Mister O (16 page)

H
arper spins around
, walking backward on the sidewalk, mischief tap-dancing in her blue eyes. A bus rumbles by, spewing exhaust, and a cab honks its horn as it swerves into the next lane. We’re on the edge of the Village.

“Any idea where I’m taking you?” she asks, taunting, toying, playing.

I bring a finger to my lips. “Hmm. Did you plan a date at the drugstore?” I ask, gesturing to the Duane Reade on the corner. “Shopping for household goods, perhaps?”

She makes a buzzer sound. “Wrong. Guess again.”

I check out the options across the street. There’s a movie theater, so that’s a possibility. But Harper’s
I’ve-got-something-up-my-sleeve
attitude tells me she’s not going for conventional. I cross off the sushi restaurant on the corner for that reason, too.

Then I spot it. A few stores away. I can’t believe I missed it. Eden, a sex-toy shop. This is so very Harper.

“This might be my favorite date ever,” I say as we near the entrance. “I don’t know how I’m not going to buy one of everything.”

She grabs my hand and laces her fingers through mine. “It’s going to be impossible for you to resist.”

“I’m game to try though,” I say and turn into the doorway.

Like a dog on a leash, I’m jerked back. I nearly stumble into her. “What? Aren’t we going here?” I hook a thumb in the direction of the shop.

“Oh God,” she says, clasping her hand over her mouth. “I forgot that was here.”

“Then where are we going?” I ask, since two and two isn’t equaling four right now.

She points across the street to what looks like a huge bathroom store. “I didn’t want to take you to the movies, or dinner, or bowling, or trapeze lessons, or a museum, even though I know we’d have the best time doing any or all of those things. I wanted to take you someplace you’d never been. Someplace that’s very you,” she says as we cross the street and reach the entrance to the Whiteman showroom. “And since the only thing you love more than drawing is showers, I thought you might enjoy checking out some of the coolest showers in the world.”

For several seconds, I’m too surprised to react. This wasn’t on my radar screen at all. I wouldn’t even have guessed it, but as I gaze into the pristine windows at the displays of model bathtubs and showers with gleaming fixtures and earthy tiles, my heart thumps against my chest.

I don’t think it’s beating this hard because I love showers.

It’s because I’m floored by her. Her lips are parted slightly, and her eyes are full of anticipation, as if she’s waiting for my approval. I can tell she’s the tiniest bit worried that I might think this is silly, or strange, or too different.

I don’t. I think it’s awesome. “I’ve never been on a date to a shower showroom,” I say as I open the door for her, and we head into a paradise for the shower junkie.

“It’s like shower porn,” she says as we wander past the first setup with a waterfall theme and smooth stone tiles.

“I could spend a whole day in there,” I say, sighing happily as I take it in.

“You could start taking shower naps.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried that.”

She laughs and squeezes my arm. I look at her hand and flash back to all the times she’s touched my arm. She was always doing it
before
, a friendly little pat, or a punch now and then. Sometimes playful. Now, it’s sweetly affectionate. Funny how she has all these different ways of touching me.

The next one bills itself as a spa shower, and the display is complete with low lights, dark tiles, and mood music. “Is this where they hose you down after you’re all oiled up at the spa?”

“Just like this,” she says, and steps inside and pretends she’s soaping up under the showerhead.

“May I help you?”

Harper snaps to attention and meets the gaze of a sharp-dressed saleswoman in a navy pantsuit. Her sleek black hair is twisted in a bun.

“Why, yes,” Harper says, adopting a businesswoman tone. “I’m in the market for the absolute best, state-of-the-art, top-of-the-line luxurious shower for the true shower aficionado. What would you recommend?”

“What price range are you considering?”

Harper laughs like that’s the silliest question she’s ever heard. “Money is no object when it comes to one’s predilections.”

I raise an eyebrow approvingly at Harper for her word choice.

“Then you’ll want a wet room,” the woman says, and gestures for us to follow her.

“
Wet room
,” she whispers, nudging me. “Told you it was better than Eden.”

I loop my arm around her shoulders. “Yes, so much better.”

We weave through floor displays of glassless showers, and jets with more modes than Harper’s fifty-speed wand, and claw foot tubs, too, until we arrive at the centerpiece.

