LONGLINE
Nolan
AS HARPER MAKES HER WAY down the flagstone path, I step back from the window and grin down at the phone in my hand. When I hear her key slide into the lock, I press a button on the screen.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she says from the other side of the door as I turn up the vibration on the anal plug. Her fist hits the door before it opens. She steps inside with a glare that’s equal parts fury and desperation.
“You really are good at listening today,” I tease, turning up the vibration.
She stumbles a step before setting down her bag.
“I think I actually hate you.”
“Tsk tsk. That’s not very nice.”
“Nice would have been you actually fucking me earlier.”
“I still made you come. So, you’re welcome.”
“Right,” she deadpans. “Of course you’d expect a thank-you for edging me five fucking times this afternoon with that goddamn panty vibrator. I’m super grateful.”
“You know what they say . . . ” My smile widens as I turn down the vibration on the anal toy and she throws her empty water bottle at me.
“Anticipation is sometimes more fun than the reward itself.”
Harper snorts derisively. “Who said that, exactly?”
“Me.”
“Never could’ve guessed,” she says with a dramatic eye roll.
“If you’re desperate to be fucked and filled with my cum, you can just say that, you know.” I saunter closer, holding the phone so she can see the screen.
Her eyes flutter closed when I turn on the panty vibrator, her breath hitching.
“You could have taken it off if you really hated it so much.”
She opens her eyes, cutting me with a silver glare that’s far more anguished than it is cruel. “You’ve been torturing me all day. Something makes me think if I took it off, you’d only make it worse.”
She’s right—I have been torturing her all day. I’ve made excuses to leave the search so I could hunt her down. I’ve watched her from behind buildings or bushes, waited until she was alone. And then I’d turn on the toy and relish her every reaction. The flush in her cheeks. The squirm in her hips. A clenched fist, a bitten lip. When every sign was there that she was nearing release, I’d turn the toy off. She’d stomp her foot, let out a growl. Her hunter’s gaze would traverse the landscape, always unable to find me. And then I’d leave unseen, a smirk painted across my face.
“We have a few hours before it’ll be safe to break into Wallie’s. I was thinking we could have some fun before dinner, but if you’d rather just watch Surviving Love . . . ” I turn off the vibration in the anal toy, taking a step back. I shrug and say, “I mean, it’s up to you.”
“If you don’t fuck me—”
“Ask me nicely,” I command, and Harper’s mouth snaps shut. I fold my arms across my chest and take another step back. “And maybe tell me just how badly you need it too.”
Harper swallows, her focus shifting between my face and the phone in my
hand. “Nolan Rhodes—”
“Nicely. None of that bratty shit.”
I tamp down a dark smirk as she fails to contain the ire in her expression.
“Dearest Ballmeat . . . ”
“You’re walking a thin line there.”
“I need you to pretty please stop dicking around and fuck me like you promised, because if you don’t fill me with your cum, I will probably go on a murderous rampage, and we wouldn’t want someone to get hurt,” she says, giving me doe eyes and a sad little pout.
“Hmm. That sounds just a little bit like a threat.”
“Or a fact.”
“Well, when you put it that way . . . ” I turn on the anal toy again and she shudders a breath. I eat up every moment of her undisguised want, then take a
seat in the armchair with the phone in hand. “Strip and get on the couch.”
A flicker of relief passes over Harper’s face as she grasps the hem of her shirt and pulls it up with the intention of discarding it as quickly as possible.
But she stops as soon as I blast the anal toy at the highest vibration setting, steadying herself with a hand on the door.
“I said strip.” I connect to the Bluetooth speakers and start a playlist, then let my legs drift wider apart, patting my leg. “I’ll make it worth your while. I promise.”
Harper chuckles as I turn the vibration back down. She sizes me up, and, for a moment, I think maybe she’ll pull her clothes off where she stands and go straight to the couch. But she doesn’t. She starts swaying with the music instead, capturing the beat, every one of her steps timed to the music as she comes closer until she’s straddling one of my legs.
