In Pursuit Read online

  “You,” I whimper. Then I wiggle slightly against his arousal and he lessens his hold on me.

  “Are you alright?” His concern is genuine, but I’m fine. Instead of a response, I slip my hands underneath the hem of his shirt and rub them against his rippling torso. Of their own accord, they travel to his taunt lower back.

  No doubts or fears remain. Passion. Lust. I want him so badly.

  “Please, kiss me,” I beg. I’ve never begged, never wanted someone so badly that I will do whatever it takes to get him.

  “I’m going to lay you down on the couch, baby.” When I don’t protest, he carefully lifts my body and lowers me so I am laying flat. My hair fans out underneath my head, and I breathe heavily. We’ve barely just begun, and I already feel out of breath.

  He moves his hand to either side of my hips, staring down at me. His thumbs brush where the elastic of my skirt meets my tank top.

  “Edith, you are so fucking sexy.”

  Harris Grant thinks I’m fucking sexy. There’s no time for me to thank him for the compliment, because he crushes his lips to mine. It’s an all-consuming kiss. I am his to do whatever he wishes, whether he knows it or not.

  I gasp at the contact, allowing his tongue access to my mouth. He lavishes mine with long languid strokes of affection.

  Using one arm to balance, he uses his free hand to gather the fabric of my skirt in his hand, dragging it up my legs achingly slowly. To encourage him, I move my hands up his back, digging my short nails into the taunt skin.

  “More, Harris. Please.” This time when I say it I know there is no looking back. I’m thrilled at the notion.

  He bunches my skirt around my waist and touches the flimsy lace at my hip. The kiss breaks and he drops his face into my neck, flicking his tongue and making me squirm in delight. My hands drop away from his back, falling to my sides.

  His hand begins a hot trail down my hip toward the v between my thighs. I bend my knees, placing my feet flat on the leather couch to give him more access. Never in my life have I felt so sex crazed that I would do whatever it takes to urge my partner forward. I lift my hips slightly as his forefinger tickles my damp crotch.

  “Harris.”

  “Don’t tell me to stop, Edith. I can’t.” He props himself up over me again and searches my expression.

  “I want you.” My voice doesn’t sound like my own. It’s throaty and husky. I roll my tongue across my lower lip, nearly panting with anticipation.

  “Very well.” His swagger is back. He slips his hand underneath the elastic waist of my beige lace, earning a heated gasp from me. With deep concentration, he leans in and we kiss again. This time, he sucks on my lower lip as his fingers explore my wet folds.

  “You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs as he breaks the kiss.

  He pushes his thumb against my hard clit and I jump slightly. My eyes are tightly closed as I drown in the decadent sensations. “Open your eyes, Edith.”

  They flicker open for him, blue meeting gray in a heated stare.

  “I want to see you melt into oblivion when you come.” One long finger glides inside of me, moving in and out in a slow rhythm while his thumb applies pressure to my clit. He pushes another finger inside, and I can’t help my reaction, I start bucking against his hand, desperate for more.

  My frantic grinding against him and the increased pressure he applies to my pussy pays off. His fingers go deeper, deeper until they find my spot and begin a slow, luxurious assault. I can’t contain a cry that slips out, the ball of passion building inside near the point of bubbling over.

  “Harris,” I whimper again, thrashing.

  “Are you almost there, baby?” He starts with his torturous kisses again, this time dropping them along my neck and under my chin and along my jaw at a random pace.

  “So close.”

  “Then come,” he demands, pressing his fingers against my most sensitive spot again and I explode.

  Stars appear before my eyes and I’m floating, floating in a delirious cloud of pleasure. I’m gasping for breath a few moments later when he retracts his fingers from my pussy and raises them to my lips.

  “Now, clean them off,” he instructs in a sexy growl.

  Under any other circumstances, I might find this odd, but with Harris it’s erotic and intoxicating. His middle and forefinger slip into my mouth and I suck them clean, closing my eyes and imagining that it’s his cock in my mouth and I’m licking him clean after our love making.

