If anyone gets the reference of the title of this fic, let me know ;)
You think I don't care about you? You're in your position because I put you there.
No, Harvey, I'm in my position because I FUCKING earned it.
He'd attempted to apologise to her, but with Samantha there, he hadn't been able to say everything he wanted to say, so he'd come off looking like a jackass who didn't know how to apologise. She'd teased him about it, but he'd seen her expression and knew she wasn't over it. He wanted the chance to tell her he was sorry. He hadn't meant it the way it had sounded. He cared for her far past her role in the firm and his stomach was in knots at the thought she might not know that.
Donna was pissed. She didn't want to be, but he'd gone too far this time. She'd never sworn at him like that before, but he'd been a real dick and it had felt necessary. She was stewing over it, biting her bottom lip as she tried to work, staring blankly at the papers in front of her, when he appeared in the doorway of her office.
"Can we talk?" He had the decency to look contrite but the sight of him only had her stomach tying up in knots again.
"I'm a bit busy right now, Harvey, can it wait?" She looked back at the document in front of her, feigning interest.
He gave her a look she didn't see. "You're not busy though, are you?"
She hated that he could read her like that. It was flipping their relationship on its head and she wasn't comfortable with it at all.
"Fine. What?" she snapped, looking up at him. He paused for a second, seemingly taking stock of her mood.
"You want a drink?" he asked.
"Sure, help yourself." She waved in the direction of the liquor.
"No," he said. "Not here."
"I've got the same scotch here as you have in your office, Harvey."
"It's not the scotch, it's the location."
"So you don't like my office now?"
"I like it fine," he told her. "But we spend too much time here. I'm taking you out."
She gritted her teeth in irritation. "Harvey, just pour the damn scotch and say what you want to say."
"I'm not taking no for an answer. We're going out," he said firmly.
"Seriously?" She sighed in exasperation.
"Yes. Get your things."
She didn't speak on the way to the bar. She knew she was being ridiculous, doing that passive aggressive silent thing that women do when they want men to realise they're pissed. She knew it was petty. But she was pissed and she did want him to know it.
To his credit, Harvey didn't try to force her to converse with him. But once they were sitting a corner booth with their drinks, he spoke.
"I know you're pissed."
"What gave you that idea?" she asked acerbically.
"Donna."
"Harvey," she mimicked.
"You've been avoiding me for days."
"I've been busy, Harvey. Don't you think I have better things to do with my time than concentrate on avoiding you?"
"We haven't spoken in two days, Donna."
"Like I said, I've been busy."
"You didn't answer my call last night."
This was met with silence. She wasn't even looking at him, her gaze focused on her drink, her finger tracing the rim of the glass. Harvey decided to change tactics. This wasn't getting him anywhere.
"You've never sworn at me before," he said, and then smirked. "Except for -"
"I know when," she interrupted.
"You know I didn't mean what I said."
"Do I?" She fiddled with the napkin on the table.
"Will you look at me at least?" he pleaded.
She met his eyes and felt her anger start to dissipate immediately. He was sorry, she could see it on his face. "Why did you say it?" she asked.
"I wasn't thinking. It's not what I meant."
"You have a habit of doing that." Her voice was soft, thinking back to the last time he'd said something he didn't mean.
I said it because I wanted to make you feel better!
She knew he was remembering the same thing when his jaw clenched and he nodded regretfully.
He switched the subject back again, not liking where this was going. "Why didn't you answer my call last night? You've never not picked up for me before."
"I was… out." Something about the way she said it had his hackles rising.
"On a date."
"Yes." She raised her chin in defiance. "Is that a problem?" Her eyes were glittering, challenging him, daring him to say the thing she didn't think he would.
He stared her down for a moment before his resolve crumbled and he dropped his gaze. "No."
"So you don't have a problem with me dating?" She was still challenging him and he couldn't, wouldn't give in.
"Why would I have a problem?" he asked casually.
