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I wouldn’t be surprised if he sketches me naked next. The artist in him only makes him an even better lover.
I’m ready to pant when he removes his hoodie and white T-shirt with one hand, his tanned abs a welcome sight. My thong comes off next, leaving me completely naked.
He puts on a condom before aligning his body with mine, one hand cupping my nape while the other plays with my tit. Then his attention goes to my pussy, and I’m writhing beneath him, my head bobbing in motion with his fingers pushing deep inside of me.
I can’t think; my body is warm, full of pleasure, when he replaces his fingers with his cock.
“Your pussy’s so warm,” he groans, using both hands on my hips to thrust and crush my inside walls. So, so deep.
I let each of his words play with my inner fire, creating more natural lube for his hard, fast thrusts. When he brings his lips back to mine, I wrap my hands around his neck, keeping him there.
I’m falling for him so easily. The boy with the golden smile and the happiest of eyes.
I continue to hold on to his neck for dear life as he fucksme so hard, my screams and his groans are surely heard by other campers.
“There’s . . . kids . . .” I say in a muffled tone, feeling my orgasm building.
He chuckles. “I don’t give a fuck.” And he goes deeper. And harder.
And my head tilts, and my pussy clamps around him, and my heart soars.
The next morning is rough. I’m tired and, to make matters worse, I cross Claire making Harvey breakfast, which isn’t part of her job description.
She’s all bubbly and chirpy as we say good morning. Then I leave her to it and head to the bathroom to apply my makeup.
As soon as I’m finished, I knock on Harvey’s door. My heart hitches in my chest when I step in and see him, shirtless, slowly walking toward his closet.
“Harvey...” I clear my throat. “Look at you!”
He’swalking... more than a few steps. My mind wants to freeze this memory in time, to revel in it later once I’m alone again. I’m so happy right now—my tiredness overshadowed by this blissful moment.
I can’t contain my excitement at seeing this improvement in person, at seeing him walk from one part of the room to the other, rather than from his chair to the furniture.
Then I see the tick of his jaw before he spills any words back at me.
When I reach him—in a standing position—I grab his hand and clutch it to my chest. “Harv.” I stare at his briny deepeyes.
The only thing to interrupt our silence is the swallowing of his throat.
“I’m so proud of you.” I grab his face with my hands. “I believe in you—you know that, right?” His eyes lock on my lips and he nods, slowly. Then he eyes my knee-length leather skirt, with a zipper on one side of it, featuring black lace.
In an attempt not to overcrowd him or ruin this bonding moment, I take a step back, my eyes scanning his bare torso. He’s in nothing but charcoal bottoms, his forearm phoenix tattoo on full display.
His muscles are more defined, his abs back in motion.
“Are you... are you also doing different exercises?” I ask, knowing he’s been practicing walking with Claire.
He shrugs. “McKleen gave me more upper body strength exercises.”
I take a page out of Claire’s book and try to keep the next ten questions I have in mind at bay. I don’t want to hover even though I’m dying to ask if he should be using his walker to abstain from injuring himself.
“That’s good,Harv,” I’m whispering his name.
He’s looking at me with painful, angry eyes. Does he know all that I’m hiding? Does he wonder why I went back riding since our argument about my broken promise? Does he wonder if I went with my boss or alone?
“Keep going,” I say, pushing my thoughts away, wishing to see him walk again, even if it’s a few steps.
But he shakes his head. “Do you mind closing the door behind you?”
