Mister O(68)

“Nick, you need to show me how to put it on you,” she says in a voice that’s quiet, but full of heat.

Not gonna lie. I love that she’s no expert in this. I take the condom from her, making sure it’s going on the right way. “Pinch the tip,” I tell her, and she nods and does as told.

“Now roll it down,” I say, and with a small grin, she does the job.

I point to my hard-on and give her an order. “Now get the fuck on my dick.” She shivers and then straddles me and sinks down in one smooth motion.

“Jesus Christ, Harper.” A shudder wracks my body as she rises up on me, then strokes back. “You turn me on so much,” I mutter, in the understatement of the century.

“Just like you do to me,” she says on a gasp as she rides my shaft, her hands curling tightly over my shoulders. She’s fully dressed except for her panties, and I’m completely naked, and I love the power exchange.

“So fucking hot. My sexy librarian is so fucking hot,” I say.

“Why is this your fantasy?”

I can’t think straight. Can’t answer with any intelligence. But I don’t need to when the answer is elementary. “Don’t know. It just is.”

I drop my hands to her bare ass, squeezing and drawing out a series of quick little gasps. “Why do you like it when I touch your ass?”

“I don’t know,” she answers with a broken breath. “I just do.”

Just like. Just is. Just do. That’s what we are. We are electric, and it’s just that way. I bring my hands to her face and cup her cheeks. “Let down your hair for me.”

She reaches up and unclips those red strands. They spill down her back in a soft tangle, and I thread a hand through them, my other hand gripping her hip as she moves on me. When I sense her getting closer, I grasp her harder, guiding her up and down, controlling her moves, watching her face contort in exquisite pleasure.

Her back arches, bowing into me, and then she cries out, a wild, long, intense moan that goes on forever. Grabbing her hair hard and twisting it in my fist, I fuck her through her climax, burying myself in her until my whole body quakes as I come undone, too.

Her arms grip me, her lips kiss my face, her hands hold me tight, and I don’t want this to stop, I don’t want it to end. I want Harper to want me this same wild and crazy way, like she can’t get enough of me. Because, hell, it’s become that way for me.

It just has.





29





Gino holds a glass of champagne high and beams. “To the creator of the most popular show on late-night TV.”

A sea of shiny, sparkly network executives, agents, advertisers, and other glitterati in the business of showbiz clap and join in the hear, hears.

I give a quick wave to the crowd. Gino grabs my arm and holds it up, like he’s a coach and I’m his prize fighter in the ring. “This man is going places,” Gino adds. “His show is going to be the biggest hit on all of TV soon. Just you wait.”

More cheers come from the crowd at this posh, upscale establishment on the Upper West Side.

“Just keep the viewers coming,” I say with a smile, since Gino eats up those jokes like candy.

He fake punches me and then downs his champagne. He pulls me away from the crowd to the edge of the oak-paneled bar.

“Now listen, Hammer. I’m seeing Tyler on Monday. It’ll all come together then. Good news is headed your way,” he says, with a glint to his eyes.

“Whenever it happens is all good,” I say, and cast my eyes to Harper waiting for me on a red velvet lounge at the edge of the joint, her drink on a low, dark wood table. She flashes a small smile in my direction, a little curve of her lips that’s both sweet and sexy, and it feels entirely like a private grin just for me. I’m trying to savor these moments with her, knowing they’ll run out of steam in about forty-eight hours.

Fuck.

I want to slow down time. I want to stretch the next two days and three nights into a year.

Gino follows my eyes. “Oh.” He says it in a salacious tone, as he licks his lips. “You’ve got your friend with you again.”

I just nod. There’s nothing I need to say to Gino about Harper.

He shakes his head in appreciation. “She is a sight for sore eyes.” He lowers his voice and nudges me. “Is it true what they say about redheads?”

Oh no, he didn’t. I jerk my head toward him. “What the . . .?”

He sighs longingly. “What I wouldn’t give for a piece—”

My jaw clenches, and I meet his gaze straight on. “With all due respect, you really need to stop saying that shit every time I’m with her.”