A/N: 🤏 mature content.
For the record, I hadn't meant to throw Harper's dildos in the trash. I'd meant the move as a joke but she hit my arm and the box fell out of my hand. Initially, the same sense of horror that flashed in Harper's eyes ran through me. In the split second that followed, I was partially relieved. Walking outside, I felt like I carried a box of twenty-eight, yes I counted, sexual crutches that Harper no longer needed.
Obviously, the joke backfired.
I also was painfully aware that Harper didn't give two shits about what technically happened, that her hands slapped mine. During that moment, she lost twenty dildos and my ass was responsible.
Past their obvious use, I wasn't going to pretend that I understood why Harper had so many dildos. I had planned that she picked her favorite back at my place, where I used it on her then kept the box there.
Before I shot my own plan in the ass kidding around with the trash dumpster.
In particular, the two-pronged fucker in her box caught my eyes because I wasn't aware Harper was into anal play. Since she was more than comfortable with sexual conversations, I'd planned that I asked her on the drive over, then proved while dildos were good for foreplay, they had their limitations.
Last, I wanted that box in my possession so she was forced to contact me if she needed me, per our agreement. The idea she still got herself off and I was some fucking sidepiece burned inside me like I'd swallowed acid.
None of what I intended or planned mattered the second all those fuckers rained down into the trash dumpster, followed by Harper. Shocked was an understatement as I stood, slack-jawed and frozen, as she flung herself after like an overboard rescue mission.
From her side, I saw how she would've been upset. Even as her fist pounded against the metal wall between us, I was totally distracted by the inferno that blazed in her eyes, the determination as she rummaged through actual trash, fuck even when she hit me with the meatiest, veiny, flesh-colored fucker...
Yeah, I was turned on.
For my own ass' sake, thankfully I remembered how much Harper enjoyed being pampered. I'd assumed by her recording of Brit that she'd already found a local spa for whatever treatments she enjoyed. I was probably terrible at massages because I never gave them but was desperate to remove the raw hatred that hung in her eyes before I left.
For the record, I followed through on my blue balls treatment.
My right hand adjusted the massive erection that tented my sheets like a cruel reminder. Because of Harper, lately I willed them away, this one stubbornly pointed right up at my navel. I groaned from the pressure under my stretched tight skin, which increased when my hand wrapped around my base and freed myself from within my boxers.
"Ugh," I grunted quietly and settled back on my bed. The head of my cock rubbed uncomfortably near my navel as I positioned myself in a half sitting up, half reclined.
With hard strokes, I pumped my hand in an arch down my shaft then tugged in reverse. After a few warmups, my hips bucked upwards as I hit a synchronized shift. Warmth built up under my skin and broke out in perspiration at my hairline, chest, and underarms. My breath turned from even and smooth into hot, staccato pants that intermixed with low-effort grunts.
Not that I needed any more mental stimulation, but I tipped my head back against my headboard and closed my eyes. Like every time, Harper resurfaced from my spank bank but this image wasn't dirty. Her beautiful face appeared in my mind's eye, framed in the yellow glow from the dinner table's candlelight and overhead. Her hands cupped her chin, her fingers pressed into her cheeks.
Nice, but not gonna work.
I forced another image into mind, but what appeared was the completely pissed off look she'd given me from inside the dumpster. Her eyes gleamed, a bright aquamarine framed by her long lashes and dark eye makeup.
"I fucking hate you, Jake Harrison!"
That's more like it.
Even though we'd stood out in the open trash area, where a multistory building surrounded us on three sides, my cock twitched in my pants at the way she'd glared at me. If we'd been there at night, then I would've been tempted that I took her, hard, fast, and right against that fucking trash dumpster. With zero hesitation, my mind went right there.
Hinged her right over, dragged her pants down to her ankles, and grounded my hands around her hips.