“You really are a demanding asshole, Rhodes,” she says, her voice honey- sweet. She drags her shirt up her body until the hem is at her bra, then lets it fall again and turns to straddle my other leg with her ass facing me. I can just make out the gentle hum of the toy.
“I can’t get enough of you. I always want more.” I let my hand rest on her ass as she sways, teasing me. I slide my palm up her back in an attempt to undo her bra clasp when she turns away again.
Harper lowers onto my thigh, her movement serpentine. Hypnotic. She drags her shirt up her body and keeps going this time, letting it fall to the floor. She fucking rides my leg. I can feel the vibration through my flesh, my cock straining against my jeans. She leans close, letting her hands tease at my waistband before traveling up my abs. She bites my earlobe, then lets it go to whisper, “I thought you just enjoyed ordering me around.”
I most definitely do. But I can’t admit it. Not when one of her hands trails back down my body to cup my erection. I lose the ability to do anything but watch as she leans back, a ravenous power inhabiting her features. Maybe I like ordering her around because I know how fleeting it is. Within moments, she always has me completely under her control. And we both know it.
“I like it when you do,” she coos, grinning at me as she reaches behind her back to unclasp her bra. Her body never stops moving as she lets it fall from her breasts. Those goddamn nipples. She takes my hand and raises it to her
breast, manipulating my fingers until I’m pinching the piercing. Then she guides me to tug on it until she hisses with pain.
I reward her by turning the panty vibrator on.
“You know what I like even more?” Harper unbuttons her shorts and rises off my leg to start pulling them down her hips.
“What?” I manage to grit out. I feel like I’ve entered a haze. I’m lost in the trance of her.
She pulls away from my grasp. Lets her shorts fall to her feet. Steps from the fabric pooled on the floor. She pulls the magnet free of the panty vibrator and tosses the toy to me. Then she hooks her thumb into the waistband of her panties and slowly slides them off. When she’s fully naked, she goes to the couch, getting up onto her knees with one hand braced to the frame. She splays her other hand over her ass cheek and spreads it enough that I get a view of the handle of the anal plug. And then Harper looks over her shoulder at me. A slow, hungry smile spreads across her lips.
“I like it when you fuck me in ways I’ve never been fucked before,” she
says.
Fuck anticipation.
I stand, pulling my shirt over my head as I make my way over to her. It’s not like I haven’t been planning this. Thinking about it all fucking day.
Thinking about it for weeks, actually. I set up everything I needed in advance.
I even texted Lukas to make sure he could look after Arthur’s routine tonight.
I arranged every little detail so I could take my time to savor this moment, but the desperation to be embraced by her heat and her warmth is nearly overwhelming. It takes every shred of self-control I have left not to rush as I tug my jeans and briefs off, then stand behind her with a bottle of lube in my hand.
“You’re going to tell me what to do,” I say as I run a hand down her back.
Her skin is cashmere beneath my palm as I caress her ass cheek. “Every single thing you want. How you want it. When. And I’ll do it.”
“Just promise me one thing,” Harper says, her eyes wide, innocent.
I still my motion, giving her all my singular attention. “Anything.”
The innocence dissolves. A succubus stares back at me, raking her claws into my soul. “Do your best to destroy me,” she says. With a wink, she faces
forward. “You can take that toy out of my ass now.”
I already knew I was a lost cause for Harper Starling. But now I understand just how thoroughly she owns every piece of me.
I do exactly as she says, carefully pulling the toy out of her ass and turning it off before setting it aside. She orders me to lube my cock first, and then her pleated hole. “Now spit on it,” she says, looking over her shoulder at me. Her eyes drop to her ass and then lock to my lips.
I lean over her. Gather the saliva in my mouth. Lower myself, hovering over her ass. Then I let the spit drop from my lips. Her pupils blow, consuming the color of her irises as the saliva lands on the smooth skin between her ass cheeks, sliding across the slick lube until it drips onto the edge of the hole.
