a/n: hello! welcome to another chapter of VEGAS. i'm pleased to say that the book as exceeded 25K! thank you guys, and i love you all so much. i don't like when authors ask for readers to provide votes and comments for the next chapter because it's always like they crave someone else's opinion. here, i am only concerned with proving a story that i hope you guys will love. :) as said before, i will no longer be providing pictures of outfits, but locations, or gifs instead. how about that? above are the selfies Vegas and Harry will send. this chapter will be in third person as well. anyway, happy reading my loves - dani xo
c h a p t e r t w e n t y f i v e
A radiant, perpetual glow ascended upon her brow, glistening to the silky consistency of her exterior layers. The ridges of her curves outlined by the delicate silhouette that was fastened around his serene lengthy digits. A smile stimulated the moment of pure euphoria between the destined pairing, bodies clinging together at the seams.
Harry had dreaded the residing amount of hours he had left with her, but silent and powerful moments like this made their getaway something that would never fade from his clouded memory. He adored her; the word still not transferring the endearment that was housed in his heart. He desired to marry Vegas, every part of her being a piece of himself.
He had her latched to the cabinetry; his hands on either side of her hip bones to prevent her from fleeing after the number of kisses he relayed to her skin would continue. His head dipped down like a wave crashing unto the ocean's shore, lips glazing over her complexioned shade of the perfect, and flawless brown. He figured she tasted like a sweet, milky chocolate bar on a chilling, London night. And he was correct. He indulged in it like a bad habit.
"Harry. . ." She would breath, fingers torturing his clothed torso of a grey tee to a ball of wrinkles fabric. "That tickles. . ."
"But, I don't hear you laughing, my lady," Harry commented, lips still lingering, "and you know how much I love your laugh."
"I snort, and there is nothing attractive about that," She criticized herself. Harry scoffed at how uneasy this made him feel.
"Vegas Adele Blacke, your laugh is impeccable. Brilliant. Cute. Smoldering," Harry listed all the adjectives he could process without sounding as if he was repeating old news. He wanted to remind her of her unique framework or else she will not believe herself. "You are fantastic."
Holding a tight and threatening friction to the counter, Harry's reflective orbs lightened her world. Her heartbeat, around him, was anything but settled. Nerve wrecking pressures pinged at the organ, regulating the manner in which she breathed to the limited space between. His blueberry muffin-flavored breath fanned to the brim of her nose as he maneuvered his frame to peer down at her shortened height. Substantially, their foreheads rested upon one another, sharing a likeness to simper.
"I despise the ending of our tranquil days in Hambledon," Harry murmured, edging to brush their hesitant but loving kiss that was surely bound to transpire. "Seeing you every morning beside me is a feeling that lights up the essence of my very being."
She could only formulate a soft chuckle, fingertips breezing to his earlobe and to the ripples of his brown locks. The lucid shine that was brought by the impending sun that funneled through the window caught her attention. Her digits locked to the curls, a train of laughter bleeding from their parted lips that were stained with each other's.
"I don't want to go back. I want to spend everyday here. With you." Her expression had dropped to an uneven frown, crates and wrinkles lining at the end of her bare lips.
The shift of emotional atmosphere affected Harry's mood. There was not much time left in the day to ponder on the distant feeling of them returning; he must misplace the notion and hope for the rest of the hours to bring enjoyment for their forbidden romance.
"Let's not worry about that right now. We have this day left with each other and that is all that matters at the moment," He announced, digits loosening from the wood he clenched beneath his fingertips.
Vegas heightened at his change of volume, alerting herself to take heave in every word presented to her from his prominent and cherry lips. As he articulated, the line of vision hooked to the sight. Harry noticed, sending his simple sign of expression to rotated to a crooked smirk.
"You sure love looking at my lips my darling," He sent her through a flinch, focus to be on the hooded lens that could only stare to her. "Go ahead and kiss them."
Harry acknowledged the dominance that he possessed in the intimate ways of their relation. He initiated the kisses and personal contact because of his resilient strength and lack of embarrassment for participating in public displays of affection. She didn't think much of it before, but as his request laid flat among them, she lacked the perseverance to do the actual action.
