Page 75 of His to Teach
“Just let go,” he urges, spanking even harder. “Let it all go, Harper.”
I realize that I’m crying, tears running down my cheeks, sobs stuttering from my throat. He was right about this, about what I needed. A release, he had promised. A reward. One I desperately crave.
“Good girl,” he murmurs in between slaps, and my heart swells at his praise. “You’re perfect Harper. You’re everything.”
Then I met you, and it all changed.
That’s what he told me before, and the words could have been my own. He changed everything the day he came into my life.
“Nate,” I gasp out against the mattress. “I need?—”
But he doesn’t give me a chance to finish. He already knows exactly what I need, knows it better than I even do. Had known since the moment I walked in this room. This was always where we were headed—me splayed and open across his lap, Nate in total control, bringing me to the edge of the most perfect, beautiful pain.
After one last stinging slap, he jerks me up to straddle him. “I know, angel,” he whispers against my lips, fumbling with his belt, his zipper. “I know what you need. I need it too.” He pauses, looking into my eyes. “Condom?”
I shake my head frantically, not wanting a thing between us.
He groans and then pushes inside, deep inside, exactly where he belongs, his lips hot on my neck as I gasp, this time in pure pleasure.
“I love you, Harper,” he whispers into my neck. “I fucking love you.”
My heart is soaring as I rock against him, sobs still wracking my body. I can’t tell anymore if they’re from the pain or the intense pleasure in my core or the joy in my heart at his words. Maybe they’re from all of it.
A perfect release. That’s what this moment is. All of the sadness and rejection from before is expelled in these tears, replaced by nothing but peace and love and desire.
“I love you too,” I whisper back, holding him as close as I possibly can. “I love you so much.”
NATE
Iwake to loud noises from the kitchen. It sounds like someone is banging pots and pans together in there. Which is odd, because I’m pretty sure it’s Thursday and my cleaning lady comes at the beginning of the week.
Something soft and warm is pressed against me and it hits me in a blinding flash of remembrance. Harper’s room. Getting all of our shit out into the open. Feeling her release all the pent-up emotions of the day under my palm. Our bodies colliding together in amazing pleasure.
Saying I love you.
Shit. I blink my eyes open to see a mess of honey blond waves draped over my chest. She makes this little wheezing noise on each exhale when she sleeps, the sound well-known to me after all these weeks, and something in my chest tightens when I hear it. Waking up to her is becoming familiar and that makes me want to laugh with unbridled joy.
Another clanging noise interrupts my sentimentality and Harper groans into my chest. “Emma,” she mumbles. “Always does this in the morning.”
“Perhaps you should be spending more mornings at my house, then,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head. She nestlesinto me, her hips wiggling a little, maybe with happiness, and I can’t constrain my grin.
“She usually has coffee waiting,” Harper says. “That’s the only silver lining to her morning routine.”
“Stay here,” I tell her. “I’ll go get us some.”
She mumbles something as she burrows farther into the blankets, still probably half asleep, and I slide out from under her, finding my slacks draped over her desk chair.
“Morning,” I call to Emma as I walk into the kitchen, not wanting to startle her. She startles anyway, dropping a cast iron pan to the counter top with a gasp.
“Shit!” she says, hand over her heart. “I didn’t think you’d be up yet.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How do you think we could have slept through that?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not that loud.”
“Mmmhmm,” I say, sliding past her to the coffee pot. “Mugs?”
“Cabinet over your head,” she directs, and I pull two down. “Cream’s on the table.”