“Hold your cock there,” she orders next. I fist my erection, stroking over the length as I hold the tip to her entrance. I don’t press. I just wait for the next instruction, obedient to her every command.
Harper grips tighter to the back of the couch, and then says, “Nice and slow.”
I run my hand over her back, capturing the cadence of her breath with my palm. “Try to relax.”
I push against the taut ring of muscle, and then I release. I do it again. A few more times and I feel her relax just enough that I push inside.
“Fuck, yes,” I groan. Harper shudders beneath me and I slide a little deeper. “It’s better than I even imagined.”
Harper moans as I withdraw to the crown of my cock and then push an inch farther than before, taking my time, just like she wanted. “Give me more.” Another shudder racks her body, sweat gathering beneath my palm as I slide it across her back. “Give me everything.”
She doesn’t just mean my full length.
She means all of me.
I can hear it in the dark notes of her voice.
She wants my body, my secrets. My soul. And maybe once she believes that she’s consumed me completely, she’ll be ready to let the last of her ramparts fall.
I push deeper and deeper until she takes every inch of my cock.
I pause there, letting her adjust to the sensation, waiting as she finds her breath. I lean down and kiss her shoulder, whispering words of praise into her skin. “You were fucking made for me, Harper. This tight ass couldn’t be more perfect. You’re mine, always.”
I pull out to the tip and slide back in again. And then I pick up a rhythm.
Slow strokes, each one careful, to the very tip of my erection and back in again. I keep the steady cadence, and Harper moans with pleasure, growing more confident with every moment that passes. I take my time, fucking her languidly, savoring the way her body grips me back. And then she grabs my hand, squeezing it with surprising strength.
I wonder if I’ve hurt her, but it’s not pain I see in her face when she glances back at me. It’s desperation. She nods toward the panty vibe I set next to her on the couch, and I turn on the app before passing it to her.
“Fuck me like I’m unbreakable,” she says. “But try anyway.”
She presses the vibe to her clit, and I slam into her hard.
Harper hisses a string of curses as I grip her shoulder and thrust. I push in as far as her body can take me. Her moans grow louder. She works the toy over her sensitive nerves. And I let her come to the edge of unraveling before I slow my strokes and start all over with long, slow thrusts. Again and again, I take her to the point of coming apart, fighting my own urges to spill into her as I relish her grip on my cock. I want more. More moans. More pleas. More sweat on her skin, more ragged breaths. And it’s only when she begs me that I finally give in.
“Please, Nolan,” she whispers. “I’m ready to break. I need it.”
I lose all control and fuck her wildly.
Her ass clenches around my length as I thrust and thrust and thrust. She screams my name as she comes apart, her body trembling, every muscle tightening across her back. And I’m right there with her, falling into an abyss.
The electric hum builds at the base of my spine and pleasure rolls through me as I spill into her, surging ropes of cum into her ass.
When the orgasm finally passes, my legs are shaking, thunderous heartbeats ringing in my ears. I struggle not to collapse over her, carefully pulling out before I fall apart and take her with me.
“Are you okay . . . ?” I ask as I turn off the vibe and run my palm across
her ass, a blush dappling her flesh.
“We’re doing that again,” she says through ragged breaths. “Soon.” I let out a huff of a laugh and pivot to retrieve the tissues and washcloths I left on the side table, but Harper grasps my wrist before I can move away. “Thank
you, Nolan.”
“You don’t need to thank me. Trust me.”
“No. I do.”
There’s more she wants to say, but before she can convince herself out of it, I smile and walk away.
When I’ve got her a little cleaned up, I wrap her in a fresh robe and scoop her up into my arms, taking her to the bathroom where I set her on the edge of the tub as it fills. I change playlists to something soothing. Bring her water and a glass of wine. Light some candles. And when the tub is full, I honor her. I lay one of the masks she loves over her face and then run a sponge over every inch of her skin. Arms and legs. Fingers and toes. Her pierced nipples.
