The home gym was a well-appointed space, spacious and modern, bathed in natural light streaming through large glass doors that opened directly onto the pool. The walls were adorned here and there with mirrors, making the room appear even larger.
On the left side, a row of weight machines stood waiting to be used, and right next to them, the cardio machines were lined up in formation.
In the center of the room, a large workout mat covered part of the floor, ready for stretching or core exercises.
To the right, near a wall of exposed brick, a boxing bag hung suspended, swaying slightly, marked by the countless strikes it had absorbed.
The brick wall and the black equipment gave the gym an industrial vibe. It was one of his favorite rooms, a space that served as both a refuge and a battlefield to expel the stress and doubts gnawing at him.
Harvey unleashed a series of punches with precision and strength, his fists striking the punching bag rhythmically, each impact reverberating through the gym. His muscles contracted, defined under his sweat-soaked skin, as he struck again and again.
His breath escaped in short bursts, and he occasionally wiped the sweat beading on his temples with the back of his wrist. Gradually, he felt the tension dissipating, leaving his body like poison being purged, though his mind remained unsettled.
He couldn't understand how he'd managed to sleep so well the previous night, despite everything he'd been through lately. He was someone who usually found rest elusive. He slept little, and poorly at that, often tormented by nightmares with memories that came to hunt him down. But with Donna, everything had been different. Her presence, the steady rhythm of her breathing beside him, had driven away his demons in an inexplicable way. With her, his sleep had been deep, restorative, free of fear. Donna made him vulnerable, yet she had also been his anchor, and he didn't know what to make of that ambivalence.
He landed one last hook on the bag, slower this time, before leaning back slightly, his hands on his hips as he tried to catch his breath.
.
A noise at the entrance to the gym snapped Harvey out of his thoughts. He turned and saw Louis striding in, his steps brisk and annoyed, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed into a tight, frustrated line. The manager, impeccably dressed even at this early hour, looked like he had spent the entire night stewing over his grievances.
"So… How was your little date night?" Louis began by way of greeting, his voice full of sarcasm.
Harvey straightened up, his shoulders still taut and his fists instinctively clenched after his boxing session. "Excuse me?" he replied, his voice low and icy.
The shorter man took a few steps forward, fidgeting nervously, his eyes blazing with irritation. "Oh, spare me! Grab her like a princess and leave like thieves, without even thinking of me?" His voice rose, oscillating between anger and indignation.
The Marine felt a wave of frustration rising within him. "What was I supposed to do? Leave her practically alone against 200 fucking people?"
Louis shook his head, gesturing almost theatrically as if trying to reinforce his argument with his hands. "Well, for starters, you could have let me know you were heading for the fire exit! Mike got the memo, didn't he?"
Harvey gritted his teeth, a muscle twitching along his jaw. "Mike is the driver. He's literally my partner in these kinds of situations," incredulous that he even had to explain something so basic.
"Oh, so I'm not your partner?" Louis shot back, his voice cracking with emotion. "I'm her manager, for God's sake!" He straightened his posture, trying to impose a presence he knew was diminutive compared to Harvey's broad-shouldered frame.
Harvey crossed his arms, his muscles still tense from his workout. "You're just her manager. Don't make yourself out to be more important than you are."
Louis's mouth opened and closed, searching for words strong enough to counter. "You're the one talking?!" he hissed, his voice venomous. "You're just the damn bodyguard, you're not in charge of her life!"
A flash of anger lit up Harvey's eyes. Memories of the previous night, the chaos, Donna injured, surged through him like a tidal wave. His voice rumbled with barely-contained fury. "Maybe if I had been, we wouldn't all be in this mess," he said, yanking off his gloves. "And for your information, I am literally in charge of her life. You? You just schedule her meetings."
Louis clenched his fists, his face reddening with fury. "Watch your mouth! You wouldn't even be here if I hadn't hired you!"
Harvey's gaze darkened further. "No, Louis," he snarled. "I wouldn't be here if you hadn't put everyone in this shitty situation. If you hadn't hidden those letters in the first place. If you'd alerted the police from the start! Maybe that guy would've been caught months ago!"
The shorter man paled, his eyes narrowing at the accusation, but he wasn't one to back down easily. "You think you're better than everyone else, don't you?" he spat, his voice trembling with disdain. "Perfect soldier."
