isabella [h.s.]

twenty seven

**I'm the best you ever had,
I can turn you on, on, on
Why your clothes still on, on?**

ISABELLA

The kiss is full of desperation and hunger from the second it begins, our tongues ravenously circling each other's mouths and our hands greedily tugging at any part of each other we can reach. My fingers are tangled up in his shirt, the fabric still clenched between my fists while his hands move up and down my body, gripping my hips, my ass, my waist, his straying hands evidence of his desire. His body is just as warm as his breath fanning across my face, the faint stubble across his jaw grazing my heated skin as he kisses me hard and rough, almost as if he's been waiting for this all night and now that he finally has me, he can hardly contain himself.

Harry doesn't even break the kiss when he unlocks the apartment door, keeping one arm slung around my waist while his free hand blindly places the key into the lock, jiggling it around a few times until it clicks. With my back pressed against the door, I feel it give way from behind me and I kick it open fully, my feet carrying me backwards into the apartment, pulling Harry in after me. Once we've crossed the threshold of the apartment, I slam the door behind us before pushing Harry up against it, not giving him the chance to react before I'm pressing by body back against his, my actions welcomed by his hands that immediately land back on my waist, eagerly pulling me closer.

Without a word, both of our hands begin to pull at each other's clothes, desperately ridding ourselves of the barriers between us. My hands slip under the lapels of Harry's jacket and he aids me by shrugging it off, letting it drop to the floor at our feet and then carelessly kicking it away. While my fingers work on the buttons of his shirt, his hands slip up under my dress, the feeling of his hands against my thighs causing me to gasp softly into the kiss. "No underwear again?" he asks, groaning softly as his fingers graze along the bare skin of my hipbones where anther layer of fabric should be. "You could drive a man fucking insane."

I just smirk against his lips, wondering what it'd take to drive him insane, or whether I've already achieved that and am just unaware of it. I guess I'll find out soon enough. With this particular thought in mind, I tilt my head to deepen the kiss even more, changing the angle of my tongue and gently biting down on Harry's already swollen lip, revelling in the throaty groan I receive in response. After popping open the last button of his shirt, I rip it open and run my hands along his warm, muscular chest, loving the way his breath hitches in response, excitement leaking into his bated breaths. His low groans and the sound of him muttering 'fuck' under his breath only encourage me further, and I don't even bother to pull off his shirt before my hands are unbuckling his belt, yanking it from the loops before pulling down the zipper of his trousers, my pulse thumping so fast I can hear it in my ears.

Excitement swirls around the pit of my stomach, the feeling of Harry's hands shamelessly moving beneath my dress and squeezing my thighs certainly not helping. An almost unbearable throbbing has made itself at home between my legs, but I'm surprisingly able to ignore it. The jealousy I've been feeling all night has awakened some new kind of desire within me, and for once in my life, I don't care much about my own pleasure, because the only thing I want to do right now is pleasure him. I want him to moan for me, beg for me, call out my name when he can't take it anymore. I want to make him truly lose his mind over me.