Off The Record Ch. 13

Hi all :)

I've gotten a few questions about the Hot Set series and if I plan on continuing it, so I wanted to touch on that quickly. The story definitely isn't finished, and I never intended to leave you all hanging like that--you, Alex and Meghan deserved better lol. In fact, I have the beginning of Chapter 7 in my drafts folder as I'm typing this.

That being said, I feel like I've really hit my stride as a writer with Off The Record, and it means a lot to me that you all seem to really be enjoying the characters and the storytelling. I spent months working on it before even thinking about publishing it on here, so to be receiving positive feedback is amazing.

As much as I love the fact that so many of you enjoyed Hot Set, I almost wish I could take it all back and start it over again, writing with the style I've adopted in my later stories. I didn't give the same time and attention to developing Alex and Meghan as characters that I did to Morgan and Harper, and I really wish that I had.

Like I mentioned in a previous intro, I plan on Off The Record being relatively long, and it will have my full focus for the time being.

I have also already started working on a story that I was planning on releasing after Off The Record is finished, whenever that may be, because it's going to feature Morgan's sister Maeve (who is older and just as delicious as her sister) in her own sapphic love story, with Harper and Morgan making many appearances as side characters.

So, to be completely honest with you, I'm not sure if Hot Set will get the revival it deserves. If anything, I may try to wrap it up with a few shorter chapters to give you all some closure about the story because I do feel bad about letting it end the way it did.

Now, back to Off The Record...

Raise your hand if you'd sell your soul for one night with Morgan 🙋🏻♀️

And to the commenter who always makes me laugh by begging for Morgan to strap Harper--don't worry babe, it's coming, I promise ;)

Enjoy <3

All characters are over 18.

***

Morgan woke up very, very sore.

She could tell that it was early; the sun hadn't fully risen yet, and the light filtering through the gap in Harper's curtains was minimal.

Stretching while she glanced to her right, she notes that Harper was no longer in bed with her.

Morgan smiled to herself, running her fingertips over where Harper had lain, the soft sheets wrinkled and messy from a night of well-earned sleep.

Everything smelled like Harper. Her perfume and her sweet shampoo that she always used. Morgan wanted to wrap herself up in the scent and ignore all of her responsibilities.

Morgan had learned many, many things last night.

The first was that Harper really liked her in a tie.

Go figure.

In fact, she liked it so much that she had demanded that Morgan keep it on while she fucked her--that is, until it got in her way and she'd torn it off of Morgan's body with a grunt of frustration before pouncing on her again.

And that experience had led to the second thing she'd learned, which was that Harper wasn't nearly as submissive in bed as she had originally thought.

She definitely enjoyed being dominated, but there was a line to how far she could be pushed before pushing back, and Morgan had apparently crossed that line last night.

And it had made for the hottest night of Morgan's life.

Harper had worshipped her body--there was no other word for it--like nobody ever had before.

Giving herself a quick glimpse, she could see that she was covered in marks, bruises from Harper's mouth and scratches from her fingernails. She had been careful to place them strategically, localized to mainly her chest, stomach, and inner thighs, none in places that would show in any of her work clothing.

Somehow, Harper's forethought about where to leave hickeys made it even sexier.

If Morgan hadn't been wrapped around her finger before, she definitely was now.

Sitting up in bed, Morgan scanned the room for her clothes from yesterday.

She had no idea where her skirt was; a vague memory of Harper stripping it off of her in the living room and throwing it carelessly over her shoulder briefly entered her mind.

Her eyes caught on her button-down where it lay draped over Harper's chaise lounge, where she had straddled Harper and ridden her fingers until she'd come so hard she'd seen stars.

Throbbing at the memory, she rolled out of the bed and made her way over, holding up the shirt when she reached it. She clicked her tongue; the wrinkles alone made it unwearable for a second day in a row, nevermind the damage Harper had done to it.

She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, looking around the room until her eyes fell on Harper's closet. Maybe she could ask to borrow some clothes? They were about the same size, the only issue being that Morgan had longer arms and a slightly longer torso.

She blew out a breath, running a hand through her tangled hair. If she hurried, she could probably get home and fit in a quick shower and change into her own clothes before she had to be at the courthouse.

It would be easier to just ask Harper to borrow something; plus, she wouldn't have to leave just yet...