That was the final straw. The rage that had been simmering within Harvey erupted. He took a quick step forward, grabbed Louis by the collar of his jacket, and slammed him against the brick wall. "I am not a fucking soldier. Don't you ever call me that again," he hissed through gritted teeth, his face inches from Louis'.
.
The door to the gym creaked open, and a noise echoed through the room. Harvey and Louis froze, still locked in the tense moment, but it was a soft, innocent voice that shattered the silence.
"What are you doing?" Max asked with her innocent face.
Harvey immediately let go of Louis, releasing him so quickly that he almost stumbled. The hostility vanished from Harvey's face in an instant, replaced by a deep breath as he tried to steady his pounding heart.
Max stood in the doorway, dressed in unicorn-patterned pajamas and clutching her favorite stuffed toy—a purple octopus with big googly eyes. She looked from one man to the other with curiosity. "Why were you yelling at each other?" she asked, tilting her head slightly with disarming curiosity.
Harvey walked over to her and knelt down to meet her gaze, his hard features softening. "We were just playing," he said with a reassuring smile, though his chest still felt heavy with the aftermath of the confrontation. "Nothing serious, I promise. What are you doing up so early, anyway?"
Max frowned, not entirely convinced by his answer, but she let it slide. "I'm starving. And Mom's still asleep."
Normally, he would've found a way to hand Max off to Rachel or locate her nanny. But the way out she was offering him was far too tempting. Anything to get away from Louis and keep him from committing murder.
"Let's head to the kitchen. We'll find you something to eat," he said, rising to his feet.
.
In the kitchen, Harvey wasn't entirely sure what to make her, so he opted for something safe. He grabbed the box of cereal he'd seen her eat before, pouring some into a bowl and adding milk.
When he turned back to Max, she was perched on one of the high stools, her legs swinging back and forth while her small hands tapped nervously on the counter. Harvey frowned, noticing that her usual boundless energy seemed to be missing, replaced instead by a quiet sadness that squeezed his heart, though he would never admit it.
He set the bowl in front of her and sat down beside her. After a moment of silence, he asked gently, "What's wrong?"
Max lifted her eyes to him, her little lips trembling slightly. "It's Father's Day soon," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. She hugged her stuffed octopus closer to her chest. "At school, everyone's talking about the gifts we're making and how they're going to give them to their dads…" She trailed off, her gaze dropping to the bowl of cereal as her voice grew quieter. "But I don't have a dad to give mine to," she added, her voice breaking just a little.
Harvey's chest tightened painfully. He'd never really thought about what it must be like for Max not to have a father. It was a topic Donna never discussed with him, and he'd always assumed that the cheerful, full-of-life little girl didn't seem to suffer from it.
But now, sitting here with her, she seemed completely distraught.
"I'm sorry, Max," Harvey said, his deep voice unusually gentle. He placed his large, calloused hand over her much smaller one, trying to convey some measure of comfort. "I know how hard it is to miss someone who's not there," he declared, facing his own lack without the little girl being aware of it.
Her face, so like Donna's, with its soft features and expressive brown eyes, looked up at him. Those eyes were glassy with unshed tears, her rosy cheeks slightly puffed, and her small mouth quivered as she tried to hold in a sob.
"But that's the thing, I don't miss him." A tear finally slid down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away with the back of her hand.
Harvey frowned slightly, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I never knew him. I don't have any memories of him. How can I miss someone I've never met? I just want someone to give my gift to," she swallowed in a soft voice, charged with such a simple desire to share a special bond with someone. "I gave it to Mom once, but she started crying. I don't want her to be sad because of me."
"Oh, Max…" Harvey murmured as he gently squeezed her tiny hand in his. "Your mom isn't sad because of you. Never. You're the best thing in her life. But sometimes, emotions just get the better of us."
He paused, searching for the right words. "You know, Father's Day isn't really about fathers, it's the day of someone you love : a dad, a mom, an uncle, a grandma… anyone. It's about giving your gift to someone special, someone who matters to you."
Max's eyes widened, and a flicker of hope lit up her face. "Really?" she asked, her voice small but eager.
"Really."