His unavoidable stare scorned her cheeks, and the rest of her quivering figure. He might think I don't love him, she thought, I should do this to prove it.
Palms glued to his cheeks, not bothering to swallow the size of his jaw and its sharp cutting jawline that were sure to swoon the women around them. She could attest. Her bum was scooted closer, calves swarming to circle his lower half draped with a pair of loose sweatpants. He edged forward with a breathy chuckle, eyes examining her inability to move as quick and stead as he.
"Close your eyes," She demanded, and he complied with her strict order. With centimeters the only thing separating them and impatience swirling in Harry's body, he took the leap of love to ignite the lip locking. Vegas thought to halt and see why he had done such a thing after requesting her compliance instead, but as her body indicated, the kiss was more stimulating than a question that would lead to an interruption.
He looped her in his strong arms, padded soles of his feet directing to the couch that Vegas called, Cuddles. How cute, he thought as he approached the plush cushions. It was wide enough to fit them both; Vegas on the near edge and Harry's inked arms to circle her hourglass waist. They fit like two puzzle pieces, lost underneath dust clumps and crumbs that were found by a toddler to seal them to fit ideally within the breaks and lumps of their limbs.
The air was a silence that was bearable, and as the relative humming of the insects clung to the window's inning, the peace hovered over them.
She didn't want to ruin the moment, but her heart rose a question that must be answered.
"Harry?"
"Yes baby girl?" He answered almost immediately, breathing to the blade of her shoulder in front of him.
"If we ever got the chance to really get married, do you think it will bring hatred to everyone?"
He analyzed the words in order to provide his answer. "There will always be people that do not like what we do, I do, or you do. It is merely based on how we feel. I'll marry you regardless of hatred."
Her heart sparked like a unlit flame to a full match board. The sound of the pounding to her chest was raising, orbs flashing with hope and endurance. The sweet, rich taste of his fragranced love painted her tongue. She was hopeful. Hopeful for their possible, but bittersweet future.
There was not much to respond to after; her heart was already brimmed with content. His large palms coated her belly, floating just over the naval that she hated while peering into the washed out mirror. There was a comfortable sense that became of the two, even as they lay here without a single break of words.
x
"I don't want to. . ." Harry's whiny voice echoed off her apartment walls. His figure was cramped in a unrealistic ball, rocking back and forth against the rugged floor beneath. He became like a child; their destination was penetrated as soon as his vehicle cruised over the London city border.
He bitterly convinced himself that he did not want to return to the hands of the evil and corrupt kingdom, and that he would rather starve himself than to marry that troll of a woman, Annalise.
"Harry," Vegas' feelings were identical to his, silently praying for a natural disaster to happen in order to prevent them both from returning to their dull lives without one another. She craved her frame to be curated into a ball as well, but her age would be embarrassed to be attached to her. "You have to go baby. Even though I don't want you to either."
He finished his whining to slip back into his twenty-two year old frame of mind. His arm looped to her kneeled position beside him, pulling her body to plop over his clothed chest. She faltered, ear pressed to the exposed skin from the three casual buttons that remained undone.
The swallows that was inked to his skin triggered her shorten digits to curiosity. Before, the pads of the looming fingertips calmed Harry's raging mind. Now, it manifested the eager remembrance of their cottage pretend life of husband and wife. He would miss her slightly disoriented set of hair strands flopping in the wind whenever she flipped on one side of their wooden bed. His tee shirt raveling up at her hips and thighs to kindly show the decorative pattern of her lace underwear. At first, he felt she was teasing him unconsciously or that she wasn't bothered by her slumber, that was indeed awake.
Then, the rise of a thick snore would contour his predictions. His fingers would bother him with the urge to touch her skin, the ebony exposure taunting him. He was careful to glaze over her arms, thighs and the bum that he was addicted to holding. He knew that she was beyond the beauty of this generation, but as the sun creeped through the blinds, it extended with grace.
"Harry, what are you thinking about?" Vegas' question sheltered in his eardrum, lips chiseled to his lobe. His daydream had distracted him from his grasp of the alluring woman beside him.
His light, airy orbs peered to view her expression, her untidy ponytail swinging from her neck's motions at lifting and admiring him through his distorted dream. "I was thinking about the way you wake up every morning. When we were together this weekend."