Again, their eyes met, staring each other down, each daring the other to break, but they were too stubborn, too scared to do it. It was Donna who broke their eye contact this time, as she sighed and looked down into her glass.
"Why did you bring me here, Harvey?"
"I wanted to spend time with you outside the office."
"That's not what we do."
"Maybe it should be."
She looked up, scrutinising him. "Why?"
He looked down at the table for a moment, thinking, before looking at her again.
"I enjoy your company."
"Is that all?" she snarked.
"Don't do that."
"What?"
"Use sarcasm as a defence mechanism."
"And what do you think I'm defending against, Harvey?"
"Why don't you tell me?"
She slid swiftly out of the booth, taking her bag with her. "I'm going home."
"Don't, Donna."
"Why not, Harvey?" Her eyes were challenging him yet again and he felt like the whole night was going up in flames.
"Please stay. I'm trying to apologise."
"You're doing a shitty job of it."
"Please sit down," he begged.
"No, Harvey. I'm going home. You can call me when you finally figure out what you're trying to say." With that she was gone, her hips swaying as she walked away, leaving him staring longingly after her, kicking himself for having fucked it up again.
.
When her phone rang at 11:39pm, she knew without looking that it was him. It always was at this time of night.
"Harvey," she answered curtly.
"Please hear me out, Donna."
"Okay."
A silence fell and she could picture him pacing, fingers twitching, face pained as he tried to find his words. She'd seen it a thousand times. Usually she helped him out, told him what he was feeling, and what his next move should be. But this was different. This was about the two of them. And for the first time ever, she couldn't tell him what he was feeling because she didn't know.
"Harvey," she prompted.
"I'm sorry, Donna." The words fell out of him in a rush of breath and she felt her shoulders release tension she didn't realise they were holding.
"Thank you."
"I didn't mean what I said to you. Of course I care about you. And it's not just about work."
"I know."
Silence fell again and she knew he was trying to find his words again. He had more to say and she could feel his uncertainty through the phone line.
"What is it, Harvey?" She tried to help him along, her voice gentler than it had been earlier. She was still in turmoil. He'd hurt her more during that one conversation in the lobby than he ever had before. He'd dismissed her value inside the firm and in his life and it had cut to the bone. She didn't regret lashing out at him the way she had, but she knew he was hurting too and that caused her pain.
"I can't…" he trailed off and she could almost see him, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to figure out how to say what he wanted to. "Can you come over?"
Her breath hitched at his words. This wasn't what they did. "Are you using this as a booty call?" she joked weakly.
"Donna." His voice was pained and her stomach clenched.
"Sorry." The word fell from her lips automatically, her first instinct still to protect him, to keep him from being hurt.
"It's okay."
She could feel his pain. They were connected in so many ways, she knew him better than anyone, and the pain they were causing each other was too much. They'd never hurt each other like this before and it was beginning to dawn on her that this night could change everything. Things had been different since her promotion, and more so since she'd kissed him that night in her office. But the past few days had been more than just different. This wasn't about adjusting to their new dynamic anymore. This was something else.
"I'll come over," she said softly, sliding out of bed and padding over to her closet to get dressed. She didn't hang up the phone. She knew he needed her, and she needed him too.
"Ray's on his way," Harvey said softly.
"Harvey," she admonished. "You should have sent him home hours ago."
"I know." His voice was soft in her ear. "I asked him to stay on… just in case."
.
When she arrived in front of his building, she bid Ray goodnight, sending him home. She stood in front of the building for a moment, looking up at his windows, dimly lit by what she knew to be two lamps and the overhead lights on the 50% dimmer. He'd always been a creature of habit. She greeted the concierge as she passed, getting into the waiting elevator and riding up to the 18th floor.
When his door opened, he was in sweats, his feet bare and his hair tousled. When he smiled sheepishly her heart skipped and suddenly everything became clear.
He stepped aside, gesturing her into the apartment and she padded through to the living room, her ballet flats making no sound on the floor, a stark contrast to every other time she'd been here, standing tall and proud in 5 inch stilettos. He watched her make herself comfortable in his home, curling her denim clad legs under her on his couch, feet bare, burgundy painted toenails visible after having kicked off her shoes.
