t stop until my balls tighten, praying she gets there before I shoot my release into the tip of this damn condom.

  Then, her eyes close and she grips me so hard, I think she might leave bruises. Like I could give a fuck. I’m just happy she got off – again. If only I could freeze this look of pleasure sweeping over her. But then, I remind myself I don’t need to – I’m going to see it in person – every day, if I have my way.

  Every fucking single day.

  I drop beside her, laying on my back, tossing my arm across my forehead. I attempt to catch my breath, reaching for her hand.

  She curls her fingers between mine, squeezing, as we try to settle our breathing.

  I look for a waste can, remembering she doesn’t have one in her room. “You really need a waste can in here,” I tell her, getting up to dispose of my condom. “I’ll be right back.”

  She mumbles something totally incoherent. I chuckle as I enter the bathroom, taking care of business.

  When I return, she’s under the covers, laying on her side, propped up on one elbow. Smiling.

  “I could get used to this,” she says, almost shyly. Her eyes rake down my naked body, then back up. “Very.”

  Slipping under the covers, I face her and pull her close, kissing her swollen lips. I’ll never tire of them. Never.

  She pulls back, laying her head down, the palm of her hand between her cheek and the pillow. “Remember that day when you taught me how to drive?” Her eyes soften, recalling the memory.

  “I didn’t teach you shit. As I recall, you plowed over Mr. H’s mailbox.” I shake my head, reliving the scene in my mind.

  She sighs and says, “Mr. H was great that day – he was great every day.” Her eyes drift to mine, moisture building behind them. “I really miss that old man.”

  My chest tightens, and I breathe in deeply. “That man changed my life.” And before she misunderstands me, I add, “Not talking about the money, either.”

  She nods. “I know.”

  “So, who ended up really teaching you how to drive?”

  “My dad. I always had to catch him before he drank himself into oblivion. But he did a good job – he was really patient with me.”

  “Glad you had him, Harper.”

  Her eyes close for a minute, and I’m wondering if she’s about to fall asleep. “Where do you live, Reed?”

  It’s a simple question. But it guts me. I wish our situation was different, and I didn’t have to tell her I’ve only been about forty minutes away. “Near Edgewater Beach,” I tell her, feeling like the biggest dick ever. “Harper…”

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just curious.”

  “Things will be different, now. Promise.”

  “Will they?”

  Her words aren’t meant as an accusation. Merely another question. I reach over and brush an errant strand of hair from her face. “I’m here. Not going anywhere. If you’ll have me, I want to be in your life, again.”

  “I’ve always wanted you in my life. That’s not about to change. Although, once I start law school, I don’t know if I’ll have any time for you.” She reaches over and pinches my nipple, teasing me, causing me to jerk back.

  I can hardly believe she’s not pissed as hell at me, giving me a hard time. I expected to do some major groveling – begging, if I had to. I’ve never met anyone like her. There’s only one Harper, and I don’t know how I got lucky enough to land her. To call her mine. To be known as hers. Fuck. My luck has really turned around.

  The foundation is up and running and, even though we’re still working out the kinks, it’s proven to be the answer all along as to what I was supposed to do with all that money. It feels good. It feels right. And I still drop by Wyatt Academy about three times a week, so I can spend time with Jacob. Over the months, we’ve become tight. I had no idea I could feel this way about a seven-year-old kid, now in the second grade. I have this unexplainable need to protect him, keep an eye on him. Knowing only some of his story, I had my private investigator, Doug, dig up information on his mom - even follow her for a while. I was curious about what his life was like at home from someone else’s point of view besides Kylie’s. Turns out, it’s really sketchy, as I would have imagined.

  Miranda Bently has a penchant for seducing men of means, filming them in her bedroom without their knowledge, and blackmailing them for cash. I should be shocked, but nothing shocks me anymore – not after the turns my life has taken, and especially not when it comes to the actions of what seems like a desperate woman. Doug traced money wired to her bank account back to a couple of politicians, quite a few lucrative business owners, and some banking executives. She likes to hang out in the bars where these men lead a double life, getting their rocks off on picking up women like Miranda. Don’t get me wrong, she’s fucking beautiful. But she knows exactly what she’s doing when she goes after these men, all the way down to dressing like a prostitute to get their attention. She knows these men thrive on living a double life, only seeking a “dirty” bed partner. Once she dangles the bait, she lures them to her lair, pouncing on them once she’s got the goods.

  Doug has watched her in action, reporting everything back to me. I hate the fact that Jacob lives in that reality. It causes my stomach to churn with disgust.

