Harper tastes divine. Just as she always does. Sweet and wholesome, like what I imagine returning home should feel like. The walls around us are cold and uninviting, but my face pressed against Harper’s hot cunt is all the refuge I need.
The whiskey buzzing in my bloodstream strips out whatever thin, pathetic thread of restraint I usually hold on to, leaving nothing but instinct and the pounding need to claimsomething that never belonged to me in the first place. Clayton’s words are circling around my head, tripping me up over some false notion.
Some people just say, I love you. You don't have to be so dramatic all the time.
I get that he’s drunk, and his inhibitions are running a bit too freely. Locking us outside with alcohol was the only way we’d tolerate each other’s company whilst knowing Harper was naked and dripping wet within the manor. Now look at her, flushed and writhing against my tongue. So fucking beautiful.
Pressing my nose against her clit, I inhale a scent I’ll never tire of. Her pheromones call to the primal part of me, her lust seeping into my tongue as I lick her from ass to clit. I find a rhythm that works in time with the strap’s buckles rattling,Harper’s thighs jerking as if she wants to crush my head between them. She settles for scoring lines through my scalp with her nails instead, her arching body held in place by Clayton’s arm.
Aside from his meaty thighs elevating her to an angle that’s easier for me to reach, and his balls being closer than desired, I ignore his presence. Our mutual goal is to drive this minx between us to another plane of pleasure, not to waste time evaluating this strange ceasefire we’ve fallen into. It should terrify me, but clearly the whiskey is doing its intended job.
Swirling my tongue around her clit, I lazily push a single finger inside of her. The mewl that reaches my ears is everything. A sound that I’ll replay over and over every time I close my eyes. I become lost in the smoothness of her, the smell, the feel, the taste. I can’t think straight. Or maybe I’m thinking straighter than I ever have, because everything in me knows this is where I want to be. Where I’ve always wanted to be.
Some people just say, I love you.
Ducking my head aside, the wetness of my mouth slanting over her thigh, I fight to center myself. That asshole sought to get inside my head, and he’s succeeding. I see what this is now. Sabotage. A calculated move to make me second-guess myself when all I want to do is forget my own existence. I want to live through Harper, become an instrument for her desire and nothing else. Yet here I am,thinking. Glancing upwards, I catch Clayton’s blurred gaze, his small smirk, and I scowl.
“Fuck you, Scum,” I hiss. In an instant, the fingers in my hair clamp down as Harper hauls me up so fast, my back clicks. I’m still kneeling on the floor between her thighs, the plush carpet unable to stop the hardness underneath from biting into my knees. Sitting upright at the same time, drawing a pleasured groan from Clayton whilst her nose bumps into mine. Her bra hangs crookedly off one shoulder, her skin flushed, her chest rising and falling in quick, little bursts. Between us, where mysingle finger had still been lazily working her into a frenzy, Harper clamps her hand around my wrist to still my movements.
“We’re not going any further until you say something nice to Clayton,” Harper states coldly. The rapture that so recently claimed her features is fleeting, and a slice of panic cuts through me. I need her passion. It’s what I live for these days. When I don’t react, Harper drags my head an inch back so she can read my lips. “I’m serious, Rhys. I’m not going to be stuck in the firing line between the two of you anymore.”
Harper’s words hit me like a slap, the implication that I’ve kept her in that position striking true. Yet the heat rolling through me doesn’t dim, not when she’s calling me out on my bullshit like she always does. Harper is the only person in this world who can, and it’s a welcome hardship. But even I have my limits.
“Isn’t it enough that I have to share you with this asshole?” I snarl defiantly. “Don’t expect me to be nice to him, too.” My jaw tenses, something dark flaring in my chest. I want to drop back down and devour her until she can’t think straight, but she’s not giving me an inch.
“That’s exactly what I expect. Clayton is the closest thing you have to a friend,” she corrects, and I grunt. “Tell him he’s your friend.” Humiliation crawls under my skin. My free hand fists in her thigh, not enough to hurt, just enough to keep from shattering apart at the seams.
“I’m about to be balls deep in you, and that’s what you want?” I snap. I’m glad she can’t hear my tone, but she can read me well enough. Her smirk is lethal, as effective as a hand tightening around my throat.