Before he could say another word, Max flung herself into his arms with a force that caught him off guard. For a moment, he froze, his eyes widening as the small child hugged him tightly. Affection wasn't something Harvey knew how to handle, let alone when it came from a child. He remained stiff, unsure of what to do, but as Max's warmth pressed against him, his resistance melted. Slowly, and a little awkwardly, he wrapped his strong arms around her small frame, holding her with a tenderness he hadn't known he was capable of.
When she finally pulled back, her face was alight with her usual bright smile, her cheeks rosy and her eyes sparkling with a joy that had been missing just moments ago.
Harvey couldn't help but smile back, a strange warmth spreading through his chest.
He was so screwed.
A few days later, Donna's parents arrived at her place to spend some time in New York. After hearing about what had happened at the convention, they wanted to make sure she was okay, even though she insisted it wasn't necessary.
The young woman settled onto the couch, a light smile on her lips, as her mother started the conversation.
"So, how's school going for Max?" her mother asked, clearly curious. "She must already be making a name for herself, right? She's such a lively little girl…"
Donna let out a small laugh. "Oh, she's more than lively. She talks nonstop and asks questions all day long. She's fascinated by everything. I think her teacher doesn't quite know how to handle her sometimes."
"She'll grow out of it, and honestly, it's better to have a child full of life than a wallflower with no energy."
Donna nodded absently, watching her father who remained silent. That was never a good sign. He was sat in the armchair, his face closed off. Though he was listening to the exchange between Donna and her mother, she could feel the weight of his gaze on her.
The conversation continued, touching on lighter topics. Clara kept talking with a feigned casualness, trying to fill the heavy silence emanating from her husband.
Eventually, though, Jim sat up, no longer able to hold back. His eyes, hard but worried, locked onto his daughter.
"Donna, we heard about what happened at the convention. How could something so serious happen, especially with all the security you're supposed to have?"
She sighed softly, having expected this. Still, the question brought up details she preferred to keep buried, even from herself.
"It was an unexpected situation, Dad," she finally replied, shifting away to focus on a spot on the wall behind him. "These things… they're hard to predict."
Her father frowned, his face a mask of confusion and disapproval. "Hard to predict?" he repeated sternly, emphasizing each word as though trying to corner her. "You have a personal bodyguard, don't you? How could he not have predicted this?"
Her fingers gripped the edge of the couch tightly, her mind scrambling to escape the conversation. "He actually did predict it. I just…" She paused, unable to admit that she had asked Harvey to hang back. No, it was easier to let her father think he hadn't handled things well.
She felt her father's gaze harden further at her silence, his disapproval growing. "You just what?" he pressed, then raised his hand, dismissing any explanation. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. It's very noble of him to have gotten you out of there, but the damage was already done. He—"
A sudden noise interrupted Jim's tirade. A man strode briskly through the living room, phone pressed to his ear and an annoyed expression on his face. Donna didn't need to look up to know who it was.
Harvey, dressed in a charcoal gray suit, barely seemed to notice their presence. His jaw was tight, his features focused as he spoke in a low, gravelly tone to whoever was on the other end of the call. He moved past them without slowing, disappearing through the glass doors that led to the terrace.
Jim turned his head, watching Harvey step outside. "That's your bodyguard, isn't it?"
She nodded silently, not saying a word.
"I want to meet him."
"Dad…" she tried, her voice almost pleading, hoping to avoid the confrontation entirely. She had expected sharp remarks but not a direct face-off.
"I'm not going to lecture him. I just want to be introduced."
Donna glanced at her mother, who gave her a subtle nod. With a sigh of resignation, she stood and made her way toward Harvey.
.
He was standing outside, absorbed in his phone, his thumb flying across the screen as he likely responded to an urgent message. His expression was focused, his brow furrowed.
"Hey," she called softly from the doorway.
Harvey looked up at her voice, slipping his phone into his pocket. "Hey, Donna. What can I do for you?"
She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, before tilting her head slightly toward the living room. "Can you come inside for a minute?"
A smirk tugged at the corner of Harvey's lips. He glanced around, making sure they were alone, then stepped closer with a teasing glint in his eye. "You know, just because we slept together doesn't mean you should feel obligated to introduce me to your parents."
