Bliss Series Boxed Set: The Whole Damn Harem

by B. J. Harvey

  Her clit swells against my tongue and I increase my efforts, her hands gripping either side of my head as I circle faster, and thrust deeper. Her pussy vibrates against my fingers. I wrap my lips around her clit, sucking hard as she screams my name like an ode to the Lord.

  “Noah, oh fuck . . . Noooooaaaaaah!”

  And not once do those hips of hers stop rolling against me. If anything, her fingers grip my hair tighter, and I have to push my dick into the bed to stop my own climax making an impromptu performance.

  I slide my body down the bed, finding her mouth just as she pulls my lips to hers, our tongues exploring as we battle for supremacy. Whoever gets the upper hand, somehow I don’t think the other will mind, because this is the kind of war where everybody wins.

  “I need to be inside you, Zo,” I growl against her lips as I slide my cock between her legs.

  “Please.” She’s begging, and I’m not sure whether she’s begging me or the universe, but I’m more than happy to deliver. Sitting back on my knees, I reach into my bedside cabinet and pull out a rubber, quickly ripping the foil and holding the base of my dick while I roll it on.

  I grin up at Zoe, who has propped herself up on her elbows, watching me in avid fascination. “Do they come in XXXL?” she asks with a smirk.

  “Flattery will get my cock deep inside you.”

  “It’s not flattery when it’s the truth. You, Taylor, are very blessed.”

  “Let’s see what you say when you feel it.”

  “I’ve already—” I cut her off mid-speech when I lean my body over hers, driving in deep at the same time, her words turning into a scream. Seeking her lips, I groan into her mouth as her pussy squeezes my cock like a vice, her hips rising to meet mine thrust for thrust. When her ankles cross around my back, encouraging my pistoning hips, I give up any attempt to draw this out and go for gold, wanting to hear her screaming my name one more time before I give in to my own pleasure.

  “Come for me, Zoe. I wanna feel you come around my cock as I’m driving deep inside you,” I grind out against her ear, my hand diving between us and zeroing in on her clit, rubbing the hard nub in time with my cock as her thighs clench my hips. Our mouths fuse and she screams her orgasm into my mouth just as I plant myself as deep as I can go and groan out her name.

  Fuck, I knew it would be good, but if weeks of tension lead to a first time with Zoe like that, I’d almost be tempted to go through it all over again. Actually no, now that I’ve had her, I can’t imagine not having her again and again.

  In ten minutes time I’ll be all over it—and her.

  ∞∞∞

  Zoe

  When his body goes lax and his breathing slows, I lie as still as I can and watch the alarm clock by the bed. I wait for five minutes to go by. The longest five minutes I’ve ever experienced, I shit you not.

  Taking my chances, because my determination is beginning to wane, I slowly—and gently—roll out of the bed, attempted to act like a stealth ninja as I somehow roll myself up into a standing position.

  “Where are you going?” his husky voice asks, filling the room and knocking my resolve to leave.

  I turn around to see a wide-eyed, somewhat bewildered Noah propped up on his elbows watching me. His hair is suitably mussed, wild and haphazard after my hands raked through it countless numbers of times in the past few hours.

  A frown mars his beautiful face as I rummage through my overnight bag, grabbing my panties and pulling them on before reaching down to grab my bra. We did get dressed for a mid-coital snack a few hours ago but Noah threw me one of his tees to put on. Our sex had an intermission. It was so damn good we needed substance in between rounds.

  My first time sleeping with Noah Taylor and I’m already feeling the symptoms—the lust-filled haze and mega-sensitive nether regions—what will now forever be known as the Taylor Effect. Or should that be the Dildo Effect? Although it has to be said, no sex toy on earth has ever left me feeling like this, and believe me, I’ve tried a lot of them. There will never be a substitute for him. Let’s leave it at that.

  Scanning the room, I nab one of his tees from the floor and pull it over my head. I look back at him and realize I never answered his question.

  “Home.” I try to wrestle my hair back down its normal volume by combing it with my fingers but it’s no use.