“You didn’t find me before midnight, and this is your punishment. Say it.”
“Whatever,” I roll my eyes, trying to break free from her hold in my hair. “He’s my friend.” Clayton makes a faint noise behind her. I don’t care for his opinion right now.
“Your best friend,” Harper presses on. The breath that escapes me shifts the tendrils of hair framing her face. I grit my teeth, shaking off her hand to plunge two fingers inside of her. Harper clenches, trying her best to school her features, but I only pump faster. Two fingers becomes three and I grip her nape, captivating her attention on my mouth. I’m only saying this once.
“My bestfuckingfriend in the entirefuckingworld,” I finally spit, the words like acid burning my tongue. “Are you happy now?”
“Ecstatic,” she purrs. My pace is unrelenting, the sounds of her gripping my fingers obscene. Her lips finally crash back into mine, and my entire body shudders with relief, rage, and desire tangled so tightly, I can’t tell them apart. Her fingers curl in my T-shirt, a sound clawing its way out of my chest. I’m the only one still fully clothed, every layer suddenly feeling unbearably tight. Tasting Harper’s cunt against her own tongue unleashes something feral inside of me. Every dark thought, bad habit and desperate choice I’ve ever made has brought me here, and I wouldn’t change any of it.
A heavy hand slams down on my shoulder, an intoxicated stream of laughter escaping the other presence in the room.
“That was really poetic, buddy,” Clayton hiccups. I shudder, shoving his hand off me before Harper notices. Except she notices everything. I reluctantly pull away from her to glare at the onyx eyes over her shoulder.
“Don’t fucking–” I start until a smaller hand grips my jaw. The threat of her nails digging into my skin lingers. Slowing my finger fucking, I withdraw from her fully and hold my hands upin defeat. Harper narrows her eyes but watches me stand, suck my fingers clean, roll my neck and start to undress.
Thankfully, Clayton is in his own little world, fumbling with her bra clasp as if it’s a Rubik's Cube. I maintain Harper’s stare, allowing her to drink in my body the same way as she did to him. Once naked, and once Clayton has finally worked out that he can simply drag her bra up her body and over her head, I fetch a clear bottle from a nearby drawer.
“Lube up,” I grunt, planting it in Clayton’s hand. “Looks like we’re doing this.” Dropping back onto my knees, I ease Harper forward by the hips, giving Clayton space to take care of himself. The task really didn’t need Harper to reach back and assist. Neither did she need to take her sweet time doing it, her forearms working up and down, drawing tiny grunts from Clayton whilst I stare at the ceiling. Later on, I’m going to reflect on how and why I’m still as hard as a fucking rock. Surely this should be a mood killer, but I’ll chalk it up to Harper’s pleasure being my pleasure.
The lube bottle appears back in front of my face, Clayton’s large hand wrapped around it. I snarl, about to knock it aside, when Harper hits me with a rigid glare. Plucking it from his hand, I force a fake smile and place it aside. Holding her eye contact, I spit into my fingers and circle her pussy, pushing two fingers back inside because…well, just because I can. Although it’s not quite time for me yet. This is going to take some teamwork, which I don’t particularly excel in. Either way, I lift Harper from beneath her thighs as far as the straps will allow, making a space for Clayton to adjust himself. The head of his dick lines up with her back passage, and Harper sucks in a sudden breath as if it’s just hit her what’s going to happen.
“But Clay’s sooo…big,” Harper moans breathily as he presses against her passage. Keeping my head lowered so she can’t see, I mutter to myself.
“Wow. I’m glad she can’t hear the shattering of my ego.” Clayton chuckles lightly, the bastard. As much as I don’t want to, I watch and help to navigate lowering Harper over his tip. Her thighs tighten with the natural reaction to clench. She’s right, the fucker is big, but I know how stubborn my girl is.
“Hey,” I nudge her jaw with my nose, bringing her eyes back to mine. “Relax. We’ll do the work, you just need to relax, Babygirl.” Harper nods, but it does nothing to ease the tension in her ass and thighs. Harper clenches the arms of the chair, her knuckles going white. Cursing beneath my breath, I finally look at Clayton. “Slap her pussy.”
“What?!” he gasps, easing his tip in and out of her.