"Thanks for coming," he said, inwardly cringing at how forced the words sounded.
"You know I can't say no to you." Her voice was soft, but the words hit him in the gut as he recalled that terrible period of time when she'd worked for Louis.
Do you know how hard it is for me to say no to you?
"You have before." The words escaped him before he could stop them. Her eyes widened briefly before she schooled her features and her face was impassive again.
"I know." Once again their gazes met and the air between them crackled with intensity. "And it killed me to do it."
Harvey sighed and sat down, opting for an armchair to put distance between them, unsure whether he'd be able to concentrate if he was sitting next to her; close enough to breathe her in, to touch her.
"I don't deserve you," he said softly. He watched Donna's throat bob as she swallowed, her expression surprised.
"Yes, you do," she replied.
His heart jumped as he looked at her. This woman, who had been by his side for almost his entire career; who had never once wavered in her support for him, even when she wasn't working for him; who had always seen the best in him and done her best to make him see it too.
"I love you," he blurted out, no longer able to keep the confession in. Her eyes went wide and her jaw dropped slightly, and he remembered her same reaction the last time he'd said those words to her.
She recovered after a brief moment of silence and drew in a breath, pursing her lips. "Harvey."
"I mean it." He stood and moved to the couch, sitting next to her, pulling her hand from her lap and enfolding it in his. "I handled it like shit last time, it was the wrong moment, and I fucked up. But I mean it. I love you."
"Why now?" Her eyes traced his face, looking for hidden meanings.
"Because you've always put me first. I've fucked up so many times and you've always been there. And I never told you how much that means to me."
"So to show me how much you appreciate me, you're telling me you love me?" She pulled her hand back and his throat went dry.
"No, that's not -"
"Then what, Harvey? Because you've done this before and look how that turned out."
"This isn't the same."
"How can I know that?"
They stared each other down while he gaped awkwardly, trying to find the right words; the right way to tell her how much she meant to him, to show her he was serious. And then she stood up, sliding her feet back into her shoes and his heart dropped into his stomach. For the first time in a long time, he felt the building of a panic attack.
"Donna, please," he begged, "please don't go."
"Give me a reason to stay."
He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to crush her to his chest and claim her mouth with his own. He wanted to taste her tongue, feel her soft skin under his fingers, to hold her and never let go. But the panic attack was bubbling under the surface and he closed his eyes against the onslaught of feelings, inadvertently telling her he couldn't say what she needed him to say. When he heard his front door open and then close again, he staggered forward, trying to reach for the handle, to reach for her, to bring her back. But the panic attack hit and he stumbled, falling to the floor, every inch of him coiled tight with tension as he fought not to throw up. The last thing he registered before he passed out was that he could still smell her perfume in the air.
Donna had never taken a sick day in her life, but when she woke up the next morning, she seriously considered calling Robert and claiming she had the flu, cramps, a UTI, anything to avoid having to see Harvey and face the situation she'd found herself in yet again. But she knew deep down that he'd come looking for her at home if she wasn't in the office, and it was easier to avoid talking when she could use professionalism as an excuse.
She applied an industrial amount of concealer to the bags under her eyes, and the blotches on her skin from the tears she had shed for hours, until finally falling asleep through sheer exhaustion at 4am.
It was 10am when she first saw Robert. He strode into her office looking like a man on a mission and she sighed inwardly at the fact he clearly had a bee in his bonnet about something.
"What the hell is wrong with Harvey?"
"What do you mean?" She feigned ignorance but her heart was pounding.
"He called in "sick". Wouldn't give a reason, and I've had to take two meetings on his behalf already today!"
"I'm afraid I don't know, Robert, I'm sorry."
"What do you mean you don't know? I know how the two of you are, you expect me to buy that he's called in sick and you have no idea why?"
"I really don't, Robert. But I'll find out."