Her sensitized clit. I can tell by the hitch in her breath that she would let me haul her out of the bath and fuck her on the tile floor, soaking wet and shivering, if I wanted to. My cock hardens at the thought. But though I might love to fuck her brutally, I care for her reverentially. Because I love her deeply. And even though she might never say it back, I think she loves me too.
I finish my ritual, then step away before my desire blossoms into something unstoppable.
I make dinner while Harper finishes her bath. We eat together like we do every night. Then she falls asleep with her head on my lap as we watch Surviving Love. I lay a blanket over her and slip away, driving to the Ballantyne River as the sun sets behind a thickening mist. I park not at Arthur’s burial ground, but by the entrance of the overgrown trail farther upriver where Jake’s final remains lay buried in the bank. I strip his tibia along the water’s edge, letting what’s left of the decaying flesh float away in the rolling current before I close the hole and bring the bone back to the cottage.
It’s a few hours later when I return and wake Harper with a kiss. “Time to get going,” I whisper in her ear.
Within thirty minutes, we’re driving through the dark, a deep fog settling on the streets of Cape Carnage. It’s nearly midnight. We see only a handful of people as we pass through the mist, most of them faces Harper says she doesn’t recognize. But just to be safe, we park a few blocks away from Harborside Road and walk the rest of the way to Wallie’s.
“You said there aren’t any cameras, right?” I ask as we cross the road to the small shop, the scent of the sea and the creak of boats at the nearby marina rolling toward us on the fog. WALLIE’S WATERSPORTS is carved into a wooden sign that stretches the length of the blue-and-white storefront. Only emergency exit lights are on inside, illuminating a store packed with wetsuits and clothing and boards and paddles.
“Not where the lockers are,” Harper says, leading the way toward the back of the building.
“Why does that not fill me with confidence . . . ?”
We stop at the corner of the store, pulling on our gloves as Harper leans forward to peer around the edge. “There’s just one to take care of.”
Fucksakes.
I’m about to make an argument about thinking this through further when Harper darts around the corner, pulling her top off as she goes. I hiss her name, but she ignores me, jumping to toss her shirt onto the camera that’s pointed toward the shop door. It lands perfectly over the device, and Harper spins to face me in her sports bra and leggings.
“Voilà! Job done.”
“You’re fucking chaos, you know that?” I whisper as I stride toward her, trying to convince my cock to get the message that now is not the time to fuck her against the wall.
“You’re welcome,” she says, and her little smile tells me she knows exactly what I’m thinking. When I stop in front of her, she rises on her toes to press a quick kiss to my cheek, then takes a key from the pocket at her thigh and unlocks the door. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
I let the door close silently behind me, then follow the glow of Harper’s flashlight as she makes her way to the office. It’s a cramped space, the desk littered with papers and binders that Harper starts sifting through. I head to the small window that faces the curve of Harborside Road. The lights at
Nightfog are barely visible in the distance through the mist. I don’t see anyone on the street, but I can’t escape the feeling of being watched.
“Got it—locker sixteen.” She closes a binder, then starts searching the desk drawers for the padlock key.
I’m about to help her when I stop at the whiteboard calendar that’s tacked to the wall next to the window. “Fuck me.”
“What is it?”
I shine my flashlight on the calendar, concentrating the light on tomorrow’s schedule. Yates, 9:00 a.m., the entry says. “Looks like we’re doing this right on time.”
A shiver racks Harper’s body. Her enthusiasm from finding the locker information is all but gone. She doesn’t say anything about my observation, resuming her search with a furrowed brow. I’m about to look through a filing cabinet along the far wall when she says a quiet “Found it.”
