Irresistible Touch (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

51: What Happens in a Dallas... Dressing Room

(A/N: This one is for all my patient love-bugs, all you kind lovely readers who I've teased with dressing-room smut for many chapters now. This will not be the last. Also if you need a refresher of where we left off, reread the end bit of the last chapter. Enjoy!)

"Would that turn you on?"

Harry is visibly shocked and with his wide eyes and rosie cheeks, I can't help but smile in triumph and the added confidence his reaction brings. 

Maybe I can do this?!

"Fucking hell, what do you think? Yes! Go lock the door," he demands as if he's in control.

I don't know if it's the fine display of communication we just shared or the electricity that is running through my veins with the lingering feel of his touch on my skin, but either way, I do as requested.

I might have only been out of commission for a week but not being able to be intimate has been agony on top of the physical agony I was feeling.

Why on earth am I still thinking about Aunt Flo right now?

The door locked, I slowly turn around to my man who is patiently waiting on the couch looking even better than the day I first met him, and by my recollection, he looked mighty fine that day too... when doesn't he?

For the briefest of moments, I consider attempting a striptease as I walk back to him. The impulse leaves as quickly as it came, the inevitable disaster it would become flashing before my eyes, which leads me to settle on simply and safely unbuttoning my top.

Why ruin this perfectly adequate heated moment by getting my foot stuck in my trousers and face planting into the wall?

He watches my every step greedily as more skin and the bubble gum pink bra is exposed and his eyes pop when instead of taking my original seat at his side, I straddle him and loop my arms around his neck making a point to gently grind my hips down against his groin.

Once again there is a look of surprise on his face and I'm glad although as I try to move my hips down on him I begin to deeply regret choosing to wear skinny jeans rather than taking advantage of the warmer Texan weather and wearing a skirt.

I believe this would be the time Monica would give me a speech about the benefits of what she deems, 'easy access' clothing.

Luckily for me, after a few purposeful rolls of my hips, I can feel his growing arousal against me.

"I have another secret to tell you," I whisper breathlessly down, unable to help the soft tugs I'm giving to his hair on the back of his head.

"You did more than kiss your friend, Flo."

It comes out too confidently and clearly, even though he was just heavy breathing right along with me a second ago.

My jaw drops in mock shock and I playful slap his chest, only to leave my hands there and rub my fingertips against the buttons on his shirt, tempted to speed this up and rip them apart... maybe I'll do that when he's not wearing designer...oh wait.

"Harry, for all your other-worldly amounts of kindness and your generally outrageous gentlemanly manner, sometimes you can be such a stereotypical boy. It's shocking."

He takes a moment to respond with his eyebrows, wiggling them up and down in rapid succession as he flexes his fingers that he sneakily snuck beneath the hem of my top. "That's not an answer to my question."

"I think you already know the answer to that question," I take a tight grip of his too-short hair and pull his head back slightly so he's looking up at me I say tightlipped as I tug at his patterned shirt. "What I wanted to say before you displayed your frat boy side was that I have no idea how to be feral."