"No."- HARRY STYLES #DirtyImagine

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WARNING; ROUGH




My heart thumped to the beat of music that seemed to be drilled into my brain, pounding through my system, pumping adrenaline into my alcohol-drowned blood.

I stumbled over to the bar, dying for some air. There was hardly any there, but at least there was more than the dance floor. Take one step in there and you’d be immediately ground into by someone you had never seen before; like not once in your life.

I plopped down into one of the swivel chairs, turning around to rest my elbow on the wooden surface, resting my chin-cheek-area in my palm. 

“Can I get you anything?” the sober-looking bartender questioned.

“No, I’m fine. But thanks,” I uttered, trying to be louder than the techno-sounding “music” that blared through every speaker in almost every square-inch of the venue.

“You alone?” he asked. I turned to get a better look of the chap, only to see that he was quite attractive.

“No,” I heard a familiar voice answer in my place, “she’s not. She’s with me.”

I turned to see the boy I had come here with, much to my unwanted comply. “Right, Y/N? You’re with me?” he urged, placing his hand over mine.

“Uhh, yeah. I guess,” I murmured, shy-smiling at the boy behind the counter. “But why do you ask?”

Of course now the alcohol was speaking for itself, only trying to piss Harry off. 

“I just figured a beautiful girl like you could use a guy to spend some time with. My shift’s almost up if you’re interested,” he offered, eyeing Harry from his peripheral vision. Harry saw it, though.

He gave me a stern look of serious warning, and I knew that if I went along with it he’d be seriously ticked—and I didn’t care.

“Well, I think I’m interested,” I replied nonchalantly. 

“You are way too drunk,” Harry muttered under his breathe, jealousy filling the already-humid atmosphere.

The boy smiled and went past the swinging door that seemed to lead away from the world, leaving me with Harry. “What the fuck?” Harry questioned casually, trying much too hard to not sound jealous.

“You think I didn’t see you with that slutty bitch out there? I’m not blind, Harry. I’m actually pretty clever if you think about it,” I smiled darkly as the bar-boy took my hand, leading me away from the only boy in the room I actually gave a single sh*t about. “So what’s your name?” I yelled over the music.

“Chanse,” he shouted back.

“Uh, cool…”

“You’re using me, aren’t you? To get back at that guy? ‘Cause I saw him with that bitch you were talking about, too.”

“Harry? Umm… I kind of am. No offense or anything, I mean you’re hot, but, yeah,” I called at him, still weaving through the crowd of sweaty, pulsing and aroused bodies.

He pulled me into a corner where there were several guys and groupie-girls seated in a booth. “Y/N, these are just… my friends, I guess.”

Among the group, of course, happened to be the blonde whore Harry was pretty close to banging. You, I thought.

She patted the seat next to her, practically begging for me to punch her in the face—I mean in my world, at least.

I reluctantly slid into the booth next to her. “Sorry about Mr. Styles, over there,” she giggled, “I guess he just got carried away.”

“He does that in bed, too,” I smirked, “but don’t we all.”

She and the others laughed a bit at my comment, which isn’t exactly what I was going for. “Oh, yeah! I almost forgot about these,” one of the guys said as he pulled out a bottle of something. Drugs, of course.

“Want some, hon?” the same girl offered. “Make you forget about him… just for a while?”

I pondered that for a moment. It seemed pretty radical, but I was ta-hotally willing.

“Uh… yeah?” I timidly agreed. Shut up, bitch you’ve never had drugs before, I ventured in my thoughts.

She poured two of the white-ish tablets into her hand, then passed them to me. “Just swallow ‘em.”

I gulped hard before pushing them past my frightened, tensed lips. Chanse, who sat directly across from me, sat wide-eyed in the direction that we’d come from.

My eyes shot open as a hand gripped my jaw and jerked my head to meet his eyes. “Spit them out,” Harry demanded, his eyes showing more anger than his grip.

I stared at him, not sure if I should do as told, this time. “Fucking spit out the pills, Y/N. I know they’re still in your mouth. Spit them out!”

His hand tightened on my reddened cheeks until I spit them out, the somewhat dissolved tablets bouncing off his shoe and landing on the floor. “We’re leaving,” he commanded, pulling me out of the booth.

“Sweetie, calm down,” another girl said, “I’m sure your little slut can make her own decisions.”

My nerves tensed at the word slut. “Don’t call her a slut,” Harry ordered, then yanked me through the crowd and out into the open, oxygenated air. “What the fuck were you thinking!? Are you stupid!?”

“I spit them out,” I murmured, pushing past him.

“Don’t walk away from me,” he warned, grabbing my arm.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” I screamed. “This wouldn’t have happened if you would just understand how to keep your f*cking cum-covered hands off every girl in this shitty world!”

I squatted down to untie my lace-up wedges so I could take the bitches off. “You’re the one who accepts a grinding offer right in front of me! You’re the one who’s walking around like a whore in a dress that hardly even covers you’re fucking vagina!”

I could tell by the tone of his voice that he wanted to see me cry at that moment. All this was was a fucked up night that wouldn’t have happened if he wouldn’t have whined to me about coming to some screwy club.

“You know, I might as well just tell you how wet I was for Chanse, right? Because he was grinding his fucking erection into my fucking fucked ass, making all the fucking wetness in the world leak into these fucking panties, that I know you would die to take the fuck off! Get over yourself, Harry!”

“You know, what?” he laughed before picking me up over his shoulder, much to my disapproval.

“Put me down, you little c*nt!”

He said nothing until he put me down, right in front of the Range Rover I would have killed to not get into. “In, now.”

He started to walk to the other side, but I spoke up before he even moved. “No,” I grunted.