“This is the Rolls Royce of showers,” the pantsuit woman says and presents a shower that’s bigger than my bedroom, and boasts a dozen showerheads, two on each wall, and four on the ceiling. She waxes on about the rainfall settings, the steam options, and the quality of the tile, harvested in South America somewhere. I couldn’t care less about these details, because Harper runs her hand through my hair and asks, “Do you love it?”

I know she means the wet room. But when I answer her I mean something else entirely, and I want her to know that. “Yes. This is the coolest date I’ve ever been on.”

Her eyes sparkle. “Really?”

This is Harper and all her quirks. This is the way she listens to everything I say, how she soaks up all the details, how she pays attention to every nuance, and then finds a way to be playful and fun.

“Don’t ever change your quirks,” I say, then I brush a kiss to her lips. She shivers against me, and the shower showroom portion of the date needs to end very soon.

The saleswoman holds up her finger. “Excuse me. There’s something I need to take care of.” She scurries off.

“Me, too,” I say, but I’m talking to Harper. Looking at Harper. Wanting Harper. “Let’s order in Chinese at my place.”

She runs her thumb over my jawline. “Does that mean you want to get out of here now?”

“Yes.”

W
e stumble into my apartment
, our hands all over each other. Her lips are bruised from how I kissed her in the cab, and her jacket is undone.

My fingers find their way to the hem of her V-neck sweater. I want to tear off all her clothes. “Can I see my gift now? I’ve been soooo good.”

“You’ve been very good,” she says, arching into me.

My hands freeze. I stop my travels, remembering my mission and why I’m lucky enough to have my hands on her body right now—to teach her. “We almost forgot your lesson tonight.”

She pulls back and shakes her head briefly, as if she’s clearing her thoughts. “Lesson. Right. Lesson.”

It doesn’t take long for me to devise one. Call it an easy lesson plan. Call it my own selfish desire to watch Harper bare all. Giving her an assignment is the easiest thing in the world, because I want her so much.

“Strip for me.” Tossing my jacket on a chair, I park myself on the couch and lace my hands behind my head. “Do it nice and slow.”

She nods, reaching for her jacket. “Everything, Professor Hammer?”

I shake my head as I rake my eyes over her. “Take off the jacket, sweater, and skirt. Leave everything else on. That’s the lesson. How you can drive a man wild when you’re half-naked.”

“Do I drive you wild?” she asks, as she joins me in the living room and shimmies off the coat.

“So much,” I say, my voice husky and my eyes never straying from her as I nod to her skirt.

She unzips it. She takes her time, pushing down one side of the skirt, then the other. I groan as a hint of the soft flesh above her panties is exposed.

“More?” she asks seductively.

“Take it off, Harper,” I say, like a command. “Take off the fucking skirt so I can see you.”

“Since that’s what you want,” she says letting her voice trail off as she pushes the fabric past her thighs. She lets it fall to the floor and all the breath flees my body.

Her stockings are sheer black, and the garter belt hooks into them with little bows on the snaps. Her panties are black lace with a tiny pink butterfly pattern. I drag my hand over my face. I’m an inferno. No, wait. I’m lava. Molten. I take a huge breath and rasp out, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“You like?”

I swallow and nod, because I can’t speak. My throat is parched. I make a rolling gesture with my hand, indicating that it’s time for the top to get out of the way, too. She crosses her hands at the hem of her sweater and slowly, seductively, lifts her top, revealing a matching bra, the kind that pushes her tits high.

“I picked this out today. I went lingerie shopping for you,” she says, her soft voice wafting over me.

“You bought this for me?”

She nods. “I wanted something new to wear tonight. Something I thought you’d like,” she says, a sexy hopefulness in her voice. “Do you like the butterflies?”

Was this what she meant this morning by butterflies? Was it a hint about her lingerie? I have no idea, and at the moment, I don’t care. I walk over to her and kiss her hard, possessively, claiming her lush mouth with mine. My hand roams to her ass, and I squeeze.

She breaks the kiss with an excited
oh.

“
How should I fuck you for the first time?” I ask, letting the question linger in the air between us like smoke and heat.

She runs her nails down my shirt, working open the buttons. “How do you want to?”

I shake my head. “It’s not about how I want it. I want to give you all your fantasies. I’m almost tempted to check out your Tumblr feed right now, and see what you looked at this morning.”

