Page 14 of Wicked Wishes
“And so, you are saying.... you are....with me?” For all my bravado, my flirting, my forwardness, suddenly I am stammering and stumbling.
Harley peers down at me in the warm fall sunshine and smiles. It’s big and bright, lighting up his entire face as his eyes crinkle with it. My stomach twists up as he wets his lips and nods. Just once. It’s like code for us. We don’t say the words, but we give that nod, and that means we mean what we would say if we did.
“Yeah, Hanna. Pretty sure I have been with you since you sat your perfect little ass on my toolbox and told me you liked me. Might have told you otherwise for a while. But you knew then, and you were right, sweets.”
Smiling so wide my face hurts, I nod once too. And then I kiss him sound on the mouth, tasting the beer we shared, his usual spice, and the future. Pushing him away playfully, I run to join Hope as she throws leaves and then jumps into the mess we should be cleaning up. And a little while later, he comes and joins us too, chasing us and the furry monsters too.
Later, after we do finally clean the mess up, I walk them out. I give Hope a long squeeze and kiss since she will be gone all night. And when her daddy draws me in before the leave and kisses me good and deep, she giggles and claps her hands. Just before he goes, he tells me not to lock the door.
“Wait up for me, sweets,” he demands gently, his eyes telling me what his words can’t with little ears here.
“Be careful. Scare everyone and take their candy,” I say with a wink at Hope.
After they go, I realize I don’t much like being alone these days. I turn on Evil Dead and make some cookies, but they don’t turn out. I write a blog about Halloween makeup styles, drawing up what I want to do for Hope for her creepy doll costume. When I wipe down the counters, put away the last bit of bakeware, and sweep the hardwood twice, I decide I have done enough manual labor for the day.
Deciding I need to relax, I head for my master bath. I draw a bath in the huge sunken tub. That tub and the huge shower with the waterfall shower heads were a major selling point of the house. Closing my eyes, I imagine standing beneath the hot spray of the showers, body soaped up and slick beneath the water.
Harley is there—he isalwaysthere—his big hands cleaning me before blunt fingers sneak between my legs. He stares into my eyes as steam billows around us and he fingers me to an orgasm, a look of ownership twisting his handsome face when I come. He takes my mouth before he drops to kneel in front of me and kisses my pussy as hot and wet as he just kissed my mouth.
“Maybe I need acoldbath,” I grumble before I dump in some bubbles.
Stepping out of my sweatshirt and panties, I moan as I sink into the warm water. Scratch that cold bath.I need this.To soak in some steaming hot suds to chase away the ache. Only I know it won’t work because it never does. That ache that burns between my legs won’t go away with a hot bath or even a night spent with my hand between my legs. Because that ache yearns for one thing—Harley Lane to chase it away.
“Will be later than I thought,” a text glows on my screen as I am popping popcorn, “trust that I will be back tonight. Wait for me.”
Pouting as I sprinkle some salted butter and a handful of Raisinets into my popcorn, I throw my phone on the counter. Maybe he will come over and we can do take our relationship out of the shadows. Or he won’t—but I won’t let him ruin my night. I cue up my favorite horror film—Texas Chainsaw—and wrap my black silk robe around me. I stay bare beneath it—hoping that he will come. I also pull knee high socks on and leave my wet hair up in a bun, figuring he won’t.
Darkness falls fast and I do my best to be patient. To wait for him. I go still when I hear a noise, my heart starting to pitter-pat. When a meow fills the quiet and I see Whiskers wander in, I laugh. Left my door open for my pussy—but I meant the one between my legs. I snicker when I think about us talking about him watching me touch myself and sneaking around like a stalker—not that I mind.
Harley likes to have his eyes on me, and I like it that way.
Closing my eyes, I let myself pretend he is watching me now. I promised to wait up for him, but I fall asleep knowing he promised to come. He comes in late, not bothering to knock or wait for me to come to the door. He knows I want him here. He would kneel before me and fit his big body between my thighs, pushing them open with his broad shoulders.
I am in a twilight sleep, so I feel his big, rough hands on my bare skin. It wakes me but I feign otherwise. I want to see what he will do. And when he spreads my robe open and whispers my name softly to let me know it his him, I can barely breathe. And then his warm lips press to my knee, my thigh, and his hands slowly push my thighs wider.
Before I can stop him—not that I would, of course—his mouth covers my pussy and I almost come from the first swipe of his tongue through my slit. He grunts because I am wet for him, sitting here waiting for him to come to me. His beard is rough against my skin, but I love it. And when he sucks at my clit and bites down, I do come. So hard I shout his name and fist his dark hair, rubbing myself against his sinful tongue until another orgasm starts.
“Jesus, if only,” I grunt now as I squirm on the couch all alone.
Turning up the scary movie, I slide my hand between my thighs, finding my sex wet and tender. I rub slowly at my clit, gasping when pleasure starts to rocket through me. My other hand pushes at my robe, baring my breasts so I can cup a handful. I forget everything else but the pass of my fingers over my skin. The rub of my thumb over my nipples as they bud up. I want his touch, his hands, his mouth, but for now, this will have to do.
“Yes! Harley,” I moan loudly, not caring about getting caught or being coy.
I slip two fingers inside myself as I grind my palm against my clit. My knees are up and open and I am on complete display. As I finger myself and rub at my tits, I moan his name. He could walk in and catch me like this and part of me hopes he does.
If he were to find me pleasuring myself but thinking of him, maybe he would finally take care of me the way I need.
I come with fantasies of him in my head and his name on my lips. My head falls back, and I groan, my thighs quaking as my orgasm roils through me. I pull my fingers from my slit and bring them to my mouth, wondering if he would like how I taste. I lick at my own cum gingerly, curious. My eyes track motion in the darkness, and I stop moving.
Did I just imagine him watching me touch myself—or is Harley out there?
Chapter Nine
Harley
I watch her as if I am a Nightstalker, hiding in the shadows.
“Yes! Harley!”