"I don't feel obligated to do anything," she replied in a half-amused, half-serious tone, lowering her voice. "But my father wants to meet you, and I'm sorry about that in advance."
"Why?"
"Because it's not going to be pleasant," she sighed, already drained at the thought of it. Her father was notoriously hard to please when it came to her, which Donna found ironic considering their chaotic relationship.
Harvey, unfazed, shrugged nonchalantly. "I survived Afghanistan, I'll survive your dad," he said with a confident smile, following her back inside.
.
As they stepped into the living room, Donna took a deep breath, bracing herself for the inevitable. Her mother, however, darted forward with a bright smile, seemingly determined to smother any tension before it could take root.
"Mom, Dad, this is Harvey. Harvey, my parents."
Harvey was about to greet them politely, but before he could even get a word out, Clara pulled him into a warm, familiar hug that left him frozen in place. Surprised, he glanced over at Donna with a raised brow, almost tetanized by a simple embrace.
"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Paulsen," he managed awkwardly.
"Oh, please, call me Clara," she said, stepping back and placing a fond hand on his arm. "You take care of my daughter, you're part of the family."
Hell, if he only looked out for her. The poor woman would probably choke on her coffee if she knew what Harvey was doing to her sweet little angel after hours.
Donna's father, who had remained silent up until now, stepped forward and extended his hand as if offering a begrudging truce. Though the gesture seemed forced, she appreciated the effort. "I'm Jim Paulsen."
"I know," he said calmly, taking his hand with a firm grip. "Harvey."
The old man arched a brow. "You know?"
Harvey smiled discreetly at the man's naiveté. "You really think you would've made it past the gate if I didn't know exactly who you were?"
Donna saw her father stiffen. "I'm her father," he said coldly.
Harvey shrugged slightly. "As far as I'm concerned, you could be the fucking Queen of England, it wouldn't make any difference. If I haven't checked your identity, you're not getting through the door."
The redhead's gaze flitted nervously between the two men, but her father held his ground. "Good to know you remember how to do your job."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"That your job is to protect her."
"You mean like you were supposed to protect her when she was a kid?" Harvey shot back sharply.
"Harvey!" Donna exclaimed, reprovingly. She had no idea how he even knew those details about her past, but this was neither the time nor the place to bring them up.
"You failed her at that convention," Jim said, doubling down.
"Dad! What happened to 'no lectures'?"
"What did you just say?" Harvey asked, completely ignoring Donna's interjection. His expression shifted, his face going rigid and unreadable, and she sensed the shift immediately. Something was wrong.
"You failed her," Jim repeated, articulating each word slowly, as though carving them into Harvey's psyche.
The marine said nothing and remained impassive, at least on the surface. But Donna was getting to know him and noticed the slight change. His fingers moved slightly like a tic when something went wrong, his jaw clenched and unclenched repeatedly, and she noticed him swallowing hard, trying to choke back the weight of Jim's words.
"Harvey," Donna said softly, her voice gentle but firm. "Go."
.
He turned his head toward her, surprised, his expression a mix of wounded pride and confusion. But when their eyes met, he understood. She wasn't rejecting him, she was giving him a way out, a lifeline, because she could see it. She could see something was wrong, even if she couldn't quite pinpoint what.
Harvey nodded slowly, swallowing once more as if forcing down the bitterness. After a final lingering look, he turned and left the room.
He climbed the stairs quickly, Jim's words looping endlessly in his mind.
You failed her.
You failed her.
You failed them.
Them.
Them.
The silhouettes of the civilians he hadn't been able to save floated in his mind. Their terrified faces. Their imploring eyes. Harvey felt himself being dragged back into his memories.
As he reached his bedroom, he could have sworn he felt the sand beneath his fingers, smelled the smoke of weapons, and heard the deafening buzz of bombings in his ears.
His heartbeat pounded in his eardrums, his breathing was erratic and labored, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his vision blurred further with each passing second. He desperately needed to hide. His bedroom was a start, but it wasn't enough. Too much openness, too much exposure. He needed to disappear, to find refuge in a space small enough to convince himself he was safe. His hurried steps led him to the walk-in closet, where he collapsed heavily against one of the walls, his back pressed against the surface, knees drawn tightly to his chest.
