My Sweet Girl {George Harrison Love Story}

{12} Worry

Ophelias POV:

"Come ere'."

I look up from my book as George beckons me over, we're both seated on the couch in the living room with our backs against the armrests. I have my knees to my chest and my nose in a book, George sits across from me, one leg spread over the cushion while the other is bent over the edge of the couch. I sigh with a smile and set my book on the coffee table, George wasting no time in grabbing my waist, pulling me to straddle his lap. He smiles up at me and brushes my hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

"Hello." I greet cheekily.

"Hello. Is that a good book?" George asks, pointing to my copy of 'Women' by Charles Bukowski. I nod slowly.

"Yeah, i mean... its weird but not uninteresting."

"Well, Bukowski is a weird but not uninteresting man. He doesn't like John much, though." He shrugs, i raise my eyebrows in question.

"You met him?"

"I didn't, but John and Paul were fans of his poetry and wanted to record him for Apple ten odd years ago..." George explains.

"Hmm... And where were you?" I ask.

"Probably banging my head against a brick wall listening to Yoko Ono scream into a microphone." He laughs. "What about you? Where were you ten years ago?" He asks and rubs up and down my thighs

I hum, deep in thought as I calculate what my age was. "In my fourth foster home, getting ready for grade two at primary school." He shakes his head silently.

"Sometimes i forget how young you are." He states simply and rests his hands on my thighs. I shrug before reminding him...

"It doesn't make much of a difference."

"No." He looks down with a shake of his head. "It doesn't... sorry." He apologized.

"George, if your age bothered me I wouldn't be with you like this..." i plant my hands on his chest and shift my hips to sit directly over the zipper of his jeans, he gasps through his nose lightly. "... on your lap." I grind my hips slowly back and forth. He grasps my hips tight with a groan.

"I suppose your right..." he exhales, his voice shaky as he tries to calm his breathing. I bite my lip, suppressing a moan as i watch him slowly fall apart beneath me, my hips still grinding down into his. "... your age doesn't bother me either. I hope you know that." He says sincerely, his voice gruff. I grin down at him.

"Clearly." And i nod towards his erection, threatening to cut through the fabric of his trousers. He only lets out an airy chuckle and leans his head back, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut.

"fuck..." He whispers. The sound only encourages my movements as i grind down harder on him. After a few minutes of teasing each other i lift my hips slightly and undo his zipper, taking out his rock-hard dick. The tip, sensitive and leaking with pre-cum. I smear the wetness over the tip with my thumb and the length in my hand. He groans at the contact and squirms in his seat, a silent plea for me to go faster. I remove my hand completely and squirm off his lap, standing up and removing my top. He looks down at the sudden loss of contact and slowly jerks himself in his hand, watching me remove my shorts, giving him a little show.

He grins up at me while removing his t-shirt and pushing down his trousers to his ankles and moves to rest against the back of the couch. His long arms pull me back onto his lap and he kisses all over of my chest and neck. I release a moan as i feel his hands grip my hips tightly and he wraps his lips around my nipple with a groan, sucking on the sensitive bud. I reach between us and angle his tip to my entrance before slowly sinking down, he releases my nipple to kiss my lips.