She smiles seductively. “Well, I guess you never know where life will take you. I think I would like that, actually.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” I look her over again as she shivers once more, those big breasts jiggling. “Are you cold, sweetheart?”
She shakes her head and laughs, although it sounds a bit like a gasp.
“No. Actually, I’m pretty warm.”
“Then take off your t-shirt, sweetheart. Show me what you have.”
She gasps and stares at me, flustered. But then she dips her chin and looks down.
“Alright.” Slowly, she slides the thin fabric over her head, and I notice that her nipples are hard through her lacy bra. I could measure her pink crests right now if I wanted to, and my mouth waters hungrily.
But this isn’t the time. I have to keep control for at least a little longer. I sip my Ginger Bliss.
“I’m surprised you’re in such a fetching outfit, as it is. A t-shirt and a mini-skirt?”
She tilts her head curiously. “Why is that? I didn’t mean to dress to impress.”
I smirk.
“No not exactly. But you used to come over wearing a lot less. Remember my old swimming pool slide?”
She laughs.
“Well, yeah, because you had the best slide and Dad would never get one. He didn’t see the need.” She rolls her eyes and sips her kombucha, while I choose my words carefully.
“That’s a shame. You should have everything you ever want in life, Harlow.” Her cheeks redden, and she steals a quick glance at the bulge in my jeans before her warm brown eyes dart away. Harlow is many things but subtle is not one of them. Then, I see a stain on her bra.
“You’re wet,” I say.
Immediately, her cheeks flush and she looks down at her crotch before staring up at me again.
“What?”
“No sweetheart, on your bra.”
I point to her chest and she sees the spilled drink on the lacy fabric before cursing.
“Shit!”
I reach for a kitchen towel and begin to blot at her bosom gently, but my hand lingers. Her eyes meet mine and my lips crave hers. My heart pounds in my chest. But I force myself to swallow my attraction and manage to growl, “If you’d like, you can go to the bathroom and wash your lingerie.”
“I think that’s best,” she blurts, before she stumbles to my first-floor bathroom. I watch her ass sway, until it disappears behind my bathroom door.
I curse myself. How could I be so ham-handed? Telling her to take off her t-shirt? I’m probably just a dirty old man in her mind, one whom she trusts to treat her with respect. Yet, I just tried to cop a feel.
But Harlow’s nipples were stiff, and she was doing all sorts of things to herself in the bathroom at work. She’s not a kid, and I’m not some gross old pervert with gold chains nestled in my overgrown chest hair.
I take care of myself. I’m a good looking guy, and I know signals when I see them. After all, fortune favors the bold, and I’m a man who takes what he likes.
Stretching my legs, I stroll to the bathroom before knocking on the door. There’s a splash followed by a loud, “Fuck!” Harlow’s so flummoxed, that she flings the door open despite being in just her bra and a wet mini-skirt. “What? I swear, this kombucha is so hard to get out.”
Without a word, I kiss her. My tongue slips between those plush lips, and she tastes like pineapples. She moans with pleasure, and I bend her back over my arm even further. I hadn’t expected her to be so receptive so soon. I walk her further into the bathroom until her back hits the wall. She grunts into my mouth and I harden immediately. I love making her make that sound. My hard-on digs at her hip, like it has a mind of its own as Harlow grabs for the buttons on my shirt, her hands scrabbling. She gives up on them, and rips it open, buttons falling to the floor.
I laugh hoarsely.
“Sweetheart, I had no idea you were so desperate.”
She merely stares into my eyes, one cup of her bra pushed down to reveal a huge, creamy breast.
“I am, Gray,” she breathes. “Please.”
That’s my signal. Like a caveman, I take her hands and pin them to the wall over her head, but then I say, “No one can ever know. Not your dad. Not your co-workers. Not even your best friend.”
“Of course not,” she gasps. I kiss her, and bury myself in her sweetness. I kiss down her chin, then nibble the tender skin on her throat even as Harlow moans throatily again.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I growl.
She hisses as I bite gently at her throat.
“Yes,” she mewls.
I scoop her up in my arms and carry her to my bedroom, my lips on hers the whole time. I love feeling her curves so close to me, those big breasts smashed flat against my chest. Then I set her onto the end of my California King bed. The dark blue bedspread provides a beautiful backdrop against her creamy skin, and it’s an image I want to savor. I groan while unbuttoning my fly.
“Seeing you like this, Harlow? It’s pure torture. You’re so fucking sexy, baby.”
She stares up at me. Her long dark curls tumble from her shoulders, exposing the curve of her delicate neck. Her luscious breasts are hardly contained by the flesh-toned bra, and the lace almost bites into the skin there. But it’s the expression of lust in her mesmerizing eyes that gets me. I want to watch them roll into the back of her head when she comes. I warn her, “I’ve wanted you for ages now sweetheart. It might
