Home > Can You Handle It?(3)

Can You Handle It?(3)
Author: Whitney G.

Back when I never would dare to think about what his lips would feel like against mine.

“I uh—” I stepped back as an image of him pulling me against his rock-hard chest crossed my mind. “I should get back home.”

“I’ll give you some gas money if you stay a while.”

“In that case, I’m broke enough to watch a few episodes.”

He laughed and motioned for me to come inside.

I was surprised at his clean and organized room. Far bigger than any dorm space I’d seen, it didn’t look like a college student lived in it.

The bed was on the far side of the room, pressed against a huge bay window. The large TV screen hung high on the wall, guarding a row of neatly stacked boxes.

On his bookshelves, there didn’t seem to be any fiction. Only books about physical therapy and pressure relief.

So, you changed your major again.

“You know, there’s no shame in dropping out of school, Tyler,” I said. “Whenever people say, ‘Take all the time in the world to find a passion before you graduate,’ they don’t really mean that.”

“So, you still have a smart-ass mouth …”

“I’m just saying—” I turned my back as he stepped into his bathroom and dressed. “You don’t have to waste thirty-thousand dollars a year on tuition if you’re not getting anything out of it. You could start your own business or something.”

“Maybe I’ve done that already,” he said, stepping beside me and handing me a beer. “You shouldn’t assume things about people.”

I walked over to a pretty golden basket that sat on top of his windowsill, stopping when I realized it was chock-full of condoms.

XXL-sized. Double ribbed for ‘her’ pleasure.

“Is your business sex-related?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“No, Harlow.” He moved behind me. “Not at all. Speaking of sex, though: Do you need to take one of those home with you to fuck a banana with it like you used to? That’s what you and Chelsea used to do during some of your sleepovers, right?”

“Okay, look.” I spun around, my eyes narrowed. “We were seventeen, and it was something we tried once because we heard about it on the radio. You were supposed to be sleeping.”

“I wasn’t.” His lips curved into a smirk. “I was watching—you only, of course.”

“Well, hopefully you learned something.”

“Everything about what not to do.”

“Okay. I don’t think I want to watch episodes with you anymore,” I said, feeling insulted. “Doesn’t seem like that’s why you wanted me to come inside your room.”

“Of course, it isn’t.” He pressed his lips against mine, catching me completely off guard—instantly rendering me speechless.

What the…

I dropped my beer to the floor, ignoring the splatter that hit my shoes as I wrapped my arms around his neck.

He stared into my eyes as he darted his tongue against my bottom lip, silently demanding that I open up a bit wider for him.

Entranced, I obliged, and he blew soft kisses against the curve of my mouth before slipping his tongue against mine.

Using his hips, he pinned me against the edge of the desk. Then he rubbed his hands against my sides—turning me on with ease.

As he kissed me harder, deeper, I tasted repressed longing and wanting, and I didn’t want him to stop—ever.

“Fuck…” I rasped.

Whispering my name, he slid his hand under the back of my shirt. He pressed his thumb against my bra’s clasp, and I quickly came to my senses.

Oh my god, I’m kissing Tyler! Chelsea’s little brother, Tyler!

I immediately broke our kiss and moved away from the desk.

“What the hell are you doing?” I panted. “I mean, I know what you’re doing, but … I have a boyfriend, Tyler.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“His name is Dave and we’ve been together awhile.”

“I’m aware of that, too.” He looked as if he was about to pull me back into his arms to kiss me again. If I weren’t in the right frame of mind, I would’ve wanted him to.

“Well, I uh …” I tried to look away from him, but I couldn’t. “I think I need to go home. I have a TV of my own there. And Netflix. I have lots and lots of Netflix.”

He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language.

Not wanting to make this moment any more awkward, I stepped over the empty beer can and walked to the door.

He followed, opening it for me.

“Can we agree that this—whatever it was—never happened?” I asked, looking up at him. “Like, I would never cross the line with you. You know that, right?”

“Sure.”

“I’m serious,” I said, keeping my voice firm. “You’re very attractive, and I’m sure you still love all the same television shows I do, but …”

“But what?”

“You’re too young for me, Tyler, in addition to other things.”

I walked away before he could say anything else. With every step, I touched my swollen lips in utter awe. No other man had ever kissed me like that.

“Harlow?” Tyler called after me once I made it to the elevator.

“Yeah?” I looked over my shoulder.

“I forgot the gas money,” he said, walking over to me. He held out a twenty-dollar bill, but he didn’t give me a chance to take it.

Instead, he slowly folded it and slipped it into the front pocket of my shorts.

“You promise to file this away and never think about it again, right?” I asked.

“Of course.” He hit the down button for me. “This never happened.”

 

 

What If?

 

 

Tyler

 

 

A few months later

 

 

It definitely happened.

I could never forget anything when it came to Harlow. Memories of her lips against mine were still playing in my mind every other night. The way she’d reacted to my touch, submitting without any doubt, wouldn’t escape me anytime soon.

And I know her pussy was wet as hell for me…

I’d been attracted to her ever since my sister introduced us at one of my high school baseball games.

Sarcastic, smart, and easy as hell to talk to, she was only six and a half years older than me, but she insisted on acting like it was twenty.

With raven-black hair that fell past her D-cup breasts, and her stunning curves that always made me stare, she was still the most beautiful fucking woman I’d ever seen. My dating life often suffered for it since I subconsciously compared every woman to her.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

I stood up from my chair and walked over to the door. Looking through the peephole, I held back a sigh.

It was Chelsea.

From the champagne bottle in her hand and the wild look in her eyes, she wanted to celebrate something.

Turning around, I walked over to my table and pushed all my latest business contracts into a box. I had yet to tell anyone that I’d been spending all my time building a therapeutic massage and contracting company.

It’d taken forever, and yes, I’d lived in the dorm to save face if things didn’t work out, but the business was far more successful than I dreamed. I was planning to reveal everything at the end of December when I had my first multi-seven-figure year.

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