Exclusives ❀ H.S

𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬

summary: in which; nearing your wedding day, you find yourself wanting an out—one which only the best friend and best man, of your groom, can provide. will your impromptu plot to flee with Harry, the best man, work, or will you be apprehended, beforehand?

trigger warnings: cheating, sexual content, mature themes.

word count: 14k

includes: Gucci cruise Harry, best man Harry, soft-dominant Harry, vaginal penetration, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), spanking, choking, written in second person.

disclaimer: in no way am i trying to romanticize or make cheating okay. truthfully, i hate it, although i randomly came up with this narrative and had to pursue it. if that bothers you, please don't read this one-shot. this is simply fiction.

based on: ♫ illicit affairs, taylor swift ♫

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Rome, Italy.

           "To my sweet, sweet boy," she says, raising her glass with a red-nailed hand. "Ever since you were little, you've never surprised me. Not in a bad way—for from the moment you were born, I knew you'd be nothing like me. You've always known exactly what you wanted, and have always done anything to get it—which is something I've never been like." Creases crinkle at the corners of her eyes and, if you look close enough, you could visibly see the way the alcohol was affecting her pupils. It doesn't seem like anyone else noticed or cared—but you did.

It was almost your wedding day, after all.

           "It's something I could envy, although I am far too proud to do so. I knew from the moment you told me about your delightful fiancée over here," she points to you, her hand swaying in a dramatic manner, "that she was the lady you wanted. And, gosh—when you want something, there's no way out of it, am I right?"

You don't like the sound of that, for the underlying twinge of bitterness in her words rested sourly in your mouth, swirling on your taste buds as you refrained from tipping back the flute of champagne in your hand. You managed to conceal this by laughing along with the visitors and focusing your gaze on the cutlery in front of you, glaring at the array of spoons. It was elegantly laying on the cream tablecloth, metal gleaming beneath the strung lights. Perhaps it appeared more opulent than you anticipated—after all, you wouldn't be looking at cutlery on your wedding day, would you?

You certainly would.

           "But, nevertheless, I'm sure this lovely girl would never want a way out. Who would?" The woman grinned, her shiny hair matching the deep red color of her nails—pointily shaped, as though she was wanting to poke someone's eye out. You wouldn't be surprised if that was her intention. "You're so kind, so thrilling. . . any girl would love to have you." Her words came with tears, light weeps leaving her red-painted lips, matching the aura of her glow. Many laughed at her false, humor-filled tear wipes, though your eyes steadied on a fork in front of you, adjusting it into position.

Carrie Hastings, your future mother-in-law, stood still—her ruddy cheeks flushed and she beamed at the audience. The stage was levitated beneath her feet, giving her speech a dramatic impression. It had been a previous agreement, much to your chagrin, that she would speak at the rehearsal dinner. Yes, the canary yellow color of her gown was majestic, and you would have liked it on any other occasion—though you felt it was rather out of place and eye-catching, forcing you to hold your tongue and keep all complaints to yourself.

           "Mum, mum—I think that's enough," Travis spoke, rising from his seat beside you and walking over to his mother, a gentle smile on his face. You could see through his mask, which these guests seemed to have no idea about, despite his pleasant and presumably compassionate appearance.

Your fiancé had been kind in the earlier days, yes, therefore you could understand why they were so compelled—though his mask rapidly came off after he got that rock on your finger. He knew you'd never be able to leave.

Travis' hands came in contact with his mother's arms, brushing them along her skin and smiling at the older woman. Her red hair, bright and fiery, was the only feature they had in common—as Travis had taken more from his father. However, unmistakably so, they were relatives.

           "Thank you for your speech," He spoke, brown eyes twinkling under the spotlight. His thin lips curved into a smile, the slender stem of a champagne flute pinched between his fingers. The Moët & Chandon sparkled, bubbling in the glass and threatening to spill over the rim—his meaty fingers gripping the glass. He grinned at the audience, including yourself, and moved over towards the microphone—where his mother had just been standing. "Thank you, everyone. This day, tomorrow—had been anticipated for quite a while. I know I have been looking forward to it for some time."

He spared a glance at you, dark eyes burning holes into your own and, if you looked closely, you could see a glint of resentment in his irises. His gaze was piercing, his discontent visible, however, the crowd was blinded by his smile. The man was aware of your antics, especially your sneaking around with his best man, but did nothing to stop you. Even when Harry, the best man, clearly had you—Travis believed he did with that rock on your finger.

You'd met Harry not long after Travis, three years ago, though your relationship had only initiated one year later. You had felt horrible at first, not only for cheating on your significant other, as well as for doing it with his best friend. However, as moments progressed, the sensation faded and your consciousness was filled exclusively with Harry's mossy and bright, scintillating eyes.

When Travis assumed you were at a friend's house, you had truly been sneaking around with Harry, going on dates in coffee shops, and spending the night at his residence. Harry was an angel, everything Travis wasn't—and you could only wish that you had met him, first. Weekends began being spent on dates with your lover, not your boyfriend, scouring the town for new bookshops and flower boutiques. 

Harry would fuck you raw and pound into you from behind, replacing the delightful intimacy you experienced with Travis. He'd mark you, pressing crimson bruises into the satin skin of your neck, which you'd dismiss as curling iron burns. Travis was aware of the situation. Harry began whispering sweet nothings into your ear, telling you how much he loved you—how much he needed you to survive. How you held the key to his heart in your soft palms, Travis was not aware of this.

It was selfish, and cruel, what you were doing. You knew it was, you knew—and yet after a certain amount of time, a certain amount of soft-spoken words and gentle caresses, you didn't mind. The cruelty of your unfaithfulness didn't taint the cruelty of the man you once loved. The man you and once loved was gone, filled with hatred for something you didn't know.

Your love had fizzled out, his anguish and unresolved issues primarily taking part in the act, albeit you stayed with him. Perhaps to see where it would go, perhaps to see if anything could be resolved. If anything would be repaired, the crumbs of a once beautiful and love-filled relationship.

It couldn't be, and then you found Harry. You found him in ways you hadn't priced before, intimate and caring ways which you used to appreciate with Travis. When the ghost of your love slipped out the aching cracks of your heart, you somehow let Harry in—replacing the now poisonous man. 

You were with Harry, happier than ever—and you couldn't bear feeling guilty, any longer. 

While Travis believed your relationship with Harry was uncomplicated, filled with continuous fucking and nonstop lust, he overlooked Harry's adoration-filled, heart-eyes when he gazed at you. He didn't notice the entwined hands beneath the table or the smooth skin brushing, Harry's fingertips dancing up and down your arms. He didn't notice how you kissed each other's cheeks, traced each other's details, and whispered love in each other's ears.

He didn't notice that now, with Harry seated across the table from you, the British man was constantly consoling you, solely by the pointed, albeit comforting looks of his sharp green eyes. He didn't notice that your foot was hiked up Harry's calf, bare of the heel which had been strewn to the side, toeing at his warm skin—luckily curtained by the floor-length, white tablecloth. He didn't notice the way Harry's smile appeared when you spoke, dimples appearing in his cheeks when you giggled at someone's words; the way Harry's hand brushed yours, for longer than usually anticipated, as he reached for a napkin or another bread roll.

Travis wasn't aware of your love and, you could only wish he would find out, allowing you departure.

           "My lovely fiancée and I just wanted to thank you all for coming, we're so happy to see all of you, for this very special occasion." Travis' remarks were meticulously planned and crafted, expertly enchanting the audience, and you could tell by the way their smiles expanded and their eyelashes batted, admiration for the man you detested surging through their veins. You would have found it amusing if it had been anyone else, the way his mask gleams in the light and covers his actual, malicious character—although it was Travis, and there was nothing humorous about the man. "Isn't that right, darling?"

You suddenly found your throat dry of the champagne that was once sliding down your throat as he gazed over at you expectantly, eyes burning holes into your own. You bring the flute's rim to your plump lips and press it against them—as if the chill might soothe your anxiety. You drank the rest of your champagne in a single gulp, the bubbles settling uncomfortably in the core of your stomach.

           "Yes," You spoke, bringing your hands to fold in your lap as you smiled up at the red-haired, bitter man. You inwardly scolded yourself for your unsteady remarks, softening your features to appear more in love with your fiancé. "Yes, we are very happy to have all of you here."

