Cult

21: Scream Ω

I spread my legs more. Harry's hooded gaze darkens as he looks between my legs. I feel him harden even more in my hand. I pump him quickly, faster and faster, my fingers working on his sensitive tip. He screws his eyes shit, muttering curses as I help him reach his high.

"Call my name," he hisses between groans. 

"Harry, please," I purr. Harry shuts his eyes and I pump him even harder. He twitches in my hand and I sense that he must be getting  close.

"Fuck," he growls.

"Harry, help me, please," I whimper, pretending to seem helpless.

Harry spills into my hand and I look at the creamy, milky substance. It coats my fingers and I look down. He really does have a savior or villain fantasy complex and it's strangely arousing.

Harry's chest heaves slowly as he watches me through hooded eyes. I taste my fingers.

"Jesus," he gasps. I lick my finger slowly and suck on it. It tastes salty, but not too bad. It's Harry's reaction to me tasting him that makes it even more enjoyable.

I take his come and rub it on my abdomen. Harry pumps more of the milky substance on my belly and rubs it on my legs and breasts. I squirm under him, feeling a strange surge of pleasure at him coating my body with his cream. It feel so dirty, so savage-like knowing that I'm covering my body in his come, and that makes me even wetter.

I let my fingers slide down my body as I scoop up a bit of Harry's come and lick it off my finger again. His reaction is priceless and I continue. 

"You're gonna make me come again," he threatens, shaking his head. I laugh lightly and yank at his bicep, forcing him down on top of me.

His lips are at my collar bone and he eyes my breasts. His finger cups my left breast and he massages my nipple until it's perky. For a moment, Harry's come on my nipple resembles breast milk, but I shake the thought of children from my mind. I'm still technically a virgin and even if I wasn't anymore, I am on the pill.

Harry licks my nipple and sucks on it slowly, his tongue works around me as his hands hold my waist firmly.

"I've never tasted myself before," he admits.

"I think you taste like Cool Whip," I tease him, even though he's much saltier than that.

"You're strawberries and I'm cool whip. Guess we've got dessert covered," he smirks and I laugh.

Harry cups my face in his large hands and kisses me. His lips don't ravish my mouth or fight for control. He kisses me passionately, but still sweetly and I let my fingers trail through his hair. It's too long for my taste, but the more I see it, the more I love it.

Harry's kisses trail down my chest and tummy, then to my toes and the clasp of my heels. He holds my ankle as he unties the strap of my high heels. 

"Do you want a massage?" Harry asks and I lean up on my elbows.

"I'd love one." For someone with so many kinks, I didn't figure Harry to be the massaging type, but I'm not complaining.

Harry laughs and rubs the heel of my foot gently, pressing just hard enough to relieve my feet of the pressure those heels had put on them. I'm not used to wearing heels, especially not while strapped to a wall with nipple clamps, or even laying on a bed, still handcuffed underneath an incredibly sexy and insanely stiff man.

Without a word, Harry slips his arms under my waist and thighs and lifts me up. Because of the cuffs on my wrists, I can't move my hands too far to try to escape Harry's clutches.