Prince Harry Ih.sI

52

Does Harry even like children?

Come to think of it, I've never even seen Harry within a ten-mile radius of any toddler or baby.

What if he hates them? What if our child isn't good enough? What kind of father could he be, or have the potential to be? What if I have to play the father role? What if he's not ready for this? What if he encourages me to get rid of the child?

I don't know what to think.

"What's wrong?" Harry asks. I turn to look at him quickly, not realizing that I drifted off, staring at the back of the car seat in front of me, thinking about a world were Harry and I had be parents.

He places his hand on top of my thigh, rubbing it. I put my hand on top of his, patting it.

"Nothing, why do you ask?" I tell him, finally turning to face him.

We're seated in our vehicle, Steve, Harry's personal driver, driving us back home since our engagement party has ended. Truly, the party was beautiful in every way possible. With the way Harry and I communicated and laughed, to the color of the tablecloth on the hundreds of tables and to the thousands of roses that filled and piled over the dance floor, lobby and all in between.

Overall, the night was a major success... one of the greatest moments of my life.

To make a confession, I actually had a feeling there would be a glitch or some sort of disaster, for some reason. Especially cause of my lack of participating in any part of the wedding besides my role of showing up. Yes, I attended the meetings but how could I focus on the wedding plans when all I could think of was the man I was to wed?

...Everything was perfect... everything so far was perfect. Except for that one thing.

"We're home." Harry says looking at me intently. I give him a soft smile and scout out the car with him.

Once in the house, our fingers disconnected from each other and I walked in before him. I let out a deep sigh and run my hand over my hair.

How the hell am I about to do this?

I swiftly turn around once I hear the sound of Harry taking his shoes off. My vision is a bit blurry from this rush I'm having but this needs to be said, and said quickly. "Harry-"

Immediately he walks over to me and kisses my lips. "I love you so much, baby." He whispers desperately. He grabs my waist and presses me too him, marking my skin with his precious lips, assaulting my neck with his tongue, he sucks onto me so hard I nearly fall due to the bend of my knees.

"Let me take you," he whispers. His hand moves up to my shoulder where he tries to push my shoulder strap down.

The guilt of me knowing about my apparent pregnancy hits me hard, especially since Harry is so completely unaware of it.

Just stop and tell him!

Though my actions decide to dismiss the loud screaming of my conscious to inform him of it and instead I tilt his chin up and kiss him just as roughly. Putting my hands around his neck and sliding my right leg up to his waist, where he holds it.

He moves his left hand to my lower back, gently yet quickly moving my body up and down, against him, creating a sort of friction between us. I start to pant and moan feeling how buff and hard his c.ock seems to be as it's pressed right against my core. The sensation feels incredible as I instantly become wet, wanting for Harry to be more aggressive and rip every cloth on me and have sweet and passionate sex on the cold, tile floors with me.

But instead all I hear is Harry pant and groan. His tongue sticks out as he bites it and he stares at my chest as it bounces. My fantasy causes me to moan but then all to suddenly Harry stops.

And I have more than enough proof to know he only stopped so he could release himself. Well that was quick.

Slowly, he lets go of my leg, making sure it lands on the floor. He gives my neck a little pucker and then fixes his suite, undoing his tie.

"Let's head upstairs." He clears his throat.

I nod and lift my dress, walking ahead of him, knowing that in the bedroom there will be more and better activities for us.

Then the thought comes to me again.

You're pregnant and the father has yet to know.

Not being able to handle the guilt, the continuous pounding in my head, my annoying yet roaring conscious, I turn to Harry as we're on the stairs, ascending towards our room. He holds onto the railing but stops when he's seen that I have yet to move and he looks up too me, smirking.

"Yes?" He teases.

I gulp, looking down to his socks and blinking rapidly. There is no better way to say it, no excuse or way to ease into it. I've just got to be blunt... I've just got to do it.

"Harry, I'm with child."