Travis grinned, pleased with your answer, despite how forced it was. You're sure the man doesn't care what you say, or do—as you're already fucking his best man, although he would never tolerate you making a mockery of him. And so, you didn't. You bit your tongue, refraining from speaking desired speech—lifting your hand and swallowing more champagne.

When Travis' speech concluded, you allowed your eyes to drift to Harry, seated across the table with his gaze fixated on you. He sat properly, respectfully—his hands clasped on the edge of the table and his jaw set, albeit with the way he was gazing at you, it was anything but. It was as though his gaze was ravishing you, mentally stripping you of all your garments and fucking you senseless. You'd rather be doing that, now.

Harry looked phenomenal, better than your own groom, to be sure—and you couldn't wait to get back to the hotel room, and be with him once the rehearsal dinner came to a close. He looked sharp from head to toe in a white, 1970s-style suit. The blazer was open, loose to the figure and revealing his ribbed camisole beneath.

The white of the camisole was becoming thinner as the restaurant lights became brilliant and dazzling, strands of curly chest hair peeking through the cloth, outlines of dark ink tainting your eyesight—as the figures remained pierced into his golden skin. His pink-hued glasses, which had been sitting on the bridge of his nose when he arrived, were now in his hair, messily tangling with the chestnut curls.

His demeanor was spectacular, his appearance even more so, albeit you could tell it was effortless.

With Harry's gaze having been steadily fixated on yours the entire evening, it was impossible to miss when you finally returned it, a wicked smirk twisting across his rosy lips. The sight of his darker, glittering eyes; his chest, heaving with each breath and shimmering under the bright lights; and the smirk he'd just given you had you squirming in your seat, panties wettening and mouth-drying. 

Of course, Harry noticed—you couldn't conceal anything from that green-eyed man—and that only strengthened his self-assurance. Every twirl of your hair, every flicker of your gaze, every heave of your tits behind that tight fucking dress.

While you had noticed that your mouth had dried up earlier, you didn't lose your breath until Harry rose from his chair with an evident hard-on. Before he appeared at your side, lower-half obscured by your chair, his cock was straining in its limitations, and you could see the achy outline of his bleary tip—however, hoping no one else was glancing at his cock in the short time period.

His scent, a delightful mix of tobacco and vanilla, rapidly engulfed your senses due to the close proximity. You sat stiffly in your chair, Travis on your opposite side, blatantly avoiding the interaction by conversing with a friend. You opted to ignore Travis as well, moving your sight and adjusting your head when you felt Harry's lips brush against your jaw, a whisper of a kiss grazing your skin.

Despite yourself, a small whimper fell past your lips when Harry nipped at your neck, witnessing his eyes furiously glance around before establishing that no one was looking. Everyone's attention was drawn to their supper, which was hotly awaiting them on their plates.

           "Meet me in the restroom."

It was as simple as that, Harry leaving as quickly as he came, and you could smell his intoxicating scent once more as he whizzed past you. In his absence, you felt chilled, his soothing stare from across the table gone, and your feet forced to return to their heels since his leg was no longer there to rub against.

He hadn't left you any time to respond, albeit you knew it wouldn't matter, as his statement had not been a question. It was a demand, an order; and Harry knew you would never defy him. His words were direct and authoritative, leaving you no alternative except to mentally concur.

You removed the fabricated serviette from your lap and placed it on the table before following him, your hands shakily smoothing over your dress. Your chair shuffled with a small squeak, your heels clicking against the laminated floorboards as you made your way after Harry. You could see his form, the white of his suit contrasting with the dim light, albeit you would locate him in any circumstance.

No matter the situation, you would always find him.

Harry disappeared into the restroom, the door clicking shut behind him, although it hadn't locked. You both knew the door didn't lock—strangely so, despite it being a singular restroom. You waited for a moment longer, purposefully slowing your steps to allow Harry the opportunity to adapt, before barging in.

When you first entered, the scene before you was steamy, with Harry leaning against the sinks and his arms supporting him, his legs spread and feet sliding on the tiled floors. The lights were dim and slightly yellow, reflecting off the pink glasses he wore on his head, perched in his hair.

You approached him, drawn to his magnetic energy, and in a flash, you were standing between his legs. You had remained silent, the only sounds being your breaths and the door, which had now clicked shut, isolating the two of you in your own domain.

You were always calm, easygoing, and at peace around him, albeit Harry was visibly feeling differently. It was clear to you that he was worked up—his cock was straining against the white fabric of his trousers; his eyes were wild and shining, his gaze unpredictable; his heavy breaths were rattling his entire body.

To Harry, on the other hand, you were the one who had him salivating, looking so amazing in that small dress of yours. Although Harry finds you stunning in just about everything, it hugged you wonderfully, cinching at the waist and laying over your hips. His attention was pulled to your chest, where he could see your tits pressed together behind the fabric of your dress, with a glimpse of your nipples hardened and poking through. He was a man completely on his knees for you—metaphorically speaking.

Excluding the times he was literally on his knees for you.

           "Kitten. . ." Harry whispers, hand going up to cup your cheeks, stroking his fingers along your cheekbones for a moment. 

His eyes have turned into a set of matching buttons, dark and round and full of lust. His bottom lip has become wedged between his teeth, sucked into his mouth and giving him a fiery image.

However, your eyes were snapped from his own when he pulled down his trousers, flitting your eyes down his body instead of jumping to the gun. Or, in this context, his throbbing cock. Your gaze shifts from his puffy nipples, which are commencing to harden; to the curly hair on his chest, which was formerly dark but is now lightened by the Italian sun; and finally to the hair that follows his happy trail all the way down to his cock. You wished to be buried in it, your nose tucked in as you stuffed his cock down your throat, lips wrapped around him.

At the sight of his erect cock, slightly curled towards his belly button with a vein running underneath, your breath staggers in lust, and your pussy clenches around nothing but slick arousal and squelching noises. His tip is an angry red shade, precum leaking out of his tip and sliding down his cock—looking so delectable.

           "Feeling needy, are you?" You asked teasingly, gaze only leaving his cock to meet his eyes.

           "Y'look so good in this tiny dress. Fuckin' perfect, my pretty little thing." Harry moaned in response to his own words, rutting his hips till they collided with yours, his cock pounding against your thigh. He rubbed against your bare skin and sighed wistfully as he pulsed it against you, getting off due to the sole pressure of your limb. "And we don't have much time. Know that pissy fiancé of yours will be looking f'you soon. . . need to get m'cock in you quickly."

           "Yeah?" You whispered, teasing your lips against his in a brushing motion. You altered your position, sliding closer to him so that after one final, lustful rub, Harry's cock knocked off your thigh and jutted against your dress-covered, clothed pussy. It had you mewling, his red and leaking tip somehow having grazed your clit. "What's stopping you then?"

That had him spiraling, grabbing you so rapidly that you had to place your hand on his shoulder for support. He placed you onto the sink's tabletop, the cold counter sending shivers down your spine. Harry felt lightheaded at the sight of you, the feeling of your thighs in his hands—and he pushed up the hem of your dress until it was pooled at your waist, desperate to see you and have his cock in you.

Harry's lips against yours felt hot and passionate—and while you cherished the sensation of his lips against yours, he was quite the man. He made it difficult to concentrate on one subject at a time. 

You could concentrate on the sensation of his cock against your cunt and the thin material of your panties, which separated you from him. Alternatively, you could concentrate on how the door, which was shielding you from every dinner guest, did not lock. You could concentrate on how anybody could walk in at any moment and uncover your hidden, illicit affair.

While you were nervous about the unlockable door—Harry, however, got off on the secrecy of it all, savoring the sensation of having you all to himself at the end of the day. Yes, Travis had you in ways which the green-eyed man didn't, although Harry had you in the finest manners possible.

Holding you close when the weather was gloomy and dull, tucking you into his neck and kissing your forehead. Taking you out for dinners in the city, holding your hands whilst walking through the bustling streets. Fucking up into you, meshing your lips together and feeling your pussy clench around his cock.

He stripped you of your panties in an instant, tossing them to the side and oblivious to the fact that they landed on the paper towel holder. Harry pushed you further back on the counter, hissing quietly when the hot skin of your back made contact with the chilled mirror. His dimples swell up at the corners of his moist lips as he gazes down at your saturated pussy with a delighted little grin on his face.

He was satisfied with his work, knowing that your arousal was his doing. You were absolutely dripping for him, and while Harry yearned for a taste of you, he knew there wasn't enough time.