  He pulls himself up and rests his back against the headboard, the sheet slipping down to a dangerously low level on his hips. Those very delicious Vs, the ones I traced with my tongue with dedication and purpose just an hour ago, are trying to tempt, taunt and tease me all over again.

  Tilting his head to the side, I watch as he reaches out his arm over my pillow.

  Not mine. His. HIS!

  “Why are you sneaking out of my bed, sweetheart? It’s two-thirty a.m. . . .” His expression has turned serious, guarded. His brows are drawn together, and I can’t read him. His shoulders have tensed up and he’s crossed his arms over his chest. Where has this sudden wall come from?

  I’m forced to think on my feet, blurting out the first thing that comes into my head. Unfortunately, my inability to lie comes back to bite me in the ass. “I have this thing . . .”

  “A thing?” He quirks an eyebrow at me, leveling me with a knowing look, one that feels like it means he sees right through this charade. But I can’t have him thinking that this is a normal occurrence for me; I don’t sneak out of a man’s bed after a night of mind-blowing, creative and fantastic sex. I’d normally stay over in the hope that he’ll wake me up in the morning eager for more. I’ve never been afraid of the dreaded ‘walk of shame’ because I strut that shit with pride.

  Shit. How can I tell him without sounding like a paranoid lunatic? A certified crazy lady with intimacy issues? Because I’m not. I don’t—have intimacy issues, that is. The lunatic part, the jury is still out on that one.

  “Is something wrong? I thought we were good. I thought, we were . . . ah . . . starting something.” His brows furrow and my heart constricts. He’s worried, which is adorable and sweet, and has me wishing I could just let this stupid fear of mine go and jump back into bed with him. The last thing I want him thinking is that I’m using him for sex, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

  I shake my head. “Nothing’s wrong, not at all. It’s just . . . I can’t sleep over. That’s all. I wish I could, it’s just . . .” The tension in my shoulders eases somewhat as the truth escapes my lips. His head jerks back slightly and I instantly regret saying anything. I sit down on the bed and bury my face in my hands, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. It’s as if I’ve just revealed my deepest, darkest insecurity to him.

  Noah, my friend Noah. My lover Noah? Fuck, I don’t know what the hell this is. Precisely why I can’t stay the night.

  Then I’m cocooned in his arms, his hand cupping the back of my head and pressing forward until my head meets his shoulder, his head resting against mine, his mouth right by my ear.

  “Zo . . .”

  “Yeah,” I mumble against his skin.

  “Always be yourself with me, sweetheart. Nothing could change the way I feel. It seems like I’ve been waiting a long time to have you in my arms and in my bed, ready and willing, and if you’re not comfortable enough with me to stay the night, I’m okay with that. You’re just being honest, I can’t fault you for that and I never would.”

  My head lifts up and I stare at him, wondering how on earth this man is single and wondering where on earth the cocky bastard has disappeared to. “I’ve always been willing.”

  Why am I suddenly feeling defensive? He just tried to calm me down, to make me feel comfortable. I remind myself he’s not Justin.

  Taking a deep slow breath, my shoulders relax as I exhale and I move in close to him again, my face close to his.

  “Knew you wanted me, baby, but thanks for confirming it.”

  I giggle and watch as a big smug grin appears on his face. I can't help but laugh against his lips as he leans in and
presses them against mine, not trying to deepen the kiss or start round four-even if we do both want a round four, five, or six.

  It's a reassuring kiss: a kiss that tells me he's going to let me do this.

  How can the man be so cocky and sweet at the same time? It beats me, but that is Noah in a nutshell, and I don’t think I’d want him any other way.

  The look he gives me as he pulls back is soft and caring. Gone is the smug, cocky persona and I’m being held in the arms of the Noah I’m guessing he only shows people he’s close to. I owe him an explanation.

  “I can’t sleep anywhere except home. Maybe I’m a fruit loop or have OCD or whatever, but I have to sleep in my own bed, in my own room. It’s the only way I can sleep at the moment. And I can’t sleep in the same bed as someone right now.” My voice is soft as I confess the truth to him. “It’s because of Justin.”

