Harkham's Corner (Harkham's Series Book 3) (10 page)

He lowered down a little, pulling his work bench over and then his mouth was searching for that silky crease he loved.

Pink.

Luscious.

“I ate some pineapple today,” he told her between licks and spreading her further open with his big hands.

“So? I had a banana. Why does that matter right now?” Her legs dropped and she set her heels on his shoulders.

“It means my come won’t be as bitter as it usually is. I read about it. Makes it more palatable.”

She laughed. “Seriously? Why did you read about that? I’ve never complained about your taste. I like it.” Her legs loosened a bit more and she wrapped her ankles behind his head.

This was even better! She was definitely welcoming him in.

His eyes traced over each line and curve of her swollen lips. The pink was darker than usual. She
was
fertile.

That turned him on so much, his pants had to go. “Too tight. You’re so swollen, but I’m even more engorged than you are.” He wrapped his hand around himself, stepped to the side and showed her his impressive length.

“Christ, Adam . . . Are you torturing me for a reason?” Her eyes were directly on his hard-on.

“No. I thought you’d like it.” His eyes dropped. “This is torture?”

“Get that thing over here so I can taste you, too.”

His twitching lips turned upward into a grin. “You want to see if the pineapple trick worked.”

“If I get some pre-come, then yes, I’ll tell you, but you said you were going to make love to me.” She took a deep breath and then she sat up.

“No. Don’t move.” He slipped two fingers inside her. My Lord, he wasn’t even searching for her cervix, but he was so deep inside her, so quick, that he felt it slick and open and soft. “How much do you want me?”

“So much I can barely keep still,” she said, her eyelids going heavy and her hands tensing up on the blanket, bunching it up a little.

“You are
very
fertile, love. But I can’t hold back.”

Her eyes flew up, and her nostrils flared. “Wait a minute . . . We agreed.”

She tried to get off the hood.

“I’ll still pull out. I said I would, and I don’t lie, but you . . .” he hunched over and licked her once more, pushing her legs apart with his palms “. . . are too ready for me—for
this
.” His wet tip dragged across the top of her right foot.

“Oh God, I’m totally gonna get pregnant. Why on earth would we want to do that? We can barely afford this house and our two kids already.”

“I’m not going to do that to you. I’m all sweaty thinking about it—yes, but I won’t. I love you, and I care more about how you feel than about having the best fuck of my life.”

She sucked in a gust of air. “Full of profanity tonight, huh? It’s just flying out of you.”

“Like my come. Lots and lots of baby-making come is inside me and will fly out. It wants you, and so do I.” He exhaled, wiping his sticky brow.

He was probably running out of time. What could he do?

“Mari, if I ever find anything that makes me as worked up as you, I might die from too much happiness.”

“I love you.” Her voice was deep, and it felt pink—like her delicate tissues.

“I love you so much, I leak and love it when I do.” He picked her up.

Her breath caught.

In the car? No. They’d done that.

His head whipped around. The car hood was nice, but it would be hard to keep it going for long with her weight bearing down on him.

His work station? He could clear it off even more. He kept it fairly tidy, but he might want to lean her back all the way.

No. Too many loud tools hitting the ground would wake his kids.

Where could he do this?

It should be nice. Well, kind of nice. Special, though.

Different.

Hmm . . .

He backed up, his legs hitting the car door.

No, not good enough. The car was okay, but there had to be a nice comfy spot for her pink to darken.

To darken under his gaze.

He moved forward, set her on the edge of his work station. There was barely enough room for her to sit on it, so he pushed a few tools back with a careful hand.

“I want to see you. All of you.” He set the stool under her, propped her feet on it. “Spread for me.”

“I’m not your patient,” she said with a lopsided grin.

“You
could
be. I could tell you everything’s that good about you and your body. Make sure you’re healthy enough to
fuck
harder than ever.” He nudged her legs wider again on the word fuck, just like he had inside when he was saying naughty things to her.

“What’s gotten into you today?” She reached for him.

“You. You’ve gotten into me. You’re in here.” He tapped his heart, then took her hands and set them on the edge of the table. “Grip it for stability, because I don’t know what my head will tell me to do to you yet, and most likely, it’ll lose.” He stroked his erection. “This is more powerful right now. It owns my actions, so I can’t say what those will be.”

She did that top-lip-wetting thing, and he grunted.

He lunged forward and grabbed his work lamp, switching it on and moving right to where she was rosy and sopping for him.

“So pretty. It calls to me, Mari.” He glanced up at her, and she seemed mesmerized with him as he studied her vulva.

He ran a fingertip around her, collecting wetness as he went, tasting it a few times.

“You really do think it’s pretty, don’t you?”

“Of course. It’s mine, and it’s got blood in there, plumping you and spreading you open for me and my cock. I love that you tell your body to prepare itself for me before I’ve even touched you.” He cocked his head to the side and got closer. He licked again, in the crease on the left.

She made a soft cooing sound. “I really don’t want to have another baby. Not yet.”

“You won’t.” He pushed his lips open on her soft folds, parting her with his mouth. His tongue darted out, making this upward motion until it was stopped by her clitoris.

She choked on a breath and her hands tightened on the ledge. “Stop teasing.”

“Not teasing—worshiping. Keep holding onto the table. Don’t touch me.”

She let go. “
What
did you say?”

“I said don’t touch me.”

She tried to slip off the edge, but he pushed her back on.

“Okay, this is fucked up. You never tell me not to touch you. Something’s wrong.”