One sentence. One fucking sentence. And he was back in Afghanistan.
Harvey fumbled to pull his phone from his pocket with trembling hands, silently thanking the heavens that the number he sought was marked as a favorite. There was no way he would have been able to find it in his contacts list otherwise.
After what felt like an eternity, a familiar voice answered.
"Harvey, what can I do for you?"
His throat was so tight he could barely form words. He inhaled sharply, but the air seemed to stop halfway, never reaching his lungs.
"Talk… Just talk…"
.
On the other side, Jessica immediately understood the situation, far too familiar to her by now. It wasn't the first time she'd witnessed Harvey in the throes of a panic attack.
"Harvey, take a deep breath."
"I… I can't," Harvey choked out.
Her tone shifted, becoming soothing in a way she rarely used. "You can. Just once. Breathe in with me."
He shut his eyes tightly, struggling to focus on Jessica's calm breathing instead of the nausea that was becoming more and more present.
"That's it. Keep going," she encouraged softly. "You're in the Hamptons, Harvey. In New York State. In the United States. It's sunny outside, 77 degrees. Today is June 8th. It's Friday. The time is 5 PM."
Jessica heard his jerky breathing on the other side of the wire, the hoarse and irregular sound of someone struggling desperately.
"Listen to me, Harvey," she continued, slowly. "You're in a house. A house with solid walls. You are safe. Nothing can get to you here."
There was no reply, but she knew he was trying. She imagined him sitting there, maybe with his eyes closed, trying to overlay the reality of his immediate surroundings onto the terrifying memories assaulting him.
"Look around you," she instructed, "Tell me what you see. Just one thing."
His voice trembled as he replied, but he managed to get the words out. "I'm… I'm taking cover in the… the dressing room," he whispered.
Jessica closed her eyes briefly, steeling herself against the image of Harvey curled up in a ball on the floor of his closet. But he had called for a reason, and right now she needed to be strong for both of them.
"That's not what I asked, Harvey."
"A… an armchair."
"Good," Jessica said calmly. "An armchair. Where is it?"
"At the entrance to the closet."
"Perfect. Now focus on it. It's right there, just like you are."
He let his breath out slowly, following her advice. She felt the tension ease, ever so slightly, but the situation was still too fragile.
"You're safe. The sounds, the images, all of that… they're memories, Harvey. They can't hurt you anymore. They aren't real. What's real is you. Here. Today."
He closed his eyes again, his free hand clutching at the fabric of his pants.
"They were just… kids…" he breathed, his voice broken by the effort.
The heaviness of his words hung between them. Jessica didn't try to diminish it or deny it, she knew that wouldn't help.
"I know," she replied softly. "And I know you did everything you could. Sometimes, that's not enough. And that's a hard truth to bear. But it doesn't mean it was your fault."
"It is," he murmured almost inaudibly.
"No," Jessica said, her tone growing firmer. "You were there. You tried. You did everything you could, even at the cost of your own safety. But the rest… it wasn't in your hands."
A heavy silence followed, but she didn't rush him, letting him sit with her words and process them in his own time.
"I want you to stay with me, Harvey," she said at last. "Breathe in. Breathe out."
He inhaled deeply, for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, and a shiver ran through his entire body.
"Thank you," he whispered finally, his voice hoarse but steadier.
She stayed on the line, her presence calm and unwavering. And gradually, Harvey felt the crushing weight in his chest begin to lighten.
"Do you think you can come out of the dressing room?" she asked gently.
"Y-yeah," he replied hesitantly but sincere.
"Good. Go to bed and get some rest."
"It's five in the afternoon, Jessica," he protested, his voice weaker than usual, almost that of an exhausted child trying to resist a nap.
"I'm not going to start explaining how much a panic attack drains you," she shot back, her voice firm but not unkind. "You wouldn't be much use anyway."
"But—"
"Harvey." She paused just long enough for the weight of her authority to sink in. "I'll call Louis and have Jeff cover Donna if she needs to leave. But you're off duty until tomorrow. Understood?"
.
He wanted to argue, but he didn't have the strength. The attack had drained every ounce of his energy, and he knew he wouldn't be able to protect Donna properly in this state. He was incapable of being in charge at the moment. The idea of giving in, of simply following her orders, was almost comforting. That someone else was taking over.
