ELEVEN: Small Bouts Of Happiness

Before I've even rounded the hall towards Harlan's office, I hear something hard and heavy hit the door.

A book, maybe?

My brows furrow and I rush to his office, letting myself in, finding him breathing heavily, slightly hunched over, as if he'd just thrown something with great force. And by the state of his office and the noise I heard moments before, it appears that he has. Repeatedly.

I close the door behind me, staring agape at my surroundings. "What the hell is going on here? Are you bleeding?"

The look Harlan gives me is fierce. Formidable. His body seems to shake with anger as his eyes seize my gaze.

Within seconds, he’s on me.

Reaching to cup my cheeks, he shoves my back against the door, lips absolutely attacking mine. He pants heavily into my mouth as I gasp against his lips, wrapping my arms around his neck. He kisses me angrily. Furiously. As if I'm the only thing keeping him from burning his office to the ground.

His hands go to work, tearing my denim jacket and throwing it to the floor as hard as he can.

"Get. These. Off," he growls, lips barely leaving mine as his hands move to rapidly unbuckle his belt.

I comply without arguing, not because I feel like I have to do what he says, but because I can feel how much he needs someone. Whatever is going on, I can feel the loneliness and despair and fury rolling off of him in waves.

I unbutton my own jeans and shove them down my thighs, stepping out of them as I tear my blouse above my head. He treats my bra like he'd treated my jacket, ripping it off me like it’s his greatest enemy. With considerable strength, he flings it aside. It catches on his desk-lamp, toppling it over as it flies across the room, the pile shattering to the ground.

His hands find my hips. He grips me hard, lips pushing back against mine. His hands fly to my thighs, lifting me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist. Nothing separates us except for my thong. Taking a minute to forget about how messed up he is at the moment, I think about my closeness, my proximity, and my breath catches in my throat.

And then, surprising even himself, Harlan lifts his lips from mine, leaning back to stare earnestly into my eyes.

"What would you do if you had an opportunity," he begins, panting, breath falling against my lips, "An opportunity to be better. To be bigger. To be everything everyone thought you could ever be and more?"

I furrow my brow.

"What the hell are you talking about?" I whisper, not waiting for an answer as my hand goes to his cheek and moves to pull him back in.

He stops me. "No, I'm saying, what if something was holding you back, and you had the chance to really become the best version of yourself, but you had to make some sacrifices?"

"What kind of sacrifices?"

He ponders for a moment.

"Small bouts of happiness. Maybe more distractions," he eyes me knowingly.

I don't notice.

"Isn't happiness more important than anything else?"

"Not if you think you could be happier somewhere else."

I ponder for a moment, not knowing what the hell he is talking about, but speaking on instinct. "Then fuck it. Stick it to the man. Show them what you're made of. If you think you can be great, then you shouldn't let anyone stop you. As long as the personal cost isn't too great."

"No cost is too great. Not to me."

I nod, looking into his eyes, trying to understand, and failing. "Okay. Then fuck it. Shoot for greatness. Shoot for everything." It is what I believe Harlan would say to me if the tables were turned.

He takes in my face, just a brief, fleeting moment. He takes in my features, the soft expansiveness of my eyes, the plump line of my kiss-swollen lips, my bare, goosebump-ridden skin, my heaving chest. And within seconds, his lips are on me again, and I feel him shove my panties aside and push his rock-hard length into me.

He grunts as he stands fully seated in my pussy, his breath shuddering against the crook of my neck.

I gasp at the intrusion, suddenly feeling the pressure of his size in my lower belly. His hands support me at my waist and he begins to work his hips, his thrusts slapping against me. Open-mouthed, his lips work at my neck, hot exhales falling against my skin.

I feel my legs tighten around him as he fucks me into silence against the door; it is only just after 5, and I find myself silently praying that we are truly alone.

But as my pleasure mounts, I find the less I care. I hear Harlan grunt and the noise alone is pure bliss that sends shockwaves through my clit.

His head moves lower, lips working at my breasts. He grunts as he tongues my nipple, taking the bud into his mouth and licking lazily.

The added sensation is too much for me to keep up with.

"Harlan," I whisper, clutching him around the neck, trailing my fingers through his flawless, dark waves.

"Cum on my cock," he moans, lips kissing up my chest. "I want to feel you cum on my fat cock and hear you scream my fucking name."

"But sir," I mewl, "what if there are still people around?"

"I don't give a fuck," he growls, slamming into me, his pace now brutal and ruthless.

I open my mouth to moan as I feel the familiar tingles indicating the nearness of my climax. Unable to stop myself and unable to care any longer, I open my mouth and cry out, nearly screaming as he fucks me through my orgasm.

"Harlan! Fuck! Yes!" I cry, words followed by a shattering moan.

Harlan follows quickly behind me, emptying himself into my clenching pussy and grunting fiercely as he thrusts through his ecstasy.

"Fuck, FUCK!" He roars, the sounds of my whimpering "yes, yes, yes, yes, yes's" bringing him back down to reality. His eyes fall back on me as he regains his clarity. I look nearly unconscious, blacked-out by pleasure, eyes fluttered shut and expression skewed from the overwhelming pleasure.

He stares at me as I come down from my body-crushing high. He watches my parted lips as I pant. He watches the naked frame of my back pressed against the door and my heaving chest. He watches me until my eyes finally flutter open. And I catch him staring. He looks gentle, in that moment. Peaceful, just watching me. It makes my heart flip in my chest.

I don't know what he's gone through, and I don't know where all of this is coming from. I can only try to understand, and try to assure myself that it is clear why he wanted me here with him.

I'm the only person who can make it all disappear.

He sets me down but doesn't let me go. I check in briefly with my body; I'm lightheaded and feel like I could topple over. I keep breathing, trying to steady my legs, grateful that he is supporting my quivering body with strong, steady hands. He presses his forehead to mine, holding me close while I catch my breath and gather myself, adjusting to the feeling of jello-like legs and waiting for the sensation to pass.

He is so close, feels so warm, holding me like he cherishes me. His touch is so gentle, I almost don't recognize it.

Without thinking, I lean up. Gently, my lips land against his softly. I treat him gently, almost as if I’m scared the kiss will disappear.

And then it does.

He sighs and sinks against me, giving in for a fleeting moment before catching himself and slowly pulling himself away.

He doesn't meet my gaze when he speaks. "No. That's not what this is."

I'm not allowed to kiss him? I think to myself.

"Only before," he says. "Maybe during. Never after."

I drop my gaze and silently hope he can't see the heat rising to my face, nor the tears to my eyes. I was only trying to help.

Why did he even ask me here?

But the moment the question surfaces in my head is the moment the answer becomes clear. The answer lies in the sound of him re-buckling his belt, in the feeling of his spend beginning to roll down my legs, in the piles of scattered clothes around the office.

Suddenly feeling something akin to a small heartbreak, I slip from my place against the door, covering my exposed chest with my arm as I briskly search for my clothes and yank them back on.

I don't say a word before leaving the room.