But she also didn't want to come off as a clingy weirdo.

Assuming that Harper would be okay with Morgan wearing some of her clothing was a bit presumptuous, nevermind the invasion of privacy that came with rummaging through someone's drawers.

She couldn't risk it.

Her decision made, Morgan shrugged on her own shirt from the day prior and buttoned it the best she could, smiling to herself when she got to the top two and saw just how maimed the threading was.

She left them undone and, giving up on finding her skirt, padded out into the apartment to find Harper.

Morgan almost tripped over her own feet when she found her, looking utterly perfect as she leaned against the kitchen counter, studying something on the tablet propped up in front of her.

Taking advantage of the fact that Harper didn't seem to have noticed her approach, Morgan leaned against the wall for a moment, hidden from view while she admired her.

She was wearing a simple black robe, those gorgeous legs crossed at the ankle where she stood. That lustrous hair was piled on her head in a messy bun, and the glasses that Morgan had come to love sat neatly on the bridge of her nose.

She wasn't wearing any makeup, and somehow that just made her even more attractive. To experience someone in the morning before they put themselves together for the day was a special type of intimacy.

"Good morning," Morgan said, walking into the kitchen and slipping onto one of the stools at the center island. As she made her way over, she watched Harper glance at her and then do a double-take, taking in what she was wearing.

"Good morning," she replied. She paused for a moment, her eyes falling back to the tablet as she asked, "You didn't want to wear the clothes I left out for you?"

Morgan blanched. "Oh. I didn't realize--I don't think I saw them--" She stumbled over her words, hoping she hadn't offended her.

Harper smiled, moving to the counter behind her where Morgan only then realized there was a literal buffet set up. "They were on my desk. I threw your skirt and your underwear into the wash, but I figured your shirt was a lost cause. I was just about to wake you." She reached into a cabinet and pulled out a plate, looking back at her. "Are you hungry?"

The kitchen smelled amazing, and Morgan's mouth watered. "Starving," she said.

Within seconds, Harper set a plate loaded with eggs, bacon, toast, and fruit in front of her. Morgan couldn't remember the last time someone had cooked for her. She caught Harper's wrist as she pulled her hand away, fingertips brushing her pulse. "Thank you," she said softly, looking up into pretty hazel eyes. "You didn't have to do all of this."

At that exact moment, Morgan's stomach decided to growl unreasonably loudly in protest.

Harper's eyes flickered to her stomach and then back to her face, grinning widely. "Someone begs to differ."

Her hand came up to cup Morgan's jaw, thumb stroking her cheek. "Eat," she ordered before she moved back around to the other side of the island. "Coffee?" Harper asked.

Without having to ask for clarification, Harper fixed her coffee exactly how she liked it, placing the steaming mug in front of her.

It was all very domesticated.

Morgan groaned around her first bite of food. She'd been more ravenous than she'd realized. These nights with Harper were really pushing her into a calorie deficit. "This is fucking amazing," she said, reaching for a strip of bacon.

"It's just scrambled eggs," Harper said, smiling at Morgan as she devoured her breakfast, amusement sparking in her eyes.

Morgan glanced at the collection of pans and utensils spread out along the counter behind Harper, the casualties of the meal before her. "This is like a five-course meal to me," she said. "My skills in the kitchen don't extend much further than making a bowl of cereal."

Harper raised her eyebrows, feigning shock. "Do you mean to tell me that cooking isn't on your never-ending list of talents?"

Morgan narrowed her eyes playfully at her sarcasm. "You most definitely have me beat in that department."

Harper laughed. "I've been cooking for myself since I was tall enough to reach the stove." She fixed herself a plate and they ate together, talking about their upcoming day in the courtroom.

"So," Harper began as they finished up, wiping her hands on a dish towel, "we need to talk."

Morgan's heart dropped into her stomach.

Keeping her eyes on her food, she asked, "Is this the part where you tell me this can never happen again?" She looked up and gave Harper a tight smile, trying to tamp down the disappointment she could feel building in her gut.

Morgan braced herself for the blow, mentally berating herself for adding sex into the mix when she'd known just how deeply her emotional attachment to Harper was beginning to run.