"Don't think about that stuff. My hair was out of control," She fanned her manicured fingers in the air, resting it to the section of fastened buttons. Her nail circled around the shape as his simple heart rate relaxed her nerves. "And I snore."
"I think your snore is great," he complimented, the palm of his dwindling hand to cup the curve of her bum. His digits slithered inside her back pocket that conformed to the print of his hand. "Plus it makes me love you more."
A soft inclination of a giggle rose from her throat, humming to the fragile silence. "When are you going back?" She inquired, his answer the deciding factor of how she would eventually breath easy for the sleep tonight. Alone.
"Possibly today. Later," He murmured, his nose deep into her hair, inhaling the aroma of vanilla that was hinted ever since he first experienced their attraction when she sprawled into his family mansion. To think that we would be here, he thought.
The default iPhone tone muffled from the side pocket of his black skinny jeans. He fumbled, groaning with great amount of disdain. Vegas did not want this floor cuddling to halt, and the thought did not bother to cross Harry's mind.
"You should get that."
"I don't want to."
"Just take it," Vegas leaned forward, lifting her torso and the rest of her limbs, to stand. The dangling material of his flannel, hiding her white tee that wasloosely laying on the bone of her waist. "I'll go unpack."
The absence of her fragrance, figure, and pulse to his chest revived the antique sentiment of when she was lost from him, two months ago. He adjusted himself on his elbows, observing her to disappear into another room without another word.
Whoever it is, they must hold a reason to interrupt the passive moments jolting away from his reach.
While Harry contacted the opposing side, Vegas padded into the bedroom. Her mind lurked to a torturing realm, contracting the demonic thoughts of their fading future and holding her hostage to think of only the negative terms to their complicated, confusing path. A migraine indicated her focus being used to a horrible extent, dictating her knees to buckle. Her bum plopped to the folded sheets, palms clinging as their moistened surface rested there.
How could this be something she would look forward to? He is now called to return to the kingdom, ruling over her and the rest of England without a notice. He would have larger affairs to deal with instead of her, right?
"Stop overthinking things," Harry's voice shattered her thoughts, tagging them for shame and hug out to dry. "That was Gemma, and she just said that I should come in later."
A wave of relief crashed on her shore, trembling hands laying to her thighs restlessly. Her lips pursued in a line, eyebrows stiffening.
"Stop that," Harry scolded, his voice nearing her seated position. "Stop thinking that we won't be together after all of this. We will, okay?"
"Are you sure, Harry? That there can be an us? That weekend was amazing, more than I can imagine. I want that to happen every day of my life, but I hate when we are pulled from our fantasy to," Her hand gestured to the air, "this. Where I can't go to you when I want, wake up to you making blueberry scones for breakfast and coffee. To see you dancing in your boxers to your weird taste in music-"
"You think I don't want this?" Harry's voice rose above her rambling tone, causing her eyes to widen in surprise and speculation. "It hurts to know that I can't repeat that magical weekend? Having you in my arms whenever I want? I'm trying to find a way around this. Some way to vindicate ourselves from this, and run back to that cottage. I'm trying, so try with me?"
His knees bent to place on the floor before her, his palms swallowing her hands whole like a humpback whale to a fish. His thumbs cruised over the bones of her knuckles to comfort her discomfort. His deep, emerald eyes peered into her teary, glossy orbs that threatened to drop water to her cheeks. She was worried, but he washed majority of her fears to bay.
"Okay, I will," She peeled her frown to a subtle smile, hands turning on its sides to squeeze his lengthy digits.
He was grateful for her acceptance and ability to persevere through their complications. He wished there was a way he could make her feel as cheerful as he.
