Guilty Pleasure (A Harry Styles Fan Fiction)

Chapter 30

The dessert, like every other course that Isabela on Grandview served, was exquisite. I’d never even heard of panna cotta before that night and I couldn’t help but crave more after I was finished. By the time we pulled up in front of Harry’s apartment, my stomach was ready to pop and my head was swimming from the three-quarters-of-a-bottle of wine that I drank. Harry insisted on taking the nearly finished bottle back home because “such amazing wine should not go to waste, no matter how little is left”. I thought that he just didn’t want to waste money.

He asked me multiple times before we got out of the car if I was ready, and I was confused on what I needed to be so prepared for. Would I find some deep dark secret just stepping into Harry’s home? The lobby of his apartment building was simple but elegant and minimalistic in style. He pressed the button to the eighteenth floor when we got into the elevator. The ride up was quite, nothing but the dings of passing floors and sliding of doors once we reached ours.

Harry unlocked the door to his home with his key and swung it open to reveal a vast living room with a huge window overlooking downtown Pittsburgh set behind a sleek black leather couch. The flat screen television that was mounted opposite the couch nearly took up the entire wall. I led myself into the next room - his kitchen - which was embellished with beautiful stainless steel appliances and gorgeous grey marble countertops. An extravagant chandelier hung over a glass dining room table that had papers and binders and books and tons of other office supplies scattered across it. I looked to Harry, who stood about twenty feet away from me, his head hung in his perfectly fitted suit - designer suit, obviously.

“Harry,” I began as I approached him. “Your home is absolutely beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He mumbled, looking around the room instead of at me. “It took Aaron and I a while to find the perfect place that we wanted, but here it is.”

I bit back a smile. “May I ask?”

“I guess it’s better now than later.” Harry shrugged.

“How did you get a place like this while still in college?” I asked, amazed.

“I’m an accounting major and Aaron was a finance major, he graduated last year.” He said and sat down on the couch, gesturing for me to join him. “Aaron’s family and mine have been close since as long as I can remember. Aaron was from Pittsburgh and I from London. Our fathers were business partners, despite the distance; so Aaron and I became pretty close going from country to country together. I did my freshman year at Oxford in England, took a year off, and then Aaron convinced me to apply here. I got in, he already had a job with his father’s investment firm and my second semester of sophomore year, I got an offer on an accountant job. He and I both do okay for ourselves, and together, we had just enough to get an amazing place.”

“Why’d you leave Oxford and take a year off? It’s an amazing university.” I wondered and Harry visibly swallowed.

“For another time, Reina.” He brushed my question off, standing and disappearing down the hallway. “Do you want a glass of wine?”

“No, thank you. I’ve had more than enough.” I called back. He emerged with a bundle of clothes in his hand.

“Here,” he extended them to me. “These should be more comfortable.”

I smiled. “Thank you. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Oh, no, I’ll be dressing you. You don’t have to lift a finger, my love.” The vibrant green of his eyes washed over with lust. “Let’s go into the kitchen. We wouldn’t want the world outside of that window seeing you, now would we?”

I laughed and he pulled me into the kitchen behind him. His fingers slid under the straps of my dress and pushed them down my arms, continuing until the gold fabric was pulled to my waist. He placed a kiss on my shoulder before he sliding it the rest of the way down to pool around my heels, moving especially slow as he slipped the tight material over my butt. I shook my head. Harry lifted me by the waist and placed me on the counter, eyes exploring my half-exposed body as I sat in front of him. I reached for his tie and undid it, then popped open each button of his dress shirt, untucking it from his pants and pushing it along with his jacket to the floor.

“You have to change too.” I mumbled as my small hand moved down his torso towards his belt. “You don’t want to sit in that suit the whole night.”

He gripped my wrist before I could reach the buckle. “Now you’re pushing it.”

I laughed in the glory of successfully driving him crazy. Harry was the only person I ever knew that made me feel extremely sexy and irresistible - a confident feeling that I could get used to. He pressed his lips to mine, the familiar feeling of cool metal against my mouth as intoxicating as ever. His arms snaked around my waist, completely enveloping my small frame. I pressed my heels into his lower back, attempting to bring him even closer to me. He groaned in pain but hugged me tighter, my back arching. He soon removed his arms from around me, sliding my panties down my legs and a pair of his boxers up. He broke our kiss to unclip my bra and pull one of his t-shirts over my head.

“These are extremely sexy but they hurt like hell when dug into skin.” Harry laughed and removed my shoes.

“You didn’t have to take off my underwear.” I protested as he collected all of our discarded clothing from the floor.

“But I did.” He countered, leading the way out of the kitchen. “Now we’re going to go into my room. Don’t be weird.”

I nodded as he lead me into the bedroom. A beautiful king bed was set in the center of the room with a copy of The School of Athens by Raphael hanging above it. I laid back on the bed and admired my favorite Renaissance painting as Harry fumbled through his dresser. I watched him as he changed: letting his dress pants pool around his ankles, discarding his socks and shoes carelessly, tugging a pair of grey baggy sweatpants up his legs, allowing the white rim of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs to be seen over the waistline. He flopped onto the bed next to me, mussing his perfectly combed hair with his fingers until it was back to its usual disastrous style.

I traced the tattoos littered across his stomach with my fingertip, his muscles clenching beneath my touch. He watched me intently as I concentrated on replicating each design perfectly, my finger moving in delicate patterns. His skin raised with goosebumps and he whispered a breathless apology for his involuntary reaction to my movements. My fingertip moved gently along the line of hair that began at his belly button and disappeared into his underwear. He sucked in a sharp breath.

Harry was always so calm, confident, and knew how to handle everything and everyone. He was majestic and august, and at times, his perfection made him seem super-human. But in that moment, he was real. He reacted to my touch, both voluntarily and involuntarily. He was imperfect: his feet were bony and pale like most boys’ and there were two birthmarks on his abdomen, almost hidden with black ink. Yet, in his small flaws among almost complete faultlessness, I was never so amazed. Never so in love. His breathing was audible and his t-shirt was soft and his skin was warm and his toes moved comfortingly against my foot, and I knew.

“Harry,” I spoke, meeting his emerald gaze.

“What’s up, baby?” He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

I took a deep breath. “I love you too.”

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