Chapter 25

Kent

I've never met a woman like Harper. She looks like a supermodel, talks without a filter, thinks like a genius, and has a sexual appetite matching mine. She's my dream, and I never want to wake up to find her gone.

The distant sound of her fingers gliding over a keyboard has become the soundtrack to my life. Consider me the 'Swiftie' version of Harper's biggest fan.

She's turned my dining room into her makeshift office, a fact my Uncle Dan has no idea of. He has a portable office for them to work in, but Harper doesn ' t seem to understand work hours, especially when it pertains to Poppy. I respect that.

Harper's been working around the clock. As soon as she comes home, she sits at the computer here and starts again. The only way I've been able to get her to sleep is after I've fucked her senseless. I run my hand through my hair; saying we "fuck" has lost its appeal; it sounds sour, and that ' s because sometimes we are not just fucking.

I'm eating crow, trying to swallow down the bones and feathers. I made fun of Julian for saying he "makes love" to Poppy when, in reality, I feel like I ' m making love to Harper sometimes... OK, ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent is pure carnal need.

I hear the turn of the key; she's the only woman with a key to my Dallas penthouse. She's also the only one who initially tossed the key into the trash when I gave it to her. When I fished it out, she declared she was "going to shove it up my ass." My joke about shoving my cock inside of her to return the favor only made her snatch the key back, toss it into her bag, and then strip me bare. What followed was two hours of hate-fucking/ making love to each other.

I grin as the door swings open, then I grab the bottle of wine and pour her a glass. Unlike my brother, I don ' t try to cook. Much like Harper, me in a kitchen is a scary sight. Unless I was naked, that and the meal was my body. Actually, that's a good idea. Every woman loves a naked chef serving up a hard cock.

I snicker.

Thank God I was born in this era when I could simply open an app and place an order. I do that every night. Tonight, we have a good old Texas BBQ.

Harper comes in the door, her long blonde hair cascading down as she bends to take her shoes off. Jesus, the way she bends…she doesn ' t slump but keeps her legs perfectly straight, making sure her backside is high and jutting out.

I glance from the food to her.

To hell with dinner. We ' ll make love first and eat later.

Yeah, I said it, 'make love'. I want to savor her body like a bottle of fine wine.

I set the wine down and close the distance. As soon as she stands, my lips are on hers, kissing and provoking. I never know what version of her I ' m going to get when I kiss her. Sometimes, she's feisty; sometimes, she likes to lead, and other times, she melts in my arms and lets me take over.

I pull back and look at her. Tonight, there's a new version of her. It's lackluster, not just from working all day, but something else.

" What ' s the matter, Siren?" I ask her as I push her hair back, the strands as smooth as silk under my fingers. I inch my fingers into her hair and begin to massage her scalp, one of her melting points. It usually bends her to my will.

" I'm a goat," she replies.

I snort a laugh. " I know that."

Her forehead furrows. " You know?"

" Of course, I know you ' re the goat," I drop my hands to her hips and lift her. The way her legs effortlessly wrap around my waist makes me swell with desire. I begin to walk her to my bedroom. " Why do you look so glum?"

" Glum, what are you, a seventy-year-old man? Who says glum?" she jokes as she rests her cheek against my chest.

I grin and press my pelvis into hers. " Does this feel like a seventy-year-old man?"

She rolls her eyes. " I don ' t want to envision an old wrinkly penis, Kent."

" Till death do us part, Siren," I say, setting her on the dresser so I can look her in the eye. I plan to start here, then move to my bed. I have a goal to make love on all the surfaces of my apartment so that everywhere I look, I will see a memory of Harper in that very spot.

" That only applies to married couples, and I ' m never getting married," she grunts as she reaches out and runs her fingers along my jawline. Who knew a simple touch could be so relaxing?

Her words, however, irk me. My molars grind together, and I choose not to respond to her comment. " Why are you so sad about being the greatest of all time?" I ask, then lean in and kiss her neck. Mmm, the scent of her perfume—it's not some floral concoction that smells overpowering; it's just clean and fresh.

" What?" She says as her legs slacken from around my waist.

" G.o.a.t. It means greatest of all time," I clarify, nibbling at the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder.

" What?" She pulls away.

" Goat. That ' s what you meant. You're the greatest woman of all time," I reassure her.

Her blue eyes look down, then lower. I know she can see the outline of my arousal. She smirks. " Sometimes I wonder if your last two neurons have stopped functioning. Goat means I ' m the scapegoat."

Huh? I stop kissing her, now thoroughly confused.

" Since no one believes a word you say, I can tell you the truth. We have a mole. Your uncle has handed off the real research to another team, and now I'm just working as a decoy to catch the mole."

" What?"