With time, he would surely make her the happiest girl in the world.
x
future wife: harry :(
my blueberry: what is wrong my darling?
future wife: i stubbed my toe on my office desk. it hurts.
my blueberry: i wish i could be there to kiss it my darling.
future wife: you have a toe fetish? o_o
my blueberry: for you baby
future wife: ooh, who knew my babe would have a foot fetish.
my blueberry: i don't..its only for you though.
future wife: lol. are you under the crow's claws again?
my blueberry: yeah, she's yammering about something. im not listening.
future wife: obvi
my blueberry: i love it when you shorten your words. more baby.
future wife: ok
my blueberry: my heart. it just clenched.
future wife: i am told i have that effect.
my blueberry: by who?
my blueberry: other than me.
future wife: no one. well..
my blueberry: speaking of which.
my blueberry: are you talking to that guy still?
my blueberry: what was his name?
my blueberry: Leonardo?
future wife: it's Luca, and kind of.
future wife: don't get mad. he's been away so, I couldn't exactly tell him that we are together now.
my blueberry: tell him, vegas.
future wife: oh, you called me by my name.
future wife: that's bad.
future wife: I'm sorry, H.
my blueberry: i want to be your only one right now.
my blueberry: no one else should have the opportunity to touch you or kiss you.
future wife: you aren't the one to talk.
my blueberry: what?
future wife: YOU have a fiancé. who touches you on national tv.
future wife: did you think i wouldn't see yesterday?
my blueberry: we both know why she's doing that.
my blueberry: i have to do that unwillingly and you know that.
future wife: whatever.
my blueberry: Vegas, don't do this.
my blueberry: i don't want to fight with you, baby.
future wife: why do you have to hold her like that? with the arm around her waist.
my blueberry: Vegas..
future wife: it's like she's taunting me. like she knows.
my blueberry: she doesn't know about our weekend
future wife: yeah, well I wish she did. so she would leave you alone.
my blueberry: everything will work out for us, baby. i promise.
future wife: i want to personally tell her to leave. find someone else's boyfriend to nibble on and show off.
my blueberry: you are getting jealous?
future wife: no.
my blueberry: you are, my love.
future wife: liar. I'm not. I'm just saying i do not like to share.
my blueberry: send me a selfie, and i'll believe you.
*new picture message from future wife*
my blueberry: ooh, i like. nice lipstick.
future wife: thank you. do you believe me now?
my blueberry: yeah
my blueberry: but you are still jealous.
x
"Harry, babe?" Annalise, the baneful woman that will not cease to bother him, ripped Harry's attention from his addictive text message dialogue. Vegas did not return with a witty remark, and it bothered him enough to jitter his leg continuously.
"Don't call me that," He hissed in a low manner, slacking his palms together with his iPhone smushed between.
"Dear, be more kind," Aunt Marie managed to stammer into the room, without his notice. His eyes stoutly observed her limp. It was slight, but not at an sufficient amount to deserve attention from a stranger. Her heels brought her to the cushioned chair beside the feuding couple. Even Harry wouldn't use that word.
Then, his phone's text tone sent a smile to alert his body into happiness. He flipped the screen to be visible to his luminous orbs.
future wife: don't be so cocky. ill stop sending selfies daily.
It spread, cheek to cheek as he thought of an ideal response. I could say so many things, he wondered, what should it be?
"Harry, you seem to be in a good mood," Aunt Marie chuckled, arraigning her dress to sit neatly over her knees.
"Mhm.." He was vested in her. Anyone would be foolish to see differently.
my blueberry: noo. those lift my day up. i even save them for my wallpaper.
future wife: why don't you send me a selfie?
future wife: i want a little Harry action.
Harry lifted his phone to view himself within the lens, positioning it for a quick snapshot. Aunt Marie would ask too many questions for his liking.
*sent picture to future wife*
"Since you are that way, I was thinking we kick up the wedding plans?" Aunt Marie hinted, Harry's eyes not fully acknowledging her words.
Annalise rapidly nodded her head with a disgusting grin. She only craved him for his wealth, nothing less than a vermin.
"Mhm.." Wait. "What did you say?" He shot his head up, eyes glooming at his family member's proposal.
"I figure we kick up the wedding plans, yeah? The public already loves you two together. The papers call you the 'next big thing'," She gawked, smile wide with no regrets.
"I-I.." His mind twitched towards Vegas, and his promise.
"So, the wedding planner is here. Elizabeth, here please!" She called to the hallway, causing Harry to shoot his head in the direction with fury. No one asked him of this! No one!
A middle-aged woman approached them, heels sauntered to an empty chair beside Aunt Marie. Her hands held a book, and a few loose papers that lamented words that he despised.
