Note: Based on a prompt I received; anon requested "the other time." This may not be entirely what you had in mind, but I hope you (and everyone) enjoy! Please let me know what you think.
Thank you to Heather for the beta and for giving me confidence to post and share. ❤️
Donna has another rule.
One she created in a desperate attempt to regain control the day she went to work for Harvey at Pearson Hardman.
She wakes up the night before to an incessant throb between her legs and the ghost of Harvey's hands on her body, her walls contracting against nothing and she aches, craves, needs.
And since she can't have him there physically, she does the next best thing.
Knees drawn up, she plunges three fingers deep in her soaking cunt, bites her lip and imagines it's him filling her, plucking at her nipples, pulsating all the way in and all the way out. Imagines his hot mouth on her neck, on her breasts, on her stomach as he eats the trail of strawberries off her skin.
All it takes after that is three rapid strokes over her clit for her to crash over the edge.
Her chest heaves, her sheets are drenched, and she's sticky and cold and ashamed.
Because when it's done, when the blood rushes through her ears and she's toppling down from the high, all that remains is empty space and hollow noise where he should be, but isn't.
So she vows to not think about that, when doing this.
:—:
It doesn't last.
Her brows draw tight together as all her focus narrows to the blinding heat between her thighs. Except it's his hand, not hers, flicking back and forth over her clit, and she instinctively brings two fingers to her mouth to wet them, presses them to the hardened nub to mimick his tongue. His stellar tongue, mapping her folds, creating shapes and patterns she never knew existed.
Harvey stops kissing her and she moans in protest. Her satin nightgown is down past her shoulders, exposing her breasts and she is definitely going to have marks where he's sucked the whipped cream off her neck and chest.
She doesn't care as long as he will just keep kissing her.
Harvey drops to his knees and — she is suddenly very aware of what's about to happen. Of course this is where it was leading — it's why she went out and bought the damn dessert, flying through self-checkout with barely concealed giddiness. But now here he is, in her apartment, on his knees, shaking the can for good measure and she's not sure how she's still standing.
He pulls the fabric all the way down her body and it crumples to a heap on the floor. She's completely naked and the way Harvey's eyes fixate on her is enough to send a rush of heat between her legs.
Which is immediately replaced by the coolness of the whipped cream, and Donna's heart pounds in her ears while he covers her sex in the white treat.
Her head hits the wall as Harvey spreads her open and drags his tongue across her slit in one smooth motion. He moans and the sound reverberates through her core. Donna winds her fingers through his hair, pulling at the strands as his tongue flattens on her clit.
She's overwhelmed, eyes screwed shut, but she wants to look. Needs to see him.
Head buried between her legs, strong hands gripping her thighs, he pulls back and she nearly whimpers at the sight of the whipped cream framing his lips before he dives back in like he's starving.
Harvey slowly traces every crevice, a gentle journey through her folds, leaving no surface neglected. Every bit of cream is licked from her until she's bared to him again, and he stares at her hungrily, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her center.
Donna's knees buckle and he steadies her, mumbles something that sounds an awful lot like "I've got you," before his teeth scrape the hood of her clit. She can't help it; her hips grind against his mouth, and in another situation she might be embarrassed, but not here, and certainly not with him.
He flicks his tongue on the bundle of nerves, again and again, alternating between circling there and pressing against her entrance and it's all too much.
His eyes meet hers, and they're darker than she's ever seen them as he licks his lips and goes back for more.
Her back arches, her toes curl, she explodes in a swirl of heat and desire and something else, something that's been there since she shook his hand in a crowded bar, something that grips her heart when he grins at her throughout the day, something that makes her come apart harder than she ever has in her life.
His kisses to her core don't cease, lapping at her wetness while he brushes his thumbs back and forth over her inner thighs. She's shaking and spent but he's still going, smears a dollop of whipped cream from his finger onto her swollen clit, sucks it off while his eyes stay locked onto hers and Donna succumbs to his worship once more.
It's not the same, her brain supplies through the orgasmic haze, bucking lazily against her hand as her fingers run through her wet folds.
Because he's not there to ground her after. He doesn't whisper in her ear that she's the most gorgeous thing he's ever seen, tastes much better than strawberries and whipped cream. His new favorite dessert, he tells her as she tries to regain equilibrium.
Harvey doesn't kiss her for all she's worth as she tingles from the aftershocks. A different tingling sensation runs through her body now, a sense of loss and longing.
Donna doesn't feel fulfilled. If anything, she's more desperate than before, searching for relief that will never come.
:—:
Years go by, and it happens more often.
It's certainly not unwelcome; her body responds immediately to the memories she's stored away that have managed to escape in the night.
It just makes it that much harder to accept that it's never going to happen again.
This morning — after a particularly heady dream of riding him so hard the ache in her muscles feels real — she rolls on her stomach, heel of her hand digging into her clit, her palm trapped between her hips and the sheets.
She bites her fist and thinks of his dick in her mouth, hot and heavy, the deep groans expelling from his chest that spur her on.
Holding the base of him firmly in both hands, she sucks him into her mouth, cheeks hollowed, and the taste of him combined with the sugary concoction is enough to drive her wild.