"Good. Because this kind of shit might have been okay with Jessica, but it sure as hell isn't okay with me."
When she arrived at Harvey's apartment, he didn't answer the door so she let herself in with the key he'd given back to her several weeks earlier. The apartment was a mess and she felt a jolt of fear run through her at the thought that something may have happened to him.
There was an empty bottle of water on the kitchen floor, his T-shirt from the previous night strewn across the couch, a bloody tea towel on the kitchen island, a broken glass in the sink, and another glass on its side on the coffee table, liquid spilling out over the floor.
"Harvey?" She called out, heart pounding as she walked further into the apartment. He didn't answer but she could see his foot sticking out from his bed as she approached his bedroom. She slid the door open fully and found him sprawled out on top of his bed, still in his sweats, shirtless and with dried blood crusted on his forearm. She could see his chest rising and falling and the fear drained out of her when she realised he was just passed out.
"How much fucking scotch did you drink last night?" she mumbled as she kicked her Louboutins off and padded into the bathroom for a cold washcloth.
She laid the washcloth across his forehead and shook him lightly by the shoulder. This wasn't her first time waking him up from a drunken stupor.
"Harvey," she said firmly. He stirred under her touch and opened his eyes to look at her. She knew immediately that something was off. His eyes were red, watery. His skin was clammy and pale.
"I'm okay," he said, seeing the expression on her face.
"What happened here?" She gestured to his bloody arm and he winced.
"I just broke a glass."
"Harvey. What's going on?"
"Panic attacks." He shifted his gaze away from the concern in her eyes, feeling it cut through to the bone.
"Harvey…" She bit her lip. "It's my fault, isn't it?"
"No." He struggled to sit up, propping himself against the headboard. "Don't say that."
"I was frustrated last night. But I shouldn't have walked out on you."
"I wasn't… I didn't want you to go." He sighed. He glanced down at her hand on his chest, and she followed his gaze, suddenly becoming aware of how warm his skin was under her fingers. "I should shower."
"Sure." She withdrew her arm and stood up, but when his hand closed around her wrist, she looked back at him.
"Please don't leave." His eyes were fearful again and she found herself winding her fingers through his and squeezing gently.
"I'll be here."
She was curled on the couch again when he returned from the bathroom, the fullness of her skirt covering the expanse of her silky legs, much to his chagrin.
"Feeling better?" she asked, watching him settle on the couch next to her, a clean pair of sweats adorning his body, and a soft grey T-shirt he'd chosen for comfort.
"Yes," he answered. "I'm sorry about all of this." He waved his hand around the apartment, watching as her eyes took in the mess he knew she'd already seen on her way in.
"Don't be," she told him, fixing her gaze on him again. "Are you okay?"
"I am now." He was surprised when her hand slid into his again, their fingers linking like it was second nature, when in reality he could count the number of times they'd touched like this on the fingers of one hand.
"Tell me what happened last night."
"You left." He swallowed hard, even the words making him feel on edge, despite having her sitting next to him, hand in his.
"And after that?" Her eyes were searching his, and he felt like he could down in their depths and it would never be enough. He wanted to tell her everything, bare his soul.
"I've been going to therapy again."
"What?"
"I've been seeing Louis' therapist."
"Since you went there together?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"We haven't been… it's been different lately." He watched her face change, she looked regretful, ashamed and he wanted to kick himself for putting that look there. "I didn't -"
"I'm sorry." She cut him off with her apology, the hand that wasn't linked with his landing just above his knee, her thumb stroking lightly, almost absent-mindedly. He felt his temperature rise at her close proximity. They looked at each other for a moment, each studying the other's face. He watched as her eyes flicked to his lips and back up again, and struggled to keep his own eyes on her face, away from the ample display of flesh in the low v-neck of her dress.
"I wanted to kiss you last night," he said huskily, feeling the crackling tension building between them again.
"Why didn't you?" Her voice was almost a whisper, low and breathless as she looked at his mouth again.
