Harper
Oh, my God! I can’t believe I just said that! I stare into the mirror in the bathroom, shocked by my own boldness.
Harper Ward would never have agreed to that proposition. And with such a dirty remark!
But then, maybe ArtIsMyLife33 would?
Somebody agreed to go home with Scott and suck his dick. Or I at least implied I was going to.
The chicken in me thinks of backing out. Scott would be polite about it, I know. The part of me who hasn’t been with a man in the six months since I broke up with that controlling asshole Jack? That part wants to ride that big cock I saw in the truck, right into the sunset.
I lock eyes with myself. “Who are you?” I murmur.
The door slams open, and two drunk, giggling guests come into the restroom. “Oh, my God, did you see Scott? He is still so dreamy.”
“Too bad he’s taken,” the other says.
Neither of them notice me, and I decide to keep it that way by slipping into a bathroom stall.
“Jessie says he is so good in bed. She says she’s never had anything like it before or since,” the first girl titters.
“Isn’t Jessie married?” the second girl asks.
“Yeah, she is now, but that doesn’t always mean it’s with your best lay.” The first girl is completely matter-of-fact about this. “She says his dick is huge, and he knows what to do with it.”
The second girl gasps. “Married women shouldn’t talk like that!”
“Pfft. Whatever. Women talk, Brianna. I mean, how else are we supposed to find the best dick?” the first woman scoffs.
“True. But Callie, if Jessie’s husband ever caught her talking like that…”
“It’d be a real shit day for Jessie. Oh! Maybe we should tell him what she said! That would be funny.”
I don’t think it will be funny at all. I shake my head in disapproval, not that they can see it. With friends like these, does Jessie really need enemies? I don’t even know the girl, and I feel sorry for her.
“Callie, that would be really bitchy, and you know it. You’re not that drunk,” Brianna says.
I can see Callie pouting as I peek through the door. She’s reapplying her lipstick. “Fine, fine. I’ll just see if I can’t get into Scott’s pants instead.”
“His girlfriend has been gone for, like, fifteen minutes. I don’t think that’s long enough for him to lose interest.” Brianna sighs at her friend.
“We’ll see. Where do you think she went anyway?” Callie asks.
I decide enough is enough. It’s one thing to talk about Scott’s prowess in bed, but no catty young brat is creeping up on my man, rented date or not. I push open the stall door and step out. “Hi,” I say cheerfully to the two women. “You must be Callie and Brianna? Nice to meet you.” I wash my hands since they probably assume I was peeing.
Callie gapes at me like a caught fish. Brianna bites her lip, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. “Nice to meet you too… Harper, is it?” Brianna extends her hand to me.
“That’s right,” I confirm. “And I thought maybe I’d go tell Jessie what a great friend Callie is. It’s not every day you find someone with morals so low you can walk on them.”
“Wh-what?!” Callie screeches.
“Morals. M-O-R-A-L-S. It’s a set of rules a person lives by that make them a better person,” I say slowly to her as though she’s dumb. After what I’ve heard, she just might be slow on the uptake.
“You-y-you—!” Callie stutters.
Brianna puts an arm around her shoulders. Callie’s only reapplied half of her dark lipstick, and it shows. “I think you need to play with somebody more on your level,” Brianna says to Callie. “And give up on Scott.”
Callie raises her chin and flounces through the bathroom door with Brianna in her wake.
I wonder what Brianna is doing being friends with that cow, but it’s really not my business. I go back to looking at this new, bold me in the mirror.
“Yippee ki-yay, Farmer Scott.” I finally grin and go back out.
I find Scott standing near the punch bowl. He’s scolding two teenage boys and holding a flask above their heads.
“Wouldn’t be a wedding if someone didn’t try to spike the punch.” I smile at Scott.
“Yeah, well, these two little hellions aren’t getting away with it today,” he responds, frowning at his younger family members.
I step close to Scott and slide my hand over his chest and under the lapel of his jacket. “Have you made enough of an appearance? Because I want to see this organic farm of yours.”
The teenage boys smirk at each other.
Scott takes a swig, then hands them back the flask. “Have fun, boys. I’ll see you later.” He steers me over to Janet and Conner. “We’re heading out. Congratulations again!”
“Out? But we haven’t cut the cake yet!” Janet protests.
Conner clears his throat. “I think the romantic atmosphere might have convinced Harper she needs to go take a look at Scott’s… works of art.”
I blush. Scott grins.
“Works of art? What are you talking about. Scott doesn’t have any–oh!” Janet nods vigorously. “Yes, you should go.”
“Thanks for understanding.” Scott and I hug them both then head out to the truck.
The drive to his farm is blessedly short. I take off McKenzy’s shoes right as we get in the house. Scott shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over a chair. Then, we crash into each other’s arms, all hands and lips.
He pulls down the zipper at the back of my dress and peels it away. I fumble with the buttons on his shirt and finally get it open. The expanse of his muscular chest, sculpted by hard work, greets me, and I almost salivate.