She'd told her about Olivia, for fuck's sake. And doing it post-sex? What was wrong with her? Dead sister trauma didn't exactly make for romantic pillow talk.

But she hadn't been able to help herself--not when Harper had been looking at her with those big, beautiful eyes, her sleepiness making them so soft in the gentle lighting of her bedroom. Not when she'd been examining her bracelet with such an innocent curiosity that Morgan couldn't bring herself to lie or avoid the question when Harper had asked what her middle name was, knowing damn well that it would open a can of worms when she realized that the initials on the piece of jewelry didn't match Morgan's name.

Morgan never talked about Olivia, not even with Maeve. But for some reason, she'd enjoyed telling Harper about her, had felt comfortable even. And Harper hadn't pushed for more than she was willing to give her.

So here Morgan sat, waiting patiently for Harper to respond, preparing her heart for the worst.

But Harper exhaled slowly through her nose before she said simply, "No." She watched Morgan for a few more beats, chewing on her cheek the way she did when she was thinking hard about something. "Did...did you want me to tell you it can't happen again?"

Morgan froze mid-chew. That felt suspiciously like a loaded question. She regarded Harper thoughtfully while she swallowed.

As she looked at Harper's anxiety-stricken face, Morgan had the sinking feeling that her comment had made Harper second-guess herself in whatever she had been about to tell her.

"Just tell me what you were going to say." Morgan said with a gentle smile, softening her tone.

Harper braced both arms against the countertop, looking Morgan dead in the eye. "I don't want this to be the last time we have sex."

Morgan blinked at her. That was the last thing she expected to come out of Harper's mouth. "Okay," she said, like a complete idiot.

Harper huffed out a breathy laugh and shook her head. "Okay. Then I think we need to come to some sort of agreement about what's going on between us." She sipped from her coffee mug as she gauged Morgan's reaction.

"An agreement?" Morgan raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, an agreement," Harper said, slowly. Her fingertips drummed against the countertop restlessly, her eyes darting everywhere except to Morgan's. "The way I see it, we only have two options. We either cut this off entirely--no more flirting, no touching, no sex. Our only relationship would be a purely professional one."

Morgan furrowed her brow. She was not a fan of that option at all.

"Or," Harper said, exhaling slowly, "we figure out a way to make this work. Discreetly."

"And that's what you want?" Morgan asked, needing that confirmation before she could allow herself to be hopeful.

Harper met her gaze, chewing the inside of her cheek. "I want you. I can't--" She cut herself off. "It's too fucking good, Morgan."

There was a raw desperation in her voice, and Harper's meaning crashed into her all at once.

"Are you asking me to be your fuck buddy?" Morgan threw her a playful grin as she watched a hot flush wrap around Harper's neck, turning her bright red.

"I'm asking you to continue to be my friend," Harper said, a touch of defensiveness entering her voice. "Who may or may not have sex with me every now and then."

God, this woman never ceased to surprise her with her boldness, even as she seemed uncomfortable telling Morgan exactly what she wanted.

"Uh huh," Morgan said with a smile, popping a blueberry into her mouth. "And what would you suggest, exactly? For this agreement."

Some of Harper's awkwardness faded, her confidence trickling back in with the firm set of her shoulders.

"We need ground rules, for one thing. We can't be ripping each other's clothes off when we're supposed to be working." Harper gave Morgan a pointed look.

Morgan scoffed, her jaw dropping as disbelief coursed through her. "Yesterday was absolutely not my fault," she said.

"Oh yeah? Did someone else put your lips on my neck?" Harper raised an accusing eyebrow at her.

Morgan opened her mouth and then closed it, momentarily check-mated. She supposed she had, technically, made the first move. But she still refused to take full responsibility.

"You were the one ripping my clothes off," Morgan said, dramatically lifting the tattered remains of the collar of her shirt. "And we wouldn't have even been alone in your apartment if you hadn't been jealous of that guy for no reason--"

"You're right, it was Steve's fault," Harper quipped, her tone sharpening as her jaw tightened.

Morgan rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Harper's obviously intentional use of an incorrect name. She stood up to bring her plate to the sink. "Then I am forever in his debt, since it got me into your bed," she said, teasing.

It was a waste of time to talk about who started it and who may have pushed whom against an apartment door. As far as Morgan was concerned, it was irrelevant.