Harvey has difficulty staying still, hands pulling at her hair and if it hurts, she doesn't tell him to stop because — and her clit throbs — she likes it.
She likes the effect she has on him. Hips bucking, he's clearly trying to restrain himself, but when she runs her tongue along the underside of his shaft his hands grapple for purchase on her shoulders, curses flying, and it takes her a moment before she realizes he's trying to get her attention.
"Donna," he pants as she releases him. She takes him in; he's flushed, sprawled beneath her, eyes dark and hungry. But there's something else there. He's looking at her in a way that no one has ever looked at her before. She can't put a name to it but it's as if it says everything all at once. It settles in her chest, makes a home there, as she gives him a winning smile and crawls up his body to kiss him.
Donna comes to the thought of grinding up and down his shaft, not her own tired hand, and leaves a dark wet stain on her pillow where she bit down in ecstasy.
:—:
God damn him.
She's out the doors of the firm at 4:57 — she never leaves before 5:00, barely leaves before 7:00 — because she's been stuck on you and I both know it's really strawberries and whipped cream and his knowing gaze and his shit-eating grin all day, and her body screams for release.
She tries not to think about it. What she's going to do as soon as she's locked away in her apartment.
In her shower.
Alone.
The last thought stings, cutting sharply through her arousal.
He's there but he's not there. He does this, makes her think they could be something and then switches gears so rapidly she has trouble finding solid ground.
So here she is, palm flat on the tiled wall to brace herself as the hot water beats down her back, washing away her quiet moans and the slickness dripping down her thighs.
It's a poor excuse for what she really wants. But sometimes she thinks it's easier to pretend she has him, that they have something, for even two minutes of bliss than to forget about it completely.
So she rubs harder, wanton and desperate, clinging to the memory.
They're sticky, Donna explains against his mouth while she fumbles behind him to start the shower. They have to clean off.
Harvey is too busy tugging on her nipple with his teeth to respond.
"Don't make me fall," she warns weakly, clutching at his shoulders.
"Never," he whispers against her heart, and the sudden intimacy of the moment rocks her, floors her.
She lets herself imagine the possibility of having this. Having him. Of having more than one night.
She likes it.
She thinks he likes it, too.
They're sharing giggles as they lather each other, not focused on getting clean and instead focusing on where they can touch the other to affect them the most. Donna takes him in her hand and pumps once, twice before rubbing the tip along her pussy, watches with dilated eyes as his mouth falls open and his hands falter on her hips.
Then she's against the glass door as he enters her from behind. She briefly wonders if it's sturdy enough to hold. But then his hands come around to cup her breasts and knead and all she can think about is him, hard angles and soft kisses, drilling into her as she stretches around him and it feels more whole and complete than anything else ever has.
Harvey's hand drifts lower, lower, to the soft folds and he circles her clit with determined strokes. It's been five hours, give or take, and he already knows just what to do, what she likes. What has her screaming his name in seconds, hurtling off into space, galaxies forming behind her eyes.
He falls apart with her, and she wants this moment to last forever.
Her legs are shaking, but this time, it's not from the feeling of Harvey's cock twitching inside her as they float back down to earth.
She shuts off the water, which has gone lukewarm at best, and angrily swipes at the tears on her cheeks as she dries off.
:—:
The next time it happens, they really do have everything.
Harvey looks down at her tenderly, brushing his knuckles along her side until his hand finds hers.
"Show me," he says quietly, threading their fingers together.
Donna looks up at him quizzically.
His expression shifts slightly, drawing her hand down her stomach to her center. His larger hand covers hers atop her mound and she is struck by the visual.
"Show me how you thought about us being together."
And, oh — she gets it now.
Heat floods through her, and she's not shy — she does exactly as he asks, spreads her legs for him, mischievous smile dancing across her face as she slides her middle finger up her slit.
She's catapulted back to all the times she did this without him here and wonders how, when the real thing is now staring at her completely enraptured and she feels as though she can come from that alone.
She spreads her lips, opens herself to him, pushes two fingers inside and thumbs her clit. Harvey's heavy gaze on it is affecting her more than her own practiced hand, and she plays with her breasts to relieve some of the ache.
He's enamored, breath coming in shallow pants, and she catches sight of him straining and ready for her and the telltale signs of her orgasm begin to build.
"Tell me what you thought about," he grits out. His hand is on his dick now, pumping hard and she falters in her own ministrations as she watches him climb towards release.
"You," she gasps, grinding into her palm.
"Specific," he grunts, "That's not specific." His jerky movements slow, thumb circling the glistening head before sliding down his length and all the way back up again.
And fuck, she's there. She stops fucking herself abruptly, wanting to savor this. She meets his eyes; they're dark and wanting and loving and everything they were the other time and something entirely new, for who they are now, for what they are now.
"I thought of our first time," she whispers. "How good it felt. How right it felt." Donna grins. "But also how fucking hot it felt."
And then Harvey's hands are bracing her hips, pushing all the way inside her in one swift motion, and she cries out, closes her eyes against the onslaught of pleasure and heat and relief at the feeling of him filling her, coming together, finally, always, forever.
As she comes apart in his arms, Donna thinks that rules are made to be broken.