We stride from the office, making our way back out into the night, glancing at our surroundings as we go. Locker sixteen is near the end of a row of tall, narrow lockers, the teal paint chipped and peeling from the constant battle with the harsh coastal climate. Harper opens the padlock and shines her flashlight on the wetsuit hanging from a hook and the fiberglass longboard resting inside.
“Perfect,” I whisper, draping the wetsuit over my shoulder. Next, I pull out the black-and-white board and lay it on its deck. “Stand on the board for a minute.”
Harper does as I ask, and I cover one of the distinctive checkerboard- patterned fins with the wetsuit to protect it from suspicious marks before I give it a solid kick with my steel-toed boot. It shatters off in a clean break at the base. I slide the fin into my backpack and place the wetsuit into my bag.
In only moments, we’ve stashed the surfboard in the shadow of some bushes, returned the locker key, and retrieved Harper’s shirt. And then we’re jogging single file in the dark along the narrow path to the cape promontory.
“Do you think they’ll find the evidence?” Harper asks when we slow to a walk up the steep incline. “They still haven’t found McMillan’s shirt at Loon Lake, have they?”
“No,” I reply, and it’s something that’s been weighing on me just as much
as it must be nagging at her. “Volunteers can miss things, though. I’m going to rotate a couple of the crews tomorrow. I’ll put Bert and a few others on Melmurby Beach. Bert’s already primed to be thinking of evidence related to Sharkimedes. And I’ll send a new crew out to Loon Lake, see if they might have better luck with the shirt.”
Harper only glances back at me long enough that I can see her lip slide between her teeth, and then she turns away.
It takes nearly ten minutes to make it to the highest point of the path, where it intersects with a wider path that leads to the tip of the cape.
Melmurby Beach stretches before us, the fog peeled away to reveal black water and a crescent of sand.
“Wait here,” I say. “Keep watch. Any trouble, give me a call. You’ve got a good view of everything from here. When we’re done, we’ll get the car and grab the surfboard.”
Harper gives me a weak smile. “And then have a beer and watch Surviving
Love.”
“Or just sleep for a thousand years.”
“Deal.”
I kiss her forehead and lay a hand on her arm, capturing her eyes. “Your plan is a good one, Harper. This’ll work.”
I wait until she nods, and then with a final squeeze, I make my way down the switchback path. Though I focus on my destination and the plan I need to execute, I still feel the line back to Harper on the hill. To what I need to do to keep her safe despite a world that seems always ready to tighten its grip and pull her away.
The path ends at a dry section of the beach, and I take off my shoes and socks to wade into the water so I only leave a brief trail of footprints behind that will be easy to sweep away. The crash of the waves and the cold kiss of the water and the scent of the sea dominate my senses. I keep my flashlight off as I make my way down the beach in the dim light.
When I’m nearly halfway down the beach, I stop and withdraw the cloth from my backpack, unwrapping Hornell’s bone fragment that I defleshed. I dip it into the water, raking it over the sand at my feet as I think back to the night that I killed him.
Rage can be sweet when time dulls its sharp edges. I still feel it when I think back to the way he was watching Harper from the shadows. But I also feel the bliss of that moment and how cathartic it was. His pleas to me that went unanswered. The glorious pressure of his flesh against my wire. The scent of hot blood spilling into the night. And now, I rise with his bone in my hand and walk through the shallow water to throw it onto the sea-smoothed stones where the highest tides reach. The last piece of a man who deserved to die, tossed on the shore like forgotten driftwood.
I smile.
Next, I make my way back toward the cape promontory, staying in the cold grip of the sea. When I’m a distance away from the bone, I take the surfboard fin from my bag. I baptize that too, letting tendrils of seaweed drape over the shattered fiberglass. Then I drop it at the high tide line.
I look up the beach to the switchback path that leads up the cliff, my gaze landing on the figure standing on the edge. I can’t see Harper’s features through the distant dark. But I feel her. I’m tethered to her. Through death.
Through destruction. In vengeance and lies. In shadows and light.
I walk through the water, reeled in by her phantom longline.
