Willow wrapped her legs around him, loving the way he felt, trusting him with all of her. He didn’t flinch under her weight, not even a little. He carried her the short distance to the front door, and while she busied herself kissing and licking the skin at his neck and just under his ear, he managed to get the keys from her hand and unlock the door. And then, without pretense or preamble, he walked her right up the stairs and ever so gently laid her on his bed.
He straightened and smiled down at her. “You look like you belong there.”
“I do belong here.” She spread her legs. “And you belong here.” The words were out of her mouth before she had a chance to rethink them.
Who the hell said such a thing?
Certainly not her.
Not once.
Not ever.
Harry growled his approval. “I need you naked. Now. Take off your clothes.”
The change in him was subtle, but it was there. His voice held a tone of command she hadn’t heard in him before, a tone she—surprisingly—found incredibly hot. She sat up and drew her shirt over her head, baring the pink lace bra she’d picked for Harry. One she’d taken more than her fair share of time deciding over.
“The shorts next.”
Willow got onto her knees and held his gaze while she opened the top button on her shorts and undid the zipper. She slid them off her hips before lying back and slipping them off, tossing them over the edge of the bed. They landed with a thwack and the metallic sound of the button striking the wood floor.
Harry eyed her hungrily. “You’re hot as hell. You know that? The world is a better place with you in it.”
Willow squirmed with pleasure, suddenly ravenous for his touch. “I know my world is better with you in it.” She pushed up on her elbows. “Now, please, take off your shirt so I can get my hands on you.”
“Oh, no. It doesn’t work that way. You’re at my command, remember? Not the other way around.”
Willow remembered her words to him in the Jeep and smiled. “That is what I said, isn’t it?”
“Lucky for you, I happen to be feeling a little overdressed.” Harry pulled his shirt over his head and need clenched in Willow’s belly as the muscles in his torso twisted with his movement. His skin, bronzed by the sun, begged her fingers to trail down from the soft spot at his throat, through the ridges of his ribs and abdomen, and wrap around his cock. “Lie back.”
She did as she was told and Harry lowered himself on top of her, his mouth barely grazing hers before he worked his way down over her breasts, then to her stomach, finally stopping between her legs.
“As gorgeous as these things are, they’re gonna have to come off.” Without another warning, Harry hooked his fingers through her panties, hastily pulling them off and running his hands back up her inner thighs. Willow arched her back and burned for more of him. She wasn’t in the mood for foreplay. She wanted him inside her, wanted—no, needed—to know what it was to be joined with him.
At least until he ran his tongue up her slit, circled her clit, and slipped a finger inside. Suddenly, she was awash in so much sensation she could barely hold a coherent thought in her mind. She moaned and stretched her arms overhead, grabbing his pillow and tightening her hands into fists. He very purposefully led her toward an orgasm—stroking and licking while massaging a spot deep inside her with his fingers—only to back off each time she thought she might fall over the edge.
“Oh, Harry,” she moaned, tension coursing through her body. “I want to come so much.”
“I can tell. Look at you, arching your back. Trying to get me deeper inside you. You greedy thing.” He went back to work, bringing her to the edge then pulling away just as she thought she had no choice but to give in. “But I don’t want you to come. Not yet. I want to make you feel so good you go crazy. Drive you to the precipice, but I want your first orgasm to be on my dick.”
His words almost sent her spiraling into oblivion, but she held on. “Then give me your dick because I’m tired of waiting.”
“Silly girl. Did you forget who's in charge here?” Harry lowered his face to her clit and sucked. Hard. Willow squealed and pleasure rolled through her.
Could he really be so perfect?
A complete gentleman during the day and then so damn dominant in bed? Giving her such intense pleasure—a selfless act—yet claiming that pleasure as his and his alone. Staying in control of her, commanding when and how she could give in to her own body. It was so fucking good.
And then, all the sensations were gone. Chest heaving, Willow opened her eyes in time to see Harry kick off his pants. “It should be illegal for you to wear clothes,” she said, as he lowered his boxers and his cock sprung free. Her eyes went wide and she ached for his contact, feeling incomplete without him inside her.
“Take off your bra,” he ordered as he grabbed a condom from a drawer in his bedside table. She watched as he tore open the foil packet and slid the condom into place. “Your bra, Willow. Off. Now.”
She never, not ever, thought she would enjoy being told what to do in bed. In fact,
