Pretty Please Don't Pinch Me

50. The Final Night

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My sense of self-control is greatly tested on the drive home. Harry traces his fingers achingly slow up and down my upper leg, though I can't act upon my desires due to the pair of eyes in the front seat. There's no barrier dividing us and the driver, and I know that if I start kissing him now, I won't be able to stop myself from going any further. What seems like hours - which in more likelihood were a matter of minutes, we arrive back to Harry's house. When we open the front door of his house, the lights are all off and the security alarm is turned on, indicating no one is home.

"Boys not in tonight?" I ask, slightly intimidated that we're completely alone.

"I told them to make themselves scarce tonight," he explains, slipping off his blazer, and he walks casually over to his sofa, before laying down.

"Did you want to see if there's anything good on?" he asks me, turning on the TV.

"Uh yeah, sounds good," I smile, not utterly thrilled by the idea. In my opinion, there are more pressing matters to attend to. I want to spend as much quality time with him as I can, before we part ways.

He clicks to a random movie channel, and About Time is on. It's probably one of my favourite love stories, but right now I couldn't really care less. Harry is all that I want. He pats his chest, inviting me to come and lay on top of him, and I kick off my heels and lay flat on his chest. My ear is positioned directly over his heart and its steady, rhythmic beating is making me drowsy.

Can't fall asleep. Can't fall asleep.

In an effort to keep myself awake I trace patterns over his firm torso, tracing the fine outlines of where his tattoos would be. One of my fingers slips through his shirt by mistake, touching his skin, causing him to freeze, and I swear I hear his heartbeat stop for a moment. Moving his hand to my back, he deliberately begins to undo the buttons on my dress, his heartbeat becoming more rapid with each button coming undone.

In one movement he picks me up, pushing my back up against the arm of the chair, so I can better slip out of my dress. He eases his body so that he's hovering over me, and he gives me what I've been yearning for when his mouth makes contact with mine. From the first stroke of his tongue, I am on fire, and I hold his hair firmly to deepen the kiss.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this all day," he groans against my skin, as I fervently try unbuttoning his shirt, rubbing my hands over his bare chest. His hand wanders to underneath my back, and he expertly unclips my brà with one hand.

I can't even do that...

His hand skims down my ribcage before finally resting over my bréasts. Both his fingertips and tongue move around in circles, my sensitivity tested to its limits and I cry out in anguish.

"I want you so fùcking bad Ava," he tells me bluntly, "Now. I can't wait any longer."

Liquid heat pools in between my legs and I intuitively raise my hips to assist him as he slips my underwear off, his head moving south down my body. His tongue probes with gentle insistence at the entrance between my thighs, and my body arches involuntarily from the unexpected surge of pleasure. When I'm able to think clearly, I latch onto his hair, pulling him in closer to me.

I need more of him.

The sweet torment provoked by his tongue is only taking me higher, and higher and I need a sweet release.