Harper's Rules 1 & 2

Chapter 32: Harper

"Okay?" Jake's eyebrows shot high, so high they were partially hidden by his damp hair, his jaw unhinged, and his eyes flashed with disbelief. Based on his reaction, he wasn't expecting my answer.

Fuck, I'd have surprised myself if it weren't for the week I'd had since I'd last seen him.

Part of me scolded myself like I lost my senses and questioned if we really repeated a past mistake. The other part of me told the first part to shut the fuck up and jump on his dick already.

Truth be told, I'd tried all week to forget about Jake. My body, like it'd done all week, betrayed me though. Just the memory of his hands on me, his dick inside me, the warmth of his hard, muscular body over mine set my hormones off to another level. That asshole proved tonight with just one finger fuck round that my vibrators weren't a fair comparison, at the expense that I'd permanently scarred Li from ever entering our room without being preceded by a marching band-decibel announcement.

Even worse than how my body reacted, despite my efforts that I tried to forget about Jake, the fucker had infiltrated my mind. If my dreams weren't bad enough, the final evidence of how fucked up I was when I'd torn apart the inside of my purse while I looked for Officer Davis' card, to no avail.

At Jake's stunned silence, an unusual flash of apprehension rolled through me, followed quickly by regret in my hasty agreement.

What am I thinking?

The last time I'd tried to fuck Jake Harrison out of me didn't go so well.

A heated, maximum-position experimentation weekend while Logan and Ellie did the actual skiing part of our holiday had been agreed upon by both of us to satiate whatever toxic, lust-filled emotion pulled us together.

Instead of the all-intended purposes that Jake and I ripped off the sexual tension band-aid between us, I was a hot mess for weeks afterwards. Jake haunted my daily life. I saw his face instead of other guys I slept with and invaded my dirty thoughts and wet dreams, after which I'd woken up flaming hot, drenched in sweat, and completely wound up just like I had earlier this week.

For the first three months after that Christmas holiday, my usual string of one night stands hadn't helped. Either they weren't as hot as Jake, they hadn't lasted as long, my body hadn't tingled with goosebumps under their touch like his, some component or another was missing.

But slowly, as more time separated us, I settled for a new norm of the thrill of initial raw, passionate, first-time only sex. To say the experiences were underwhelming was a severe understatement. I'd sampled the finest wine and everything else tasted straight from a box.

And I'm taking that admission to my grave.

With Jake, despite my talk with Ethan, I knew what I got myself into.

Or more specifically, what's going in me.

No attachment, just raw and hot - yet monogamous - sex.

My traitorous vagina buzzed happily at the idea. The hulking, muscular pile of testosterone that now looked like he wanted to eat me alive was safe, familiar, and there was no risk of feelings coming between us.

"Okay, fuck buddy..."

I frowned at Jake's choice of words but honestly drew a mental blank with a better alternative. And honestly, that was my favorite swear word, I'd give him that much credit.

He didn't say anything, just a slow smile spread across his face until he wore the biggest shit-eaten grin I'd seen on him in awhile.

"No so fast, quick dick McGraw," I reminded him and hit him square in the chest with the narrow edge of my phone. "We need to establish some rules."