  “You don’t feel safe with me?” His voice is laced with concern, and I know he still doesn’t understand.

  “It’s not that. It’s actually nothing about you personally. I just can’t. It’s too much, too soon. I’ll explain one day, but please, can you just give me this?” My verbal plea is my last line of defense.

  He watches me, his eyes scanning my face for what seems like an eternity before he reaches up and cups my jaw with one hand, the other gripped to my hip. “Okay, sweetheart.” He leans in and kisses me gently, reverently. Oh-so-fucking hotly.

  “But I’m taking you home.”

  “But—”

  “Not going to happen, Zo.”

  I note the seriousness of his expression and decide to give in. He’s being so understanding, more than he should be but I can’t explain it to him. He said he didn’t want baggage and I’m carrying more than my fair share.

  How do you tell someone you want to build something with, that your ex continues to mess with your head on a daily basis? How can you say ‘having someone watch me sleep before begging me to take him back messed me up and I can’t imagine sharing a bed with anyone right now’?

  I nod and I feel a twitch in his fingers against my cheek before I move forward and close the distance between us, kissing him softly and slowly rolling my tongue against his in the lazy dance we both know so well now.

  He pulls back and watches me. “Are you okay though? I’m not going to rush you. I want this, Zo, but I want you to want this just as much as I do.”

  I smile at him. “I know, and I do. I really do. One step at a time though, okay?”

  “Whatever you need. Now let’s get you home and to bed before big brother hunts me down.”

  My eyes widen then he winks at me and starts laughing quietly, and soon I’m joining him, because before my little chat with Zander when they were leaving the barbecue, there was a very real possibility of that happening.

  ∞∞∞

  True to his word, Noah drove me home and even walked me to my front door, kissing me softly but thoroughly before pressing his lips to my forehead and watching me from the sidewalk as I walked inside and shut the door.

  It was late, so there was no welcoming committee waiting for me, thank God, but when I turn the kitchen light on there is a note on the counter—a note and a bunch of flowers. And all my good feelings about the night and early morning with Noah disappear in an instant. I sit down on a stool at the counter and open the note, every word making me realize that Justin isn’t going to give up. He tracked down Zander’s address and in turn, tracked me down.

  Then I see the note from Zander, telling me that him and I have a date tomorrow. A breakfast-for-dinner date. That’s when I know shit’s about to get real.

  And not being one to have regrets, in that moment I really regret leaving Noah’s bed and the comfort of his arms because I feel anything but comfortable right now.

  Chapter 16

  “We Are Family”

  Zoe

  “Zo.”

  I hear my name behind me and I turn around. I almost crap my pants when I see Zander sitting in the recliner chair, just sitting there, like a father waiting for his delinquent daughter to sneak in the door past curfew after staying out with that boy he disapproves of.

  Isn’t that ironic that it’s almost exactly what I’m doing?

  “Not cool, dude. You almost gave me a fucking heart attack and after seeing those . . .” I throw my hand out toward the flowers, “ . . . I don’t need any more surprises.”

  “Yeah, about that. So now I’m in the shit with Kate because she thought they were for her.”

  I snort at the thought, momentarily breaking the tension that’s filling the air.

  “Maybe you should break the bank and buy your woman flowers a bit more often, Zan. There’s still two weeks till she says ‘I do’—someone might sweep her out from under your feet if you don’t up your game. Hell, I broke up with Justin months ago and he’s still buying them. Lucky me.” Yes, I’m sarcastic when I’m tired and fed up with impossible ex-boyfriends who just won’t get the point.

  “Get your ass over here and sit down.”

  “Why am I getting a dad vibe from you?” I ask with a smirk as I drop my bag and roll over the back of the couch, landing with a thud on my side. Well that seemed like a better idea in my head.

  “’Cause I feel like I need to pull my big brother card out tonight and I was going to wait till tomorrow but Kate reminded me we’ve got a family lunch with her parents so it’s now or never.”