Harper hadn't asked me at dinner but I would've first said my favorite position was with a girl on my lap, with doggy-style as a close second. I'd used those positions the most with my randoms since missionary involved too many heart eyes gazed up at me. The way I topped from the bottom and slammed a girl down on my cock as I thrust up showed I wasn't submissive but after this weekend's considerations, I was down for almost any position.
Apparently, since I let her tie me down to my own damn bed.
Melted ice cubes aside, I still draw a hard line anywhere that involves her impaling me.
Harper was obviously the most creative girl I'd been with in the bedroom, but I would've been down for even just a few rounds of boring, vanilla, missionary-style. The image of my body covered over hers, pinned her down, and caged my arms around her while I drilled her in place rolled an ache of arousal from my pelvis.
As my hand slicked over with precum, I tugged harder and faster. Perspiration broke out and gleamed over the skin on my chest and my abs clenched with each upward buck. With the loud grunts that flooded out of my mouth, I squeezed my eyes tight -
A familiar voice, smug and sexy as fuck, called out to me, "Thought that was my job."
"Wuh-what?" I rasped out and blinked my eyes at the blurry guest in my room.
When did she get here?
My entire body froze in my warm, sweaty sheets, which included my hand choked tightly around my cock. Harper stood in my doorway, dressed in the same pajamas she'd worn last time. One of her hips slightly jutted out, she crossed her arms over her chest, and smirked at me. The way her hair was piled up into a mess on the top of her head showed off the curve in her neck.
"Don't stop on my account." Her eyes, bright and full of interest, shifted down to my pelvis, where my hand choked the base of my practically weeping cock.
I wasn't exaggerating, two beads of precum trailed down the central ridge to where my fisted hand clenched tightly. The head, flushed red and swollen with need, twitched like it greeted her.
"Come here," I practically begged and waved her over with my other hand.
She locked the door behind her and, with her eyes glued to mine, took painfully slow steps towards my bed. By the sway in her hips and deeper upward curve of her lips, she knew exactly how she tormented me.
"Harper..." My voice sounded as strained as the ache I fisted in my hand.
Her voice dropped low enough that my balls ached. "Show me."
Before I answered, she stood at the edge of my bed. Her fingers lifted up to the buttons of her pajama top, undid them one agonizingly slow opening at a time, and flashed more and more of the skin underneath.
Mesmerized by her movements, I dragged in a sharp breath and held it until my lungs burned. My eyes stung but I refused to blink as her neatly manicured fingers started with the lowest button that exposed her flat stomach and navel. Two buttons up, my mouth dried at the round curves on the bottom of her breasts.
She kept her nipples covered but the small peaks under the fabric told me exactly where they were. I clutched my cock like an 'oh-shit' handle at the way her fingertips danced up the edge of her shirt and teased over the skin that was flushed pink.
Harper's eyes never left mine, weighted with heated interest and taunted me like usual. Her full lips parted, where she gently flicked her lips between the seam, and she demanded in a sharp tone, "Show me, Jake."
Wait. Something's off. She never repeats herself.
And she's completely pissed off at me right now.
My cock screamed in protest when I released it, braced my upper body weight into my palms, and finally exhaled. By my next breath in, Harper had climbed over me, her knees planted outside my hips. Her shirt opened as her hands rested on top of mine and her bare breasts pressed into my chest.
With one further lean forward, her lips hovered right over mine. Her breath was warm as her words washed over my lips. "We both know this isn't going to last Jake. And just like last time, you'll be the one fucked over."
"Oh fuck," I whispered and jolted upright in bed.
My heart hammered painfully in my chest, as loud as thunder in my ears, and my sweat-soaked skin clung to my bed sheets. Confusion and drowsiness dulled my mind as I took in my empty bedroom surroundings. By the time my palms held my damp forehead, my back and shoulders slumped under the realization I'd had a dream.
Fuck, it felt real though.
The painful erection wedged between my legs that tented my sheets showed my mind believed the dream was real. I drew in one slow, deep breath after another until my pulse calmed and mind cleared slightly from the fog that clouded over my thoughts.
