Pretty Punk Cherry

73 ⭑ FREAK | Part One.*

"Oh my god, oh my god," I gulped, stabilizing myself to give him the answer he deserved.

The answer I wanted to give. Without even an ounce of hesitation.

"Yes."

"Yes?" Harlow exhaled against my mouth, his grin widening until the crinkles by his eyes were deep enough to shadow them.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! Fuck yes!"

Harlow smashed his lips against mine feverishly, letting out an adorable, deep hum of glee into them.

I shoved my arms around his neck and his kiss brought me down; the deep thumping in my ears fading into soft pressure.

"Put my ring on, put it on," He pried our lips apart and yanked his red ruby skull ring off of his finger.

I laughed like a mad-woman and lowered my hand, holding my fingers straight for him to push it on.

Both of our hands were trembling.

"Faster, faster, faster," I laughed, rushing him like it was gonna make a difference, like putting on the ring made it feel more real. And it did. The second it was on, I was back to screaming out of joy and kissing him as hard as I could, serotonin running through my veins.

Call it happiness, call it marijuana, but it felt like I was fucking floating on a cloud of happiness.

There were times in life when you just felt... infinite love. Immortal life. Strong power, like you could do anything.

Harlow was that feeling.

I feared the unexpected for most of my life because I thought it was around every corner, waiting to scare me, waiting to turn my insides rotten to my cherry core.

But he was an unexpected thing, and now?

He was my fucking fiancé.

"Holy shit," I mumbled against his lips, still coasting through this massive wave of emotions. I was panting, "Holy shit! You're my fiancé now. We're getting married. When I say it out loud, i-it sounds insane. It sounds... fucking hot, oh my god," My teeth gritted.

"It does, doesn't it?" He licked his smiling lips and lowered his hands to make quick work of my long, black coat, just as excited as me, "I'm gonna be your dirty little house-husband, Cherry-baby. Sluttin' around in my short skirts."

"Skirts, oh most definitely skirts," My pent up sexual frustration from earlier came back for the third and final time, and I tore his hands away from my coat before he could untie it all the way, "Wait, wait, wait, shouldn't we... I dunno' celebrate, before sex?"

"Sex is the celebration."

Yeah, okay. I'm fine with that.

"Are all the doors and windows locked? Can we really fuck in here?"

"Zayn took all his cameras home, I checked every exit and I covered up every window except for the frosted ones in the front—"

"Then why aren't you naked on that bed already? I wanna fuck my fiancé." I pushed his chest and he stumbled back, barely catching himself on his heel.

I'm gonna be saying that all night long. I could just giggle.

"You're asking the right questions," He hungrily eyed my figure as he unbuttoned his shirt and walked backward up the stage steps, not missing a beat.

As if he couldn't get more hot.

Why was his gymnast level balance so sexy?

God, I was his wife. I was starting to find mundane acts attractive. Soon, I was gonna get wet watching him change the oil in his car, mow the lawn or shave.