You had been gone for minutes, already, and Harry could feel the pressure hauling his shoulders. He could only wish that there was more time for the two of you, at this moment, as he would gladly drop down onto his knees and ruin his white trousers for you.

Harry spat between your parted legs—his slender hips slotted between them—directly onto your pussy, watching his saliva mix with your arousal and drip down your clit, through your slick folds. Harry's head dipped, flipping his wrist to check the time on his watch before gazing back at the mound of wetness between your thighs, sighing lustfully.

He rolled up his blazer sleeves, which pooled at his elbows, before deciding to discard it entirely, revealing his toned arms which strained as he hung his coat on the door. The thin, white material of his singlet gleamed brighter than ever in the light, although the lighting was significantly poorer than at dinner, the proximity made him appear even more seductive.

You moved your hand to cup his cock, feeling so hot and silky in your hand. He bucked his hips, feeling immense pleasure as you finally wrapped your hand around his neglected cock. You rolled him in your palm, pumping him, spreading the precum along his reddened, slightly purple-hued tip.

He kisses you with enough ferocity to leave you breathless, his hands skimming up your plush thighs until they're squeezing the top of your ass—dragging your bare pussy against his throbbing cock. He was so needy for you, so ready to fuck you.

As he does so, your hands release his cock, leaving Harry groaning into your open mouth, his lips pressed loosely against yours. 

           "Will y'let me fuck you, hm, kitten?" Harry says breathlessly, his lips brushing over a light, generating hickey on your collarbones.

           "Yes, yes," You shakily exhale the words, lips trembling, so desperate for him that your eyes sting from the unresolved anguish. "Please, please."

Your whiney tones, the quiver in your voice, drove him completely insane, bordering on the ready to roll his eyes back into his skull, shoving his cock into your desperate cunt. He could never deny you of your pleads, with your eyes all spacey and your lips all wobbly. He could never deny you anything.

And so he didn't. With the frantic murmuring broken by the rolls of his hips against yours, your lips ghosting one another—his cockhead presses against your clit, your nose brushes the tip of his. The closer Harry leans in to kiss you again, the closer your foreheads pressed together, and his voice borders on contemptuous as he responds huskily.

           "My sweet, sweet girl. So pretty, aren't you?" His lips form a small pout, whispering the syllables against yours. "Yeah, you are, kitten."

           "Pretty for you," You whimper, falling into a submissive state you only dream of. Not fully, however, as you know your subspace would never claim you at a time like this, in a place so foreign—although you wanted nothing more than to satisfy Harry.

That drives him over the brink, and he lets his cockhead disappear into your weepy hole, flying as if his feet would never touch the ground. Both you and Harry groan at the sensation, the ecstasy of it all—the warmth of his tip encased in you. So firmly, so tenderly wrapped.

Harry was very well aware that he could pursue you, move closer to you, and enable his cock to fully penetrate you. Your sweet cunt, wrapping him in a supernova of warmth. Given the immense beauty and seductive draw of your lips—he was stopped in his tracks, however, as if you had him by the throat.

He carelessly thumbs over your lips, yet he is taken aback when you wrap them around his fingertip. Sucking on his finger, the blushing apples of your cheeks hollow as his digit is encased in the warmth of your mouth. Harry is reminded of the way you suck his cock by the delicate pressure of your fervor—so delicately, lusciously done. His cock throbs at the thought.

The streaky lipstick stains on Harry's ring, smearing from your lips and coating the cool metal, are unimportant to him. He isn't bothered, nor able to focus on it as a whole, since he's more focused on you removing the ring from his digit.

With a final, scorchingly hot kiss, the rose-shaped jewelry carefully rests between your teeth, pulling away from his thumb. You raise your eyes to him, lashes batting in faux innocence, and you proudly display the ring as if it were a prized possession for him to admire. That is, until you spit it into your palm, place it on your index finger, and stare at it adoringly. 

Harry grins, knowing that the floral-shaped metal was your favorite—and that if you asked, he would gladly let you keep it.

Harry inched closer, his cock rolling into you. He stretched you till his hips were flush against yours, feeling you tighten around him. Your hands move to his hips, as though training him as he screws his hips into your own. His cock nudges at the spongy spot within you, releasing a moan into a steamy void as Harry pants, your fingertips pressing into him as his speed increases.

He can feel the silver band sitting on your ring finger pressing into his skin, indenting his delicate and plushy hips with the jewelry. It brings a grin to his face, loving the knowledge that you, his sweet girl, were wearing something of his. 

Perhaps it was a territorial mentality, albeit there was no justification for it since you were also donning an engagement ring for a man you do not love. A man you do not wish to marry, yet here you are, at the rehearsal dinner. Fucking Harry in the lavatory, heedless to the rest of the world. When in his presence, there is nothing but the green-eyed man.

His soft and docile touches, turning lustful when his cock stirs; his chestnut curls, delicate to the touch and bouncing on his forehead as he rocked his hips into yours, like waves crashing onto a rocky, callous shore.

Harry began pushing into you with more force, acknowledging your limited time, and urging you to cum before said time went out. He felt as if an hourglass was teetering on the brink of his consciousness, with sand dropping so swiftly he could barely grasp it. It slipped through his fingers, much like your silky hair, and he increased the speed of his thrust.

It began slowly and hesitantly—as if Harry was testing the waters of your cunt, although that quickly vanished when the hourglass shattered in his thoughts. The sand was everywhere, carving into every crevice of his mind and becoming unavoidable. However, it was more like his cock, as he couldn't wait to fuck you any longer.

Your cunt was heaven and he never wants to leave it. Heaven, he can never get enough of, feeling deprived whenever his cock is anywhere but in you. You're his angel, his sweet girl—his kitten.

He could never get enough of you.

           "Fuck—say it." Harry grunts, biting out the words as though they physically pained him.

           "I love you." You respond breathlessly, easily—the words have been your common response to him.

           "No—wait, yes. I love you, too, kitten. But 's not what I wanted to hear." he moans out, and though the loving words sent a shrill of adoration to his thumping heart, it wasn't enough for the controlling side of his sexual appetite. No, he wants to hear you say the words which are dangling from the tip of his tongue, sizzling the pink muscle, and feeling heavy between his lips. "Say you'd never do this with Travis."

As your words sailed into the emptiness of passion and pleasure, Harry moaned out loud and unapologetically. His hand slid from your hips to your waist, curving up your body and tugging down the top of your dress until the entire garment gathered around your waist, leaving you vulnerable and exposed. Not that you minded, with Harry.

He tugs at your bra without entirely unhooking it or appreciating the white lace, far too preoccupied with the act itself. Your tits spill out, bra tight against your ribs underneath the swell of your breasts, although you can not find anything within you to care as Harry begins worshiping your chest.

Harry latches onto one of your nipples, flicking his tongue on the hardening bud. It has you moaning, and you can feel his lips curving up in a smirk against you in response. Harry kisses both of your nipples and slowly sweeps his tongue across them, the sensitive tissue shimmering in the bathroom light. His movements, however, were short-lived, as his lips moved away from your body to stare at you. His hands shifted their position, crawling up your shoulders and ghosting across your collarbone.

With a smug sense of satisfaction, his hand finally finds its destination, clamping around your neck. He feels your supple and pliant body melting into his own, hand tightening around your neck as he applies more pressure.

           "I would never do this with Travis." You sighed wistfully, his grip tightening around your throat, again. Before you spoke once more, you moistened your lips, gaining strength to speak and clearing your drying throat. "God—"

           "Yes, kitten—I am your god. Praise me like one," As you let out a guttering, cock-hardening moan, Harry felt the muscles and chords of your neck tremble against his palms. "He could never fuck you as I do."

           "No, no he couldn't. Fuck—" As you shouted out, his cock continued to ram into you, increasing the ecstasy flowing through you. However, you were too boisterous, and Harry didn't need the guests questioning your faithfulness.

He reaches up to trace your tantalizing, painted mouth, drawing down your lower lip—while using his other hand, leaving your waist, to grab the panties. He took a moment to gaze at them, the lace resting delicate and warm between his fingers, index hooked around the thin band.

His lips twisted into a grin, and he lifted his finger to bring the moist patch, which had encircled your pussy, up to the level of his nose. He inhaled deeply, emphasizing and exaggerating his nose scrunch when he inhaled your sweet arousal. It had you squirming, his cock nestling deeper within you.