After a hot shower seared my skin and my hand tugged out some much-needed relief, I felt refreshed and more clear-headed. Once dry, I sat on the toilet and trimmed between my legs with my electric razor, then opted for cream lathered on my face. Once my upper lip, chin, and jaw were cleanly shaved and a small disaster of cream and hair stubble splattered over the sink, I washed my face at the sink and examined my reflection as I patted my skin dry with a hand towel.
My dark brown hair, damp and slicked down, now curled over my ears and up at the base of my skull.
Still haven't gotten that cut yet.
The longer I looked, the more my smile faded. Two days after our date and dumpster diving fiasco, Harper had greeted me with nothing but silence.
And I deserve it.
Problem was, after Harper barely acknowledged my last apology, this time I had no fucking clue how to fix this shit situation.
After classes, practice, and dinner on Wednesday night, I swallowed every last ounce of my dignity and called the one person who actually knew Harper's reactions better than me. "Hey Ellie, I... need help."
"Daily showers," was her sarcastic response.
"No." I reclined in my bed until my head hit my propped-up pillows. "Harper's mad at me."
"Oh, shit." A hearty laugh hit my ear. "What did you do now?"
While Harper's post-sex silence wasn't new, the fact she'd locked me out of her dorm room was. Embarrassed was an understatement of how I felt when I stood in her hallway, knocked, damn near pleaded until her roommate took pity on me and politely shooed me away.
With a tightly clenched jaw, I'd picked up her dirty clothes, carried them outside, but didn't toss them out. Instead, I took them back to my house, threw her pants, socks, and shirt into the washer with my laundry. Her boots were another issue, but I sprayed them off with the outside garden hose, left them outside for two days until dry, sprayed them with Lysol, then left them under my desk with her clothes.
My cheeks warmed even at the recap, but I fessed up, "I accidentally tossed her dildos into a trash dumpster."
"You... her... What!?" Ellie's voice squeaked up higher with each word. "How does that accidentally happen?"
"I was messing around - it doesn't matter," I swept aside the details. "She's understandably pissed off at me."
"Seriously Jake," she grumbled. "The fuck is wrong with you."
My jaw tightened since I felt more than slightly defensive at her statements, not questions. "What? They're just sex toys."
After more muttered words that sounded like, "How do you not know this," Ellie heaved a loud, exaggerated sigh. "Jake, her... stuff isn't just toys or a means to scratch an itch."
"Huh?" I blinked blankly up at my ceiling. "They're not?"
"No, dumbass." My ear crackled again with another Ellie sigh. "Putting aside orgasm benefits like stress relief and sleeping better, to Harper they're... I don't know, not completely a crutch or symbol of independence, but another way she doesn't have to rely on someone else. Not that I'd expect you to notice but she cleans and cares for them better than most people do for their contact lenses."
How the hell would I notice that? I've been in her room here twice and the most action we've gotten was Harper's back massage.
"Ellie, that's ridiculous." A scoff left my mouth, followed by the last words I expected ever came out of my mouth, "Besides... orgasms aren't everything."
I inhaled sharply at my own admission, which clenched my stomach tight. After a long pause where I knew both of us questioned whether I'd really said that, Ellie coughed quietly.
In a smug and amused voice, she egged me on, "Humor me, Jake."
Oh, I will. I'm not backing down on this one.
I paused for a moment, took a deep breath, and out flooded a most likely pile of absolute verbal shit, "Fine, vibrators can give an orgasm but that's all. It can't lock eyes with you across the room, appreciate what you're wearing, flirt with you, buy you a drink, hold your hand, or fuck, even hold a conversation."
"True, but -"
Additional reasons that flooded into my mind squeezed my eyebrows together. "There's no arguing or makeup sex, no laughing, exploring and responding to your body, or being told how fucking attracted I am to her."
"Jake -"
My voice hardened like the hand I now choked my phone with. "A fucking piece of silicon can't kiss her on the neck, stroke up under her shirt, or pull her close afterwards. It can't tell her how fucking sexy she looks when -"
"Jake!" Ellie rasped out. "I get it... And I am not the person who should be hearing all this to convince otherwise."