I’m not wearing a bra so when my dress drops, my nipples harden, and Scott groans, dropping my dress to the floor, leaving me in white, lace panties and nothing else.
As he leans down to take my nipple between his lips, I know we’re not going to make it to the bedroom, and I don’t care. I unzip his pants and shove them down, along with his boxers, desire pulsing through me from where Scott’s lips and teeth are teasing me.
He lets his shirt drop from his arms and steps out of his pants and boxers. Now all our clothes are lying in a mess on the floor.
“On the couch,” he demands against my skin.
More than happy to comply, I lie down on his leather couch. The fabric is cool and sticks to my heated skin.
Scott pulls my panties off in one swift movement, tossing them aside. “Not like that,” he says. “Like this.”
He sits me upright and pulls my hips to the edge of the cushion, spreading my knees before him as he drops to his knees. I realize what he’s going to do just before it happens, and my eyes go wide with shock.
“You’re actually going to—”
“I’ve gotta suck on it until it’s done,” he replies, his blue eyes molten with lust.
“Oh, Jesus,” I whisper as Scott’s head descends between my thighs. The first brush of his tongue is like a lightning strike to my body. He sucks on my clit, occasionally pushing his tongue inside me and swirling it in a way that makes me see stars.
With my fingers tangled in his hair, I come hard against his mouth. Scott licks up my seam, tasting my pleasure.
He sits back on his heels, and I can see his cock standing straight and proud. There’s a little pearl of cum at the tip.
“Want me to return the favor?” I pant, licking my lips and wondering what he’s going to taste like.
“Yeah. I do. But I want to be inside you more,” he replies. “Fuck. Condoms are in the bedroom…”
“If you’re clean, I have an IUD, so…” I say, my legs still splayed wide for his viewing pleasure.
Scott draws a sharp breath. “Oh, thank God.” He tugs on my hips so I slide off the couch and into his lap.
I flick my finger over the tip of his cock and taste for myself what I’m missing out on today. “Next time?” I ask coyly.
“You’d better fucking believe it,” he responds, his eyes wide as he watches me taste him.
I hang onto his shoulders while he lines himself up, then sink down on his big, thick dick. I throw my head back, crying out. I’ve never had a dick this big.
“You okay?” he asks, his hands firm on my hips.
I nod vigorously. “Better than okay,” I wheeze. He’s so big, I have to ease him in gently.
He pushes up into me while pulling down on my hips, and goes even deeper. I dig my nails into his shoulders and start to move, riding him hard and fast.
We both climax at the same time, Scott’s warm cum shooting up inside me while my inner muscles clamp around his cock, milking it for every drop he can give me. We collapse in a heap, much like our clothes. Sweat pours off us as we pant and lightly caress each other, coming down together.
“Scott…” I pout after a while. “I still haven’t seen your works of art.”
He bursts out laughing. “Oh, yes you have, baby. That was the closest thing I have to a Van Gough. Now, let me show you my Monet.”
And we go for a second round.
* * *
Scott
Harper’s phone blinks. We’re lying under a blanket on the carpet next to the couch. She’s asleep.
I see it’s McKenzy with a whole lot of worried emojis. I’m not even sure she put actual words in there.
The screen goes black. Then lights up again with more emojis.
I nudge Harper. “I think your friend McKenzy thinks I’m an ax murderer.”
“Hmm?” She looks around blearily then spots her phone half under the couch. “Oh, shit. McKenzy!” She snatches her phone from under the couch and unlocks it with a swipe of her finger.
As she texts frantically back to her friend, I twirl a lock of Harper’s hair around my fingertips. It’s even softer than it looks.
“McKenzy was about to call the cops,” Harper groans, sliding her phone aside.
“Should I take you home?” I ask.
She raises an eyebrow at me, and I quickly amend, “I mean, only if you want me to. You can stay the night if you want to, and I really want to see you again. I owe you dinner, remember? You knocked it out of the park.”
Harper smiles and sits up. “I suppose McKenzy would feel better if she actually saw me. I made sort of made a promise to help clean the apartment tomorrow.”
“That sounds like more fun than a person has a right to.” I chuckle and sit up too. “I want to watch you get dressed.”
She laughs. “All right. You tell me where you threw my panties, and I’ll get the show going.”
“Oh, no,” I reply. “I’m keeping those.”
Her jaw drops. “You’re keeping my panties?”
“Just like any good Mississippi River Slasher would,” I tell her.
“Taking trophies already?”
I laugh and find her panties, handing them over to her. She takes them on and shakes her head.
I watch as she shimmies slowly into the lacy fabric. “Yep,” I observe. “I can definitely die happy now.”
Harper just as sexily slips back into her dress. She turns and bats her lashes at me. “Zip me up?”
I stand and put on my boxers before I zip up Harper’s dress. Her smile when she turns to look at me makes my heart skip a beat.
Shit. I’m in so much trouble.
