I braced myself. With Harper, confessions ranged from “I ate the last of your cereal” to things that made my chest crack open.
This one fell somewhere in between.
She reminded me that while I was in prison, she used to think about me. At night. Alone. With a toy she kept in her nightstand drawer.
She said it like she was admitting to a crime, her cheeks going pink, her eyes daring me to react.
I knew what this was really about though. Nights were still the hardest for Harper. The hours when her mind turned against her, replaying every what-if until she couldn’t breathe. So, I held her. Exhausted her. Gave her whatever distraction she needed to quiet the noise in her head.
Tonight, she neededthis.
“Show me.” My voice came out rough. Hungry. “Show me what you did when you thought of me.”
That mischievous glint sparked in Harper’s eyes, and she reached for the nightstand, retrieving the pink toy with a confidence that made my blood run hot.
I moved to the opposite side of the room, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed over my chest. Watching. Waiting.
“I fantasized about a lot of different positions,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing as she removed her clothes.
Fuck.
“But I’ll do the one where you can see best.”
She brought the toy to her lips. Wrapped her mouth around it. Licked it slowly, thoroughly, until it glistened with her saliva, her eyes never leaving mine.
I pressed my tongue to my molars, jaw clenching. If she kept looking at me like that, this was going to be over before it started.
Harper lay back against the pillows, her dark hair spilling across the white sheets like ink. She trailed her fingers over the swell of her breasts, pinching her nipples, rolling them between her fingers until they pebbled tight.
Then lower.
Her hand drifted down her stomach, between her thighs. I watched her gather the slick evidence of her arousal on her fingers and spread it over the toy, making it shine.
She drew it between her folds, rubbing up and down, her breath hitching.
Removing my clothes, I fisted myself. Couldn’t help it. The sight of her touching herself, preparing herself, thinking of me while she did this … it was almost too much.
She slid the toy inside herself slowly, and as she did, her mouth fell open, and her back arched off the mattress slightly.
She began to thrust.
In. Out. Her free hand gripping the sheets. Her thighs trembling. Soft moans escaping her lips as she worked herself toward the edge.
I stroked myself in time with her rhythm, my grip tightening, heat coiling at the base of my spine.
“Show me how you want me to take you next,” I growled. “Because I’m not finishing in my hand.”
Harper’s lips curved into a wicked smile.
Keeping the toy buried inside her, she flipped onto all fours.
And looked at me over her shoulder.
Her ass was raised, her thighs spread wide, her back arched in a perfect curve. The toy protruded from her entrance, glistening, waiting.
“Take me from behind,” she said, her voice breathy. She reached between her legs and began to move the toy again, slow, teasing strokes. “Hard. Deep. Until I can’t feel anything but you.”
“Harper.”
