Cult

30: Experiment Ω

The scribbles on the slates were supposedly written in Proto Norse, just as Lola and Scarlette had said. Yet according to Harry, the myth about the slates and the blood and the ritual to supposedly protect me are all lies. But he just confirmed that the writing was in Proto Norse, which means that at least some of the girls' story has legitimacy. I still can't be sure that everything they said was true because Harry reacted so aggressively when he saw them performing the ritual on me. Why did he get to angry? Does he not want me to be protected by the ritual? Does the ritual even do anything good for me?

I still have uneasy feeling about Lola because of the night she randomly woke me up to take out the trash, but overall, I know she wouldn't make up such an intricately detailed story and perform a strange ritual for no reason.

I close my eyes and open them again before turning to Harry, who is still fast asleep. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm that relaxes and eases me, despite the thoughts and questions forming rapidly in my head.

My fingers trail down his abdomen, to the line of hairs leading to his v-line. I follow the indent of his muscles. He's not too muscular, but not skinny either. His body is long, slightly lankyand boyish and that's exactly why I find him so attractive. He's not a stereotypically sexy body builder. He has little flaws and quirky features that make him unqiue.

"Are you going to just touch me or should I return the favor, too?" Harry mumbles. 

My hands stop moving immediately, slightly embarrased. Harry leans up and squints at me from under his dark lashes. He's teasing me, watching me in that way that makes me feel naked and eager.

"I was just admiring your happy trail," I tease, looking down at his dark hairs. Harry pulls at his boxers until they're off his ankles and squished to the corner of the bed. 

"Admire some more, maybe give it a squeeze or a lick," he jokes. I push at his shoulder and he wraps his arm around my waist, puling me closer to him. I lean up and sit on his chest, enjoying being on top.

Harry runs his fingers through his morning hair before resting his hands at my hips. His hands rub my hips, massaging the soft flesh and giving my butt a good squeeze.

"I'll never get enough of this thing."

"It's just a flab of flesh. It doesn't really serve a purpose," I shrug. I will never understand Harry's obsession with my butt, but I'm not complaining.

Harry cups my cheeks and feels along my upper thigh.

"Mmm it's just so soft. I could squeeze and smack it for days, until its red and everyone knows it's mine,"

"You don't own it," I pout.

Harry squeezes my butt. "I have an 80% share."

"40%"

"52.3%"

"You're so weird."

"Just be mine, ok?"

I laugh. "Ok."

"Now while you're on top, why don't we try something new?" Harry raises a brow. I know that look in his eyes and it makes my chest heave and my knees buckle with eagerness and anxiety.

Harry pulls at my panties and slides his fingers inside me, one at a time. His fingers tease me, adding pressure at precisely the right place, but slowly, slowly building the tension. I find myself spreading my legs, wanting to reach my climax, but Harry pulls his fingers out. He grips my hips and adjusts my body until I'm over his hard on. He bucks his hips and pushes into. I gasp, intrigued by the new position.

"How does that feel, baby?" he whispers. His morning voice is still heavy and raspy and I nod quickly.

"Good, really good."