"… Yes, ma'am," he finally murmured, his voice faint but tinged with relief.
"Good boy."
The garden was bathed in silver light, the moon's rays casting delicate shadows on the neatly maintained grass. A gentle nighttime breeze made the leaves shiver, blending with the song of crickets to create a soothing melody.
Harvey lay stretched out on a deckchair, his eyes fixed on the celestial immensity. His arms were crossed over his chest, but his fingers kept twitching nervously against the fabric of his t-shirt. He'd managed to fall asleep after his call with Jessica, his exhausted body pulling him into a deep slumber. But the nightmares had returned, vivid and relentless, dragging him out of bed in a cold sweat.
He had wandered out into the garden, desperately seeking the cool night air to calm his racing mind. He'd been there for a while, staring at the constellations. He knew them well, after so many nights spent gazing at them from far more hostile lands.
The soft sound of footsteps on the grass drew his attention. He didn't move at first, instinctively recognizing the silhouette approaching him.
"You're not sleeping?" he asked lazily, his gaze still fixed on the starry sky.
"I could ask you the same question," Donna replied gently, her voice tinged with curiosity.
"I was sleeping."
"Nightmares?"
"Something like that." His response was short, almost nonchalant, but the weight beneath his tone was impossible to miss.
Donna hesitated for a moment before suggesting, "Do you want to tal—"
"No." He briefly closed his eyes, a barely audible sigh slipping from his lips. "Definitely not."
She nodded without pushing and sat down at the end of the lounge chair, careful not to invade his space. She pulled her knees up to her chest, observing the man who seemed to her both incredibly strong and deeply wounded.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, breaking the silence with an unusual hesitation.
Harvey finally tore his gaze away from the stars to look at her, his furrowed brow showing his confusion. She continued : "My father."
He shook his head gently. "You don't need to apologize. I wasn't exactly exemplary myself."
"No, you weren't," she agreed with a faint touch of irony, falling quiet for a moment. She took a deep breath before adding, "And neither was I. I didn't have the courage to tell him I share some of the blame. I literally threw you under the bus."
He shrugged, seeming unbothered. "I'm paid to be your shield. In any circumstances. You're right to use it, I'm fine."
A comfortable silence settled between them. Harvey turned his gaze back to the sky, looking thoughtful. The constellations seemed to dance in his dark eyes, while Donna watched him, studying every detail of his face illuminated by the moon's silvery glow.
He was staring at the stars like he was searching for answers they could never offer, and she was staring at Harvey like she was trying to understand what he would never say.
"You know… When I offered you our deal to release the pressure. I wasn't just talking about my pressure."
Harvey looked at her again, his expression carefully neutral. He understood the implication perfectly, but his features betrayed no emotion, no desire. Only the tension in his shoulders and the tightness of his jaw hinted at the silent battle waging within him.
.
Donna, however, remained unshaken. She leaned in slightly, her movements deliberate and graceful, like a predator closing in on its prey. She stopped just a few inches from him, close enough for the warmth of her presence to start cracking the walls he had built.
"Donna…" the bodyguard warned softly.
"This isn't about me tonight. It's about you."
Harvey shook his head, attempting to maintain the fragile control he still held. "Someone might see us."
"Max is in town with my parents, Louis is at some origami festival and having dinner with his sister, and Mike and Rachel are celebrating their anniversary and won't be back until tomorrow. But… Of course, you already know all that," Donna realized with a wry smile, as Harvey listened without interrupting.
He took a deep breath, his fingers gripping the armrests of the lounge chair as he locked eyes with her. He swallowed hard, as though wrestling with emotions he refused to voice, her proposition both attractive and dangerous.
"You have no idea what you're offering."
The young woman didn't falter for a single second, more confident than ever. "How do you want me?" she asked, running a hand over her thigh. She could feel the muscle tense slightly and guessed his cock was starting to stiffen through the fabric of his pants.
He didn't answer her question, but his gaze shifted. It became more tempting, more primal.
The young woman brought her lips close to his ear and whispered in a sultry voice, "I'll tell you what's going to happen. I'll give you a few minutes to think about the question, and in the meantime, I'll take care of your cock with my mouth. When I'm done, you'd better have an answer for me."