"Because I'm an idiot," he replied, watching her mouth, her tongue skimming between her lips, moistening them in preparation of the kiss they were both anticipating.
They both knew it was coming, it was inevitable, but as they leaned in simultaneously and their lips met, the fireworks went off inside his head and his eyes slammed closed, intoxicated by the feeling of her mouth on his. When a low moan resounded in her throat, he lost all control, yanking his hand from hers to cup her face in both hands, pulling her closer to him, drunk on the taste of her. Her hand had slid along his thigh and was now positioned dangerously close to his groin, and he could feel his body reacting instinctively, just the way any man would react to having this incredible woman touching him. His left hand wove into her hair, the silky strands slipping through his fingers. But when she ran her hand along his arm, accidentally touching the fresh wound from the broken glass, he hissed in pain, tearing his lips from hers prematurely.
"I'm sorry!" she gasped. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," he reassured her hastily. "It's okay."
She ran her hand down his cheek, trailing it along the length of his neck.
"Let me look at it."
"It's okay, really."
"Let me look at it, Harvey." Her voice was firm and he held his arm out reflexively, used to doing as she told him. She trailed her finger lightly along the red skin, still swollen and inflamed from the cut, the wound itself raw and weeping. "Where's your first aid kit?"
"It doesn't need -"
"First aid kit, Harvey."
"How do you even know I have one?" They were falling easily back into their old pattern, banter and witticisms.
"Louis," she replied. "He bought me one the same year."
"It's under the sink."
They were silent as she began to dress the wound and she knew it would be up to her to keep the conversation going.
"That was some kiss. Definitely better than the last one."
His head snapped up to look at her but she kept her gaze firmly fixed on his arm, concentrating on her task.
"Was that a joke, Miss Paulsen?"
"I believe it was, Mister Specter." She looked up then, a grin on her face. "Think you can do better?"
"Are you challenging me?"
"What do you think?" She raised an eyebrow and he smirked, saying nothing.
She finished bandaging his arm in silence, running her fingertips over the remaining exposed skin when she was finished, feeling the muscles twitching in response to her touch.
"Thank you," he said softly. She felt something build inside her chest, tightening it with emotion, making it hard to breathe.
"Of course." An awkwardness fell between them as they looked at each other, neither side knowing what to say or do.
"I guess I ruined the moment," Harvey joked weakly, the corners of his mouth turning up teasingly.
At that moment the feeling hit her again; an assault of images, a tidal wave of love, everything she'd felt when she'd arrived at his door the previous night.
This was the man she wanted to come home to at night. She wanted him to walk barefoot around their home, humming in the kitchen while he cooked, kissing her every time she walked into a room. She wanted everything with him, and she'd ignored it for far too long.
"I love you," she said, maintaining their eye contact, convincing him with her gaze that it was true; that he was worthy of her love.
The next thing she knew, his lips were on hers again, his hands holding her face, fingers weaving into her hair. His tongue ran along her top lip and her lips parted, letting her tongue meet his, stroking sensuously as she shifted to lie down on the couch, pulling him on top of her.
With their bodies aligned, she could feel the heat of his groin against hers, their legs tangled as they kissed with growing intensity.
"You're so beautiful," Harvey breathed as his moved his face from hers, trailing kisses along her jawline and down to her neck. Her hands had found their way under his shirt, splayed against his lower back, holding him to her. The warmth of his skin was comfort, love, lust and passion all at once and she was desperate to feel more of him.
But when his hand found her breast, and she began to feel herself getting lost in sensation, her eyes snapped open and she twisted away from him.
"We have to stop. I need to get back to work," she said regretfully. Harvey stared at her incredulously and she was forced to elaborate. "I told Robert I was coming to see what was going on with you. If I don't go back, there'll be questions."
"But we're…" he rolled his hips against her in demonstration, letting her feel just how much he wanted her.
"I know," she groaned. But it doesn't look good if I just disappear for the rest of the day. You get that, right?"
