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“You slept with him?!” McKenzy’s jaw goes slack. It’s the next morning, and we’ve finally gotten a chance to talk. When I got home the night before, I took a shower and crashed. Hard.“Announce it to the whole apartment complex, why don’t you?” I hiss. “And yes. I slept with him. It was amazing.”“Amazing? It says on the website you don’t have to do the whole escort thing!” she says. “Did we forget the website?”I snort. “I didn’t do it because I thought I had to. I wanted to. We really hit it off.”“I’ll say. You slept with him on the first date. And it wasn’t even a proper date!” She all but wails.“Dramatic much? You’ve done it before,” I remind her.“Yeah, but you’re not me.” McKenzy paces around me, looking me up and down. She pinches my arm.“Hey!” I gripe.She nods. “Okay, so I’m not dreaming.”“You’re supposed to pinch yourself!” I pinch her back.“Ouch! Fine, fine, okay. We can be super sluts together then. But honestly, Harper, you need to stop copying me. I’m sure yo
DamienWhat an unexpected pleasure. I watch Harper’s cheeks flush as our shoulders touch in the limo. Honestly, I should be sitting further away from her. There’s plenty of seating in the limo’s expansive back section after all. But since I first laid eyes on her, I’ve been utterly captivated.Today, I just wanted someone who checked all the right boxes for the dress. Tonight, I’m realizing I might have found someone who checks all the right boxes for me.“Have you been to an art gallery opening before?” I ask conversationally, my hand still boldly laid over hers. I’m not a man who lets what he wants get away.She swallows, and it draws my attention to the elegant lines of her neck. “No, Damien. I haven’t.”“I think you’ll find it rather entertaining,” I continue. “Especially given your art background. Or am I making too many assumptions about your username? Are you an art history major?”Harper pauses, then admits, “I’m an artist. Mostly a painter.”Intriguing. “Really? Then again, I
HarperThe rest of the evening is a blur. Michael has to circulate, of course, but he comes back to Damien and me frequently to check in. He asks where I’m showing my work. I blush and say, “The Witch’s Brew coffee shop on Lake Street in Minneapolis.”Michael grins at me. “A perfect place to start.”“You’ll have to give some pieces to a proper gallery now, though. People will be wondering where to find your work,” Damien whispers in my ear.“Because you announced it in front of the press!” I reply.Damien gives me an innocent look. “Did I do that?”I squeeze his arm in gratitude, and he laughs.It’s late by the time we leave Michael, Julian and the rest of Damien’s acquaintances at the gallery. I can’t help but note that Damien didn’t call any of them his friends.“Do your friends not attend gallery openings?” I ask.Damien winces at me. “Caught that, did you? I don’t have a lot of friends, Harper. A man like me makes a lot of enemies. I do have one good friend, Laurence Killian, but
HarperI cry out, pleasure radiating through my body as Damien reaches around and thumbs my clit in time with his hard, deep thrusts.“How does it feel, little red bird?” he asks as he makes me come again.“S-So good.” My teeth chatter, and my knees are weak.He forces a third orgasm out of my body. Then a fourth. And still he doesn’t cum.“Damien,” I beg. “Please.” Damien must be close. I know he has to be close. “Please, Damien, cum inside me!”“Mmm, my good girl.” He slaps my ass, and my whole body tenses. I come again, and this time, as my body spasms around him, he finally grunts a few times and joins me.He groans, and his whole body shudders, but he’s still holding me up when my knees give out and I would have slid down the glass. He keeps pumping in and out of me until both our tremors cease.I can’t believe I just fucked a billionaire! I look back over my shoulder, and Damien is giving me a dirty look, as though he can read my mind.“Do you always last that long?” I ask him.