*Harper*The plane tips its wing and the island slides into view, all blue water and scalloped beaches and mountains wrapped in soft clouds. I press my forehead to the window like a child who’s never seen the ocean before. Scott leans over me and I turn to see his jaw nearly on the floor.“See?” I tease him. “Wasn’t this view worth the flight?”“Worth every minute of the terrifying certainty that we’d fall out of the sky,” he agrees. “I feel like I just opened a door and walked into a postcard.”He threads his fingers through mine on the armrest. We hold hands until the wheels kiss the runway and the cabin breaks into polite applause. It’s funny to me, especially with how accustomed to flying private planes I’ve gotten. But Scott insisted on paying for the trip, and refused each and every one of Damien’s offers to lend him the jet.Outside, the air smells like salt and flowers, and it’s like I’m breathing for the first time in months. When we get to our resort, a woman in a pink dress
*Harper* Our black car pulls up to the steps of the museum, and for a moment I just sit there, staring through the tinted window at the glow of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The banners hanging above the entrance are massive, rippling slightly in the February wind.Harper Ward: Longing and Light.My name is on a banner at the Met. My. Freaking. Name.I turn toward Damien. He’s watching me instead of the building, his dark eyes warm, and one corner of his mouth tipped up like he’s can feel my nervous energy.“Are you ready to do this?” he asks in a low and intimate voice, cutting through the buzz of my nerves.“No,” I admit, laughing breathlessly. “But we’re here and I’m in this gorgeous dress, and people will probably sing my praises all night. Or throw tomatoes at me. It really could go either way.”He squeezes my hand. “All I hear is yes,” he teases.The driver opens the door, and Damien steps out first, offering me his hand like he’s Prince Charming in a fairytale. Everything ab
*Harper*When I open the door two days later, the last person I expect to see standing there is Melody. Her hair is a mess, tangled around her face, and her clothes are wrinkled like she’s been sleeping in them for weeks. Her eyes are red, swollen, and wet. She’s shaking, clutching the door frame as if it’s the only thing keeping her upright.For a split second, I can’t move. I thought she was dead. I thought she had abandoned her baby forever. And yet here she is.“Harper–” Her voice cracks in half. “I’m so sorry.”The words hit me like a Mack truck. I step aside automatically, letting her stumble in. She’s already crying, sobbing from the deepest depths of her soul.I close the door and press my back to it, my pulse a drumbeat in my throat.“Where the hell have you been?” My voice is sharper than I mean it to be, but I don’t apologize for it.Her knees give, and she drops onto my couch. She hides her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.“I was drunk,” she says through a sob. “I
*Harper*“Miss Ward?” an unfamiliar voice asks on the other side of the phone.I picked up the New York number, hoping against hope that maybe it was Melody, but when the voice told me that she was calling from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I nearly dropped the phone.“Yes, I’m here!” I say over enthusiastically.My heart is in my throat. I have absolutely no idea why they’re calling, but I know they wouldn’t be calling me if it weren’t important. The Met doesn’t just call people for no reason.“My name is Nancy Diaz. I represent Franklin Yates, head curator here at the Met.”I’m breathless, hanging on Nancy’s every word.“Mr. Yates was in Seattle last week and happened upon your gallery exhibition. We would like your permission to move the exhibition here for a period of six months, after which time we will reassess the popularity of–”“Yes!” I answer before she can even finish her spiel.I can’t believe it! The Met wants to feature my exhibit! This is insane. I try to calm my brea
*Rafe*“Maloney, I don’t want you to think this game rests solely on your shoulders, but….” Coach trails off in the locker room before the playoffs.This is our last big game of the season. We win this and we’re off to the Super Bowl, something we haven’t achieved since the 1970s. The air in the room is tense, all of us holding our breath, hoping that it will give us this victory.“I won’t let you down, Coach,” I tell him seriously.This is the most important game I may ever play in my life. I mean, sure, winning the Super Bowl would be amazing, but it would be devastating to get this close only to see it watch it slip through our fingers.We run out on the field, and I remember that I have a whole support squad up there watching me and cheering me on. Damien’s arranged a private box for the whole gang. I think McKenzie has even joined them. Harper texted me a picture of her in my jersey, and she looked sexy as hell. Win or lose, at least I’ll have the pleasure of her company after th
*Harper*Sure enough, my picture is all over the tabloids the following morning. I sigh as I chew my cereal and scroll through my phone while May takes her morning nap. If nothing else, at least it’s a good picture of me. The dress Damien bought really accentuates my curves, and the color is gorgeous against my skin. I look like someone much more glamorous than I actually am.I scroll through a few more articles and see pictures of Rafe and me at the restaurant the other night. I had no clue they were taking pictures of us in the restaurant. We look cozy, though, and happy together. Rafe is laughing at something I’ve said, while I take a sip of my drink. We’re the picture of domesticity.“Who is this Mystery Woman?” echoes most of the headlines.“Is Bullet Maloney a Cuckold?” asks one.“Apparently Damien Blackwood Does Know How to Share,” reads another.I roll my eyes, but the pictures are everywhere. Even on social media, I’m confronted with my face and a barrage of nasty comments un