She rolls her eyes. " I'll give you a minute to catch up," she says, her hands beginning to massage my shoulders.

" Uncle Dan ' s team has a mole?"

She nods. Then she tells me about how Andrew texted Julian while he was at dinner with Poppy.

I swallow, my hands locking onto her hips. " Are they safe?"

She nods. " But I have no idea who this other team is. Dan insists I stay out of it. On our end, we are still running the investigation, but he and I are planting false leads to catch the mole." She admits as her shoulders slump.

" How does that make you the scapegoat, though?"

" Because I ' m going to take all the blame for failing my best friend. I ' m not going to be the one to save her. Someone else is."

I ' m not going to tell her that a part of me is relieved she isn ' t working this case. Andrew and his father have no limits, and I don ' t want my woman tangled in that mess.

" You don ' t always have to be the hero, Siren," I tell her.

" Yes, I do."

" Sometimes it ' s OK to be the sidekick, other times the cheerleader," I lean in and kiss her. " I think you ' d look great cheering on the sidelines," I whisper over her lips, then delve deeper, not wanting her to respond but just to feel.

She begins to moan, her breath growing hard and labored, just like my cock. When she swirls her tongue around mine, I know I ' m done. I ' d bend down and worship her at her feet if she promised to kiss me like this every day.

This is coming from a guy who doesn ' t like to kiss. In the past, I liked to get straight to the point. Not with Harper, though. It ' s the foreplay that drives me feral. It ' s the tit for tat, the sexy lingerie she wears while walking around my house.

One day, she strutted around while getting dressed in red lace panties. I had an aneurysm when she bent over to get dressed, and I noticed they were crotchless. Literally, the woman is trying to kill me and my cock! I took her three times before I let her walk out the door.

Now, I want to bend her over every day just to see what she ' s wearing underneath her work clothes.

With Harper, it's not just about the release—it's about the anticipation, the slow burn. Every kiss, every touch, every teasing glance she throws my way is intoxicating. I ' ve never felt this way about anyone before, and I can't get enough.

" Kent," she mewls, her hand sliding down my jawline to my trousers, just teasing the zipper.

" Tell me what you need," I pant. Can a cock physically explode from being so turned on and hard? What's the time limit before that happens?

Her hands reach out, fumbling for the button then zipper of my pants. I grip the hem of her shirt and pull it off. A black lace bra with small pink bows at the straps looks back at me. She wore this to work! Jesus. I love it and hate it all at the same time. What if someone else saw?

I cup both her breasts and nuzzle my nose between them; then, I tenderly kiss each nipple through the lace. The way her body melts directly into mine is such a fucking turn-on.

"I need you to fuck me, hard and fast," she purrs as her warm, smooth hands-free my arousal. My head tips back at the sensation. It's like finding heaven in Harper's hands. "And then I need you to apologize," she adds, her grip tightening to a mixture of pleasure and pain.

I look down at her, confused. "Apologize for what?" I manage, my focus blurred by her touch.

"For what?" She teases, leaning forward, jumping off the dresser while keeping one hand gripping my cock. She guides me back to my bed. My back hits the mattress as she climbs on and straddles me. Slowly, she lowers herself and kisses the tip.

Fuck me…seriously she needs to fuck me because I might come from this vision alone.

" What?" I mutter as she opens her mouth, sticks out her tongue, and licks me from root to tip.

"Why are you sorry?" she persists, as she looks up at me with hooded, seductive eyes.

At this point, frustration mixes with desire. "I don't know, Harper. I ' m sorry, OK?" I snap, unable to think straight with her hands and mouth on me. " Siren, you know I love foreplay, but if you don ' t put my cock in your mouth or pussy, I ' m gonna die. Do you really want to be charged with my murder?" I joke as I buck my hips up.

She snickers. "Fine, I'll tell you. Only because I don ' t look good in a jumpsuit," she teases, inching up my body, her lace-covered pussy beginning to grind against me, soaking through the fabric. I reach out, fingers diving under the lace, as she continues, "You called me a fucking cheerleader." She deadpans.

"That's why you ' re acting out?" I hiss, irritation battling with arousal. "Doesn't every woman want to be a cheerleader?" I mutter.

"I'm not every woman."

"I know; anyone else would be riding my cock right now," I grumble, then I playfully wink. "Seriously, look at that work of art, long and thick, begging you to get on it. Consider my body a museum where you can taste and touch the full experience." I buck my hips again.

She tries to hide her laugh by biting her bottom lip. I want to reach out and free it so I can hear her.

She hesitates, her eyes inching lower to my sex. I love that I can be so stupid with her. It's a mask we both wear, playing silly and dumb to hide what is so broken inside. One day, we are both going to have to face it. I just hope we're still together when we do. I'll rebuild her and fix what has been broken, but I want her to do the same to me. I don't want to be left a mess.

