Page 83 of Fool Me

“Yes, all of it. There’s nothing you can’t have. You’ve been so good to me.”

“And that’s what you want, isn’t it? A good boy.”

“I just want you. The good, the bad, all of it.”

“I’ve waited and wanted for so long. I thought home was what was missing, but I’m starting to think it was you all along.”

“Stop waiting. Be a good boy and give me what I want.”

Fuck me. I’ve always enjoyed giving praise, but I’ve never had a praise kink or a desire to explore my submissive side. But if Harlowe told me to crawl over hot coals for her, I would.

There’s connection and trust with her from what we’ve shared on a personal level that makes the power exchange incredibly hot. And judging by the way she twists her fingers in my hair and grinds her hips against me, I think she’s thinking the same thing.

Her eyelids flutter shut as my mouth finally covers hers, connecting us everywhere. Her leg twines tighter around me as my tongue teases the seam of her lips. She lets me in with a moan that rocks me to my core. My other arm slips under her, wrapping around her waist, and the hand that rests on my chest between us does the same until her nails are digging into my shoulder, locking us together as we explore.

Nothing about this kiss is slow or savory, like I’d planned. The second she lets me in, I lose it. It’s a claiming kiss weeks in the making. And the first of many because I’d never tire of battling her like this. Each of us pushes the other until both of us are so worked up that neither of us knows who holds the power.

If I don’t slow us down, this is going to go from kissing to more, fast—it’s as obvious as my weeping cock between us. Once I have her, I’ll need more.

She told me to be greedy, but she has a wedding tomorrow and she’s just coming out of a long stretch of somberness.

Keeping her up all night with my dick buried deep inside her isn’t just greedy, it would be selfish. Wanting more is one thing, but taking it at the expense of her needs is something I’m unwilling to do.

I suck in a ragged breath, pressing my forehead to hers. “Fuck, darling. Slow down, there’s no rush.”

“Why are you stopping us?” There’s a frantic edge to her question.

“Not stopping. Never stopping, just pausing.”

Harlowe doesn’t break our connection as she shakes her head.

“Clover.” Warning and desperation bleed together. “You’re killing me. I want to take my time with you. Get to know what you like, memorize the noises you make, learn how it feels when you give in, and do it slowly—thoroughly.”

A noise comes from outside where people are still sitting around the fire. “Don’t make me beg.” She pouts and my resistance cracks.

As tempting as the idea of her pleading with me sounds, it’s not what I want from her tonight. “Tell me what you want.”

“Anything. I’m just not ready to stop. I need . . . more. Something to hold me over.”

“You need to come.” It’s as much a statement as it is a question.

“I need a tangible connection. One of us, both of us; I don’t care who or how, just more.”

“This is real and we have time,” I reassure, hooking her behind the knee and rolling us so she’s on top.

There’s more laughter outside and her eyes dart to the window. “Can you keep this just for us and give me a little more of you?” Her hips shift, rubbing her hot center over my hard length. A moan slips free, and she stills, tsking. “Atlas, baby, shhh . . . they’ll hear you.”

I bring my fist to my mouth, biting down my knuckle. I’d chew off my finger if it meant she’d keep moving over me, as if I could give her anything less than she’s asking for. The idea that I’d hold out is laughable.

“That’s it,” she coos and I practically explode from the praise and the sight of her.

“Keep going. I can be so good for you.”

Pleased with that answer, she places her hands on my chest and rocks. The fabric between us doesn’t dull the sensation enough. My fingertips dig into her hips. It’s everything I can do to hold on while she gets what she needs.

“You feel so good letting me use this perfect cock to give us what we need. And quiet for me, just like I asked,” she whispers in hushed tones, keeping with the game she’s playing. “I wantyou to come for me like this—show me how much this affects you, that this is real.”

I grunt my assent through sealed lips, and she takes it as a sign picking up her pace. I help her, pull her down tighter.

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