  The insistent heat of his erection pushes into my thigh and I know that I’m affecting him too.

  “Delicious,” I say with a grin and he groans.

  He sits up and helps me rearrange my skirt. I’m still laying beneath him and panting when he says, “I want more, Edith, so much more. But I think we need to stop here. For now.”

  My mind knows he is right, but my body screams its disapproval. Harris maintains the power while I study him through glazed eyes. My muscles turned into pudding, I can hardly be bothered to move.

  “But you are spending the night in my bed, because I can’t let you go that easily.” He bends down, grabbing me around the waist and throwing me over his shoulder in one smooth swoop. I laugh out loud at the sudden shift in tempo.

  “Yes, sir!” Then I take his move from earlier and swat at his ass. Turns out I can be playful, too.

  Several hours later I wake up, disoriented. After a few blinks, I recognize that I’m in Harris’ bed, wearing his t-shirt and boxer briefs. We fell asleep wrapped in each other, Harris cocooning my body from behind. Sometime during the night, we separated and now are back to back. I peek at the clock, three a.m. Careful not to disturb the man sleeping next to me, I creep into the bathroom and use the facilities. When I get back into the bed, I can’t help myself, I want to give him something that he has freely given me on numerous occasions; comfort.

  I slide into the bed behind him and then begin the task of molding my body to his. I bend my knees to match his angle and then gently wedge one lower leg between his. I curl my arm around his waist. To my surprise, one rough hand cups mine, drawing it closer to his heart. I don’t know if it’s an instinctual reaction to my touch, or if he is awake. Before I fall back into sleep I wonder who is comforting whom.

  Beep. Beep. Beep. “Turn it off,” I groan at the incessant noise. Then I sit up with a start. There’s someone warm and big in my bed with me.

  “Hey, come back. No one’s ever spooned me before,” my companion grumbles. Memories from last night come flooding back and contentment spreads inside of me. I flop back down next to him in bed with an exaggerated sigh. “Why is your alarm going off before five in the morning?”

  “This is when I exercise,” he informs me. Then, in one swift movement, he is surrounding me again, bracing his elbows and forearms on either side of my head. Half of his body covers mine, his morning erection rubbing against my belly.

  He presses a delicious kiss to my lips. “Your breath stinks,” he says without preamble.

  “Harris!” I groan underneath him, embarrassed.

  “But I love it,” he admits, and dips his head once more to kiss me with all the passion and intensity that he did last night, our tongues dueling again, despite morning breath.

  When we pull apart, I’m feeling brave. “I have another idea. Instead of the gym...”

  My hands tickle at the skin underneath the t-shirt he never took off. It was probably to avoid scaring me, but I desperately want to see his naked chest. Since I haven’t given that up yet either, I don’t feel like I should be making any demands. But there is something else I can do to please him.

  “What’s that?”

  My hands push at his hips and he immediately raises himself up and moves to my side. His head rests on the crook of his elbow and he smiles softly at me. I can’t stifle the grin that answers his. I feel sexy and confident when I’m with Harris.

  With a gentle push to his chest, he’s laying on his back. In a flash, I’ve moved so that I’m
sitting on top of him. My knees on either side of his thighs, I rub my mound against him.

  “Are you sure my breath tastes badly?” I tease and lean down into him. His hands find my ass, pressing the pads of his thumbs into the fabric covering my skin.

  “I don’t care what time of the day it is, what your breath tastes like or how your hair falls, I want your lips on mine.” He urges me forward, rubbing my pussy against his firm cock. The delicious fingers of pleasure make my panties flood with moisture. We meet in a sweet kiss, not as urgent as last night but still infused with heat.

  “Edith,” he moans, his hands falling away from my rear. I wiggle my way down his body then grip his steel-hard length, over his cotton boxer briefs. My eyes travel back to his, and I quirk an eyebrow. He drops his head back on the pillow letting out a strangled sound.