Her fingers reach the final button. She opens my shirt and runs her hands over my chest. Her touch is electric. Her index finger traces Hobbes. As she pushes off my shirt, letting it fall to the floor, her hands roam across the swirls of ink on my arms, the stars and the abstract shapes and lines. Her eyes follow her touch, then she blinks up at me. “What do you think I looked at this morning?”

I tuck a finger under her chin. “One of your women bent over, ass in the air. That’s how you want it.”

Her eyes widen, and her lips part. She nods.

“That’s what I thought. And since I distinctly recall you telling me you wanted to be fucked on the counter, I’m going to grab a condom and when I return, I’d like to see you bent over and ready.”

She nibbles on the corner of her lips and says, “Yes.”

I head to the bedroom, grab a foil packet, remove my glasses, shoes and socks, and return to find Harper has done exactly as I asked. She looks like one of her fantasies, and mine, too. She’s all legs, and ass, and a gorgeous, flattened back. I close the distance, set the condom on the counter and take off my jeans. She looks back at me and watches the whole time.

When I push off my boxer briefs and my cock springs free, she licks her lips. “I want you,” she says in a whimper.

Those three words send a heated charge through me. I bring my hand to my dick and stroke it as she stares. My other hand curls over one round, perfect cheek. She gasps as I touch her. I raise my palm to swat her rear when I catch sight of something sticking out of her purse on the coffee table.

“Don’t move,” I say, and I walk away to grab a thin black stick from her purse. “I’m so fucking glad you carry that giant bag around with your magic stuff in it.”

“Are you going to spank me with my magic wand?” Her tone is laced with excitement.

“I absolutely am.”

“Because I’m going to retire that one from use after you do it.”

“You bet your sweet ass this little prop is reserved for our dirty tricks now,” I say, and I raise the black wand and tap it lightly against her rear, testing her. She inhales sharply.

“More?” I ask, stepping closer to the side of the counter so I can bend to her face and dust a kiss on her lips.

She nods, the look in her eyes heated.

I lift it again and whack her other cheek. She flinches, but then a soft gasp follows, and I rub my palm over her soft rear. Just to be sure she liked it, I drag a hand between her legs. Holy fuck, this girl is my perfect dirty angel. “You’re soaked,” I rasp out, as I slide my fingers across the damp fabric hugging her pussy.

“Do it again,” she begs.

I gladly comply, spanking my naughty magician with her very own magic wand and soothing her with my palm each time, one delicious globe then the other, then back again. Winding her up. Making her writhe. Drawing out the most delicious noises from her. I kneel and press kisses on her bottom, pulling at the lace with my teeth, inching it closer to the crack of her delicious ass, exposing her flesh. I nibble on her cheek, and she moans. I lavish attention on the other one, giving her everything she wants right where she wants it, nibbling, licking, kissing her soft, sweet skin.

As I worship this fantastic rear, Harper whispers my name. “Nick, I need you.”

She wants me. She needs me. I have never craved being the object of both more than I do with Harper. I pull down her panties and help her step out of them.

My dick throbs as I look at her bare ass, her slick, wet pussy, her gorgeous legs, and her face, her eyes so full of desire. “You’re incredible,” I murmur.

She pushes the condom at me. She’s so damn desperate. I cover my dick, curl a hand around her hip, and rub the tip between her legs. She shudders, arching her back.

“Oh, princess,” I rasp, as I rub the head against her heat. “I fucking want you so much.”

She pushes back against me. “I want you, too.”

Like this, with her bent over my kitchen counter in a black butterfly bra and stockings, I sink into the woman I’ve been dreaming about for months, and I groan in pleasure. She’s divine. So hot, so fucking snug.

The intensity of this moment radiates in my body like a hot flare. I’m
inside
Harper for the first time, and it’s so good it’s unreal.

She moans, and I lower my chest to her, pressing against her back, my lips near her face. “Harper,” I say as I ease out then push in.

“Oh God,” she moans, and it sounds as if she’s lost in pleasure.

“Harper,” I say again, my voice rough, commanding.

“Yes?”

“You’re perfect like this.”

I raise my chest, grip her hips with both hands, and thrust—slow, deep lingering strokes that have her squirming and begging, saying
yes
and
please
and
more.
I take my time, making her want it, rocking in and out of her. She circles her hips against me. Her knuckles are white from gripping the counter. I run a hand up her spine, grab a fistful of hair, and tug. She yelps, and the noise transforms into a low, sexy groan as I take her harder.

