Harmon’s voice comes from behind me somewhere. I spin too fast and put my hand on the wall to stop from falling to my ass.
I spot him sitting on the couch, so I go to him.
“Kneel.”
I kneel in front of him, smiling up at him like an idiot, I’m sure.
He reaches beyond me, taking something from the coffee table that’s behind me. When I spot what it is, I start to drool.
“Oh, hell yes.”
Harmon pops the top of the container and takes a small piece with the provided fork.
“Open,” he commands.
My mouth drops open and he gives me a bite of the cake. My lips wrap around the fork and I’m already moaning as the chocolate flavor explodes on my tongue. It’s the most delicious cake I have ever tasted. I chew and swallow, licking my lips and eager for more.
He feeds me slowly, patiently, until there is nothing left.
“You didn’t have a bite,” I pout, looking at the empty container and wishing I could make another appear like magic.
“I didn’t need one.”
“That’s not fair,” I say, blinking up at him. He watches me, something passing in his eyes that I can’t make out. Or maybe it’s the alcohol. “You’re missing out. It was really good.” I sit up, pressing my hands to his thighs and leaning in. “I think you should have some.”
“I fed it all to you,” he says huskily, watching me carefully.
“Mhmm,” I say, leaning in. “But there are ways.”
“Is that so?” he rasps.
He thinks he’s presenting calmness, but he’s not. I see his pulse pounding in his throat, see the excitement in his eyes. Maybe it’s like this all the time, or maybe he’s letting his guard down because I’m drunk and he thinks I won’t notice. But I notice. I notice so much. I see it all.
“Cassius…”
Maybe it’s supposed to be a warning, but I’ve had a lot to drink. So it sounds more like an invitation.
“You know you want to.” I move in closer, wanting him to want it. He doesn’t push me away, and that’s a plus.
Yes, I want to kiss him, but fuck, I want him to want to kiss me more.
We’re an inch apart now, and I’m still staring into his eyes.
“Harmon,” I taunt.
“Fuck,” he growls, grasping the back of my neck and tugging me to him.
His tongue slips between my lips, into my mouth, tasting every inch. He moans, which is the best thing I’ve ever heard.I moan in response, crawling on top of him until I’m straddling his lap.
His hands slide down my back and grasp my ass, pulling me to him. I grind against him, feeling how hard he is, and I moan again, my dick throbbing.
He kisses me desperately, like he’s afraid I’m going to tell him to stop and he can’t get enough. But then he’s the one that tears his mouth from mine, panting for breath.
“We shouldn’t do this. You’re drunk, and—”
“I’m not.”
I totally am.