  I tug his underwear down his legs, and then toss them out of the way. His massive cock springs free, standing at attention. Thick veins throb around his girth, pre cum glistening at his tip. I feel an immense sense of sexual prowess. I lower myself to his waiting cock, and lick it from base to tip. He jerks at the initial contact. I drop random, tempting kisses along his length. My tongue darts out in sparse, teasing gestures.

  “Oh, fuck,” he growls. “Suck me.”

  I wrap my lips around his sensitive tip, at first sucking gently as I savor his taste.

  “Deeper,” he moans, then slides his hands into my hair and he tugs. Roughly and injecting some pain, it only encourages my desire to make him come like he did me last night.

  I go as deep as I can, bypassing my gag reflex and taking his cock far into my mouth. I’m sucking hard and fast, bobbing up and down. I can hear his breathing growing heavier and heavier, his body rigid.

  I let my teeth very gently graze his tip as I return to the top of his cock and he squeezes my head, urging me to continue. My right hand floats to his thigh, drawing slow circle with my fingernails closer and closer to his balls until my hand cups them. The touch is possessive, a new emotion to me. I want to be the one giving him pleasure, no one else.

  He groans as I begin to gently squeeze his balls. I pause at the top of his cock, drawing lazy lines with my tongue. I give his balls a tug as I slide the length of him into my warm mouth, greedily sucking.

  “I’m going to come,” he says from above. I don’t want to stop, I want to taste every drop, prolong this moment for as long as I can.

  “Edith, move.”

  Now more than ever I want to deliver this pleasure to him and only him. His hips thrust forward. With a loud shout, he empties himself into my mouth. The warm liquid slides down my throat. When it appears that he’s finished, I lap at his cock, cleaning him lovingly.

  Like a lightning bolt, it strikes me with ferocity: I’m falling for him.

  He sits up and hooks his hands under my armpits and pulls me close to him. He lowers his lips to mine in the sweetest of kisses.

  “What are you doing to me?” he asks, in the same breathless way I spoke last night.

  “I hope the same thing you are doing to me,” I answer honestly.

  “I think so,” he says hoarsely and drops kisses along my cheek and jawline.

  We untangle ourselves and he settles me back into the blankets. “I’m going to shower,” he looks hesitant as he pulls his boxer briefs back up, settling them on his narrow hips. It seems counterproductive for him to get dressed again, but I sense that he wants me to be comfortable, doesn’t want to overwhelm. The thoughtfulness makes my heart swell.

  He returns from his shower, a towel wrapped low on his hip. Droplets of water dot the flat planes of his chest.

  “Yum,” I say appreciatively.

  He laughs, shaking his head as he saunters into his closet.

  “Baby, I’m going to call Marcus to pick you up.”

  “Marcus?”

  “Claire’s driver. I don’t want you walking home by yourself.”

  “That seems a little much, Harris. It’s like a fifteen minute walk.”

  He exits the closet in a pair of dark slacks, buttoning his shirt, an unhappy look crossing his features.

  “Please, don’t fight me on this. I’ll feel better knowing you get home safely.”

  It’s an irrational want. He won’t always be able to know where I am. That may be true, but I don’t want to cause him grief.

  “Yes, of course.”

  He moves back to the bed, leaning down to kiss me firmly.

  “Thank you.”

  Allowing Marcus to drive me home eased some of Harris’ anxiety. Unfortunately for me, nothing can be done to ease my nerves that form as the day goes on.

  My Tuesday progressed without drama. In fact, it’s eerily silent, because Harris never contacts me and Claire ignores a text I send her.

  Both of these things are uncommon. Or, at least, I think they are. When Harris left me that morning he bent over me, seemingly unable to leave. He dropped dozens of kisses all over my face, neck, ears, chin, anything above my shoulders. He told me how much he enjoyed our time together, and that he could hardly wait to have me in his arms again.

  In all of our earlier encounters, Claire responded to text message very promptly. Her radio silence is troubling, because I know she read my message according to my messaging app.

  Professionally, the day went well. Soren, the skinny man I met at the møbler store near my apartment, called me with a referral, and I set up a consultation.

