I stood next to Harry, smiling away as the photographer snaps our picture. I ran my hands along the hem of my dress. I never wanted a big, fancy wedding. I always thought how the day was about me and my soul mate, not how the venue looked or who sits next to you. But, when you're marrying Harry Styles of One Direction, people expect something big.
To compensate for the giant wedding, I wore the dress I dreamed of. It was short, frilly, and matched me perfectly. The photographer yelled for us to shift over so he could get another shot. I felt Harry's hand travel from my back to my bum as I moved."Harry, stop it," I whispered in his ear as the photographer fixes his camera. I can't help but smile to myself too. Me and Harry had been together for 3 years and he still had the same sex drive he did the day you met. Actually, the first day you met, he wanted in my pants. Now you were marrying him, and he still wanted in your pants. I watched as the photographer struggled with his camera. "Pardon me," he said excusing himself from the room. Now it was just me and Harry, alone, in an empty room. I had no clue how long the man would take.
Harry made his way to the big wooden doors that led to the venue where your wedding was held. He peaked out and told the bodyguard something. As Harry came back in, he wore a devious smile. "Styles, what are you thinking?" I ask, forming your own evil smirk. He says nothing, he just places his hands on your hips. "Do you realize that, not only are you the most beautiful girl in the world, you're also the sexiest?" He stated, running his hand along my shoulder blade. Chills shot up my spine. He kissed along my neckline as he felt up my ass. I went with it; Harry always wanted to fuck in the most random places. I stepped back and admired him in his suit. He looked sexy as fuck in his pin striped suit and bowtie. I looked at him hungrily and made my way to unbuttoning his suit jacket. "Babe, we don't have much time," he said, hiking up my left leg. I knew what he meant; the photographer would be back any second. But, I wanted him so bad. We'd have to do this quick.
Harry pulled down my pantyhose and felt around my white thing. I was already dripping wet from him in a suit, now feeling it made it worse. He forced his hands down into my panties and jammed four fingers in me. I yelped in a mixture of pain and pleasure. He worked his way back and forth quickly, making me close to an orgasm. Luckily, he could tell when I got close, so he stopped. He ripped down his pants, got his now stiff as a board cock out and slammed it into me. I had no time to adjust as he thrusted in me quickly. I felt his now sweaty curls, running my hand through them. His face tensed up, as did mine, as we both approached the end. I felt his load fill me, just as I finished on him.
I pulled up my pantyhose as Harry wiggled back into his suit pants. He walked to the doors again and whispered something else to his bodyguard. As he strolled back to me, the photographer came back in. "Did you fix your camera?" I asked politely. He shot me a confused look and replied, "It was never really broken." I swiveled around to face Harry who stared at the ground, dimpled revealed. He had the same devilish look on his face. Then it dawned in me: he had planned this the whole time.
7 months later:
"A little to the left Harry," the new photographer yelled. Harry pressed his hands against my belly. I felt the baby kick as if on cue. She always loved when daddy rubbed mummy's belly. Harry leaned forward and whispered in my ear, like the night Darcy was conceived, "Aren't you glad I kicked the photographer out that night?" "Our course," I replied as he rubbed my belly, "otherwise, I wouldn't have our gorgeous girl Darcy." I smiled as I kissed him, the same burning passion from the night we met ran through me.