Once tossed carelessly onto the paper towel roll, the lace rested fully in his palm before he shoved them into your mouth, using the hand which tugged down your lip to close your jaw.

He wanted to fuck you without a care in the world. Despite the unlocked door and small window of time available, before people started to notice your disappearance. Before their meals were finished, discarded with a pat to their stomachs and a satisfied, fed sigh.

He wanted to fuck you and, if that meant you were temporarily silenced by your dripping panties, then so be it.

Harry's cock slammed against your g-spot perfectly, repeatedly—and he's seething through clenched teeth as he wills back his animalistic grunts. The wet squelches of his cock and your pussy uniting are music to both of your ears, and Harry wishes he could have the blissful sound forever on repeat, as his hips drill against yours in rapid thrusts.

Your hands are clawing at him for stability, gripping his slender hips and clawing at his broad shoulders, feeling his muscles convulse under your fingers. His allure was electric, and you wished that you had the ability to capture this dazzling sensation—being wholeheartedly desired by him.

You mumbled incessantly, unheard as the sound became absorbed in your panties. Harry, on the other hand, quickly became impatient for a kiss and ripped them out of your mouth, pressing his lips against yours. He moaned at the taste of you on your own tongue, albeit you blushed—and it had Harry's hips swiveling as he pulled away with a final, messy peck.

Harry's necklace, a silver crucifix on a thin chain, swung in your face, wavering from his ferocious fucking. It was only when he spat on your tits, smearing his saliva across your nipples and pinching them between his fingers that you took it into your mouth, holding it between your teeth. You let it fall further, resting on your tongue—cold against the hot muscle.

Harry's cock throbbed at the sight before him, feeling your walls clench around him when he twitched inside of you, thrusts somewhat staggering at the sight of your pretty lips curled over his necklace.

           "Such a good fucking girl. . ." Harry can feel his release teetering on the precipice, although he needs to feel your cum coil around his cock, first. "Like taking m'cock, hm?"

He averts his sight to the region where they meet, where his thick cock is driving into your cunt and fucking you into the mirror. He can only hope it doesn't shatter by their force. Every thrust has his dick ripping out of you, and he's fully slick with your arousal each time. His balls are smacking against your ass, slick from your perspiration and excitement—both of their thighs are becoming sticky.

           "Yeah," You sigh, You sigh, hands massaging his hips—near his laurel tattoos, which shimmered in dark ink and sweat under the piercing light. "Good girl for you, H."

You are both eager for a hot release, the feeling plaguing them both—such frantic, eager messes. Harry can feel your cunt clamp tenderly around him, sucking in his cock and making it twitch between your soft walls.

           "Making you feel good, kitten?" Harry inquires, and despite the fact that he knows he's making you feel wonderful, the narcissist in him needs to hear you say it. He needs the incentive and praise to fuck you even harder.

           "Yes. So, so good." You respond, breathless, as his brutal thrusts continue. However, you continue to nod feverishly, eager to give him the answers he craves. "Your cock makes me feel so full, I love it so much." Every syllable is punctuated by unbridled cries and filthy whines, moaning through them. As you speak, dribble runs down the corners of your mouth, Harry lapping at it with the tip of his tongue—quickly pecking your reddened lips.

           "Yeah?" He places a hard palm across your abdomen, trembling with his thrusts. "My kitten likes having me buried in her tight little cunt? Likes it when she can feel me in her fuckin' tummy?" Harry applies just enough pressure to nudge your lower abdomen, his mind spinning.

You ignore him, despite the fact that the deep resonance of his voice glides like a purr across your skin, raising goosebumps in its aftermath—making it far more difficult to form a proper, coherent sentence. You're far too overwhelmed with pleasure, intoxicated by his being, shouting out at the rapid approach of your orgasm.

           "Harder. Please fuck me harder, H." You moan in response, begging through desperate cries. "I'm gonna cum. . . please make me cum. Wanna cum on your cock." When he hears your shattered moans, his eyes roll back into his skull and he draws in nearer.

Your thighs begin to tremble, and you begin to feel as if you're floating—so blissed out.

           "Come." He commands, albeit coos afterward, and brushes your hair from your flushed cheeks.

With his ordering words commanded into the shell of your ear, you're whining and hanging onto him like a steady life source, nails painfully digging into the tattooed flesh of his arm. You're sent free-falling into an endless abyss of euphoria, one which courses through you in the initial surge of your climax.

Harry's hips keep rocking into yours, driving his cock inside you so you can savor every last second of your orgasm, basking in ecstasy. You chase the sensation until it fades away, like a wave kicking up onto the beach and then receding back in the ocean—a fleeting sensation of cold pleasure.

He coos in your ear, tucking your hair back and away from your cheeks as he murmurs sweet nothings to you. He peppers tender kisses up your soft neck until he reaches your precious lips again, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and licking at it sweetly. As his cock pounds into you, you reply with delicate mewls, overstimulated.

He fucks you through your state of euphoria, his grip on your hips still firm, until you calm down and he's ready to erupt. Your cunt envelopes him with your cum, encompassing him in warmth. You clench around him, suckling him further into you and staggering Harry's thrusts, as he chases after his own orgasm. You cry out his name, staying quiet so as to not disrupt any guests, and Harry chuckles at your cheekiness.

His cock rested snuggly in your cunt, nuzzled within you until the very depths—the aching tip of his cockhead thrumming against your g-spot. Harry, like you, could sense how near he was, and your cunt's dreaminess didn't help the situation. It only served to encourage his cock to pound harder into you and his balls to release—into you.

You are an angel, the sight before him heavenly—so unapologetically divine. One which he only presumes would be present in such, white gates surrounding your elegance as plush clouds softened under your feet.

Your expression, blissed out and relaxed; your eyes, filled with lust and completely drawn out; your tits, ample and bouncy as he fucks you; your hips, so plush under his fingertips, stretch marks lining them like intricate designs; and your body, carved by the hands of an artist and gifted with the prettiest features.

           "Fuck, you're so good." The sight of your lulled eyes and flushed cheeks had him teetering over the edge, his orgasm intensifying as it swept over him.

His jaw quivered with moans, growling out your name and digging his fingertips into the once delicate and unspoiled skin of your hips. He continued to drive into your sweet cunt, filling you to the brim with his cum. His white, hot ropes of cum streaked through you, painting your trembling walls with the release of your passionate encounter.

His lust-filled eyes were pensive as his brows turned inwards, wrinkling his skin and downcasting his lustful gaze. His pink lips parted, and his tongue darted out to swipe at the corner of his mouth, the bottom of his rabbit teeth peeping out. His thick chords protruded from his neck, veins throbbing against his skin and flowing with arousal.

As he comes down from his high, all of his blood has flown to his cock, now softening in your pussy. He heaved with each laborious breath, his chest glistening with sweat. After several passing moments, he seemed to calm, looking so ethereal as his eyes flitted over yours. A small smile was stretched on his lips, so gentle and vulnerable that you felt compelled to cry at the beautiful sight.

He pressed a soft kiss to your bruised lips, only until repeating the act numerous times, finding it difficult to part from you. However, you both did so with love-filled and utterly enamored giggles, smitten and recovering from your orgasms. You were infatuated with one another, so far into the depths that you couldn't come up for air.

You whimpered as he slipped his soft cock out of you, Harry muttering soothing words as you regained strength. You both straightened your appearances, redressed, and made sure you both looked as decent as possible.

You were completely dressed, as was Harry, although you were missing a certain pair of drenched panties. Harry somehow noticed, returning his attention to the counter, seizing your underwear and smirking devilishly at you.

Within his palms, your panties were wet and heated, saturated in your excitement and saliva. The lace cloth would serve as a seductive reminder of your endeavors, a token of remembrance for Harry, as the night progressed. A night which, regrettably, included you sat next to your fiancé, and Harry across the table, pretending as though he wasn't wishing to be the one marrying you.

           "What are you doing?" You inquired, despite your suspicions, and he folded them neatly, pressing a loud and sloppy kiss on the sopping wet lace. "I need those."

           "Nuh-un, kitten. . ." Harry tutted, shaking his head at you—enabling his curly hair to bounce across his forehead, hair visibly disheveled. "They're mine, just as you're mine. Baby, I fucking own you."