"Okay," Harvey sighed. "Let me get dressed and I'll come with you. Ray can drop us off." He pressed his lips to hers once more, lightly, not enough for either to get carried away again. "But tonight, we're going to continue this, and you'd better believe I'm going to rock your world."
"I think it's going to be me rocking your world, but you tell yourself whatever you need to."
"I'm sure it'll be mutually beneficial." Harvey winked as he got up from the couch. "But try and control yourself while I get changed okay? I know the thought of me naked in there is going to make it difficult, but we've got plenty of time for that tonight."
"Tell yourself whatever you want, Specter. But I've seen you perving on me for years, so we'll see later who has more control."
Her words were all bravado; she could feel her stomach flipping at the thought of him disrobing with only a door between them. A door that didn't even lock.
It'd been thirteen years since she'd last seen his naked body (twelve and half if you asked him), but it didn't take much to notice the hard muscle under his shirts, or the impressive bulge in his pants. Her palms itched to touch him, and she could feel a throbbing between her legs and a tightness in her lower abdomen.
She watched him walk away, his sweatpants hugging his ass in exactly the right way; and she bit her lip as another wave of desire washed over her.
"You know, you're pretty hot in your casual wear," she called after him as he disappeared into the bedroom.
"I know," he replied, and she could hear the grin in his voice. "But I'm hotter in nothing at all."
The next thing she knew, he was standing in the doorway stark naked, and her eyes immediately fell to his rapidly hardening cock and his hand, clasped around his length, stroking slowly.
"Stop it," she said in a strangled voice, her resolve evaporating with every second that she watched him.
"Stop what?" he asked innocently, continuing the slow, steady strokes of his member as he walked toward her.
"I need to get back to the office…"
"You're not going back to the office today." The authority in his words had her pressing her thighs together, a fact that did not escape his notice and he ached to touch her there, feel how wet she was for him.
"Harvey…" her voice was nothing but a whisper, her mind erased of everything other than his naked body in front of her.
He took her hand, pulling her from the couch and reaching around her to lower the zipper on her dress. Their eyes locked as he undressed her, pupils dilated with arousal, searching one another's gaze for any hint of indecision.
When none was found, their lips crashed together and Donna wasted no time removing her undergarments, baring herself to the man she'd hidden herself from for thirteen years.
He cupped a breast in his hand immediately, teasing the nipple with his thumb as she arched into his touch. She could feel his thick rod pressed against her lower abdomen, so close and yet not close enough to where she needed him.
"C'mon," he said, breaking the kiss and leading her by the hand to his bedroom. Every touch, every kiss was more pleasurable than the last, and when his fingers probed between her legs to find her wet and ready, she thought it might just be the most erotic thing she'd ever experienced.
Until he laid himself on top of her and sucked those same two fingers into his mouth, tasting her. A sound left him that she couldn't describe, but it was almost animalistic and she bucked her hips against him, desperate to feel him filling her.
"You wanna use a condom?" He asked breathlessly and she shook her head.
"I've got it covered."
He pushed into her at a torturous pace, considerate of the fact they'd had barely any foreplay and she may not be lubricated enough to easily accept his sizeable member. But thirteen years of denied feelings was foreplay enough and he slid inside her without issue, stilling when he was buried to the hilt, the sensation of her wrapped around him better than he'd remembered.
"Holy shit," he groaned, burying his face in her neck. They were pressed together along every inch of their bodies and he could feel her chest rising and falling under his, her breath shallow.
"You okay?" He asked, suckling at the junction of her neck and shoulder.
"Yes. Just… move. Please." When he pulled back to look at her, she was biting her lip, her eyes almost black with arousal and her skin flushed with desire. He withdrew half way and pushed back in, rolling his hips experimentally, rewarded with a breathy moan. Taking his cues from her he began to move faster, his thrusts smooth but hard, bringing her closer to nirvana with every stroke.
She was breathing hard, panting and moaning, the feeling of making love with him too much and not enough after so long of denying themselves this pleasure.
