Challenge Accepted- HARRY STYLES #DirtyImagine

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“No you f*cking did not,” I laughed into the phone.

“I did,” Elena’s voice cackled out of the speaker.

“What did she not do?” Harry asked me from the kitchen table, where he had his feet on the surface, drinking something alcoholic.

I held up my pointer finger as I said, “Well, what happened?”

“Listen, I mean, it’s like f*cking heaven—”

“It wasn’t weird?”

“Well, I mean, yeah. It kinda was because I have a boyfriend… and I’m not lesbian, but Y/N, when she got the f*ck into it, I. Was. Soaked. Seriously, that I know of, I don’t think I’ve ever been that wet for a guy before. And this will not be repeated to Ryan, either.”

“Nice,” I joked. “Okay, well Harry’s over here dying, so I should probably go. But I’ll call you later. Bye, love ya!”

“Buh-bye,” she giggled and then ended the call.

“Okay, what’d she not do? And I heard, ‘I was soaked,’ worded very dramatically,” Harry urged, “sounds fun.”

“You’re not gonna like it, though.”

“What?”

“She faked being a legit lesbian so she could get drunk, then eaten out properly by another girl.”

“Properly?”

I was shocked that he didn’t care about the “faking to be a lesbian” part. “Because girls eat each other out better than guys can.”

“What makes you think that?”

“We know what feels good,” I explained, taking a sip from his glass. He gave me a weird, competitive look, and I immediately knew what he was thinking.

“And how do you know that?” he snapped, drinking from the glass that was still in my hand.

“I mean, I’ve never been eaten out by a girl before, but I still know what feels good.”

“Yeah, because my tongue has been in your vagina,” Harry chuckled.

“No, I mean before I’d ever been eaten out—by anyone—I already knew what felt right,” I replied, getting a little fidgety as I cocked a very cocky eyebrow at him.

“Challenge accepted,” he spoke after a few seconds.

“Uh, what?”

“Challenge f*cking accepted, Sweetheart,” he smirked.

“What challenge did I give you to accept?” As if I didn’t know…

“Just go upstairs, and if I come up there and you’re not stripped, you’ll be punished.”

“Calm yourself, Styles,” I giggled, taking the drink and leaving the kitchen.

I skipped up the steps and stripped down to my bra and underwear. I sat cross-legged on the bed, sipping at the edge of the glass when Harry walked in.

He cleared his throat with a half smirk on his face as he took the drink from my hands, “You know,” he muttered, his voice clouded with lust as he set it on the nightstand, “last time… I checked… smiley-faced underwear… wasn’t naked,” he uttered between kisses.

I grinned against his lips and pulled away, “But my crotch is smiling at you; you can’t even say no to that.”

“Mhm, but you’re smiling lips are prettier,” he whispered in my ear, his lips grazing my neck.

He gently pushed my shoulders down till I was flat on the bed, my legs hanging off the edge, toes hardly able to flick at the carpeted floor. His smooth lips swept over mine, but gave me nothing. “Harry, please,” I pleaded.

“M-m, no begging, Love,” he laughed softly against the skin of my neck.

His hands glided down my stomach to grip my hips as he left open-mouthed kisses on my collarbone and chest.

He worked his way down, stopping just below my bellybutton to pull down my smiley-faced-Thursday panties.

“It’s not even Thursday,” he laughed, looking up at me.

“I know,” I replied.

“So you really think girls are better at this?”

“Mhm, until you prove me wrong.”

He grinned wryly as he softly pecked my inner thigh. He brought his lips closer to me, taking one long lick up my slit. I shivered at the sensation that I hadn’t felt in a long time. As his tongue pressed against my begging clit, he pulled my legs up to rest on his shoulders.

My mouth dropped open as his lips planted on my swollen nub, sucking gently at it. “Holy… f*ck,” I cursed, his tongue slipping into me.

He brought two fingers up and pressed them to my sensitive, aroused clit, pressing against it and rubbing harshly. “Harry!”

My hands tangled and laced into his hair, pushing him closer, desperately needing more.

His tongue moved back up to my clit and he slipped two fingers into me. My hips buckled as he started rolling my tender nerve-bundle between his teeth, sending shockwaves of pleasurable pain through my system, causing me to cry out at the orgasm that I could feel coming.

Hands gripped my hips again, pushing them down and holding me still as his teeth and lips played with my upcoming release. 

My legs tightened, heels digging into his back as I finished, a shrill scream spilling over my lips and my back arching off the mattress completely. I felt him sucking me up, licking me clean—but not completely. His fingers dipped down after he pushed my legs off and got up, lifting them to my mouth, glistening with my juices.

He parted my lips with his wet fingers, placing them in my mouth, not obligated to ask me twice to suck on them. He pulled them away and pecked my lips. “Now, who’s the better one?”

“I still haven’t been eaten out by a girl,” I whispered.

A smile etched across his wet lips as he replied, “I bet you were planning on saying that weren’t you? And I bet you want some of this,” he teased, grinding his clothed erection into my begging core. “You can wait until tonight.”

And with that, he got up and left. I shot straight up, a surprised look on my face. I slipped on my panties and ran down the stairs after him, my legs still shaky. “You f*cking tease! What the h*ll was that about?”

“I’ll satisfy you,” he began before shoving me against the wall, “if you tell me I was better,” he added, his thumbs swiping over my bra-covered nipples, knowing I could still feel the little amount of touch.

“You were better,” I mumbled.

“Like you mean it or you won’t get anything for a week.”

I smirked one of his infamous smirks and pulled him closer. I unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans, sliding him hand into his boxers, hardly touching him. “You,” I began, “were better.” I skimmed the pad of my pointer finger over the head of his hardening length on the word ‘better’.

His gaze drifted from my hand to my eyes as he mumbled, “C’mon,” and gripped my wrist, pulling me up the steps, “because you’re not getting away with that.”

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