You owned him more than he did you, albeit he failed to admit it—the man who was willing to go to any length for you. Both of you were aware that you had the upper hand.

And, with your panties stuffed in Harry's pocket and the taste of his lips on your own, you marched out of the restroom as though nothing had happened—parting opposite ways with a teasing smile and your mixed cum dripping down your thighs.

✼　 ҉ 　✼

           "Gosh, that was horrifying. " You grumbled, catching sight of Harry—as you peeled off your jacket and hung it in the wardrobe, placing your clutch on the welcome bench. Harry, on the other hand, appeared to be completely nonchalant, lounging on your bed in nothing but a pair of black, tight boxers. He looked like an absolute dream, the pillows propped up behind him, one of his hands behind his head with his other holding a magazine—one which, normally, you wouldn't think he'd read. 

           "Hi, m'love." Harry gave you a bright, heart-clenching smile as the dimples in his cheeks appeared, creases folding around his eyes. "How are you? I'm guessing things didn't go well?"

           "Not at all, no. I had to sit with Travis and his mother for ages. . . babbling about nonsense. Who walks where, blah blah blah, who says what, blah blah blah. . . I would much rather have spent my evening with you." You sighed irritably as you recounted your evening, the one that took place after Harry and the other guests had retired to their quarters for the night. The evening in which you, Travis, and Carrie discussed the responsibilities of the mother of the groom on the wedding day. Carrie, of course, had over-dramatized it—swaying her red hair as though it was the cure to cancer. "And my feet, god—they ache. Never again am I wearing these heels.

As you tumbled out of your heels, pushing a hand flat against the white-painted walls to stabilize yourself, you kicked them across the room—Harry watching with a slight pout on his lips. The cream-colored pumps went flying, completely discarded from not only your aching feet but fatigued mind.

           "I'm sorry, kitten," Harry rasps, strained from all of his speech tonight. However, when you began taking off your dress and taunting him in unanticipated ways, the adorable pout vanished from his lips. The way you were subconsciously turning him on was so effortless, yet it got Harry all the more aroused, knowing you had such a tight grasp on him. "Whatcha doin'?"

           "Taking this off. . . 's so tight." You rolled your head on your neck, trying to remove any knots in the sore, tight muscles of your back.

Each strap dropped off your defined collarbones, slender fingers tugging at them, the fabric clinging to your curves as the strapped support was withdrawn. Harry bit his bottom lip, tucking it underneath his teeth while he gazed at your chest—watching the cloth fall from your precious tits. It revealed the white, lacy bra he so desperately wanted off, remembering it from your restroom encounter.

           "God, y'such a tease. . . fucks sake." Harry grumbled lowly under his breath, albeit you heard him loud and clear, eyes widening as you comprehended his current mood. The magazine made sense now, it was a light read—one which he only needed when waiting for you.

Your painted lips moved from their previous, surprising part, curving into a smirk as you let your features darken.

           "You feeling a little needy, baby? Still in need of a good fucking?" As you remained there, the fabric of your dress pooled around your waist, your words were gentle and docile. Harry was staring at you closely, absorbing in your words and scanning your seductive curves—feeling as though he could drown in arousal. "Was earlier not enough? The way you fucked me so hard?"

           "N-no, I always need you." Harry slid the magazine from his lap, exposing his hard-on, his cock erect and poking at his thin boxers. You were drooling at the sight; you'd never had enough of his cock and, from the looks of it, he hadn't had enough of you either. It was clear that the restroom fuck was simply not enough, insufficient for both of your needs. "You're addicting."

           "Yeah?" You rhetorically asked, mentally wondering at how the evening would progress with Harry, so horny and so sweet. He was no submissive, though, that you knew. You were solely testing the waters, enticing the green-eyed man and allowing him to exploit the brief moments of vulnerability. He was cherishing it, letting you have your fun. "You want to fuck me? Get your thick cock all up in my tiny pussy?"

Your words sparked excitement in Harry's cock and caused all of his blood to flow directly there, his length to strangle against his boxers. You transferred your weight to one leg, swaying your hips and teasingly tugging at the fabric around your waist. It shimmied down your hips, your body now bare to him as he peered at your plush thighs, so delicate and soft for him. Then there was your gorgeous pussy, wet and glistening in the light of the bedside lamp. 

You were so beyond dreamy, and Harry wanted you under him. Now.

           "Come here," Harry ordered with a growl, one of your eyebrows-raising at his fierce command. Not that you would even imagine disobeying him, though. He fucks you too good. 

Your dress fell to the ground with a quiet plop, marking your innocence before Harry tainted you. Your steps were leisure as you approached him, hips swaying more than usual and Harry smirked, at that. Your desperation, your need for him just as strong as his need for you. 

However, before reaching the bed, you halted. Your hands, which had been by your sides, wound around your back and tickled the bra strap, taunting him as you pressed your thumb beneath the band. Harry tormented you as well, albeit it was more for his pleasure as his fingers trickled down his chest, toying with the band of his boxers before grasping his cock over the fabric. He moaned loudly, his grip tightening around himself while maintaining steady eye contact with you.

The scene before you was breathtaking, and you felt inclined to accelerate the pace of it all. As a result, you let your fingers unhook the clasp of your bra, the straps slipping off your shoulders and exposing your plump breasts. They rested comfortably and confidently on your chest, and your stance shifted closer until you were entirely bare at the edge of the bed.

Harry felt compelled to reach out and grab you, therefore he let his hands leave his aching cock, reaching out to tug at you. He sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and dragging you in between them, spread widely with his cock covered, in between as well—firmly grasping your waist.

As you mewled, he squeezed your tits between his palms and rolled your pert nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your skin was smooth and delicate under his fingertips, heated in his hand. Blood raced to his cock as your tits flooded from the spaces between his fingers, clutching your ample breasts.

The pleasure surged through you, and you thoroughly enjoyed the sensation of his hands on your tits, albeit you were startled when he yanked you onto the bed, flipping you over so you were beneath both the covers, and him. To keep himself from tumbling onto you, he raised his arm above your head and stabilized himself. The duvet was placed on you and, despite the fact that he detested covering you up, he knew you'd be chilled without the layer.

His sweet gesture made you whine, Harry gazing at you lovingly, for a moment, before crashing his lips to your own.

You hummed in delight, relishing in the feeling of his lips against yours. They were so soft, so delicate—and you couldn't think of anything wrong with them. So plump, so pink, molding against yours in ways that only he could. Though the white duvet separated you both, your limbs continued to twist together, his body resting atop yours. The room was filled with the sloppy smacking noises of your lips weaving together, and while you hoped no one could hear your laborious breaths, it seemed improbable.

You were solely relieved that Travis was gone for the night and that you would be sleeping in separate rooms, either way. Carrie had made the decision, claiming that you couldn't see each other until you were walking down the aisle, regardless.

Your hand moved upwards to cup his cock, feeling him hot and hard in your hand. Harry grunted at the feeling of your hand against him, shocks of pleasure running up his spine as his mind was consumed by only you. His kitten, his forever love.

However, you moved your hand away from him as he nipped at your bottom lip, teasing up his chest and filing with the soft, sun-lightened hairs between his pecs. Under your palm, his skin was hot, and you could feel his muscles twitch as he breathed passionately.

Harry pushed you downwards into the mattress, his hips pressing into you, and you could feel the hardness of his cock through both his boxers and the cloud-like duvet. It was straining against the confines, hot and needy as his tip curved against the fabric—wetting it with his precum. You were writhing in excitement as he kissed you in anticipation, his pretty cock being your favorite thing.

Harry kept his lips tightly pressed to yours throughout, begging for entrance as his tongue pressed against your lips. You hummed, letting him slide his tongue in, tasting the sweetness of your cherry lip gloss in his own mouth. His hands cupped your cheeks, running his thumb along your cheekbones and feeling the satin skin under his fingertips.

           "H. . ." You sighed, captivated by him and the sensation of him against you, in more ways than one. You brought your lips back to his own, keeping him close and knotting your fingers in his curls. You kissed him repeatedly, feeling the vibrations of his hums against your lips. 

           "I love you so much," Harry muttered lovingly, leading the kiss with such fervor that your heart nearly burst. You moaned happily as you drank each other up in your love, bathing in the affection towards one another—feeling his lips pull into a sweet grin. "So, so much, kitten."

