Page 98 of One Wrong Move

He’s quiet for a long, heated moment. Then he shifts away and the pressure against my hip is gone. “Yeah. That tends to happen.”

“Let me help you, too.”

“That’s not necessary.”

I turn to my side, back in his orbit. His body is warm where it touches mine. “Don’t you want to come, as well?”

He gives a sharp exhale. “Harper.”

“What?” I lift onto my elbow. “That can’t be… comfortable. Does it ache to have a hard-on? I’ve always wondered.”

“Harper,” he repeats again, but this time he chuckles hoarsely. Drapes an arm over his face. “Only you would ask me that right now.”

“I’m curious.”

“Yes, it can ache. Right now it really fucking does.” For a second, I don’t think he’s breathing. I’m not sure I am, either. But then he speaks again. “If you truly want to…”

My hand is already resting on his shoulder. I slide it down over his chest, over the sliver of taut skin on his abdomen where his T-shirt has ridden up. To the elastic of his boxer briefs.

He helps fold the band down and out of the way, and then my fingers stroke his length. Resting thick and hot against his stomach.

A jolt shoots through me.

Curiosity, and the same warm, heavy feeling from earlier overwhelm me. I close my hand around him.

He hisses and pushes his head back on the pillow.

“You okay?” I breathe. My fingers are fisted around his cock, and I feel his pulse beneath the velvety skin.

“Yes,” he bites out. “I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, Harp. Please. I need you to—” His words break off when I start to stroke. His breathing immediately hurries. The sound is harsh, and I revel in it. Revel in the strong length in my hand, in the silky softness of his head.

I can’t see him. Hidden beneath the cover, in the room that’s cast in darkness. But I feel him all the same.

And it’s exhilarating.

I stroke him firmly and listen to his sharp breaths. “You have to tell me, too,” I whisper. “What you like. What you normally do.”

“This… you’re doing great, Harp. You’re perfect.”

“Should I grip you harder?”

“You can,” he grinds out, “but it might kill me.”

I push up on an elbow. “What?”

He chuckles hoarsely. “Nothing. I’m going to come quickly tonight, baby.”

The endearment rolls off his tongue as easily as it did when it was his hand between my thighs. It sends warmth through me just as it did then.

His cock is thick, and it feels long as I stroke up the shaft. Incredibly smooth over the head. I trail my fingers down, following the vein, before finding his balls.

The man at my side goes rigid.

Gently, I play with them and settle back against the pillow. His skin is soft and warm, and the breaths that were heavy earlier are coming out labored now.

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