Page 54 of Tangled Desires

“Yes! Now please, hurry up,” she groans. I settle between her thighs, ignoring the mess, gripping my cock and swiping a thumb over the pre-cum.

“But how good?” I tease, lining myself up, drawing it out just to see her squirm.

She clamps her thighs around my waist. “Harrison, you’ve got five seconds to put your dick in me or I’m grabbing my shit and—oh, God—” I thrust deep, burying myself to the hilt, cutting her off.

“Not God, baby. Me. And you’re gonna scream my name,” I growl, the tight heat sending a shockwave straight to my balls. I keep driving into her, deep and steady, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Her cry echoes, sharp and breathless.

“Ahh—so good.” It fuels the fire burning through me, every thrust harder, faster. My hips roll, finding that perfect angle, her head tilting back, but I grab her chin, forcing her eyes on me. My voice drops.

“Look at me, Immy. I want those blue eyes on me when you fall apart.” She locks onto me, matching my rhythm, her hips meeting every thrust, and it drives me wild. My thumb presses against her clit, circling tight and fast. “One more,” I rasp. “We’re not done until you do. Come with me this time.”

Her moans spill louder, her hands finding her bouncing breasts, cupping them as she begs. “Harder, Harrison.”

I give her everything, pounding into her with unrelenting force. She tightens around me, her cries spurring me on. My thumb moves faster, my grip on her hips solid, anchoring us both. Her head tips back again, and I lean in, my voice a growl in her ear.

“Feel that? You’re so fucking tight, Immy. Let go for me.” Her scream shatters the air, my name breaking from her lips like a plea and a command all at once.

“Harrison… oh, God—”

That pressure in my balls finally snaps, and I thrust deep, groaning as my orgasm rips through me. She clenches tight, pulsing around me, her body arching as she falls apart, dragging me with her. “That’s it, sugar,” I rasp, barely holding on, my voice raw as I spill into her. We collapse together, breathing hard, and I glance down, grinning at the sight of her—wrecked, perfect, mine.

Her eyes flutter open, a lazy smile pulling at her lips. “I don’t think I can get up to go to the toilet,” she mumbles. I laugh, beaming down at her.

“You’re welcome.”

“Shut up,” she mutters, rolling her eyes, but I can’t help but laugh harder.

I get up, grab a towel from the bathroom, and toss it to her. She wipes herself down, still dazed, and I pull her to her feet. “C’mon.”

Her brows furrow, curious. “Where are we going?”

“The other bedroom,” I say, tugging her along. “I can’t be bothered cleaning that up now.” I flick on the light, grab a t-shirt and shorts for us both, and hand them to her. She pulls them on, the clothes swallowing her, and climbs into bed.

“Where are you going now?” she calls out as I turn to leave.

“To the couch. Figured you’d want some space,” I reply.

“Harrison, you just railed the fuck out of me. I think we’re past space.” Her amused tone makes me grin despite myself.

“Fair, but I was getting this room ready for you, anyway. It’s technically yours. I’ll be just outside.”

“Just come here. One night won’t hurt.” I sigh, switching off the light and sliding into bed beside her. She turns away, her steady breathing filling the quiet.

“Goodnight,” she murmurs.

“Night, Immy.”

But even with her so close, a strange emptiness lingers. I crave something deeper—something to match the intensity I feel for her. This connection is unlike anything I’ve known, and it terrifies me how much I need her. I want her to help me through this, make the nights easier, but I’m failing already. As silence stretches on, I realise I’m not just afraid of my feelings; I’m scared of how much she could mean to me.

18

“Sorry I’m late! Traffic was a nightmare.” I walk into the salon, the familiar scent of shampoo and hairspray hitting me like a tidal wave.

Which is true, but only part of it. I mean, first, Harrison was acting all weird and distant. One minute, he’s laughing and being all flirty and the next, he’s staring at me like he’s never seen me before. I spent the whole ride home wondering if I fucked up—let my hormones take the wheel, and now I’m stuck in this mess.

He hasn’t said a word since, and here I am, obsessing over it. Am I leading him on? Could we actually get by as platonic friends? If last night was any indication, there’s no way that’s happening. Last night proved that’s a joke.

I know I’ll be needing more of that relief, and a girl can only put up with her vibrator for so long before it loses its charm.Isn’t it ironic? Just when things finally seem a little less messy, everything falls apart again.

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