He broke away from you, only to peck your now swollen and saliva-slickened lips to properly gaze at your beauty. You were such a work of art, perfectly crafted—and while Harry recognizes that your beauty should be displayed in museums worldwide, he prefers to keep it to himself. Selfishly so, he thinks, but his love and desperation for you have overcome that thinking.

           "I love you more." You kissed him again, feeling as though there was a magnetic pull to his lips. One which, certainly, you couldn't stray away from—he was addicting.

           "That's not possible," Harry claimed, sitting up and pushing the duvet away from your bodies, letting the cool air sweep over your bare skin beneath it. "So fucking perfect, kitten—I'm so bloody lucky," Harry whispered under his breath, albeit you heard him, clearly.

He pulled his boxers down, hands fumbling with the thin fabric until it was across the room, landing on a fake, potted plant. His cock sprung up from its confines, a hefty slap echoing through the room, as it hit his stomach—right under his belly button, streaking precum in the coarse, curled hairs. He was perfectly carved—his size impressive and you almost began drooling, by the mere sight of him. It looked as though it wanted to burst from being strained, precum leaking beads from his weepy tip.

Harry, on the other hand, was unfazed by his revealed, achy cock—instead solely looking at you, completely bare. You were stunning, that was very much obvious—with your ample breasts pressing against his chest; the stripes and stretches of growth along the insides of your satin-skinned thighs; aching nipples hardened; hair strewn against your neck; wide and bleary eyes staring up at him. The beauty was endless, much like his love for you.

He gazed at you for a moment longer, eyes filled with such admiration they were twinkling under the lamp's amber glow, before divulging himself in you.

He stared at your cheeks, pressing open-mouthed kisses into your skin and feeling it redden beneath his lips, skin stretching as you grinned bashfully. You giggled, the sound so melodic to Harry's ears and, if he had any choice, that's what he'd like to hear for the rest of his life. He moved downwards to your neck, sucking kisses into your soft skin.

Not only did he know Travis would see his marks, although unknowing that they were Harry's, he continued—wanting to spite his best mate and wanting everyone to know who you belonged to. Perhaps everyone thought these marks belonged to Travis.

Nevertheless, Harry kissed over the tender bruises he had marked you with earlier in the evening, sponging his lips against them in such a delicate manner. He made his way down the valley of your breasts, feeling it rise and fall beneath him. Your sternum was prominent with your breaths, and Harry decided to dedicate extra time to your swollen nipples—the buds so sensitive for him.

           "Love y'tits." He left wet kisses over your nipples, leaving you shivering in pleasure. The cool air bit at them, Harry's lips surrounding them and sucking accordingly, feeling as though he couldn't get enough of you. His eyes connected with yours, staring up at you from your chest and shining with lust. He jutted back, popping your nipple out from his mouth and lapping in between your valley. "So perfect."

Your heart was touched, practically melting into a pile of love at your feet, by his beautifully sincere mumbles. The man was unbelievably lovely, his sweet words enough representation of that. You smiled, sighing out blissfully as his lips trailed down your stomach, causing it to ripple as he licked your ribs. The muscle in his tongue was scorching hot, lending fuel to the inferno in your core. 

He was clearly heading south, yet his unexpected halt of movements caught you off guard. He slinked back up, pressing kisses on your skin and, finally, placing one hotly onto your lips. They smeared across your own, and the heat of passion radiated from the contact—sending your head rolling on your neck. 

           "Can't wait to ravish you," He groaned lowly, kissing your lips so tenderly that you imagined your heart would rupture.

           "Please do. . . god, please do." Harry's hands are all over you, tits in his face and he paws at your breasts—suddenly moving below you. The flip was quick, and if you had blinked you would have missed it, now straddling his narrow hips.

Harry's pursing his rosy lips, gripping your thighs to knead at the skin of them, jutting his chin in the air. His head of chestnut curls rests on the fluffed pillow he had been leaning against earlier,  pulling you up his body. He grinds his movements to a halt when your cunt rests on his butterfly tattoo, the dark ink striking out against the pink shine of your puffy folds. They were dripping, your arousal coating his chest, which Harry was longing to taste.

           "Want a taste—will you let me, kitten?" He grins, bunny teeth tearing into his lips. You nod eagerly, letting him guide you up the remainder of his body, seeing as you're giddy with excitement. Your head is fuzzy, your knees resting on each side of his head—the entirety of your pussy slick and swollen. His chest is now drenched, drips of wetness coating his inked skin. Squeezing and stroking your cheeks, he hooks his arms under your knees and lays his palms on your ass, feeling the soft skin under his fingertips. "Good girl."

Despite the immense anticipation of future ecstasy coursing through your veins, you give him shy eyes—for even after all this time being with him, his words got to your head. You weren't timid by being so exposed to him, as the two of you were naked often—albeit his incessant admiration of your body perplexed you, making you bashful.

           "Fuck sake, kitten. You're so lovely—can feel your sopping pussy drippin'." He coos teasingly, craning his neck to suck bruises into the skin of your thighs. Your fingers are tangled in his unkempt brown curls, and when he spreads your ass wide, you tumble a little, and your drenched cunt lands on his mouth. 

You anticipated that he had planned such, your cunt having been perfectly located, and, regardless of the spontaneity, Harry's constantly thinking of having his mouth on you. His tongue licks into your folds, pulsing tight circles onto your clit, coming into his mouth.

Harry's mouth gains position quickly—sucking, licking, and nibbling at your clit as though his life depended on it. His tongue laps through your folds, stroking deeply and covering every area of your cunt with his saliva. As though he was painting, he continues with powerful and sloppy strokes along your clit, applying pressure and moving tightly.

Your delicious aroma is heavy on his tongue, and he's closed his eyes in ecstasy—knocking his head up against you. You're a shambles above him, with your plump lips tucked into your mouth and your fingers teasing his tangled tresses.

           "Oh, Harry. . ." You pant, breathes becoming uneven. Harry places a hand on your ass, leading you to tremble. Another spank lands itself upon your skin, causing your flesh to quiver before he's grasping it and pulling you closer towards his mouth.

His tongue is surrounding your weeping hole, not being able to get enough of you as he laps at your juices—tasting the sweetness on his tongue and feeling it glide down his throat. His eyebrows are furrowed, the feeling of you painfully tugging at his curls sending him spiraling, quickening his circles on your clit. 

           "You feel so fucking good, don't stop. Please don't stop," you beg, frantically desperate.

Harry runs his tongue up the length of your pussy till he tastes your swollen clit once more,  luring filthy whine after filthy whine to depart your silky tongue. The pleasure is never-ending, his mouth encasing your bundle of nerves, sucking and nibbling on the small, achy nub.

You begin rolling your hips on his face, gifting him in the best way possible. Not only were you enjoying it, but he was as well—his cock standing tall in his lap, exposed to the chill nip of the air, begging for attention. He was sure his cock was leaking, feeling pearls of precum bead down his shaft, pooling in the neatly trimmed forest of dark, curled hairs at his pubic bone.

Harry releases your clit from his mouth with a small pop, smearing open-mouthed kisses over your dripping cunt. He sucks a swollen lip into his mouth, biting teasingly and you gasp into the dim room—the amber glow of the lamp next to you, on the wooden nightstand, not doing much. However, it did give your glowy skin more incandescence, and Harry couldn't get enough of you.

In the cool air, your nipples have hardened, and one hand has left his head to tweak and pinch at one of the neglected nubs. You feel the pleasure shoot up your spine like electricity, Harry kneading and spanking the skin of your ass. He grips a cheek in his hand, pulling you apart and striking down, only to brush over the reddened area with a delicate hand, afterward. You're trembling on his face, your thighs clenching around his head.

Harry is grunting into your pussy, delivering delicious vibrations into your cunt and stimulating you further. As a result, when he feels you disconnect from him—forcing him away from your still wet cunt, he's less than delighted and definitely astonished.

           "Wha—kitten, what's up?" He asks with a crease between his eyebrows, tongue running over his arousal slick lips and sucking the sweet taste into his mouth. At any other time, he would comment on your deliciousness, though he can not lie and say he isn't slightly concerned—you have never distanced yourself from an orgasm before.

           "Want a taste of you, too," you voice, turning your body so that you're facing his cock, although keeping your cunt positioned over his mouth.

