But she shook her head, back rising from the mattress as he moved quicker. “Don’t. Don’t stop.”
So he didn’t, because he would give her anything she asked for. His climax felt dangerously close already, but he needed her to come first. He dragged a finger around the slick base of his cock, then up to slide over her clit. “God, I love your perfect pussy. So wet for me. Is this mine, too?”
“Oh, god,” she cried out. “Now. Untie me.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Harp,” he teased, smirking down at her as he slowed his pace, one hand brushing the belt buckle. “Whose. Perfect. Pussy. Is. This?”
“I’ll. Say. It,” she taunted, “when I’m on top.”
He swore, more than willing to comply. She broke free in a frenzy, hands journeying across his chest, his back, his ass, then they landed in his hair, tight and unforgiving.
“This is mine?” she murmured as she nipped at his bottom lip, then again as she closed one of her pretty hands around his neck.
“Allyours.” He rolled onto his back, filling his palms with her perfect thighs as she straddled him.
“Does this still feel okay?” she asked, wide-eyed, lowering herself until she was taking all of him.Okaywas an understatement. He felt like the luckiest man on the fucking planet.
“Fuck, yes,” he muttered roughly.
Still looking straight into his eyes, she sought purchase on his chest and began to circle her hips, slowly at first, telling him what she’d promised to and more – saying things that made him gasp in rapturous shock. Then, when he began grazing her most sensitive parts with deliberately light pressure, she dissolved into wordless abandon. God, she was beautiful when she did that. Watching her use him, fuck him, was an image he wanted seared into his brain forever. Wanted it in an oil painting on his fucking wall.
Her head fell back, jerking as a whimper escaped her. “Are you close?”
He’d been close since they’d started, but he could feel the haze creeping over, the pleasure getting tighter. “So close.”
Her answering cry bounced off his ceiling, and he forced his eyes open to watch her fall apart as she clenched around him. They came together, tangled and writhing until at last she fell forwards and melted against his chest.
“Well,” she panted, “that was… liberating.”
“Aye.” He laughed thickly, kissing her forehead. “Making the most of itreally was a very, very good idea.”
21
“Nobody else knows about this,” Fraser warned as they approached his shed door.
Harper’s eyes widened. She hadn’t been very impressed when Fraser led them back to the cabin on the morning of Halloween, claiming he had a surprise for her. The place was growing on her, sure, but the only surprising thing she’d found there so far involved the big hairy spiders in the bathroom and what temperature the shower might be each day. She’d have much preferred staying at Fraser’s, having almost forgotten what sleeping in a real house felt like.
But excitement and nervousness stirred within her now. What was Fraser hiding in the shed that he’d been so tetchy about? “It isn’t a secret sex room or something, is it? I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
He laughed, and took out a rusty key. At their feet, Bernard let out a bark before running off to chase the squirrels. “No sex room. I don’t think we need one after last night.”
She flushed at the memory.
“But it is personal,” he said, “so please don’t make too much fun of me.”
“I would never do that.”
“You always do that,” he reminded.
She pursed her lips. Making fun was in her northern blood as much as her obsession for cheesy chips and gravy was, but she schooled her features to show her sincerity. “Only about silly things. If you’re trusting me with something... well, I won’t make you regret it. Promise.”
She took his hand, squeezing gently, and he relaxed. Still, his jaw ticked as he nudged the door open, and she realised he might truly be showing her something real. Something he cared about.
Fraser opened the door and they stepped inside. The air hung thick with the scent of gloss and wood shavings, chalky paint and glue. He flicked a switch, and the shed was bathed in dull light.
Harper gasped. The small outhouse hadn’t looked big enough to contain so much. The dusty space was filled with elegant furniture that was not at all the same shabby-chic style as the cabin’s. Gilded storage chests carved with swirling cartouches, wall cabinets etched with elaborate vines and flowers, tables and chairs with ornate legs and paint-speckled surfaces. Standing against the wall to her left was a sky-blue bookcase that would look perfect in a child’s room. Fluffy painted clouds billowed over the frame, which rose to a roof-like point at the top, and a colourful hot air balloon drifted above the top shelf.
“What do you mean nobody knows about this?” She whispered it as though she was in some sacred space. This wasn’t just furniture. This was art, and the style was more beautiful than any she’d seen before.“Why?” she added as an afterthought, lost for words.