I grin the moment I see her cave; she reaches down, pushes her panties aside, and positions herself above me. I try to be the perfect gentleman and help her push her panties aside, but she swats my hand away. "I ' m not a cheerleader," she replies sharply.

"OK, noted. Just fuck me already." As I said, Harper has many different versions of herself, and tonight, it seems I have the crazy side. If it were any other woman, I ' d zip up my pants and show her the door.

Maybe I am insane and have only two neurons left because no matter what side I take, I ' ll devour her.

She lines me up to her sex, and slowly, so fucking slowly, she sinks onto me. "Do I feel like a cheerleader or a sidekick?" She purrs like the devil. Consider me a demon because I'm down for this, for whatever she wants to do. Sign me the hell up.

She pushes up on her knees and then sinks onto me again, up and down. "I ' m the mother-fucking hero, Kent. Don't you forget it?" She rolls her hips and then begins to fuck me. Hard.

When I try to touch her, she grabs my hands and keeps a hold of them. The only thing she allows me to do is meet her thrust as I grind upward. She looks like a vision, taking what she wants from me, holding me down. A fucking vision! I don ' t know if she is an angel or a devil. Maybe both.

Her foreplay act starts to crack, her serious face softening as her lips part. " Oh God, Kent. Yes! Yes! Right there!" Her voice trembles, and her sex squeezes my cock so tight I can ' t move. I just feel for a moment; her fingers slacken their hold on my wrists. She frees me and reaching out, I grab her hips, lifting her up and then slamming her down on me.

" You ' re mine!" I roar. " Mine, Harper. Do you understand?"

She reaches up and grabs her breasts, kneading them.

Nope! Those are mine, too.

I sit up so I can thrust into her better, grab her hands, and replace them with my mouth on her breast. Teasing, I suck her nipple into my mouth before I bite it. " These are mine, too."

Her blue eyes lazily look down, filled with a haze of pleasure. One more thrust into her perfect body, and we're both coming and it ' s the longest orgasm of my life.

Every second with her is a blend of ecstasy and madness. The way she claims control, the way she surrenders—it ' s intoxicating. I never knew I could feel this way, so utterly consumed by another person. Harper isn ' t just a part of my life; she ' s the air I breathe, the fire that fuels me. And in moments like this, when we ' re completely lost in each other, I know I ' ll never let her go.

She collapses on top of me and then laughs; her body shakes with so much laughter that she ends up rolling off of me. "I ' ve never had a woman laugh after I fuck her," I say as I try to catch my breath.

"Kent, seriously," she giggles.

"What ' s so funny?" I question, pushing up on my elbows. I look down at my body; it ' s a work of art. I don ' t get it.

"Hero?" Harper says as she sits up, her face slightly pink from her giggles, her full breasts still in her lace bra. I want to reach over and rip it off, then fuck her again and ask her if she can still laugh.

"I ' m trying to find your line, you sex-crazed idiot." she finally says.

"My what?"

"Your line." She reaches out and runs her index finger down my chest. "Where will you draw it? How much crazy is too much." She giggles, "Did you seriously think I was acting normal?"

"You never act normal."

She shakes her head, and then it clicks. She is still trying to push me away, trying to fuck this up, make me scared or too tired. She ' s trying to act crazy in hopes I ' ll give up on her. I dated a chick once that made me watch that movie about a woman who acted crazy in order to get the guy to dump her. I can't remember the name; it's something about dating and getting a guy to dump you in a matter of days.

I ' ve never had a problem finding women; in fact, getting them to leave has always been the issue. Figures the one woman I don ' t want to leave my bed continues trying to. Eventually, Harper will run out of ideas like the girl in the movie did.

I have to admit, this was a good one; I really thought there was a part of her that was clinically insane.

I reach out and flip her on her back; her eyes widen with lust as she sinks into my mattress. I got the new mattress just for her.

"You ' re attracted to crazy, then?" she giggles. " Next time, I ' ll just act like a nun; maybe that will push you away," she jokes.

"I ' m up for playing nun and priest." I bend down, catching the edge of her bra between my teeth as I lower it, then suck on her nipple. Her laughter turns into a moan, and it's like a bolt of energy to my cock.

I begin to make love to her then, slowly, so slow she ' s panting and breathless by the time I sink deep inside of her.

I know she ' s going to run; she ' s like a wild stallion; it ' s in her nature. I could try to trap her, tame her, but that might break her. Therefore, I just have to allow her to run and show her that no matter how far and fast she tries to escape me, I ' m never going to stop running after her. She might think I ' m chasing her; eventually, she ' ll discover the truth. I ' m not going to chase her; I ' m going to learn to run alongside her.