HarperOn Thursday, I get another ding on my phone from At a Loose End. I sigh. If it weren’t for the fact I haven’t been paid for my date with Damien yet, I’d have taken down my profile by now. I need that payment to process and hit my bank account!I look at my screen. Tomás. He’s offering less than anyone else I’ve dated for me to go with him to a quinceañera on Saturday. I know I should decline, but a message pings right away, and I feel compelled to read what he has to say.EspanolEsVida1: I know I haven’t offered a lot, but please hear me out @ArtIsMyLife33. My ex-wife is going to be at my niece’s quinceañera this Saturday, and she’s bringing a date. I absolutely, positively have to bring a younger, hotter date. I know that sounds shallow, but this woman destroyed my life. She destroyed me. She cheated, and my niece still wants her at her quinceañera. I’m desperate. Help!Thinking back on what Rafe did to me, I am galvanized into action.ArtIsMyLife33: Please, call me Harper. An
HarperIt feels just like old times. Except, instead of sitting in a beat-up old Corolla, we’re peeling through the city streets in a brand new red Ferrari.Rafe guides my hand expertly on the stick shift, his hand warm on mine, his strong fingers fitting right where they used to.“How’ve you been, Harper?” he asks. “How’s the painting going?”“I just actually had a big break,” I reply. ‘So, that’s been nice. I might be getting busy pretty soon.”“But not too busy to see me.” He gives me puppy-dog eyes.“No,” I reply softly. “Not too busy to see you.”He grins as we pull into the parking lot behind a sports bar. It looks like a bit of a dive, but then, he used to like those. Especially when people started to recognize him from college football. These types of places, nobody bothered him.Rafe takes off his seatbelt, then leans over to undo mine, following it all the way to the other side of my body. I can feel his breath on my cheek. He smells the same, like musk and the same cologne
HarperScott Bauer: Hey, Harper. What are you doing this weekend?I roll over and look at my phone. My adrenaline spikes with both excitement and trepidation. It’s Scott!We haven’t corresponded all week, and this is the first time I’m realizing it. I am such a bad girlfriend.Potential girlfriend.Hey, wait, why hasn’t he texted me before now?I might be a little indignant, actually.Harper Ward: Hey, stranger. How’ve you been?Scott Bauer: Missing you. *cheese emoji*I laugh.Harper Ward: LOL, liar. You been busy?Scott Bauer: *pouty face emoji* I really have missed you. But yeah, busy. Some asshole crop duster was a little off on his aim and sprayed pesticides on a small area of the farm.I wince, and text back quickly.Harper Ward: Oh, Scott, I’m so sorry. That sucks big time.Scott Bauer: Yeah, well, I had to rip out that crop. It’s all fix
Tomás¿Ella está aquí para mí? I couldn’t believe who I was seeing. Helena, perhaps the most dedicated, intelligent, beautiful student I’ve ever had the pleasure of teaching, had walked up to my car. I thought for a moment she’d been heading for the tan Ford, but no. Helena is my date.Helena is my date!I have to keep checking that she’s here next to me in my Volvo. It’s just surreal.Helena puts her hand on my thigh. Mi chile is not immune to this, even though I know it’s meant to be a comforting gesture. I mean, the most sexy woman that I’ve ever seen has her hand six inches from my huevos. “I’m here, and I’m going to be right here the whole time, Tomás.”Of course. I need to remember she’s doing this as a favor for me because of Carmen.Por Dios, I hate that woman. Sitting there, naked, on my bed with that pendejo she’d
*Rafe*Harper is here. In my city. In her own apartment. In my arms.I don’t think it’s fully hit me yet. The past few weeks have been a blur–a new team, new city, new life–but now, finally, it feels like I can breathe again. She’s actually here, curled up against my chest like she belongs there, like she’s always belonged there. And she always has. Her hair’s a little messy from where she fell asleep on me earlier after our first round of sex, strands sticking up in every direction, and I swear I’ve never seen anything more perfect. She’s got on one of my old sweatshirts, her bare legs tucked under her, scrolling through some takeout menu like it’s the most important decision of her life.“I’m getting you the spicy basil chicken,” she announces without even looking up.I raise a brow. “Not even gonna let me pick?”“Nope.” She grins, so bright and cheeky it should come with a warning label. “I know you too well.”She’s right. She does. And I love her for it.The food arrives faster t
*Harper*Damien’s jet is my new favorite place in the world. I mean, I love my apartment, I love everywhere I go with my guys, and I even love my tiny little Prius back home. But this is luxury wrapped in silk, dipped in champagne, and handed to me on a silver platter.Scott is playing with the massage chair, testing every setting like a kid on Christmas morning. Tomas, ever composed, reading something on his tablet, pretending like he’s not secretly enjoying the five-star treatment. And Damien? Damien is lounging like a king, sipping whiskey in a glass that was probably hand-blown in some exclusive European workshop.“I could get used to this,” I say with a sigh, stretching my legs on the reclining seat.“You should get used to it,” Damien says, swirling his drink. “This is your life now.”I snort. “Oh, is it? Just like that?”“Just like that.” He smirks. “I refuse to let my favorite people travel like peasants.”Scott groans, adjusting his chair. “Damien, I don’t know how to tell y