           You felt Harry's lips move against you as he spoke, "You sure, kitten?" He asked—kissing your cunt lips and letting his tongue roll through them. He felt you shudder, giving your hips a quick roll over his face. You leaned downwards, hands on either side of his thighs as you became level-headed with his shaft.

Taking his cock in your hand, he was hot and silky in your palm, and Harry released a guttural hiss of enjoyment. The sound was music to your ears, slowly beginning to move your hand up and down. You were pumping him leisurely, teasing him with kisses across his hardened cock and leaky tip—precum gathering on the swell of your swollen lips.

You spat into your hands, tugging on his shaft to lube him up, slick with a mix of precum and your saliva. When you cupped his sensitive balls with your other hand and gently squeezed them to elicit a response from him, he let out a tremendous moan. It was so loud that, in fact, you could feel the vibrations through his lips, stimulating your clit, which was twitching limply on his mouth.

           "Good?" You rhetorically asked, knowing it was—whilst stroking and squeezing him. You were mocking him, hoping to please him as much as possible while also attempting to obtain some attention for your now neglected pussy.

           "Yes, so so good," Harry breathed out, his mind filled with a number of thoughts, all of which included your mouth on his cock—though he concluded with an effortless, genuine phrase. "My kitten's so good to me."

Your tongue quickly escapes your parted and swollen lips, licking at his weepy tip and bloated cockhead. His girth was considerably large, your mouth suctioning around him tightly. You adjusted your head so he slid in and out of your mouth easily, gliding with the mix of your saliva and his arousal, streaming down his length as his tip leaked. You rubbed your tongue along the pulsating veins on the side of his length, feeling them beat on your muscle as blood continued to rush towards his erect cock.

           "Mhm. . ." You moan, pushing yourself so far down his cock that your nose contacts the curly hairs on his pubic bone—feeling him at the back of your throat. The feeling of him down your throat was wonderful, so satisfied that you had taken him so far, and stayed. His cockhead poked and prodded at the back of your pharynx, digging your nails into his thighs and practically hearing his tiger tattoo roar at the contact, though it was solely Harry moaning into your cunt.

He was salty and warm, feeling so silky and tasting like nirvana.

You lifted your head back up, bobbing gently onto his shaft and allowing yourself to recover from the deepthroat. You already knew your throat would be slightly sore the next morning, scratchy when reciting your vows. While Harry didn't appreciate the now teasingly glacial pace, he took advantage of the opportunity to return to your pussy, clutching your plush hips in his greedy hands. 

           "God, kitten—your cunt is my favorite place." He licks his lips before diving back into you—collecting saliva in his mouth and on his tongue, spitting up into your pussy, and watching it glisten on your clit and combine with your arousal. His tongue pushes through your folds, swirling around your hole and pulsing his tongue against it, dipping in teasingly before lapping at your puffy clit.

As he kisses your clit with a smacking sound, gathering it in his mouth before swirling it with his tongue—his mouth was searing hot, so wet against you. It was paradise, feeling him against your most sensitive parts with his cock in your mouth, pleasure clouding both of your senses.

The room was undoubtedly heated, albeit you could never be uncomfortable in your current position, the steam of your touches having fogged up any cool air from the evening temperature.

Harry's fingers pressed into your thighs, pulling your hips closer to his face and lapping his tongue against you. You inhaled him and savored the first taste of the release approaching, hearing Harry groan and feeling him lightly buck his lips—his cock sliding further down your mouth, by the act—as if he wanted to ensure he didn't hurt you in the pursuit of his lust.

Harry was thriving off the taste of your delicious cunt, and the feeling of your mouth around him was fucking bliss. He felt as if he was drowning in your arousal, which was slipping down his throat and coating his lips and chin—giving you all of his attention

           "Fuck me. . ." Harry moaned as the insides of your cheeks stroked his cock, feeling your lips curved around his shaft as you grinned, hollowing your cheeks and picking up your pace.

Harry was on his knees for you, completely smitten with you—and would devote anything to spend the rest of his life with you, despite the impending wedding. Harry wished that the universe had been alternative, that he could have chosen a different path in life—one in which he would have wedded you. Not Travis.

He could only wish that you wouldn't follow through with it, despite the fact that he hadn't asked you not to—knowing full well that it would make you repent it. He wanted you to make your own choices, despite knowing you were madly in love with him, and not your fiancé.

           "Love you—god, love you so much." You moan, the words barely leaving your lips before you sigh lustfully into the steamy air.

           "Fuck me, seriously," Harry repeated himself, recognizing that you had misunderstood him. You sat up, your lips popping off of him as you drew away from his cock—looking so intoxicated as you looked over your shoulder.

Your head was turned, so you could properly see him, and the sight before Harry almost sent him coming into your fist. Harry claimed he'd never seen someone look as seductive, with pre-cum intermingled with saliva around your swollen and slightly bruised lips—hair messily tumbling down your shoulders, eyes wide and lust-filled.

           "Oh, yes—Harry. . . need you inside of me,"

           "Yeah? Want me to fuck you like the good girl you are, kitten?" Harry questioned with a breathless smirk upon his rosy lips, not giving you enough time to respond, despite the fact that he already knew what you'd say. "C'mere, kitten."

He released his grip on your hips and unwound his hands from your legs, allowing you to swing one leg over his torso and sit on the mattress—but not before placing one last kiss on your clit. You climbed up his body from the plush mattress till your pussy met his still throbbing length, begging for release. You sat down on top of it, and you both sighed at the delightful contact, rocking your wet center over his thick cock.

He moaned as you sat up straight and continued to give a few rocks of your hips, crashing his lips on yours. He was sweet, and you could taste yourself on his tongue—just as he could, on yours.

           "Want you to ride me. . ." Harry whispers gravelly,

You nodded silently and, when you were both ready, you took his cock in your hand, positioned it up with yourself, and began to sink down on it. You took him slowly, allowing his girth to stretch you out in the most delightful, albeit somewhat uncomfortable, way possible. His hands naturally moved to your hips, but you seized them and pinned them over his head, which immediately made him moan. As you bounced on him, his cock stiff and throbbing inside of you, he let his head fall back, eyes fluttering shut and mouth agape—breathless pants tumbling from his lips.

           "Fuck," You moaned,  feeling Harry settle into the deepest recesses possibly, his achy tip prodding against your g-spot. "You feel so good. . ."

           "Yeah, kitten? Like having m'cock inside your tight, little cunt?" Harry groaned, tipping his head back and sinking his teeth into his lower lip. 

           "Yeah. . . oh, yeah—" You begin, groaning, only to have Harry interrupt you. Not that you minded, however, as the sight of him below you was beyond reimbursable.

           "Oh my god," you hear him murmur under his breath. He forced his head up to view your breasts bouncing in his face, longing to suck one into his mouth and flick his tongue over your stiff nipples. 

           "You like this tight pussy?" You breathe into his mouth, biting his lip before pulling away and placing your palms on his chest, using him as leverage to ride his cock, bouncing on him faster. "You like how well it takes you?"

He snaked his hands up your torso, not responding to your query—giving your tits a lustful squeeze before securely wrapping his hand firmly around your neck, now that his hands were free of your clutches. For a brief moment, your body tightened. Knowing exactly what he was doing, he smirked. His grasp wasn't tight enough to restrict your airflow, but tight enough that you could clearly feel the pulse of your throat thump beneath his hold.

Controlling your movements, one of his enormous hands sat on your hip, while the other reached up to your face and dipped his fingers into your mouth. You sucked on his fingers while bouncing in time with him, allowing him to fully embrace you before pulling away. He then slid his fingers down and towards your nipples, twisting and pinching them until you let out a piercing groan.

You continued to ride him the manner he wanted, the way which made his eyes roll back and lips part—completely breathless and in shambles for you. 

           "You're perfect, H. . . feel so good." You whimpered, enjoying the sensation of him inside you as your breasts got touched and toyed with. "Fill me up so well."

When you felt his fucking change angles, you quickly opened your eyes and watched as Harry sat up, his chest now pressing against yours. He remained motionless as he gazed into your eyes, looking at you with such love. His cock was buried so deep within you, as though he was pounding into your stomach—the angle changing your closeness and having Harry's pubic bone press against yours, stimulating your clit.

Your ample breasts pressed against his pecs and your stiff nipples brushed his skin, your arms shooting up to curve around his neck, teasing the small curls on the back of his neck, while his own hands clung to your waist.

Your legs were folded underneath themselves on either side of his hips, your arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him relentlessly closer.

