Page 79 of Country Contract

Harrison slides his two fingers into me, stretching me even more and rubbing our cum along his shaft inside me. I feel his dick twitch more, and I shiver beneath him.

When he pulls his fingers free, I lookover my shoulder and watch him bring them to his mouth, licking them clean. He keeps hard eye contact with me as his tongue licks his messy fingers.

“You. Are. Mine.”

I am.

For the next three and a half weeks.

Chapter 32

Harrison

Driving Harlow back to the bunkhouse takes every ounce of my moral strength. I don’t want to, but we have that whole no-sleeping-over clause. Which doesn’t make sense to me since we have a termination date anyway. We’re going to end things no matter what.

I’d rather not have to get out of my bed or hers afterward. I’d rather just lie there naked with her and wake up in the morning for possibly another round. Harlow is a stickler for being the mature one and making sure things don’t get messy.

We had gone for two more rounds, one in my bedroom and one in the kitchen when we went to get something to drink. I’ve never had sex anywhere but a bed before her. What started as sharing a cold glass of water led to her dropping to her knees, followed by my bending her over the counter.

I’ve walked in on Hunter and Cassidy before while they were enjoying themselves on the staircase, and it was horrifying. I couldn’t understand why they couldn’t just wait toget to the bedroom. Now I know. I wouldn’t have waited to get to the bedroom if it had cost me a limb.

Harlow is spent. She’s fully relaxed in her seat and didn’t even bother with the buckle. I can tell her exhaustion is from more than just the physical aspects of our evening.

I don’t even know how to wrap my head around her arranged marriage. It’s so archaic. Surely if Cassidy hears about this, she’ll lose her damn mind. She’s all about supporting women and giving them the choice. I don’t know how to approach or work around this situation with Harlow, but I know Cassidy would be a great help. The only problem with that is that I would have to disclose everything, including the contract.

When I pull up to the bunkhouse, I notice that Harlow is already asleep. In less than five minutes, she’s sleeping like the dead.

“Darlin’,” I whisper as I put my truck in park.

She stirs a little, turning toward me.

“Darlin’, we’re back at the bunkhouse.” I brush her hair out of her face, rubbing my knuckles against her high cheekbones. Harlow leans into my touch, and I feel my heart skip a beat for a moment.

“Darling? Since when? It’s always witch or sorceress. I think I might have even heard you mutter evil one once.” She states with a raspy sleepy tone.

I chuckle in response.

“So, I’m heading out of town next weekend to go check out a litter of pups and a Hanoverian mare. Want to get out of town with me and help me pick a few new friends?”

“Yeah. If you tell me the name of the town, I might look and see if there is like a spa or something. I need a pedicure and maybe a massage.” Harlow stretches her arms above her head and yawns.

A spa? Out here? Or in Palos Valley? Not happening. She’ll have to do that when she gets home, sadly. Maybe Cassidy can take her into the city or something. They have all kinds of stuff like that up there. She could introduce Harlow to her friends and make another girls’ weekend out of it.

“I’ll ask Cassidy about that. She knows all about that stuff.” I hop out of the truck, walk Harlow up to the stairs, and kiss her goodnight. It feels kind of shitty going back to my place alone. We have less than a month left. I want to get as much time as possible. I want to hear more about the writing she had mentioned to me. I want more movie nights and dinners together.

I just want a little bitmore.

Harlow

I didn’t go back to sleep last night. In fact, I didn’t go to sleep until about five this morning and woke back up at seven. I’m running on empty, and it’s never felt better.

After Harrison dropped me off, I had a cup of tea and snuggled up with Cleo in bed. I picked up some of my recent scribbles and read over them. Before I realized it, I was writing again.

This time, it wasn’t narrative in style. It was poetry. Writing is helping me enjoy the little things in life again. It’s taking the weight of any turbulent feelings off my shoulders.

This expression means more to me than any other hobby I’ve had. It’s a little all over the place, but I think that’s okay. I imagine that it doesn’t matter how I’m doing it as long as I am.

This current cup of coffee isn’t helping. I think I’m going to need a nap in a little bit. If it weren’t for Cleoscaring the shit out of me this morning by knocking over one of the decorative vases in the kitchen, I would still be asleep.

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