Page 27 of Burned By Sin
When I call her name, Harper’s answering laugh floats up the stairs. She climbs them silently with her socked feet, appearing in the doorway a moment later. Her green eyes sweep across the bedroom, her brow quirking with suspicion and dropping to the weighted pillowcase twisted around my hand.
“What’s that?” Harper jerks her chin outward, refusing to step any further into the room. Her shoulders are tight beneath the fabric of my hoodie, her stance guarded. For once, her bodyguard isn’t trailing behind her, so I understand the suspicion crossing her features.
“Your Christmas gift,” I say, holding out the pillowcase-wrapped masterpiece. Her brows lift skeptically, but she humors me anyway, striding closer. Staying at arm’s length, Harper’s nose wrinkles as she gives it a cautious shake. Anyone would think there’s a live cobra inside.
“Again, what’s this?” she asks, tugging at the edge of the fabric until the jar rolls into her palm, glass catching the low light. She studies it, her head tilted, a few strands of hair falling from her messy bun to brush her cheek.
“A face mask,” I answer, unable to stop the grin creeping up one corner of my mouth. “I’m going to pamper you.” I shuffle over on the bed, patting the space beside me in invitation, but she doesn’t move.
Instead, Harper’s expression shifts, something softer unfurling behind her guarded stare, and just like that, she drops into my lap. Her warmth seeps through the thin fabric of my sweatpants, her laughter humming low in her chest.
Holy shit, gift giving is amazing.
“You didn’t have to do anything for me,” Harper says, her eyesflicking up to mine. “Just being away from campus, being able to stop looking over our shoulders and just… settle. I think this trip will do all of us the world of good.” Her lips twitch. “And you being nice to Clayton wouldn’t go amiss either.”
“Now you’re asking for too much.” My grin is crooked as I reach to brush a smudge of flour from her jaw, my thumb lingering longer than it should. Forcing myself to pull back, I tug at the fabric of the hoodie. “Take this off and lie back. I’m going to look after you today, so you can have a day off from looking after us.” Her brows arch, distrust glinting in her eyes.
“Is this a trick to stick your dick in me?” I twist my lips, almost going back on my own decision. No, I must be strong. For once in my damn life, I will be selfless.
“Not this time.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” I say solemnly, even as my smirk betrays me. “Even when you eventually beg me for it, my cock is remaining firmly in my pants. That’s the second part of your Christmas present, since I know you take great joy in giving me blue balls.”
Harper’s laughter bursts out in that untamed way, and it hits me right in the chest. Like a moth, I’m drawn to her light, a genuine smile stretching across my face that’s so different from the casual smirk I usually hide behind.
Eyeing me for a long moment, Harper huffs a sound of submission that stirs the monster in me. Reaching for the hem of the hoodie, I help her peel it off, just barely withholding a groan at the strappy tank top underneath. She’s braless again, her nipples pebbling against the fabric.
I mentally chastise myself for deciding today of all days to be celibate as she climbs across the bed like a sexy minx. She knows exactly what she’s doing, her hair tumbling from its bun in that just-fucked look. Laying on her back, Harper crosses her hands over her stomach as if she’s being prepped for surgery.
“Relax,” I demand, instantly realizing that’s probably not the best tactic. Instead, I move to her side, kneading the tension from her shoulders. It takes a couple of rotations but Harper seems to beat the urge to both tense up and giggle insistently. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Her lips twitch, but she keeps them sealed, eyes fluttering closed in feigned patience. Rolling the jar between my palms to warm it, I open it to dip my fingers into the smooth mixture. The faint scent of coconut rises from the surface as I brush the first stroke across her cheek. Harper shivers, a sound caught somewhere between a sigh and a giggle, before melting into the pillows.
“It’s your turn to be worshipped,” I hum quietly. The twitch of her smile messing with the even layer I was painting onto her face.
“You’re worshipping me now?” she murmurs, half-mocking as I spread another careful streak along her jaw.
“That’s what you want. Otherwise you’d only have one man in this house desperate for your attention.” Harper’s lashes flutter open just enough to glare at me, though the creamy white face mask makes her expression adorably unthreatening. I set the jar aside and reach for the plate I’d stashed on the bedside table. Pressing two cucumber slices I stole from the kitchen over her eyes, I press play on a calming playlist on my phone. It’s meant to free her chakra or some shit like that. I didn’t really pay attention, otherwise distracted by the creation process of her face mask.
Falling quiet, Harper’s breathing evens out, and I shift down the bed, my fingers tracing over the curve of her ankle. She twitches instantly, jerking her leg back with a squeal of laughter. I reprimand her, catching her foot and pulling her sock off. Planting it on my thigh, I push my lotioned thumbs along the curved edge, rolling small circles across the pad of her foot. I’ve had enough pedicures to know how the motions should go. I’m practically certified. Relenting to me, Harper sighs, her body relaxing once more. Her toes flex against my palm, a pleased moan escapes her.
“God, that feels good,” she admits softly. I find myself smiling again, a strange warmth blossoming in my chest. It’s chased by a flutteringsensation, the thought revolving around my mind that I’m finally doing something right. I’m really getting a hang of this Christmas thing. “And this mask smells amazing,” Harper inhales deeply through her nose. “What’s in it?”
I grin to myself, working my thumbs south towards her heel. “Well, I didn’t have much to work with other than the complimentary toiletries. A bit of lotion, some cocoa butter, a spoon of honey. It’s mostly made up of its base ingredient, which is semen.” Harper jerks up onto your elbows, scraping the cucumber slices aside. An irritated sound leaves my throat. She’s supposed to be relaxing.
“Tell me you’re joking,” she demands. My brows hitch, a look of seriousness on my face. Releasing her foot, I wipe my hands clean on a towel, raking my brain for the right thing to say.
“I was just following Clayton’s instructions. Give you something you’ll like and wouldn’t gift yourself.”
“And you thought I wanted your cumrubbed into my face,” Harper’s voice turns all high pitched and squeaky. She leans forward to snatch the towel from me, wiping her face clean.
“No,” I shake my head slowly. “I thought you’d want romance. What’s more romantic than cleansed pores?” Harper pulls the towel away from her face, a smile growing across her face. A face that is glowing, by the way. She’s very welcome, that was some of my best masturbation material.
“You’re right, Rhys,” Harper flutters her lashes, all seductive-like. I shudder at those words. I know I’m right, it’s just nice to hear those words come from her full lips. Crawling her way towards me, I’m distracted by the valley of her cleavage, too slow to react to her gripping my hair, dragging my head back and straddling my thighs. The next second, the open jar is in her hands.
“There’s nothing more romantic than cleansed pores,” Harper murmurs, just before she slaps a handful of the face mask across my cheek. It hits me in the eye, seeping into my nose and mouth. I can confirm, it definitely does not taste as good as it smells.
