Page 25 of His Gift
"Yes, I'm going to read. I usually do it in bed until I fall asleep, but you're comfortable enough to keep me here. What are you gonna do?"
"There's a publication I wanted to check." She nods and gets more comfortable before grabbing her e-reader from the coffee table and starting to read. I don't need to snoop, because I know she's reading an old Stephen King novel. And next she has a spicy romance lined up. As I told her, I know almost everything about her. I should have dug a little deeper to avoid some mistakes that I'm still trying to recover from, but if wishes were horses…
Once she lies down, head resting on my lap, I stroke her hair and forget all about my publication.
"Time to sleep?"
"Hmm, yes."
"Good. Wait for me in bed, I'll be there in a minute."
I shower and brush my teeth in record time because I'm drawn to Harper like a divining rod to water, then slide to her side as naked as the day I was born.
"Don't you wear pajamas or something?"
"Better this way." I sneak my arms around her waist, one leg between hers. "Just like it's better that I didn't let you finish your tongue-lashing or ask me to leave, like you were going to. Am I wrong?" I feather my fingertips over her nipples and her pussy and she gifts me the sweetest sound. "Because you don't really want me gone. But if I'm wrong, you can ask me to stop." I pull her pants and underwear down her thighs and hold them in place with my knee.
And I breathe a sigh of relief when she squirms against my erection.
"You smell like chocolate, taste like the most delicious meal I've ever had," I kiss and bite her neck as my fingers keep teasing her. "And I hope you will allow me to know everything about you," I slide just the tip of two fingers inside her while I roll her nipple. "Because there's not even a little detail about you that's insignificant to me."
"Conrad…"
"I know. I meant to deal with your bad mood as I did at my house," I slide my fingers home and she moans, "but today has not been nice to you, so I will be. It doesn't mean I won't take my time."
"Not too much time."
"Oh. Why not? I love how wet you are for me, how prettily you moan." I move my fingers inside her pussy at a languid pace, enough to get her even more wet, but not to let her come. I've got her stuck, so all she can do is wiggle around, stroking my weeping cock. I want to be inside her, but I also want her acceptance, her submission. I want my gift to feel how good things could be between us if only she'd stop fighting me.
Raising a little higher, I take in her face—flushed, tense, radiant—and her eyes, brimming with emotions I don't have the skills to name. But there's lust among them, and maybe care too. We can build from there.
"You're squeezing my fingers, sweet girl. Do you want more?"
"Yes!"
"Hmm, where are your manners, my gift? Faster? Deeper? Here?" I thrust with more focus, increasing my speed and depth to ensure I hit her G-spot every time, and then I halt.
"Yes, please!"
I don't miss her rolling her eyes, yet a small smile graces her beautiful face.
"Whatever you want, my sweet girl." I start finger-fucking her relentlessly, enjoying every moan and plea rolling from her lips.
I'm almost ready to take her. I can't wait to kiss her. But there's a sweet fascination in letting her hang as well.
"Youaredealing with my bad mood, admit it."
"Am I? Maybe a little, but I'm just starting to show you what I can do, and the full extent of that will be much worse. Now let's free you." I get rid of her pants and turn her around, massaging her legs from the calves up. "Better? Hmmm, so wet, so swollen, so delicious." I punctuate each word with a lick. "Go ahead, take off your T-shirt. I want to see you in all your glory." She complies, taking her time and smirking at me, and when she throws the garment on the floor, I kiss her. Even kissing her makes me feel things I never felt before. Things that remain unnamed, but that threaten to burst my chest open.
I slide inside her, one inch at a time, savoring her heat, her velvety soft wetness, how perfectly she hugs my cock, then I let go, pounding inside of her. Harper grabs my hair and seals our mouths together, her legs wrapped around me, her hips matching mine, her moans and cries resounding deep inside me. And when she comes—dragging me deeper, squeezing me tighter—I follow her, relishing that she's filled with me. I don't want kids, but the idea of my gift carrying my seed inside her titillates a primal part of my brain.
I have her pressed on my chest and I'm drifting into a blissful sleep when she starts talking.
"Is it true you felt nothing for the other women? How is that possible?"
"It is true. I don't feel much in general. That's why you are my gift. You make me feel, Harper."
"How do I make you feel?"