Oops. She's right. Fuck, again she's right.
I should tell Harper... or even better, prove it to her.
"Sorry," I mumbled and closed my eyes. "Got a little carried away. Guess I feel more strongly about it than I realized, so thanks for shoving that in my face."
Fuck, how did Ellie's emotional voodoo tricks pull all that out of me?
"It's sweet, in your own messed up, egocentric way," she teased. "Do you... really feel all those things for Harper?"
Without a single ounce of shame, I nodded. "Yeah."
And I'm fucking screwed for it.
I should just lay down in the middle of the field during halftime at the Cal game and let the marching band stomp over me, it'd be less painful.
"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you talk like this." Ellie's voice softened to a near whispered confession and the idea I'd impressed her warmed my bruised ego. "But Harper needs to hear them too and she holds grudges for years, Jake. Look at how she feels about her Mom and that hasn't changed from when we were thirteen."
"That's different, Ellie..." I paused at the slightly more serious shift in the topic. "I can't blame her for that reaction."
While Ellie and I didn't have the most functional family dynamic, at least we'd grown up with two parents who wanted us. "So, I was thinking for her birthday tomorrow -"
"On her birthday, are you insane!?" Ellie squeaked out. "Whatever you have in mind, it's a bad idea. Abort, Jake. She hates her birthday. It's one of the days her mom sends cards, although maybe she won't get it this year being in LA."
"Ellie," I started since she rambled off-topic. "Back to the point. How do I see her and apologize without setting off Harper's... Harperness."
"Honestly, Jake. Sorry..." Her soft voice faded like she searched through her memory. "I can't say I've ever truly pissed off Harper. I assume just go for it then either sink, swim, or suffer dismemberment of your man parts."
"Ellie," I warned her I wasn't up for her usual teasing or ball-busting. "I'm serious. Trying to do the right thing here."
"I know you're serious." She exhaled loudly. While I would've happily left the conversation here, she couldn't help herself and gouged into me with an overly sweet-toned, "You really care about her, huh?"
At Ellie's words, my throat squeezed in on itself tightly. I wasn't sure how we'd shifted from my stupid teasing of Harper to a feelings confessional, so I just sat silently.
Fuck, I just admitted that a few moments ago. Nice try, Ellie.
"Better late than never," her sarcasm returned. "Welcome aboard the ship, Captain Oblivious."
"Ellie," I groaned out her name and dragged my free hand down my face. "Quit not being funny. This isn't a big fucking deal. It's just Harper."
My hand clamped over my eyes as soon as the words left my mouth. They were just the right words that set off Ellie's chihuahua mode, her tiny girl, sharp yelling mode.
"Just Harper? Just Harper!? You've always had feelings for her," Ellie spat back in a dry, unimpressed tone. "Probably best you finally realize that because it's not healthy to be in a constant state of denial."
"Ellie!" My hand pressed a fist in between my eyebrows. "Even if this was about my... feelings, which it's not, I just need your help. She's ghosted me for three days now."
Harper's silence also felt different this time, which really fucking bothered me. I'd texted her a few lameass apologies but she hadn't even read them.
"And I'm happy for your mild freak-out moment," Ellie's voice softened but not her words. "Jake, it's progress for you to care about someone else. Honestly, you had a few moments, okay years, where I assumed you only cared about yourself and your dick."
"Insult me later, Ellie." She couldn't see them but I rolled my eyes and got back to the point. "Harper is -"
"A lot like you but enough of a difference where you have to put in an actual effort," Ellie stated quietly but firmly. "She's good for you, stubborn as fuck, closed off with her emotions, but she's also supportive... In her own special ways."
"No, she's beyond difficult," I grumbled more to myself. "Ellie, she barely tolerated me apologizing to her before, so there's no fucking way I can tell her -"
"Not if you bitch about it like you are right now," Ellie shot back, but her voice brightened. "Hold on, back up. You finally apologized? Then what happened?"
