Chapter 1: Harry

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"This is wrong."

"I don't give a fuck."

"But if she finds out, you will..."

"Then she won't find out will she?"

"I hope not."

"She better not."

"You're so mean sometimes... I just know she won't like it if she-"

"Stop fucking talking about her."

"Don't talk to me like that."

I roll my eyes and then roll myself out of bed, shuffling across the cold wooden floor of this drafty and dreary bedroom. I brought her here in a moment of weakness and now I immediately regret it.

What have I done?

I rummage through my dresser drawers and look to at least clothe myself in a pair of pants. She calls to me from the bed and the sound makes my stomach drop.

"What's wrong 'Hazzard'?"

She giggles. I however am not amused.

"Don't call me that."

"Your attitude sucks right now."

I turn around to tell her off, to ask her why she thinks it's okay to be so goddamned cavalier about this, but turning around was a mistake.

There's never been a body like hers before, I'm fully prepared to believe that her perfection is one of a kind; every inch of her is incredible. Her ass is still the most unbelievable thing I've ever witnessed. She lounges on the bed, lying on her stomach in all her naked glory with her legs kicking in the air as she reads something on her phone. I'm not interested in what it is that's stolen her attention from me. I'm far too mesmerized by her shapliness to even remember what I was turning around to tell her off about. The only thing my mind can focus on at the moment is the most basic urge in my body, the one that compels me to believe that all I should be doing right now is hovering over her, plunging as deeply into her body as I can, making her moan and shake beneath me.

Fumbling through the dark was easy to do in this sparsely furnished apartment and Cecilia is graceful enough to have tiptoed towards my tiny bedroom without a sound. The room is now warmer than it was and the bed wrinkled with it's sheets in disarray as a result of what we've done to each other. The memory of our exploits, our desperate and flexible movements that we tried to keep quiet and controlled so as not to wake the witch sleeping across the way, overwhelm me. I can't be this far away from her any more. I gently grab her ankle and pull her down the bed, as I do so she turns over and lays on her back to watch me. I stop pulling when she's at the edge of the bed. She looks curious as I kneel before her, and more so as a push her legs open wide and hide my face between her thighs.

I can't help smirking as she lays back and pants, quietly trying to catch her breath. I finally have the chance to keep my promise and show her all the things this tongue ring can do, so I do. She's a mess of quiet moans and writhing hips as I make my tongue and the silver ball in it roll against and flit across her.

She laughs when she comes for the final time, and laces her fingers in my hair as I lift my head. It amazes me how simple gestures like that send me reeling and make me want even more of her. She's my ideal; I could never get enough and yet she somehow satisfies me.

Her legs hang limply over the edge of the bed as she sits up, and soon enough she leans forward, meeting my lips with hers and kissing me with an urgency and passion that's new for her. It's there every time we touch since this 'breakup' was imposed upon us.

It almost makes me grateful for Serena and her outrageous demands.

Her lips linger on mine, slowly and softly puckering against them as our tongues get entangled in one another. A kiss like this is closeness on another level, the way she holds me, the way her breath becomes one with mine, the way we move our mouths in sync almost like a dance.

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