“Deeper,” she begs. “I love it when you’re so deep in me.”

Sparks fly down my legs. Lust incinerates me, and desire spreads to every cell. She raises her ass higher, sinks lower, gives me more of her body. Each move she makes fans the flames, and I fuck her how she wants it. Deep, hard, passionate.

Her breath comes in shudders and reckless pants. Curling my hands tighter around her, I say, “Is this how you wanted it? All those times?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

“Is it like your dirty pictures?”

“It’s better. So much better.”

I know what will make it the best. Her lips. I lower my chest to her back, cup a cheek with one hand, and turn her face to mine. This isn’t the easiest position, but I don’t care. I know what I’m doing, and I fuck her from behind as I kiss her madly, needing her lips, craving her tongue, wanting this connection. She’s so wild beneath me, all moans and murmurs and thrusts, and her tongue seeks mine, her lips pressing hungrily to me.

Her pussy is my favorite place in the universe, and she grows even wetter with each kiss, and slicker still with every consuming thrust. We kiss like sloppy, crazed lovers, until she bites down on my lip. She cries out, lets go of my mouth, and utters a throaty, hungry series of
oh Gods
that are nearly my undoing as she comes hard, calling my name.

Somewhere, tingling in my body, I can feel the start of an orgasm. But I’m not ready to stop. I’m not done fucking my girl. I slow down, grit my teeth, and fight off my own release.

“I want you to come again,” I tell her, my voice rough.

She just nods, and that’s all I need to know she’s game for multiples.

I pull out, my fingers tight around the condom, keeping it on. “Bed. Now. On your back. Legs spread. Leave the shoes on.”

She’s never been to my bedroom, but it’s not hard to find, and in seconds she’s on the navy blue comforter and open for me. I crawl between her legs, and shove back into her.

“Oh fuck,” I groan, my cock surrounded by her sweet heat once more. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“You got me that way,” she says, as I fill her.

“You’re so fucking sexy. You feel so good.”

“God, so do you. It drives me wild the way you fuck me,” she says, and every word from her mouth gets me hotter. She wraps her legs around my ass, and loops her hands around my neck. This is how I want her.

“I want to watch your face when you come again. You’re so beautiful beneath me. You’re so goddamn gorgeous when you come,” I say, and she trembles, gripping me tighter, pulling me farther into her.

I don’t want this to ever stop. I don’t want this night to end. I want her over and over. I roll my hips and thrust into her, finding a new rhythm. It’s fast, but not frantic. It’s intense, but not out of control. It’s just fucking perfect, then more perfect when she raises her knees, sliding them up my sides, opening herself even more.

“You like that, princess?” I growl, as she widens for me, giving me her body in that position.

Her answer is a low, sexy cry of rapture. I drive farther, rolling my hips, hitting her in all the right places.

“I can feel you deeper like this. So deep that . . .” She trails off, her lips near my ear. She draws my earlobe between her teeth and nips. She moans against me, a sexy, beautiful noise as she whispers, “That I’m going to come again.”

My favorite words from her. I’m so fucking turned on. So fucking crazy for her. “Do it,” I groan as I pump into her, and she grips my ass, digging in, holding on. Her face is pressed to mine as she rocks up. Her body detonates, and she’s like a Harper bomb under my hands, a beautiful explosion of lust and sensuality, and so much rapture.

That’s it. I’m done. I chase her there, pushing deep inside at a fevered pace, my own climax tearing through my body as she shudders beneath me. Our cheeks touch as I come so fucking hard that nothing but incoherent noises fall from my lips, nearly as loud as hers. Because, holy fuck, it’s so good with her. It’s so incredibly good.

Her moans don’t stop for a long time, and nor do mine as I collapse on her. My heart beats furiously. Beads of sweat slick my chest. And I’m so damn happy to have her in my bed, beneath me, with me, next to me.

I roll off her, tie the condom, and toss it in the bathroom trash. I return to her, and she’s the most beautiful sight ever—mostly undressed and fucked senseless . . . by me.

“Take off the rest of your clothes. I want to feel you naked,” I tell her, and I help her slide off the shoes, stockings, and the bra. She’s in nothing, just like me. I pull her into my arms.

She feels too good to be true.