Cannes | H.S

Strawberry

When we arrive back to the apartment, the door is shut quickly, hiding and keeping the cold air out. Sugar jolts towards the both of us, sniffing out a decadent meal, barking with joy as she pleads to be lifted. We remove our coats, settling the box of food onto the kitchen counter before focusing on such a sweetheart. Harry holds her close, petting her head, cherishing her with promising words and the tune of a song that instantly causes her to fall into a tranquil slumber. I wash up, getting a glass of water, hearing a chaotic thunderstorm make landfall from the outside. My attention shifts back and forth from the rain to the peach colored sapphire that rests on my finger and I can't help but think just how different our lives are since the last time I laid eyes on this diamond.

"I hope you like it," Harry whispers, walking into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of water as well.

"I love it, but you know you didn't have to..."

"I wanted to Layla. I wanted to buy you a beautiful ring because you're a beautiful person. But it could never be of similar worth to the woman who wears it. I just want you to remember me whenever you look at it, that's all."

"I'll think of you when I look at it. I don't want to remember you."

"Why so?"

"Because if I have to remember you then that means something bad has happened. That means you're no longer in my life and I never, ever want to deal with that sort of pain again. That's why when I look at this ring, I'll think of you and how you taste like strawberries."

When I peck his lips, he scrunches his nose like a child, pouting at my words. "I don't taste like strawberries."

"You're sweet and fruity Harry Styles. To me, you taste like the ocean, warm honey, and fresh strawberries. It's not a bad thing."

When I attempt to walk out to the bedroom, he laces his hand into my own, pulling me close. "Hey, come here," he whispers. His mouth is on mine once more, he's familiar, he's home. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Continue to make me blush? I'm the one who's supposed to make you flush like a peach."

"Says who? It can go both ways."

"True, but I much prefer it on you little darling."

He lifts me up in his arms, causing me to release a giggle once I'm placed gently onto the counter. He rests between my legs, tending to the crook of my neck, burying his face as he hums in satisfaction. I tilt my head back, loving nothing more than the feel of his fingertips and mouth on my skin. He's delicious and skilled, full of tricks as he allows his hands to wander underneath my own sweater, squeezing every inch of my body until I'm practically begging for more. As I try to catch my breath, he walks over to the fridge, pulling out a clean bowel of ripe strawberries. He places it next to me before taking one between his own fingers, offering me a bite. I don't argue, accepting without a doubt, cherishing him the second he leans in to finish the remainder. Our mouths connect as we both enjoy such a wonderful piece of fruit. And as his hands grip my legs, he carries me in his arms. I entwine my body around his waist, fingers tugging on his chocolate curls as he kisses me again and again. We somehow manage to make it to the comforts of the bedroom as he rests me down on the plush bed. His shirt is on the carpet quickly as is mine within a matter of minutes. He treats me like absolute treasure as his mouth is on my lips, my skin, my neck. He allows it to trail down to my collarbone, leaving a few marks here and there before he ventures down lower and lower. I'm melting like snow on a warm summer day as he makes it his mission to pleasure me completely. His plump and swollen lips are on my breast, my belly before he helps me squeeze out of my jeans.