I like that she wants this as much as I do.

“You want that?” I ask, slowly pressing inside and nearly growling from the pleasure of it. “You want to see it on your skin?”

Harlow throws her head back, fingers twisting in the sheets. Her tits move with each of my thrusts, the mattress squeaks in the darkness, and I’m only vaguely aware that there are neighbors next door, people both upstairs and down. But the only thing I care about is the way she grips me from the inside out, how her skin looks in the moonlight and the tiny sounds that escape her mouth with every thrust.

I’m too close and it’s too fast but I don’t think either of us even cares. A spark flashes hot and moves down my spine, heat that settles in my lower body. I feel myself get harder, my fingers grip her hips so tightly I’m actually afraid she’ll be bruised tomorrow.

And then Harlow is coming, clenching around my cock and I’m holding on by a thread, riding her through it with my jaw tight and my body so tense just to hold my own release at bay. She gasps, pushes up into me, claws at my chest until her arms slide down my torso, feeling where I’m moving in her. With a groan I pull out, hand moving over my length in a blur and my orgasm is there, so close that I can’t hear anything but static in my ears. Her name is on my lips and I wish I’d thought ahead to turn on a lamp so I could see her face as I cover her stomach, her tits, her neck.

Harlow looks down at my come on her skin, runs a finger through it and around her nipple. The action is instinctive, and possessive... and I know in that moment that I am absolutely, thoroughly fucked over this girl.

I fall to the mattress in a heap of boneless limbs, my heart racing so hard that I actually have to work to breathe, to gain control of my arms and my legs.

“You’ll stay the night?” Harlow asks, and I lift my head just long enough to look at her.

“Yeah, I have breakfast with the guys in the morning, though. I can’t stay too late.”

Harlow yawns, reaching for a discarded T-shirt to wipe the mess from her skin. “I have to pick my mom up, anyway,” she says absently. “I’ll wake you before I leave.”

I nod, kissing Harlow’s jaw and then her cheek, feeling the flush beneath her skin against my lips.

“Love you,” she says, eyes already fluttering closed.

It has to be coming up on three in the morning, and I say, “I love you” back as I pull her close, molding my body to the shape of hers. I’m so tired, but alert enough to know that something doesn’t sit right. I just wish I were awake enough to figure out what it is.