*Harper*My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I nearly knock over a half-empty mug of coffee trying to grab it.Damien: Pack your bags, little red bird. My jet leaves at 10:00 A.M. on Friday.I grin, biting my lip, and another message pops in before I can reply.Damien: And bring the other two along. I suppose they can sit with the peasants in the back.Scott: I’m taller than you.Tomas: And I’m more charming.Damien: But I’m richer.I can’t stop laughing as the group chat explodes with the kind of snarky chaos that has somehow become my new normal.Scott: Don’t care. I’m bringing snacks.Tomas: Do not let Scott choose the snacks. I beg you.Damien: Fine. I’ll stock the jet myself. Only the finest artisanal chips and caviar-flavored popcorn.Rafe: Wait. What’s happening?I snort. Rafe’s been so laser-focused on training camp he’s missed half the group texts lately.Me: We’re all coming to your first home game, baby.Rafe: What? How? Who’s “we all”?Damien: Me, little red bird, her f
*Harper*The painting is massive, much bigger than anything I’ve ever sent to a gallery before. It’s propped against the wall, and every time I glance at it, my heart does a weird little flutter. This is the piece I’m sending to The Whitney Gallery. If I overthink it, I’ll keep making changes, trying to make it perfect. But art isn’t about perfection, right? I don’t know if it’s good enough. I don’t know if I’m good enough. But I know I’ve poured every piece of me into it… my chaos, my love, my fear, my hope. It’s all there, dripping down the canvas in colors that feel like my soul spread wide open.What I do know for sure is that I can’t shove something this big into the back of an Uber. And the car McKenzy and I share is barely bigger than a shoe. So, naturally, I call Scott, the only person I know with a pickup truck.“Hey, babe.” He answers on the second ring, his voice warm and relaxed. “What’s up?”“I need a favor.”“Name it.”“Can you bring your truck over and help me take my
*Harper*The afternoon sun pours through the studio windows, spilling delicate golden light across the floor. My latest painting is sitting on the easel, half-finished, all the colors still swirling together, but I’m not satisfied with the result. I dip my brush into my favorite cobalt blue, dragging it over the canvas, blending it into the burnt orange sunset I’m trying to capture.It’s almost there. Almost perfect.I’ve been at this for hours. My back aches, my fingers are speckled with dried paint, and I’ve barely moved since lunchtime. I’m so focused until McKenzy texts me a meme about a disastrous DIY project. At that I laugh, stretching out my stiff shoulders before turning back to the painting.That’s when my phone rings.I consider ignoring it, until I see Tomas’s name flashing across the screen.I bite my lip, warmth spreading through my chest as I answer. “Hola, Profe.”“Hola, preciosa,” Tomas’s smooth, accented voice flows through the line like a slow dance, making my pul
*Harper*I wake up to the sound of Rafe singing very off-key to some ‘90s alt-rock song in the kitchen. It takes me a second to remember where I am, why my legs are tangled in a sheet that smells like him, and why my heart already aches before my feet even hit the floor.Today’s the day.I sit up, blinking at the sunlight pouring in through the half-open blinds. Rafe’s room is packed up, a cardboard box labeled TROPHIES + RANDOM SHIT sits by the door, and his dresser drawers hang open, mostly empty. It feels wrong, like the room itself is bracing for the goodbye we’re both pretending isn’t coming.I pull on one of his T-shirts, feeling vulnerable and pathetic, and follow the smell of coffee into the kitchen. Rafe is standing at the stove, shirtless, flipping pancakes like a domestic god who doesn’t know his own biceps should be illegal.“Morning, sleepyhead.” He grins, flashing me that too-charming smile that got me into this mess in the first place.“You’re making pancakes?” I ask,
*Harper*Three months. That’s how long it’s been since my life became a balancing act between love, ambition, and enough sexual pleasure to power a reality show. I’m basically the poster child for chaos, except now it comes with a wardrobe upgrade and a much better skincare routine. Unfortunately, it hasn’t come with a bigger closet.These days, I basically have to shove myself into my closet head on just to squeeze through the tight space between the rows. With all the designer dresses Damien’s sent me, I’m having a hard time finding space. McKenzy says I should just get rid of all my old clothes, but it’s not like I’m going to lounge around in our apartment in Dolce and Gabana.“Rich people problems,” she always says with a sigh whenever I complain about the closet space.Of course, I’m still far from rich. But I’m definitely in a better place than I was when this all began. My paintings have sold so well, I’ve been able to put aside rent money for the rest of the year. It’s such
Two weeks later…Harper“WHOOOOOO! GO RAFE, GO!” I scream from the private suite where we are watching Rafe’s game.“Maybe we’re supposed to call him Bullet?” Tomás asks, eating off a plate of catered food next to me.“I figure if you’re sleeping with the man, you get to call him whatever you want,” Damien says dryly. He sips something expensive—scotch, I’m assuming—from a tumbler, but loses all sophistication when Rafe gets sacked. “Roughing the passer!”“They can’t flag the play every time Rafe gets sacked. This isn’t touch football,” Scott chuckles. He’s munching popcorn, more a fan of that snack than the buffet fare.Damien purses his lips. “I wonder how much it would cost…”I reach past Tomás to slap his shoulder. “Don’t even think about it.”
HarperAfter my MRI, the doctors finally let me go see Rafe. I shuffle down to his room in hospital socks and a gown. Tomás has gone to pick up some pizza for us all. Damien is on his phone, leaning on the technicians and whoever else is involved to get my MRI reviewed. Scott stepped out to call someone to check on his animals since he’s been gone so long.I knock lightly on the door to Rafe’s room. When I hear Jen, Rafe’s mother, call “Come in!” I push open the door and go inside.Jen is sitting next to the bed, holding Rafe’s hand. His father, Skip, is leaning against the windowsill with his arms folded. When they look up, neither of them are particularly happy to see me.“Harper,” Jen says in a clipped tone.“Mrs. Maloney,” I reply respectfully. “Mr. Maloney.”Skip eyes me with deep-seated anger.“You could have ended his football career, you know?