Harvey maneuvered himself up onto his knees, pushing her legs back closer to her chest as he moved within her, a better angle to watch her face, and see the bouncing of her breasts as she moved against the mattress with each thrust. It was also a better angle to splay his hand against her stomach, anchoring himself within her and positioning his thumb on her clitoris.
"Fuck," she groaned, squeezing her breast with her right hand while reaching for his waist with her left, needing to feel him; the tautness of his muscles, the softness of his skin, the warmth of his body. "Harvey…" she whined, needing to feel more of him. She propped herself up on an elbow and he took the opportunity to slide an arm under her back, scooping her up to straddle him, bodies pressed together as he captured her lips, his tongue immediately finding residence within the warm cavern of her mouth.
With the change of position, his pelvis rubbed deliciously against her clit and her eyes closed at the onslaught of new sensations. His arms were wound loosely around her back, holding her close but giving her enough range of motion to ride him as he thrust hard into her, their hips slapping together in a symphony of sounds.
"Yes, there," she moaned loudly.
"Good?" Harvey asked as he kept moving beneath her. His hips were beginning to protest a little but nothing was going to stop him from getting her off. He remembered from the last time that her orgasms were nothing like the poised, graceful woman she presented to the world, but were in fact loud and messy; made up of writhing and convulsing and groaning in the most erotic way imaginable and he was eager to witness it again, the image burning inside his mind.
"Oh god, oh shit, yes, yes, yesss…" words and sounds began to tumble from her lips as she bounced on his cock, her orgasm getting closer with every move.
"Come for me," he commanded, his eyes locked on hers.
"FUCK," she cried out as her orgasm slammed into her, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her body shaking and jerking as he held her, slowing in his movements to let her climax wash over her, maximising the sensations in her body.
When it was over, she slumped against him, breathing hard, a sheen of sweat over her face and body as she rested her face against his shoulder.
"God, that was stunning," Harvey breathed, his lips against her ear. She sat up straight again to meet his lips, tongues tangling as she thanked him wordlessly for the pleasure he'd given.
"Your turn," she said softly as their lips parted contact again.
"Lie back." He leant forward, rolling her down onto her back so they were in missionary again. "Let me do the work this time." He began thrusting again, the friction against her sensitive flesh causing her face to twist, the delectable combination of pleasure and pain flowing through her. She gripped his biceps as he held himself above her, hips moving against hers, his hard cock beginning to twitch, his balls tightening as his orgasm approached.
"I'm -" before he had a chance to utter the next word, his was pulsing within her, shooting streams of cum into her as his body tensed and he groaned his release.
He collapsed onto her, hearing her breath escape in a small oof.
"Sorry," he said quickly and started to move but she shook her head, wrapping a leg around his.
"No. Don't move." Her hands slid along his arms and shoulders, winding around him in a loving embrace as she pressed kisses to his neck and shoulder. "I love you," she whispered, the enormity of everything that had just happened overwhelming her, causing tears to prick at her eyes.
"I think you may have mentioned something to that effect earlier," he teased, turning his face into her neck to suckle lightly at a spot that had her breath hitching.
"You started it," she replied affectionately. Her hand wove into his hair, nails scraping at his scalp lightly and he muffled a satisfied moan in the crook of her neck.
She sighed contentedly, her muscles relaxed, her heart happy, her body sore in all the right places, and in that moment she knew that she'd never need anything other than him.
"I'm in this for good," she told him softly. "You're it for me."
"I am too," he replied, lifting himself up to look into her eyes. "I'm never going to want anyone else the way I want you."
"Good," she said with a smile,
"Good," he replied, pressing his lips to hers briefly, chastely, before rolling onto his back and pulling her into his side. "Welcome to the rest of your life."
"You're a dork," she said, her musical laughter filling his ears.
"But I'm your dork."
"Yes. You are." Her chest swelled with love, knowing that he was right; the rest of her life had just begun.
Yes, it's cheesy, but I'm not apologising for who I am. E x