Placing her plate in the drying rack, she turned and wrapped her arms around Harper from behind, dropping her lips to her neck.

"Morgan." Her name was an exasperated groan on Harper's lips. But still, she felt her lean into the kiss.

"Yes?" She answered innocently, trailing kisses down the back of her neck and across her shoulder. Her hands snaked upward, her right one inching dangerously close to her breast.

Harper turned in her arms to face her. She placed her palms against Morgan's chest and held her there, but didn't push her away. "We need to talk about this," she said quietly. "Otherwise, we're going to get caught and be in serious trouble. Potentially career-ending trouble."

Morgan smiled down at her, her eyes dipping to Harper's lips.

Morgan sighed. "Tell me about your ground rules, Cassidy." She gave Harper's hips one more squeeze before retreating back to her seat at the counter.

Harper immediately entered what Morgan had affectionately begun to refer to as her stress-mode.

She began pacing the length of the countertop, making Morgan dizzy with how quickly she was moving.

"We need to be careful, first and foremost. Intimacy should only happen in either of our apartments. No kissing, no overtly sexual touching unless we have complete privacy. If that private investigator is still looking into you--and I'd bet that he is--we can't have him seeing us together unless we're in a public, professional settling."

She had obviously been thinking about this quite a bit.

She glanced at Morgan again, indecision in her eyes. "And the last thing that I want is for either of us to feel used or--or cheap and obviously it's not just about sex because I like you a lot but--"

Morgan stood up and walked over to her, placing her hands on Harper's shoulders to stop her in her tracks. She hooked her finger under Harper's chin and tilted her head up to look at her. Hazel eyes shining with apprehension looked into her own.

"You're making me nauseous with all of that pacing," she said gently.

Harper cast her eyes downward, but Morgan tightened her grip on her chin. "Look at me," she said. Harper's eyes snapped back to hers. "We're going to be fine." She offered her a soft smile. "We're a week into the trial already, and nothing has come up. I have to assume Angela had him watching me long before it officially started, so he would have noticed you leaving my apartment last Sunday after staying the night."

Morgan reached up to brush back a strand of hair that had broken free from Harper's bun.

She continued, "I'm fully aware of the consequences of what we're doing, and I hope you believe me when I tell you that I wouldn't risk it if I didn't think it was worth it."

If she didn't think Harper was worth it.

It felt like they were both skirting the topic of real, actual feelings.

That was probably for the better, for now.

Harper nodded and cleared her throat. "Um, I also think that the intention of the time we spend together should be understood before we meet up. When we're doing something related to the trial, we need to keep our hands to ourselves. Otherwise we'll never get anything accomplished."

Morgan made a sound of agreement, smirking at her. "You really need to get a handle on yourself when you're near me," she teased.

"You started it yesterday." Harper's tone held no room for debate, so Morgan decided to fuck with her just a little bit more.

She hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe I should call Scott and get his version of events. I threw away the receipt he gave me, but I think I remember the number--"

The end of her sentence morphed into a yelp of surprise as she felt her feet leave the ground.

With the ease of someone who spent hours at the gym every week, Harper lifted her onto the kitchen counter smoothly.

Strong hands pushed her knees apart, gliding up her bare thighs to grip her hips.

"You," Harper said, fingertips biting into her as she slid into place between Morgan's legs, pulling her to the edge of the counter, "are not funny."

"I think I'm funny," Morgan said, bringing her hands up to cup her jaw while she smiled down at her.

She watched Harper fight her own smile, lips twitching, before she gave herself over to it with an eyeroll.

Some people might consider jealousy and possessiveness to be red flags, but there was a fine line between the dangerous type of jealousy that was bred from a lack of trust and the type of jealousy that kept the spark alive in relationships.

And Morgan fucking loved the latter.

She wanted her romantic and sexual partners to desire her, to look at her the way Harper was looking at her right now, even as the jealousy that had flared up within her died down.

"I have a rule to add," Morgan whispered, bringing her thumb up to brush it across Harper's bottom lip. She felt her shiver at the touch. "I don't share," she said, her clit throbbing at the way she could see Harper's eyes darken at her words. "And if your reaction yesterday is anything to go off of, I'd bet that you don't either. If we're going to do this, I want it to be exclusive."

Report