  But here’s what I don’t understand – she doesn’t spend the money on herself. She saves every penny, never touching it. She has all this money sitting in an account – thousands – and still lives in poverty. Without her extortion money, she’s just that – dirt poor. During the day, she cleans rooms at the Holiday Inn, earning a measly eight bucks an hour.

  Even knowing what I know, I still pay for Jacob’s tuition, never wanting to take the risk that she would pull him from one of the best private schools in Chicago – it’s the only thing he has going for him.

  On nights when I can’t sleep, my habit of driving around the city leads me to Jacob’s shoebox of a house, sitting outside, watching. I’ve
only caught Miranda coming home once with some slimy douchebag, his hands all over her ass as she unlocked the front door. And it makes me wonder - does she leave Jacob all alone at night? Or is he elsewhere when she does her prowling? I’ve still yet to figure it all out but –

  “Hey!” Harper’s snapping her fingers in front of my face. I blink hard, trying to figure out why she’s snapping at me. “Where did you go just now?”

  Shit. I got lost in my thoughts.

  I grab her hand and kiss her fingers. “Sorry - just thinking.”

  Changing the subject, I tell her, “I want to show you my apartment tomorrow.”

  Her face lights up, and it makes me feel like an even bigger dick. Like I’m throwing her some sort of crumb about my life, and she’s excited as hell to get a small glimpse into it.

  Maybe, she was right earlier. Maybe, I shouldn’t have taken Mr. H’s words so fucking literal and waited so long. I think about all the months we could have been together. But I can’t go there. What’s done is done, and we can’t go back.

  But I’m here now.

  I’m finally getting the life Mr. H always claimed I deserved. I’m not sure if I know how to be this happy – it’s a foreign emotion. I’m not sure if I trust it.

  I’m sure as fuck going to try.

  Harper leans in closer, pressing her lips to mine before saying, “I’d love to see it. I want to know all about you, Reed Faulkner. I want to know what you like to eat for dinner, what you do in your spare time, what makes you angry, what makes you happy…”

  I chuckle at how she sounds like an excited kid, reminding me of the summer we met. “Normally, I like meat and potatoes, don’t have much spare time these days, injustice makes me angry…and you make me so fucking happy.”

  She wraps her arms around me and nuzzles her face into my neck. “I’m so glad you’re here, Reed,” she whispers.

  “Me, too.”

  We spend the rest of the night catching up, talking about plans for the couple of months she has off until law school starts. Maybe we’ll possibly take a trip somewhere together. Hands roam, mouths wander, our bodies rock together continuously, neither of us wanting to sleep, afraid it all might be a dream.

  But it’s not.

  It’s fucking real.

  A real start to a new life.

  A life I’ve only ever wanted with Harper.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Harper

  September 23-29, 2017

  Aries Horoscope: Expect to fall in love or to be provided with good opportunities for improving your sexual life. If, for some reason, they don’t come on their own, create them! You will have the support of the stars. Bold decisions this week can be risky, so assess your situations as accurately as possible. Being an Aries, life is dull unless it has action; however, this time could prove to be a little too much. Protect yourself, avoid exhaustion, and keep your inner harmony as long as possible.

  Law school is treacherous. But I’ve never been more mentally challenged in all my life. Some days, I don’t know how I’m going to cram everything in, finding myself begging for more time. My fellow students are cutthroat, and I find myself clambering just to survive.

  And I love every minute of it.

  I’m living the dream I’ve had for as long as I can remember.

  Sometimes, I remind myself to bask in the moment – to appreciate where I am, so I will always be able to recall what it feels like to live a life I was meant to live. Never wanting to take my situation for granted, I try my best to appreciate, even when it becomes too hard. And, even though I find myself struggling to keep my head above water at times, Reed always talks me down, reminding me I can do anything I put my mind to.

  He’s been by my side every step of the way. His permanence makes it possible for me to charge ahead and not look back. Content doesn’t even begin to describe my state of mind right now – I’m so far beyond it that, sometimes, I wonder how I ever existed without him. Perhaps, it was the hope that kept me going – the mere chance he might come back to me. I’m not sure. But it seems everything has fallen into place. And sometimes, it scares the living hell out of me because life is just too good.

  I’ve just left the campus library since my last class was cut short – the professor had a family emergency. I’m supposed to meet Reed at his apartment, and I’m already a half-hour late. After glancing at the time on my phone, I’m surprised he hasn’t called, wondering where I am.