Harvey didn't react but didn't resist when she pulled down his sweatpants, exposing his member, which sprang to attention as soon as it was freed. Donna spread Harvey's legs so they rested on the floor, giving her space to lie down and get comfortable.
She looked at Harvey again as she took him into her mouth, and his body began to relax as soon as her lips touched his tip. He closed his eyes and sighed in relief as Donna slid as far down as she could until the head of his cock reached the back of her throat. When she stopped moving for a moment, he reopened his eyes to see her staring at him while sucking on his cock with her tongue. She seemed to savor the moment, proud of the effect she had on him, reveling in how she managed to ease his tension with just a flick of her tongue.
Once she had his full attention, she began slow, deliberate movements, taking him as far as she could, though it was clear she couldn't take him fully without choking. Harvey, however, had other plans. She'd said she was here for him, to relieve his tension, so he decided to show her exactly what that meant to him.
He began moving his hips himself, quickening the pace of the blowjob as she grasped the base of his cock to stroke him. Harvey hissed through his teeth every time the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat. Tears welled up in her eyes from the gag reflex, and fuck, she was stunning.
"That's it, take it like a good girl," he breathed, running his fingers through her hair. He gripped it, pulling her up so only his tip was between her lips before pushing her back down, forcing her to take him deeper, which triggered another gag reflex.
She coughed and her throat closed around Harvey. "Fuck, yeah, just like that."
He repeated the action several times, tears streaming down her cheeks from the gag reflex, but she wouldn't have stopped for anything in the world. Some might find it borderline, others would despise it. But not Donna. She took pleasure in doing it, in hearing Harvey groan each time she coughed, in feeling her tears streak down her cheekbones. Sometimes, like tonight, it was almost a need to cry. Tears had such a liberating power.
"So, so pretty," Harvey murmured almost admiringly, wiping a tear from her face.
And God, he needed to stop with the praise, or Donna would start crying for real, and it wouldn't have anything to do with his cock hitting the back of her throat.
He grabbed her hair again, pulling her up and kissing her deeply. It was tender, almost shy, the perfect contrast to the blowjob she'd just given him.
She brought her lips close to his ear and bit gently on his earlobe. "So... How do you want me?"
He gave her a fiery look, nearly irritated to have lost the battle as Donna looked at him triumphantly.
"Ride me," he commanded.
She didn't respond but stood up to let her nightgown slide down her body as he watched her, outwardly impassive though his cock was practically begging for attention. Before the fabric fell to the ground, she grabbed the condom she had tucked into the sheer sleeve.
"So you planned this from the start?"
Donna chose not to answer but gave him an enigmatic smile that said enough. He leaned back further against the lounger, pretending to keep control of the situation. But Donna, now with her nightgown pooled around her ankles, knew it was only a facade. She leaned slightly toward him, letting the moonlight dance on her bare skin.
And Harvey was now sure of one thing. The starry sky was beautiful, but the freckles on Donna's body formed the most stunning constellation.
And fuck, he was so screwed.
She quickly rolled the condom onto Harvey's cock before straddling his lap and slowly lowering herself onto him.
As her body stretched and adjusted to Harvey's size, he stroked her thigh, gently encouraging her. Once he was fully inside her, he let out a groan at the feeling of warmth enveloping him. It was even better than the last time. Taking his time, watching her above him, completely naked and confident in her power over him. She must have sensed his inquisitive gaze because she leaned over him, kissing him deeply, their tongues dancing together.
Donna finally began to move, and the sensation burned away the last remnants of his thoughts. At first slow, almost languid, then faster as she needed it just as much as he did. Their breaths mingled, their hands found each other's skin, their sweat mixed, their moans intertwined. It was as if their bodies had become one, and it was anything but suffocating—they'd never felt so free.
As Donna kissed, bit, and licked his neck, Harvey suddenly realized that everything had vanished from his mind.
No more burning sand. No more smell of gunpowder. No more blood. No more dust. No more screams. No more human bombs. No more bodies on the ground. No more guilt. No more survivor's complex. No more anxiety.
Just her.
Just Donna.
And if he'd survived the battlefield, he knew he'd never survive Donna Paulsen.