Page 71 of The Heartstrings of Harry
I sat there for a moment, staring at the last sip of my drink, Bea’s words ringing in my head as though she’d just read my mind—andmy heart.
When Harry came back, he found me smiling.
HARRY
The night airwas soft and warm as we left Bea’s, the hum of the jukebox fading behind us, the trail ahead lit only by the moon and the scatter of stars overhead.
Dean walked beside me, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, head tipped back just enough to catch the glow of the sky. His shoulder bumped mine gently as we took the shortcut along the forest trail out toward Percy’s Pond on the way home. The crickets were singing, the leaves overhead rustling just enough to keep the world from feeling too still.
Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to.
I’d walked this trail a thousand times, but tonight it felt different. Like every turn in the path was leading me somewhere I’d never been before.
The pond came into view, still and silver under the moonlight, the water glassy and calm. The old white gazebo stood just off the bank, half -hidden beneath a sweeping willow, the paint flaking a little, but holding steady—like everything in this town.
Dean slowed, then turned to me with a crooked little smile that hit me square in the chest.
“C’mere,” he said softly, reaching out and lacing his fingers through mine.
God, I would’ve followed him anywhere.
He tugged me toward the gazebo, stepping up onto the creaky old boards, leading me under the soft shadows of the roof where the moonlight caught the edges of his blond hair, casting him half in light, half in dark.
I barely had time to take a breath before he was pressing me back against one of the posts, his mouth finding mine like he’d been starving for it.
I groaned, grabbing his hips and pulling him to me, every inch of him fitting against me like we’d been made to fit this way. His lips were soft but insistent, hungry, tongue slipping into my mouth with a needy sound that shot straight to my gut.
“Dean,” I whispered against his lips, but he didn’t stop, just pressed closer, his fingers tugging my shirt free from my jeans, sliding under to touch bare skin.
“I’ve wanted to kiss you all night,” he breathed, kissing his way down my neck, teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. “I’ve been losing my mind wanting you.”
I groaned again, hands sliding down to cup his young, firm ass, pulling him tighter against the hard line of my cock, already aching for him.
“You’re not the only one,” I muttered, dipping my head to bite softly at his jaw, then lower, to the curve of his throat. “You drive me crazy.”
Dean trembled against me, and I could feel the anticipation rippling through him, his hands slipping up under my shirt, fingers splayed across my stomach, ruffling my fur like he couldn’t decide whether to kiss me or tear my clothes off.
He settled on both.
I let him tug my shirt up and off, arms raised, and the second it hit the ground, his hands were on me again, mouth following, kissing down my chest, his fingers finding my belt.
“God, Harry,” he whispered, voice shaky but sure. “I need you.”
I cupped his face, tilting it up so I could look him in the eye. “You got me.”
He smiled, soft and sweet, and it broke me a little—the trust in his eyes, the way he looked at me like I was something good. I hoped to God I wouldn’t disappoint him.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the condom packet I’d shoved in there before I left the house—just in case. I had a small pillow of lube too.
Dean’s eyes caught the movement, and his smile turned wicked. “Just like a big boy scout,” he said, chuckling into my mouth. “Always prepared.”
He reached for his own shirt then, pulling it off and tossing it aside. His skin glowed silver in the night, lean and perfect, muscles taut beneath that smooth, pale skin.
I kissed him again, harder this time, walking him backward until his knees hit the bench inside the gazebo. He sat, then leaned back, pulling me down on top of him, legs spreading to cradle me between his thighs.
“God how I want you,” he breathed, fingers fumbling at my jeans, desperate. “Please, Harry—God, Ineedyou.”
I kissed him again, slower now before dipping lower, down his neck, across his chest, tasting him, taking my time even though my cock was throbbing with the need to be inside him.
