I round the couch and walk into the kitchen. “You know it can be much better, right?”
Harper lets out a grumpy sigh. “What can be much better? What are you talking about?”
My lips tip into a smirk. She’s still playing dumb. It’s hard not to ruffle this girl’s feathers when they’re already so rumpled.
“Even when you’re doing it yourself, it can be very, very good if you know your body well enough…” I go on.
“We arenothaving this conversation!” she shrieks. She’s storming around the kitchen, refusing to look at me, and I can’t help but bite back a grin.
“Why not?” I ask. “We’re adults.”
“Because it’s inappropriate,” she argues. “What I do, or don’t do in the shower, is none of your business.”
“It kind of is, though. When you’re doing it in the shower that we share, and I can hear you, it kinda makes it my business.”
She glares at me but at least it’s eye contact.
“What do you know about it? About what makes a woman…” Harper can’t seem to finish the sentences, not without her throat rising and falling as she works herself into a frenzy.
“What do I know about women?” I repeat the question, moving to stand right in front of her. “I hate to admit it, but a lot.”
“Oh really?” She asks with a nervous laugh.
“Really.”
“Like what? Men are all talk.” The girl is literally grasping at straws right now.
“Hmm, let’s see. Like lowering my voice so my tone is raspy and makes their skin prickle as if my words are brushing across their skin. Or when their nipples are hard and begging to be touched, when you tease them just right, it’s nearly enough to get them off without anything else. The right amount of pressure with my thumb or tongue against their pussy is enough to start a fire. But flicking their clit, that soft, sensitive spot just before their opening, is the key to a truly explosive orgasm that will leave them helpless, forgetting even their own name.”
For a moment, it looks like Harper has forgotten to breathe. When she takes a breath, it’s more like a gasp; light and desperate. She blinks fiercely and looks away, fumbling with her water bottle.
“But, like you said, what do I know about it?”
I walk back into the living room, leaving her standing in the kitchen, unsure what to do with herself or knowing exactly what to do with herself.
Later that night, we sleep in the bed together. She is under the sheets; I’m on top. Back to back, she even puts a pillow barricade between us, which is fine.
I am nearly asleep when I feel the bed shift. Harper gets up slowly, carefully, hoping I don’t notice. She tiptoes into the living room, leaving the door cracked as she goes. I roll over, and while I can’t see much, I can tell she’s on the couch. At first, I think maybe she just wants to get away from me, then I hear it.
Soft whimpers. Tiny moans. Heavy breathing. Sharp, jagged breaths that become panting.
“Oh fuck,” she whispers softly. So softly that if the villa wasn’t dead quiet right now, I wouldn’t have heard it at all.
Fuck it.
I roll on my back and bend my knees, reaching down I grab my dick by the shaft. As her breathing becomes more jagged, I stroke. She gasps, a little more audibly this time, and I stroke faster.
“Yes,” she says shakily.
Yes.
I can see her fingers in my mind, doing everything I told her. Flicking her clit. Caressing her nipples. I can picture her wetness dripping slowly from her opening, making her soft, warm skin slick. Easier to pleasure. More sensitive to touch.
“Fuck,” I groan softly, hoping she doesn’t hear me. Praying she won’t stop. If she stops it will end me, and not in a good way.
But Harper is lost in her own pleasure to pay any attention to what’s going on in the bedroom. If I had to guess, she is feeling everything for the first time. A meteor could crash into the pool outside, and she wouldn’t notice it.
Harper’s breathing quickens and I stroke faster, harder as she moans, unable to control the volume at this point.