They blabbered off, shuttering with loud requests, equations of table seating and catering clouding his ears. He couldn't understand, everything blurred his mind.
His hands twitched with anger, diving into the locks of his hair to grip at his locks tightly with frustration.
He was suffocating in his own world, intangible hands climbing up the surface of his neck, grasping and threatening to choke.
The muscles contorted, losing his breathe to the point of blinding his vision. He couldn't take anymore of this. . . No more. . .
His legs did the work for him, jetting from the room to visibly dart into the hall. Boots cutting through the length of maids and butlers.
His family shouted for his return, but it was hopeless. He couldn't stop running, regardless of the pouring rain that reflected and pounded to the window panes. He made it outside, the droplets hitting the crown of his to dampen his hair to stick to his face. He continued, drawing attention to himself from the bystanders and citizens that loomed over the palace.
His clothes were drenched, legs only moving to shift to one place. Hers. Vegas would be at work this time of day, which explains the background surrounding her photograph this morning. He brainstormed of faster ways to arrive at her office. He needed her. To hold her.
"Welcome to Horan Publications-" The receptionist, Pauline, halted her actions to attend to the man before her. His clothes dripping with the water from outside, she presumed. "May I help you?"
"I'm here to see Vegas. Vegas Blacke?" He pushed out, his uneven pants declaring his disorganized way of coming to her office across town.
Vegas could not be having a more pleasant work day. Liam was supplying her lunch for the last week because of a bet he lost while watching a soccer game, Aleczandra was crying about the recent bitter work ethic from Mr. Horan, and Harry had sent her a selfie that would always remain on the brightness of her HD screen.
She hugged the phone to her chest at the adoration of their exchanges, then peppered kisses to the picture on her wallpaper. Her free hand gripped the coffee that she made before settling and stubbing her toe. Nearly screaming for the entire building to hear.
The patter of her heels continued to her office, humming to a song Harry introduced her to when a sound of a voice lured her to stop. Harry? It sounds like him, she thought, the soles of her feet rotating to face the lobby of the fifteenth floor.
A man's figure, drenched in water, towered over the desk of Pauline. He appeared angry, finger pointing to the surface with strength.
"Harry?" His face snapped, neck setting to view her frame across the room. "What are you doing here, babe?"
"Vegas.." It was breathless, the words seeping from behind his teeth. His slippery steps stomped to her, his moist palms gripping her cheeks to almost spill her coffee and phone to the floor.
"Harry..why are you all wet, baby? What happened?"
She was curious. Of everything.
He was silent, observing her attempts to figure out his situation. He had traveled to see this woman.
The woman that will rescue him from his fears.
His controlling family.
And the stamped future that would of tortured him, but now it only allows his pupils dilute whole-heartedly. Because of her.
"Nothing," he finally replied, lowering his lips to curve to a simper, "Nothing at all."
"Did something happen?" She questioned, fingers clutching tighter to her cup.
"I think we should escape. Like go somewhere," He suggested, pecking her lips at a pace where she couldn't keep up. Her lips fumbled, giggles erupting at his request.
"Aren't you mad at Gemma for that?" She insisted, giggling more.
"But, I understand why now. Leopold and Gemma ran away because they found their passions," He began, thumbs rubbing the slightly darkening bags under her eyes, "and so have I."
"And what is your passion, Mr. Soaking Wet?" She gleamed.
"You."
He pressed his quivering lips to hers, fingers combing through her locks with fury. But the good kind. The kind that drives you mad, enough to bring you right back.
For more.
x
so, that was the twenty fifth chapter! it was longer like i wanted it to be. more cute moments and drama added!
do you think that vegas and harry should run away? like gemma, and their cousin?
do you think vegas still likes luca?
leave your feedback below, and let me know.
comment and vote so it will help my story grow even more! we are at 26K guys, and i know we can do so much more together. you guys are the best readers in the world!
please share and tell others about this story!
anyways, it is twelve at night right now, so I'll catch you wild cats later!
tune in for more updates! im on spring break so that means more updates! do you think short or longer updates are better?
tell me guys! i need your comments!
well, have a good day/night!
happy reading,
dani xo