           "Need t'fuck my girl properly. . ." He kissed your lips softly, before hurriedly shifting his hips underneath your own, thrusting his cock up into you. "But I want a cuddle at the same time."

He was ramming inside of you before you could register his words, the room filled with the erotic noises of his skin slapping against yours—Harry moving one hand to play with your breasts and the other to vigorously stroke your clit. Your back arched into him, and while your legs continuously shook on either side of his thighs, Harry did a brilliant job of keeping you immobile and at his mercy. He could fuck into you any way he'd like, you knew.

He slammed into you without pausing, rocking the hotel bed back into the wall—and while you would feel remorseful for whoever was in the room next to you, you couldn't find it in you to care. He was fucking you too good; too passionately.

You gazed down at him, his eyes growing hungrier by the second—your jaw clenched and he clutched the hair at the nape of your neck, tightening his grip on the strands to the point where your head tilted back. Your neck was exposed to him, Harry sucking kisses into your smooth skin whilst knowing they'd turn into his loved-up bruises.

           "Your pussy's so good," With his cock deep within you and his fingers rubbing your clit, he praised you, despite keeping his speed and wrecking your cunt. Your body was entirely under his spell, Harry having total control over your current movements; current thoughts; current pleasure. "Feels so fucking good."

           "I'm going to cum." As your climax began to rise skyward, you whined and jostled a little—leading Harry's thrusts to become more forceful and primal. His fingers, which were rubbing tight circles on your clit, began moving faster, and he was pleased with how your climax would follow through.  "Just like that, H! Keep going. . . you feel so good!" You panted breathlessly till you screamed lengthily and loudly.

           "Cum with me then, kitten," Harry ordered and you complied, your release coating his cock. His moans became louder, and his jaw clenched roughly, murmuring praises in between thrusts before his final, deep thrust into you—pulling you firm onto his cock as he came inside of you. He let out a low, deep grunt, gushing ropes of white cum into your pussy.

You both collapsed onto the bed, groaning, and twisted around each other in a tangle of hot, sticky bodies. The rising and falling of his chest matched your heavy breathing whilst lying on his chest for a moment—before snuggling into his neck, feeling his softening cock stir within you.

Harry made no attempt to remove his cock from inside of you, but rather allowed it to plug both his and your cum within your spent cunt.

With your hand on Harry's chest and the other arm splayed across his stomach, you hug yourself to him—feeling his arms wind around you comfortingly, stroking his fingers up and down your back as you stay atop him, trying to relax and cherish this time with him. His head was buried into the side of your neck and although you found the silence comforting, you found the need to fill it. The need to speak to Harry, the need to hear his gravelly voice—which was always prominently deep after an orgasm.

You relished in the feeling of him atop you, kissing the skin of your neck with his puffy, and slightly dry, lips. It was as though little butterflies were fluttering against your docile skin, however, you were reminded that it was him when his chin jutted further into your neck, sighing softly as he closed his eyes. While you should be worried, as you'll be getting married in the morning to the man you do not love, you couldn't bring yourself to be perturbed, as the man in your arms was like a blanket of love.

You need not fret when he is with you—when he is in you.

Harry, on the other hand, was a love-struck fool. He felt beyond comfortable in your hold, the way your blunt nails daintily scratch against his back's warm flesh, despite the fact that he shivers with goosebumps when they graze over the scratches you'd left earlier this evening. 

           "I don't want you to marry him." Harry broke the silence, speaking with a nervous yet somehow assuring tone, and you could feel his lips brush your neck.

The words, on the other hand, were not pleasant, since they had been lodged painfully in the pit of Harry's throat as he awaited the outcome of the conversation. He had intended to speak with you when you returned, but the circumstances had obviously changed—having become consumed with lust and admiration for you. And, he'd discovered that there was no better moment than the present.

           "What?" You inquired—your brushing motions on his back halting. You weren't stupid, therefore you didn't bother asking him why, since you already understood. He loved you, unapologetically so, and he wished for you to be completely his. He was already completely yours, which you adored, despite the fact that the rock on your finger was not one Harry enjoyed seeing. 

He would, however, if he had given it to you. That would be a dream for him.

           "I don't want you to marry him," Harry repeated himself, albeit knowing you had heard him clearly, the first time. "You don't love him, you love me. And I love you, so so much, so I don't want you to marry him. I want you to be fully with me; I want the drawer you have in my bathroom to turn into a whole damn cabinet; I want the empty bedside table on your side of my bed to be filled with your nighttime readings, your old fucking hair ties and the socks you always take off before bed yet always forget to wash the morning after."

You could hear that Harry was getting choked up, the emotion in his voice breaking your heart. Yes, you knew Harry had been affected by being engaged to another man in ways you couldn't understand, even if he had never shown such disdain for you being with Travis. It was an odd circumstance, but all you wanted was Harry.

           "Harry, dar—" You started speaking, but Harry interrupted you, his face pressed against your neck to prevent confrontation. He couldn't stomach seeing your expression since he didn't know what it would entail, even though he gazed at your gorgeous face whenever he could.

           "No, kitten, I'm sorry but—" You could feel his lip wobbling against your flesh as he heaved. The sensation made you tuck your own into your mouth, moving your hand to brush at his curls. You could tell this was a stressful situation for him, and all you wanted was for him to look at you—howbeit you wouldn't make him. "I want you to be mine. No, I need you to be mine."

           "I am yours," You whispered, feeling his naked chest shake against your own with a heaving breath, fanning out against your neck in an assortment of goosebumps. "I don't love anyone as I love you, swear. You're my whole world."

Your voice was so gentle, so sweet, as though molten honey was dripping down your mouth and he couldn't help but wish he was watching your pink lips—the way they move, the way they form your words like a stolen whisper. Furthermore, your remarks emphasized the delicacy of everything, and Harry felt as though his heart may shatter from his love for you. In the best possible way, it was smothering—suffocating.

         "I know but. . ." It's pathetic, he thinks, how desperate and anxious he sounds. Though, he can't help but close his eyes when your hand finds the nape of his neck, stroking the soft skin there and twirling the small, delicate curls. "I don't want you to marry him."

            "Okay."

Harry was deafeningly quiet, as if your confirmation had stunned him beyond speech. He lifted his head, looking at you with teary eyes as he stabilized himself with both of his arms, on either side of you. Your hands remained on him despite his hovering position, soothingly stroking his back and cooing over the man you love. However, the way his lip wobbled and twisted into a perplexing grin dispelled your concerns, and you quickly pecked him before returning your gaze to the astonished man in your arms.

           "Wh-what? Really?" He inquired anxiously—as if he had been duped and you would contradict your earlier statements.

           "Yes, baby, of course." You nodded, pulling your hands away from his back to remove the engagement ring from your finger, carelessly flinging the diamond across the room. Harry was all that mattered to you. "I won't marry him."

           "You won't marry him," Harry whispered to himself, tasting the lovely words on his tongue. He seemed to believe himself, believe you—after reciting it a few times. His smile was blinding when he came to the conclusion, deeming you truthful, and he burst into loud giggles before smothering your cheeks in kisses. So warm, so full of love. 

           "No, no I won't. I won't marry anyone but you."

"You're a dream, kitten—you're a dream. You're my dream. I love you. So, so, so much." His words were sickeningly sweet, tearing your heart apart as his voice cracked in emotion. He couldn't believe you were his, especially for the rest of this lifetime.

There was nothing he didn't love about you. He loved the way you smiled, how creases formed around your lips and a small dimple appeared on your left cheek. He loved the way your hand left in his own, how well they meshed and how soft your skin was. He felt as though he was dreaming every time he touched you—as nothing in relation to his angel would be negative. It would forever be heaven, and Harry was beyond glad that only the two of you held the key to its gates.

           "We'll leave," Harry spoke, his eyes glimmering in hope. The hope for your future together, with Travis, excluded—the hope for your love. "Yes, we'll leave."

And you did. You fled with dazzling smiles and shining eyes—with a new beginning and a gleaming commitment to always choose one another. Bags stuffed into the boot, car motors revving in preparation for your departure. Without saying a single goodbye, you begin your lives all over again. This time, though, it was with your true love, excited for any trip around the sun together.

Neither of you cared that you were leaving behind an angered Travis because, with your hands intertwined and hearts connected, there was nothing to fear. You had all you needed.

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