Like he had anything to worry about when I was winning that race like a fucking pro. The only bad thing about having his dick in my mouth was that I couldn’t kiss him as my balls tightened and my screaming core muscles seized up. I thrust up into his hand, groaning with abandon until my voice cracked, and then I came hard, painting us both with come.
“You’re so fucking hot.” Harry’s strong thighs quaked, and his dick pulsed in my mouth. “I’m gonna come.”
And come he did, like a train, while I swallowed it all like a starving man.
It seemed like he was coming forever, but eventually, he pulled out with a soft sigh and manoeuvred himself to lie next to me. My chest was heaving. He laid one hand over my racing heart, and the other rubbed soothing circles into my belly.
I winced. It was too much. The pain I’d ignored when my dick had taken over my senses came back full force and nausea washed over me.
Harry frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Give me a sec.”
“I’m here.”
I sucked in deep breaths and curled into him. The ache in my abdomen peaked in waves but was so fucking worth it for the residual pleasure zinging through my veins. For the warmth of his touch all over me. For the trance he could put me in with just the graze of his fingers.
“Joe?”
I opened my eyes and gazed up at Harry, aware that time had passed, but no idea how much. The question in his dark eyes was obvious. “I’m okay.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah. I’m good, but you’d better help me strip the bed before my ma comes up and tries to do it for me.”
Harry laughed—a real deep chuckle that was warmer than any sunshine. “There’s another new duvet set in the cupboard. I’ll put it on for you if you want to take a shower?”
“You saying I stink?”
“No, I’m saying you should probably take a shower while I’m around to listen out for you.”
Just like that, Dom Harry disappeared. I waited a hopeful moment for him to come back, but it didn’t happen, and the Harry I was left with still made my heart skip a beat.
He helped me stand, held me up when I wavered, and walked me to the bathroom. I wanted to drag him into the shower and sink to my knees in front of him, but I settled for turning the shower as hot as it would go and kissing his cheek, feeling suddenly—and weirdly—shy. “Don’t go before I’m out, okay?”
“As if.”
And he kept his promise. When I staggered out of the bathroom a little while later, he was sitting on the freshly-made bed—the dirty sheets who knew where—and thumbing through his phone. He seemed uncharacteristically irritated.
I treated myself to another pair of his sweatpants and steadied myself with his shoulder as I pulled them on. “Why the long face? Something wrong?”
Harry glanced up. “You don’t wear underwear anymore?”
“What’s the point when I’m in quarantine?” I eyed him. “And what’s with the deflection? You don’t let anyone else get away with that shit.”
“Don’t I?”
“Don’t be cute.”
Harry grinned wryly. “You’re a perceptive motherfucker.”
“Thanks. Are you going to answer my question? ’Cause it would be a lot quicker if you told me to jog on.”
“Fine. Come here.” Harry patted the bed beside him until I sat down. Then he held his phone out to me. “Take a look through this Instagram account.”
Lacey and Jemima pissed around on Instagram all the time, but my knowledge of social media was limited to the long-ago abandoned Facebook profile I had before I’d returned full-time to the farm. Instagram was a mystery, and scrolling through some fitness fanatic’s profile didn’t do much to educate me. “What am I looking for?”
“Nothing in particular. I just want to know what vibe you get from it.”