He turned his head to face me, his height suddenly becoming beyond intimidating. I mean, he was three inches from being a foot taller than me. “What?” he hissed slowly, placing his hand on my collarbone, almost around my neck. “Don’t,” he continued planting his other hand on the car, “say no,” he brought his hand up around my neck, gripping but not choking me, “to me.”

Harry’s nose was practically touching mine he was so close. My hand hopelessly searched for the handle of the car door before Harry let go of my neck to grab my hand. “So now you want to do as told, huh?”

The street lights were the only provided light, but I could already see the mischievous darkness of an angry lust filling his eyes. “Doing what I’m told isn’t my problem,” I stammered, “it’s doing what you tell me to do.”

Harry’s lips formed a half-smirk as he opened the car door, “I’ll take care of that when we get home.”

My lungs hitched as he gave me a slight push into the seat, slamming the door shut.

The ride home was utterly silent, which was uncomfortable. Maybe not for him, because I could tell he was thinking of all the sexual torture he could give me, but that made it worse for me. I wasn’t at all in the mood to be thoroughly fucked, at least not by him. That Chanse kid, possibly, he was cute; however, I think saying his name again would’ve pissed Harry off even more than he already was, which probably wasn’t a good plan if I wanted to be able to walk the day afterward. “You’re awfully quiet,” Harry grinned.

“Don’t talk to me,” I mumbled, playing with the laces of my shoes.

“I was just making an observation.”

I didn’t reply. “Scared, much?” he remarked, parking the car in the road, right outside the house.

Still, I didn’t answer, and got out of the car, trying to make it in before he caught up to me—that didn’t happen, though.

As soon as I got the door unlocked he grabbed my waist, turned me around and pressed me against the door. “You’re not getting away from me, baby,” he whispered, his hands sliding down to my hips as he attached his lips to mine. 

I planted my hand on his chest in an attempt to push him off, but he didn’t budge. He reached for the doorknob to open the door, wrapping an arm around my back to hold me up, his lips still on mine. I found myself kissing him back once we were inside as he kicked the door shut behind us.

“Babe,” he mumbled into the kiss, “go upstairs,” he continued, pulling away, realizing that I was just now up for what he was about to do to me, “and take off that dress. Everything else, too. Panties and all.” 

I bit my bottom lip, noticing some of my lipstick smeared on his lips. “Go.”

I grabbed my shoes that I’d dropped somewhere along the way, and headed upstairs. I slipped the little body-con dress over my head, tossing it somewhere in the room.

I went into the bathroom and stared at my sweaty-ed reflection, noticing my flaking eye make-up. “Shit,” I muttered, “I look like someone died on me…”

I heard footsteps coming up the steps and quickly stripped down to nothing, sitting on the bed with my knees tucked up to my chest.

“Legs down, Love,” he laughed, leaning against the doorway. 

“What are you…” my voice trailed off as he picked up the handcuffs off the floor of the closet.

“On your back,” he instructed.

I moved so my head was resting on the pillows, my knees somewhat raised in the air. My hands rested on my stomach, about to punch him in the face. He knew—he was 100% aware of the fact that I hated being handcuffed. Not just because I couldn’t touch him, but because it was annoying, and embarrassing to a degree.

His jean-clad legs straddled my bare hips, taking my wrists in his palms, pulling them above my head. He stabled the cuffs to the frame, flaring my temper, which he also was aware of.

“You like that, babe?” he taunted, his hands sliding from my arms to my tummy, making sure to swipe over my breasts. I gasped at the chilling contact, my heart thumping under my chest. “Being tied down, with no freedom? Not allowed to touch? Embarrassed?” That word shot out to me.

“Fuck you,” I breathed, desperately wanting more.

“I thought I was,” he teased. His fingertips grazed over the skin of my abdomen, sending chill-bumps across my entire being. “I haven’t even touched these and they’re hard,” he said softly, moving his fingers up to my nipples, rolling them between his fingertips.

My back arched as much as his straddling position would allow. He was torturing me, he knew that. My lips formed an “o” shape, longing for his.

His fingers kept up their work as his lips lowered to mine, immediately pushing his tongue into my mouth, taking over the dominance we’d already established he had. 

Eventually he let go of the kiss, giving me a chance to breathe. His hand moved down to my clit, rubbing smooth circles and civerting to figure-eights every-now-and-then.

“Someone’s fucking soaked,” Harry grunted, “that better be for me.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, got up, and gave some sort of strip-tease. “Harry, you’re stupid,” I bluntly stated.

He grinned at me, then stripped himself completely, freeing his hard-on. He repositioned himself to where he was hovering over me, sending shockwaves of anticipation down my spine. Before a word was spoken, he rammed into me. “Fuck!” I cried, with pleasure. 

He pulled out of me completely, then pushed himself back in with just as much force, possibly more. Moans, screams, cries and names quickly filled the atmosphere, as did sweat and humidity. His forceful gestures were repeated several times before I felt a high-point rising in my gut.

I tugged at my restraints in an attempt to somehow break them, even though I knew that wouldn’t happen. “Harry!” I squealed, my body releasing as his did the same.

He pulled out breathlessly before falling beside me, staring at my rising and falling chest. “I like you being rebellious,” he sighed, his finger rubbing slight circles on the curve of my breast. “Just not with other guys.”

I giggled a little at his comment, tugging at the handcuffs, just to remind him that I was still tied.

He reached over me to grab the key off the nightstand to undo them. “Seriously, say no more often,” he continued, massaging my red wrists.

“No.”

“Yeah, like that,” he chuckled, placing a quick kiss on my lips before pulling me halfway onto him.

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