I’ve missed him more than I could ever put into words and being here with him, like this, in his arms again is something I never thought possible.
The quiet hum of the city filters through the windows. Early morning light spills across the room as I shift just a little, my intent to turn and snuggle into his chest.
But then I feel it.
The unmistakable press of him against me, warm and solid, his body already awake even though the rest of him isn’t. My lips curve into a slow, secret smile because of course parts of him are awake.
I lie there for a moment longer, savoring the weight of his arm tightening instinctively around me when I move. The way his body reacts to mine without conscious thought makes something bloom low in my stomach, something affectionate and mischievous and deeply satisfied.
Last night flickers through my mind in warm, hazy flashes. His hands. His mouth. His tongue. The way he took his time like he had nowhere else to be. The way he made me feel.
Special.
Pleasured.
Happy.
It was like ten years hadn’t passed at all.
I turn carefully in his arms, just enough to face him. Up close, he looks softer in sleep. Younger. Vulnerable in a way he never is on the ice or in front of anyone else.
“You spoiled me,” I murmur under my breath.
His brow furrows faintly, like he heard me but isn’t quite ready to surface yet, which is fine. I let my fingertips trace down his chest, slow and unhurried, feeling the steady strength beneath my touch. His breath changes almost immediately, deepening, his grip on me tightening as his body starts to wake.
I can’t help myself. The temptation of him hard and ready against my hip is too much to resist. I slide my hand lower, feeling his abs tense under my touch, until my fingers brush against the soft trail of hair below his navel. His breathing changes again, deeper now, but his eyes remain closed.
Perfect.
Carefully, I slip beneath the sheets, moving down his body with deliberate slowness. The heat of him radiates against my skin as I position myself between his legs, my heart racing with anticipation. I haven’t done this in so long…haven’t wanted to do this for anyone but him.
I wrap my fingers around him, feeling the velvety hardness, the weight of him in my palm. He’s exactly as I remember, except something about the fact we’ve aged into adulthood makes everything about his body even better. A soft groan escapes him as I stroke upward, his hips shifting toward my touch.
“Mmm,” he murmurs, still half-asleep.
I lower my head, letting my hair brush against his thighs as I take him into my mouth. His skin is warm, tasting faintly of salt and that uniquely Harrison scent that’s driven me wild since college. When my lips reach the base of his cock, I pause, glancing up to see if he’s awake yet. His breathing has changed, but his eyes remain closed. When I pull back, I take him in my hand, stroking slowly, feeling him harden completely as I swirl my tongue around the sensitive head. My own body tingles with satisfaction at the way his cock pulses in my hand, alive with need.
“God,” I whisper against him, my breath warm on his sensitive skin. “I’ve missed this.”
I suck him in, deeper this time, savoring the weight of him on my tongue as I hollow my cheeks. And when I apply just the right amount of pressure and move up and down his length he stirs. His hand slides into my hair, fingers tangling in the strands, not guiding, just holding. I glance up to see his eyes flutter open, heavy with sleep and darkening quickly with desire as he realizes what’s happening.
“Harper,” he sighs reverently, my name sounding like a prayer on his lips. “Fuck.”
I smile around him, maintaining eye contact as I take him deeper, loving the way his abs tighten and his breath catches. His grip in my hair tightens slightly, and the small tug sends shivers down my spine.
“Jesus Christ,” he groans.
I hum in response, the vibration making him twitch against my tongue. “Good morning, H,” I whisper against his skin before taking him in my mouth again, slower this time, my tongue swirling around the head before sliding down his length.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his stomach muscles tensing beneath my palm. “Best…wake-up call…ever.” His fingers flex against my scalp, guiding me with gentle pressure as I work him with my mouth. I take him deep, savoring the way his breath hitches when I reach the base, my nose brushing against the coarse hair there.
“God, Harp,” he groans, his voice still rough with sleep. “Your mouth…fuck…”
I love reducing him to fragments, to half-formed thoughts and desperate sounds. It gives me a heady sense of power, knowing I can make this strong, controlled man come undone with just my lips and tongue. I hollow my cheeks, applying more suction as I bob my head, my hand working what my mouth can’t reach.
He seeks more, and I welcome it. I’ve always loved how he loses himself in pleasure, the way his control slips when he’s close. His hand in my hair tightens, not forcing but holding on like I’m his anchor in a turbulent sea.
“I’m not gonna last if you keep that up,” he warns, his voice strained.