  Now I’m lying in bed, staring at my alarm clock, watching the minutes tick by. To be fair, I haven’t tried to get in touch with Harris, either. I stamp away my doubts and reach for my phone. He’s incredibly busy, maybe he just couldn’t get away from clients.

  It’s almost midnight, but Harris told me he doesn’t sleep much, so he is probably awake.

  Eddie: Since we live in contemporary times and all, I think it is socially acceptable for the fairer gender to request a date of a man she is interested in. Do you have any plans tomorrow evening?

  Deep down, I know the message will go unanswered, but I still want to throw out the first hand, in case he was waiting. I guess he wasn’t.

  Wednesday goes by without contact from Harris or Claire, and I’m starting to mildly panic. On some level, I know that Claire found out about Harris and me.

  Embarrassment rolls through me. Never have I gotten intimate with a guy so quickly. Sure, it’s the twenty-first century, women’s lib, sexual liberation and all that, but I’ve always been skittish. All of those past reservations flew out the back door when Harris came near.

  I’m laying on the couch, attempting not to wallow too much. It was a productive day, and my new client referral was a young gay couple that had heard of my blog. Turns out that they are friends with Sean and Luke.

  It’s almost six, which is a socially acceptable time to call Sean. Sarah and Greg are gallivanting on a private yacht around Nantucket, so I don’t want to bother them. But I need to talk to someone. I phone my new friend.

  “What’s up, cutie?” he greets me.

  I sigh in response. Dramatic, but I’m hurting.

  “That sounds promising,” he says sarcastically. “What’s going on?”

  “Made a mess of things,” I mumble.

  “What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the self pity.”

  A grin cracks my chapped lips. “Funny.”

  “Tell me what’s happening.”

  I give him all of the details, starting with my freak out on our first date.

  “That pathetic excuse for a man held you down?”

  “Yes, but honestly, Sean, I’ve talked about this three times over the past several days and just saying the words out loud helps me let go. I never told anyone back home when it all went down, not even Sarah, and now that I have, I feel relieved. Jared and I haven’t talked since it happened.”

  “Okay,” he says, though his tone suggests disbelief.

  I continue with the story, telling him about the fantastic date Harris and I had
, and sleeping over at his house and now the nothingness.

  “Do you think it was the blow job?” I ask forlornly.

  “You are out of your damn mind. He came in your mouth? That’s signal for best head ever, and I know, I’ve gotten a lot,” he says smugly.

  A trickle of laughter filters out.

  “Edith.” Nerves tinge his voice. “I have to tell you something, but I don’t want you to get mad that I didn’t tell you earlier. It was stupid of me not to, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I probably just made everything worse.”

  My hand grows sweaty as it grips on my phone. “What is it?”

  “Luke, my Luke, is actually, erm, Harris’ personal assistant.”

  “What!” I squeak, popping up on the sofa abruptly. “So, this whole time...” I imagine Luke, Sean and Harris having a laugh at my expense.

  “Stop picturing the worst case scenario. I had never even met Harris until that day you spilled your water.”

  How does he know what I’m thinking?

  “Harris hasn’t mentioned you once to Luke. Their relationship reeks of professionalism. It’s actually quite disgusting, their emails and texts are so formal -”

  “Skip to the important part, Sean! Like why you didn’t tell me, and how this information might be important.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you. Really and truly, Harris has never brought you up to Luke and I didn’t want you to worry that things are happening behind your back. You probably feel that way now, but they aren’t. I swear.”

  “It’s okay, Sean. I understand. Thank you for telling me now.”

  “Just – well, there’s one thing you might want to know.” A lengthy pause ensues. He’s nervous again.

  “What?”

  “Independently, these events seem meaningless, but together...”

  “Just tell me!” I plead.

  “When Luke got in on Tuesday, Harris had bought him his favorite coffee. Harris rocks as a boss, never takes advantage of Luke or makes him work until all hours of the night, but he’s never brought him an almond milk latte. How did Harris even know that it’s Luke’s favorite?”