Blind | h.s. [COMPLETE]

Chapter Eight

Experimentally, she dropped her fingers from teasing his nipples and drew lazy circles over his abdomen, enjoying the way his muscles flinched and clenched under her light touch. His breaths quickened when her fingers swirled in the line of brown hair disappearing under his waistband. Without pausing, she continued down over his pants and cupped his considerable length in the palm of her hand.

"Christ," he groaned, then thrust against where she was rubbing him.

His fingers returned to her nipples. She whimpered and tilted her head back to look up at him. His eyes blazed. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, then pushed his tongue into her mouth.

She went from rubbing him to squeezing him through his jeans.

"Paisley," he rasped, his voice soft and seductive, "I want you so much." He pulled back until they could see one another, then reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. "What do you want?"

Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away from stroking him and brought both hands up to cup his face. "Everything. I want everything with you."

Blood pounded through Harry's body. His senses were on fire—her incredible scent, the sounds of her needy whimpers and moans, the satiny-soft feel of her skin under his fingers, the salty-sweet taste of her nipples. As he kissed and touched her, he watched her intently, eager to learn what she liked, finding pleasure in what gave her pleasure.

But when she started exploring him, he thought he'd lose his mind. She'd tugged in silent demand for him to remove his shirt, which he'd done more than willingly, then she started devouring the skin of his chest after drinking him in through her eyes. Every movement of her mouth and hands was playful and sensual and set his body to throbbing, to begging for more.

And she'd given it to him. The press of her small, strong hand around his erection was irresistible. He hadn't held back from using the incredible friction he'd so badly needed and she'd so willingly provided.

And then she confirmed she wanted him too, just the way he wanted her. Her words resonated everywhere—a long-sought satisfaction calmed his mind and a comforting heat filled his chest. Those feelings were magnificent, life-giving—and more than he ever expected to experience.

In that moment, though, it was his cock that most reacted to her words, to the fulfillment they promised. And, as if her words weren't enough, she dropped her hands from lovingly holding his face and hooked the fingers of her right hand into his waistband, then turned and led them from the kitchen.

Harry smiled at her methods and followed her eagerly as she guided him past the small, round dining table, through the living room, and into her most private sanctuary. The room was square and dim, the distant kitchen light and the filtered light of the moon through the sheer curtains providing the only illumination.

She turned to face him, but didn't drop her fingers. Instead, she added her other hand and easily worked the line of buttons open. Looking him in the eye, she shoved at the heavy, tight fabric where it hugged his hip and at the same time snaked her other hand inside his snug boxers until she gripped him skin-to-skin.

Harry's mouth fell open at the thrilling sensation of her soft fingers stroking his hard length. He held her gaze, pleaded with his eyes for her to continue on.

"Fuck. What are you doing to me?" She couldn't know it, but his question was about so much more than the wonderful movements of her little hand.

When she tugged at his pants with her free hand, Harry quickly pushed them and his boxers down over his hips. He followed her gaze as she admired him. Her hand looked so good stroking him. He had to close his eyes against the erotic image so he could conjure up more control—he wanted this to go on for a long time. And she was already pushing him.

She let out a moan that dragged his eyes open again. He wasn't the only one squirming at the picture of her hand around his cock. Paisley's mouth hung open. A flush expanded out across her heaving bare chest. Every few seconds, her tongue darted out across her bottom lip.

Out of nowhere, she gripped his length more firmly and wrapped a hand around his waist, then walked them backward until her legs hit the bed. She sat down and pulled him another step closer until his groin was even with her face.

Harry gaped. Desire had never looked more beautiful than when she tilted her eyes up to him and sucked his head between her pink lips. He gasped as the wet heat wrapped around him.

"Christ, Paisley..."

He clenched and unclenched his hands and was surprised when one of her hands found one of his. She pulled his palm to her head. Drawing back from him for just a moment, she said, "Show me what you like."

Her offer astounded him and he grew in her mouth. Need led him to twist his fingers into her hair. But there wasn't anything she was doing he didn't love the hell out of. "Trust me, baby, you know what you're doing. I can't believe..."

She moaned around his length. He shivered at the sensation. The suction of her mouth and the teasing flicks of her tongue melted his insides. He gave in to the urge and applied the lightest pressure against the back of her head with his fist. He resisted thrusting into her mouth though, not because his body wasn't screaming for him to do so, but because he wanted to let her lead this, and he didn't want to finish this way. And he was walking a very fine line.

Too fine, in fact.

If he didn't make her stop now, he wouldn't be able to resist the pleasure she was drawing out of him. He tugged at her hair, gently urging her to let go.

She released him and looked up with wet, shiny lips and a self-satisfied smile. He smirked, then leaned down and kissed her. Still attacking her mouth, Harry dropped to his knees, and his hands fell to her thighs. After a moment, he walked his fingers up to her waistband.