A wide grin spread across my face, my chest puffed up, and I half-bragged the truth, "Then we did some of the details you don't want to know."
"Jaaaake," she groaned loudly and I heard her eyeroll. "No, what did she say after you said sorry?"
My grin dissolved. "Deflected with a subject change, then asked me if she accepted it then we didn't have to bring it up again."
"So... she swept it aside," Ellie mumbled quietly, with zero surprise in her voice. "I think it might be best to just accept the fact she acknowledged it and not dwell on the past. You'll freak her out and you're already freaking out enough for the both of you."
The fuck are we talking about now?
"I'm not freaking out," I tossed back since, if I felt anything then it was pissed off at where this conversation went. "I just want to be on her good side again. But how do I... not get my ass kicked?"
"Good question." My ear crackled with static as Ellie sighed. "You can't directly bring it up and, if you value your manhood, don't do something stupid like a big declaration of how you feel. She'll..."
Since I had zero intentions that ever happened, I rolled my eyes. "Kick my nuts, I got it."
"No, Jake," Ellie replied quietly. "She'll run. Harper puts up the biggest confrontational front when it comes to every issue that she believes in. Cyber-bullying is one of them, back-talking and girl scheming another."
Ellie hadn't said anything I didn't already know but the giant 'but' I felt coming kept me silent.
In the softest, gentlest voice she'd used in the entire conversation, my sister offered, "But when it comes to her feelings, she runs. I wouldn't be surprised if her phone's turned off right now because of her birthday and not wanting to think about her mom. She takes all that pain and guilt, buries them and pretends they aren't there. But..."
"But what?"
"Even if she doesn't talk about her feelings, look for small signs. They're obvious once you know what to look for, but you have to be patient."
"Patience? Small signs? What's next, smoke signals?" I groaned again because patience was not a strength of mine, by any stretch of my imagination. "What crock of shit are you talking about, Ellie?"
"Take my advice or not," she snapped bitterly. "Harper might have her own love language but it's fierce and protective. You'll know if she has feelings for you if, and apparently it's the biggest if I've ever known, you get your head out of your ass."
"You're no help." My eyes slid closed and I admitted defeat on Ellie's help. Not only had I gotten no further insight into Harper, I felt worse than before I'd called her.
This was a bad idea.
"Fine, don't listen. Good luck digging your own grave." Ellie huffed quietly. "Sorry to change the subject but, while I have you on the phone, we're staying here for Thanksgiving. Logan's -"
I interrupted with the obvious fact, "He's playing at home on Friday, I know."
What I kept to myself was how I was also painfully aware that UW sat atop the PAC-12 at 6-0, right above our 5-1 record and owner of our only loss.
"I was going to say that we're going to ask if his mom and Brody can come up here, so we'll have Thanksgiving here." With a small laugh, she added, "Quietly."
A small smile flinched across my lips at our crazy extended family, but it faded quickly. "No change here. We're at..." I paused and flipped over to my calendar. "BYU."
"Yeah but..." Ellie's voice trailed off. "It's an away game, so Mom won't be there this year."
While I appreciated her concern over my holiday welfare, I was more than fine surrounded with my roommates. "I'll be fine, the team will have stuff like usual."
"Yeah, but -" she started again when I cut her off.
"Ellie, I'll be fine," I gritted out tightly.
During the years that the team traveled for a Black Friday game, the team held a Thanksgiving dinner night Wednesday night. Not just the players were invited, but also their families and significant others.
Ellie spoke quietly like she'd read my thoughts, "If she's still speaking to you by then, bring Harper."
"Thanks," I replied dryly. Once we said our goodbyes, I just closed my eyes and exhaled loudly.
That was absolutely no fucking help whatsoever.
Feelings... Fuck feelings, those are not the way to get rid of Harper's anger.
Ellie, of course, had gone for the emotional approach but I sat up in bed because she wasn't the only person I knew with relationship experience.
And this guy's gotten himself out of more arguments than I can count.