  But then, I smile to myself, knowing how lost he becomes in his work. He will pore over application after application, finding it nearly impossible to choose the worthy recipients of the scholarships he so freely awards – the task never getting old. For someone who never attended college himself, he knows how important it is in this competitive, job-seeking world. He knows good and well that not everyone is handed a small fortune to pave their way through the unchartered waters of making a decent living. The kids that receive his scholarships would probably otherwise end up on the streets, maybe becoming part of a gang or selling drugs just to make ends meet. Reed and his foundation provide them a start to a better life, but the rest is up to them. So far, it seems to be working. The chosen recipients prove to be excelling in high school, knowing their dream of attending college is no longer that – it’s real.

  Briskly walking to the parking garage that houses my car, I take the elevator to the fifth level. I wrap my jacket tightly around me, the chill in the air reminding me that autumn is right around the corner.

  It takes me nearly another half-hour to get to Reed’s in the Chicago traffic, but I had already texted him that I was on my way, so he wouldn’t blow up my phone while I was driving. I remind myself not to let small things like that annoy me, having already lived the alternative.

  I’ll take annoying phone blow-ups any day over wondering if I was ever going to see him again.

  Perspective. It’s everything, these days.

  Parking in the overflow lot, I make my way up the walkway to the historic building that overlooks Lake Michigan. I love being here. I never tire of the view from the balcony off Reed’s living room and bedroom. A tinge of guilt sweeps over me because I’m hardly ever home anymore. Melanie and I only cross paths every so often, these days. But, I tell myself, she’s always with her boyfriend, also. I let the guilt fly with the gust of wind that about knocks me over as I pull the lobby door open.

  As the elevator climbs to the eleventh floor, I feel my phone vibrate inside my purse, and I smile. There he is. When it stops, I walk briskly down the hall and let myself in. Immediately, I’m hit with the aroma of garlic and my stomach rumbles in excitement. He must have stopped at my favorite Italian bistro for carry-out.

  He’s just grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and looks up. “There you are,” he says, twisting the cap from the bottle. “I was getting worried.” He sets the beer on the table as he makes his way across the room in jeans, a faded red T-shirt, and bare feet.

  It’s hard to concentrate when he looks this sexy.

  Depositing my purse on the chair closest to me, I say, “Yeah, traffic was horrible - as usual.” My gaze turns toward the kitchen. “What do I smell?”

  His smirk makes my toes curl as he says, “Like you have to ask.” He pulls me in and wraps his arms around my waist, his eyes studying my face. “I missed you today. I hate the days when you have late class.”

  “I know. But I’m here now, and I’m starving.”

  He presses a sweet kiss to my lips, then grabs my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen. “Then, let’s get you fed.”

  We discuss his latest applicants and my frustration with group projects. I wish all professors would do away with them. There’s always people who don’t pull their weight. I realize it’s just a life lesson; it’s always going to be that way in the real world. Reed simply places his hand over mine, allowing me to rant as we finish our amazing baked ziti.

  Later that night, I wake up in Reed’s bed confused, having no recollection of h
ow I got here. I sit up, wrapping the blanket around me, and look over at his empty side of the bed. The small clock on the nightstand tells me that it’s two-forty in the morning. Where could he be?

  Swinging my legs across the mattress, I make my way out into the living area, flipping the switch on the wall. The soft light illuminates the coffee table, my text book and notes strewn across it. I must have fallen asleep studying, and Reed put me to bed.

  “Reed?” I call out, wondering where the hell he is. Just as I’m about to check his study, the door opens and Reed steps through, his eyes wide with surprise.

  “Hey,” he says, tossing his keys on the table. “What are you doing up? You never wake up during the night.”

  He’s right about that, but that’s the furthest concern from my mind right now. An uneasy feeling sweeps over me. I continue to wonder where he’s been and how long he’s been gone. “Why are you walking through the door at nearly three in the morning?” My words are laced with accusation, and I hate that they are. I’ve never had a reason not to trust him, but this just doesn’t look good.

  He picks up on my tone and quickly says, “It’s not what you think, Harper, so stop your mind from going there.” He nods towards the couch and says, “Come on. Sit.”

  I shuffle around the couch and take a seat beside him. Reaching for my hand, he places it between both of his, his thumb gingerly sweeping across my skin. He sighs wearily. “For several years now, I’ve had a bad case of insomnia – to the point that it drives me insane if I just sit around and wait for it to pass. So, I started taking drives in the middle of the night. It relaxes me. Sometimes, I’ll drive around for a couple of hours, ya know? It usually always does the trick, and I’ll be able to sleep for a little while longer when I get home.”

  He waits for a reaction before he continues, but I don’t want to interrupt him.

  “I should have told you about it before now, in case you were to wake up and find me gone. But I’ve never seen anyone sleep like you do, Harper – it’s no wonder you practically slept through that damn tornado.” He laughs a little. “I’m not sure why I’m laughing – that day scared the living shit out of me.”