“No!” His heart dropped into his spleen and crunched it a little bit, making him feel nauseous, or at least, it wanted to. “Don’t get down. Stay, please. I mean this time I want to be different. Special for us.”

“Special
how
?”

“Because I have something for you, but I wasn’t brave enough to give it to you until now. I need to do this.” His fingers were back inside her, rocking slowly at first, then pushing harder, further—his fingertips hitting that cervix—the door to her womb.

He was good at making her orgasm from his hands and mouth and even his cock, but this had to mean something more.

“This time it’s going to be all about you. I swear. You’ve allowed me to tell you what to do when we make love for the most part, and you even came out here into this hot, muggy garage because you know I love it out here, so let me give you this.” He tipped his fingers up, and thought he might have found it.

Was that it? That spot? He knew it was there. He’d hit it with his dick a few times during sex, but with his fingers? Not on purpose—no.

Her arching back and her legs closing in on him made him smile and his chest explode with heat that drifted down to his cock.

“That’s what I want to give you.”

“You’re killing me, sweetheart.” She dropped her head back, moaning.

“Killing you by bringing your life the sweetness that you’ve given mine.” He hummed his new song. Sucked and hummed. Held her open and hummed. Stroked that spot inside her and hummed. She would hear that song someday, and this moment would come flooding back to her.

“I . . . Oh God, I . . . Adam, we need to . . . You said we’d make l-love,” she managed to say through her harsh panting.

“We will. I swear we will.” He pushed her clit hood up with his thumb and took turns stroking it with his tongue and the pad of his thumb.

It was so slippery, he had to really concentrate on his placement.

His cock inched closer to her.

“You smell like the way I feel. So tight and ready to burst with pleasure,” he said.

“Shhhh . . . Nooooohhhhh,” she whimpered, her head flopping to the side.

He chuckled. She was ready.

His other finger inside her pushed hard, and a wet burst of fluid came out of her, landing on his foot.

“Oh wow, I . . . You gave me some of yourself.” His eyes were on that wet puddle, rather than on her pink parts.

“Noooooo, I don’t want another baby.”

When his eyes went back to her face, she was all scrunched up like a baby herself, ready to scream for milk, her eyes little slits, her lips puckered and tight.

“But you want me.” He jutted his hips up, stroking her cleft with his tip. When she made a grunting sound like she was about to die, he yanked his hand out, pushed himself inside, and she gripped into his hair. She yelped when he hit that spot inside her, then she clawed at him, begging him to come inside her.

“Oh my God, oh my—I want to, but I . . .” A second later, she kissed him hard and deep, as her inner walls rippled along his length, and he unloaded inside her. The one thing he said he wouldn’t do—that’s what he did. And fuck! It felt terrific!

“Goddamn,” she said, going limp a few moments later.

He braved a look at her, waiting for her to smack him and yell in his face.

“That was . . . There aren’t words, honey.” She smiled, and she was happy. Not just happy—kind of high-looking.

“You won’t take away my balls?”

She dripped again like she had before, and he was still inside her. Was that supposed to happen when she was completely full with him?

He jerked his tip up a few times, and more large squishy drops fell onto his feet.

His toes wiggled, and so did his happy cock.

He liked this. Oh, he liked it a lot. She was so ripe with sex water of her own making, she couldn’t help but leak it past his girth, it was that copious.

Nothing he’d read said this could happen.

“I have to tell you something,” he said, trailing off, taking her hands in his and kissing the backs of both of them while holding them tight.

“You came inside me,” she answered for him.

“Yeah, I did, but that’s not what I wanted to say . . . I know you’re smart enough to know I broke that promise. And I’m sorry about that, but you made me, kind of—well, you didn’t make me, but you—”

She kissed him, cutting off his lame excuses.

“I know you didn’t mean to. It happens. We’ll deal with it.” She was still smiling.

How was this possible? She was so good to him.

“I know I promised you I would tell you everything, but this thing I can’t tell you. Will that make you mad if I keep something from you?”

She blinked hard, stared at him, studying his eyes. Her expression gave nothing away.

“Would you rather I say the truth, or tell you what you want to hear?” She sat up straight and set her palms on his shoulder.

“I want you to say whatever your mouth wants you to. It’s all about being you, Mari. I don’t want that to ever change.” He settled his hands on her sweaty thighs. God, he liked it when she got so into sex that her legs were as hot and slick as his were, even though his hips were the ones pumping hard and trying to get him buried deeper inside her.

“I think you want to tell me, but you promised someone else you wouldn’t, so you’re torn with loyalty, and you’re placing this decision on me. And you know what?” Her lips twitched, and she smiled. “I’m not gonna do it. You’re a grown man. You decide what you think is best. I trust you. If you think it’s best I don’t know, then don’t tell me.”

He cleared his throat. “But you’ll want to know, won’t you?” His head swam with questions and a few tiny numbers, but they weren’t important.

“What do
you
think?” She pursed her lips.

He grabbed one of her hands and put it on his heart, covering it with his hand, holding it in place. “I know I die over the thought of keeping things from you, but this one is better not to know.”

“For you or for me? Who is it better for?” Her tone was soft, but her eyes were penetrating and a little harsh, angry at the corners.

“For all of us. The kids, you, me, the person whose secret it is to tell. I want to be a good man, but I—”

She ran a hand through his hair and then tugged at the nape. “Then keep it to yourself. If it hurts us to know, then don’t tell us, but it may hurt you worse to keep it to yourself.”