  “You’re lucky I even came home,” I add, daringly poking the bear.

  “Oh, I’m not touching that one first. Now we’re going to talk about Justin . . .”

  “We really don’t need to. He’ll give up soon enough,” I say with a shrug that I hope is convincing.

  He stares at me as if I have a screw loose, and if I wasn’t on such a high from having awesome first-time, very overdue sex with Noah, I would probably think the same thing. “Zo, when I told Kate who they were actually from, she freaked out, and not in a good way. I have two women living under my roof that I love more than life itself, I can’t have either of them feeling scared in their own home.” Reason number one why I can’t tell anybody the true extent of Justin’s attention. I don’t want my issues affecting anyone else.

  “Look, Zan, coming home to the Spanish Inquisition wasn’t high on my list of things I wanted to do when I walked in the door. So can you cut me some slack for tonight at least? Your note said ‘breakfast for dinner.’ That is when us Roberts talk shit out and I really want bacon!”

  His mouth twitches before he catches himself doing it, and he levels me with a ‘take no prisoners’ stare. One that I guarantee my dad would probably have had throughout my teenage years if he had lived to see them. Instead the alcoholism that had controlled most of his life decided that it wasn’t on the cards.

  “Zoe, he’s not going to give up. A man, a real man might try and get the girl back for a week, maybe two, tops. He’d then lick his wounds and try and date up, in the hope that his ex sees him with said upgrade. Or he licks his wounds, gets drunk, gets laid and moves the fuck on. That dickwad of an ex clearly isn’t a real man because it has been months, Zo, and he’s still hounding you. He fucking broke into my mother’s house while you were all sleeping and lay down next to you. This has to fucking stop. Why are you protecting him?”

  “I’m not! I moved out here to get away from him, Zan. I don’t want anything else to happen to anyone. “We got the police involved and he backed off. This is the first I’ve heard from him in . . . a while.” I have to bite my tongue because if Zander—or Noah—knew exactly how persistent Justin is being in his renewed pursuit of me, I think I would actually fear for his life. “He’s harmless, Zan. He’s in Indiana anyway. I’m at least a few hours’ drive away from him. And if you haven’t forgotten, I’m moving next weekend.”

  “What happens when he tracks you down there?” That thought chills me to the bone but I don’t let on.

  “My mail is still coming here, my contact address is here, there’
s no way for him to find me.”

  “Utilities?”

  “Included in the rent.”

  “Zo . . .” His expression softens and he leans forward and rests his hand on my bare foot, which is hanging off the end of the sofa. “You’d let me know if you needed anything, right?”

  “Of course. You’re my Zanzan Sandman, remember?”

  He groans loudly at my childhood name for him, making me snigger. “Zoly Moly, what am I gonna do with you?”

  Stifling a yawn, I rest my head on my folded forearm and close my eyes. “Let me sleep?”

  “We still have to talk about Noah . . . ?” He leaves it hanging there, a statement ending in a silent question, an opening for me to launch into a tirade about how he’s not my father and how I’m a grown-ass woman who can make up her own mind about who she sees and what she does with them.

  “Wake me up when you’ve finished your lecture.” I start to fake snore, which earns me that hand on my foot dragging up my arch and tickling me. Pulling myself up to sit cross-legged in front of him—and keeping my feet firmly out of his reach—I look at Zander, seeing a smile on his face. “Let me hear it then.”

  “Well . . .” He grabs the back of his neck, and something resembling an awkward silence stretches between us.

  The last time we had a conversation that had this much potential to be uncomfortable was when Zander walked into my friend’s party and started stripping—back when I didn’t know he was stripping to pay his way through college. To this day, Mom and Danika do not know about that. Mia, well she wrangled it out of me, and then busted a gut laughing when I told her. Since then, she’s taken great pleasure in teasing our brother about it—affectionately of course.

  “The thing is, you know the history between Mac and me, and Mac and the other guys.”

  “Mmm hmm, man-whore.” I cough jokingly.