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It is exactly one o'clock in the afternoon, or precisely thirty seconds past. He only knows these specific and somewhat insignificant details because he has been staring at the clock on the kitchen wall for two whole minutes. There has been chatter filling the open room around him, mostly feminine as mother and daughters look eagerly through a plethora of wedding magazines laid open on the counter top.
He lets his mind drift. He is only an accessory to this meeting and is actually relieved by that. If anything, it has given him a small space of time to let his eyes linger in places he knows they shouldn't.
His eyes drink in the skin that flows like warm milk down the straight column of her throat and watches her finger a golden curl with short, well-manicured nails. She is laughing again and the skin around her eyes crinkles playfully, the irises sparkling like two cut gems in an exquisite setting. He notices them roll towards him and although she looks at him for barely a second, he feels like a kid caught with his hand in the candy jar.
He shifts his gaze to the clock and then to various items on the counter until it feels safe to glance back towards her.
Now she is at the sink, across the counter but directly in front of him. She is looking out the window and talking over her shoulder to her youngest daughter who is telling an elaborate story about a weekend adventure. Jane is leaning over the sink, her hips flush against the edge of the counter and her ass looks like it was made to wear those jeans. Maybe it's the other way around, but either way it's doing funny things to his brain and to his horror, his pants as well.
He drops a hand to his lap as naturally as possible and swallows nervously, one of his feet tapping a silent rhythm on the bottom rung.
His eyes roam the room in an attempt to distract himself but like a moth to the flame they just shoot back to where they started. And there she is, having decided to wash ALL of the dishes in the sink. He isn't sure if this is a blessing or a curse but he looks around to make sure he is as invisible as he seems before taking his fill of the sight of her hips swaying back and forth to music he hadn't noticed was playing.
He imagines for his own perverse pleasure, what it would be like to approach from behind her and to press her against the counter with his hips. He wonders what it would be like to grind against the swell of that ridiculously perfect ass, making his intentions unavoidably obvious by the feel of him right and ready.
In this daydream, he lets himself believe that Jane's head cants slowly to the side and that she lets him gather those blond curls in one hand as he sweeps them aside to bare the fragile skin to his lips. She tastes deliriously delicious and his tongue snakes in the hollow where neck meets shoulder and massages the tendons that hide below her pale skin. He hears her sigh and moan his name so softly that its barely audible.
This is enough to make him slide his hands up the curve of her sides and around her ribcage to grasp each of her perfectly sized breasts enjoying the weight of them in his palms. His fantasy doesn't require time for tedious maneuvers like unbuttoning a blouse, so the material falls easily apart at the front and the bra follows suit. Then he is grasping her breasts and kneading the impossibly soft flesh and knowing that this is what heaven has always been meant to feel like.
Her nipples pebble in his hands and he doesn't need to see them to know what they look like. He can imagine both of them look like as a couple from outside of the window pane and he knows that they look absolutely perfect together and that they kind of always have.
Jane moans again, a little louder and her head rolls back on to his shoulder, her throat bared to the open air and to his lips that are trailing up towards her jaw.
Suddenly it's becoming too much for him to bear and he helps things along by grabbing her by the hips and spinning her in his arms so that her ass is on top of the island counter and her now suddenly-naked thighs are clinging to his hips. He is glad he has made himself suitably nude as well and that there is no barrier between his painfully hard self and the answer to the sinful prayers he had sent skyward.
His hips move forward and in one tantalizing second he is pushing inside of her and she feels tight and willing and ready for what he has to give. He thanks those morning jogs for providing her with legs so toned that they could belong on a twenty year old and he can't believe that somehow she is almost sixty and not twenty three again.
His thrusts are long and hard and she is loving every second of it, her pleasure audible in grunts and gasps as her eyes squeeze shut and she leans back on her elbows. His speed picks up and he is going from barely there to fully sheathed in seconds and Jane is panting and gritting her teeth as she eagerly takes everything she's given.
Then she groans his name and it's like electrodes to the brain. He is almost there and she says it again, and again and he's fucking her so hard that he can almost bet she'll be in pain for days. He is so close, so near to letting himself cum harder then he ever has inside of her, when she opens her eyes and regards him with a seductive smile.
"Harley!" she says again and its only in the change of tone that brings him back to reality.
His fantasy is gone and he is sitting in Jane's kitchen looking at her as she waves her fingers in front of his face. He is so hard it hurts, and he blinks blearily to try and regain some semblance of normality.
"Uhh... sorry?" he flashes a somewhat nervous smile and shakes his head.
"My god, I thought we'd totally lost you there." Jane smiles and Harley realizes his fiance and her sister have moved their wedding planning meeting to the living room.
"Yeah... almost." Harley grins and drops his eyes to his lap before he can stop himself. He realizes this accidental move and looks back up at her. To his relief she is none-the-wiser as she leans forward on the kitchen counter with that amused smile still gracing her breathtakingly beautiful face.
"Maybe you'd respond better to Harls..." Jane laughs and actually has the gall to wink at him. Does she even know what the hell she is doing to him?
But the answer is obviously not, and Jane pushes off of the counter and rounds the island on her way to the living room. "I know girl-stuff isn't the most exciting topic of conversation, but you better get your opinion in here quick before she puts you in a powder blue suit."
Harley nods and smiles as Jane passes, "You know Boss, I'm good! Really. I think I'll just hang out here for a bit."
Jane's brow raises but then her face relaxes and she gives him a gentle pat on the back as she leaves.
Harley sits alone at the kitchen counter and tries not to think of his soon to be mother in-law, riding him until he has nothing left to give - because there is something pretty wrong with that. Harley isn't sure when things got to be so complicated and he isn't sure how long it will be before life finds a way of straightening itself out.
He does know, however, that it is exactly one thirty eight in the afternoon and that he can't bring himself to care if he walks down the aisle in a pink pashmina.