“Where did you come from?” I said, seeing his skin bump as my breath ghosted over his chest. “So aloof, so withdrawn by day.” My finger followed the valleys and ridges of his abdominals. “Then so dominant in bed, so fucking good in bed.”
Harry’s fingers traced my spine then dipped lower. Kissing my face, he pushed a finger inside me. My forehead fell against his chest as he fingered me from behind, brushing over my sensitive G-spot, which had barely had time to recover before he was back, punishing it with those talented hands.
Harry’s mouth moved to my ear. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long,” he said, his deep voice and fingers causing tremors to rack through me. I felt his dick harden at my thigh. I bit my lip, brushing my cheek against his. “I wanked off so many times, imagining you on this bed, in my arms, under me, screaming my name.”
“Jesus, Harry,” I said, blood heating. Harry kissed the back of my ear. Harry shifted over me, pressing my front to the mattress. It felt like a cloud beneath me; it was so soft. And it smelled of Harry’s cologne. I breathed it in as he licked from the top of my spine to the bottom. Harry gripped my hips then pulled me to all fours.
I heard the crackling of another condom wrapper being opened; then I cried out, my forehead falling to the mattress, as Harry slammed into me from behind. I moaned and moaned and moaned as he filled me so impossibly full, moaning as he crawled over me until his chest was slick against my back and his hands covered mine as I gripped the sheet. Harry took hold of my chin and, without breaking his stride, guided my lips to his. His tongue plunged into my mouth in time with his thrusts.
Harry Sinclair was owning me, merging my body with his. He was inserting himself into my heart. Everywhere was Harry Sinclair. Every breath I took, every moan he consumed. I rolled my hips back, the movement setting off a spark in him. Growling, he gently linked his fingers through mine, in stark contrast to how he’d slammed inside me from behind. I was floating. As my pussy began to clench, Harry’s cock causing all my synapses to explode, I cried out my release.
Harry grunted, froze, then came with my name on his lips. “Faith!”
I collapsed to the bed, sure I would never be able to move again. Harry lay on top of me, his strong arms keeping his weight from crushing me. But he didn’t move. He stayed inside me for as long as he could, his lips peppering kisses along the back of my neck, my hair bunched into his hands.
Turning my head, I said, “You’ve literally fucked me into the mattress.”
Harry huffed a laugh, and the sound of it, him on top of me like this, felt familiar. Too familiar. Before I could think any more of it, he moved to the side and wrapped me in his arms.
We lay in silence for several minutes, just catching our breath. I looked up and saw we were in a huge four-poster bed, the posts gilded. We lay in the center and still had masses of room on either side. My eyes widened seeing the size of the room. I was sure it was as big as my entire apartment. The walls were painted navy with panels, making it look like a manor house. Antique dressers stood under large mirrors. A couch sat beneath the window, which showed the now-darkened sky and the vast Manhattan skyline, with Central Park visible in the distance.
“Harry, the view,” I said and lifted my head from his shoulder. I moved from the bed, dragging the top sheet with me, and wrapped it around me as I walked to the huge window. I inhaled and exhaled, for once realizing just how different our lives were.
I felt Harry behind me and leaned back against him, my heart missing a beat as his strong arms wrapped around me. I could feel he was still naked. “This view,” I said and saw joggers in the distance running through the park. “It’s beautiful.”
“I agree,” he said, kissing along the side of my neck. I smiled, knowing he wasn’t even looking out the window. I turned in his arms and looked up at him. In the glow of the lights outside, he looked like the angel my concussed brain had dreamt him up to be. I wrapped the sheet around him, our bare skin joining in an embrace.
“Can’t have the Upper East Side paparazzi catching you naked.”
“They’d need one hell of a lens.” He pushed my hair back from my face; then he cupped my cheek and kissed me. But this kiss was unhurried, his tongue slowly caressing mine.