*mature content warning.
skip this chapter if you're not comfortable
(but still artful and less smutty,
unlike my other books)*
Harry quickly shut the door and just stood outside of it flabbergasted. Did he just see what he thought he did?
His Livvy...touching herself?
His innocent, little Olivia?
What an idiot. How could he be so stupid to just waltz into her room like that without knocking?
He bit his bottom lip and took a step back, anxiously running his fingers through his lengthening curls.
"Fuck," he whispers. He felt terrible.
He paced a little bit, unsure if he should wait until she was ready so he could apologize profusely, or if he should give her the space she probably wanted and/or deserved.
He looked up and down the hall, thankful that everyone was downstairs enjoying their morning Christmas Eve rituals. He wanted Livvy to partake, which is why he came upstairs to wake her in the first place, especially given he had kept her out until dawn.
But then he did this.
He felt a pit grow in his stomach, deciding to head downstairs because he frankly didn't know what else to do. He found his Mom in the kitchen and was glad he ran into her first before someone like Nick or Eleanor.
"Mum...I'm not feeling so well. I think I'm gonna go take a shower, yeah?"
She turned and gave him a perplexed look. "You were fine a little bit ago. You ok, honey?" She saw his face and instantly grew concerned. "Baby, you're really pale. Are you ok?"
He rubbed the back of his neck, his thoughts occupied with his guilt before his eyes snapped up to catch hers.
"Oh, yeah. I just think I need a cold shower to wake me up. Didn't sleep well last night," he finished.
"You haven't been sleeping well at all this trip. I'm getting concerned. That's not like you at all when you're home. And didn't you already take a shower this morning?" She asked, a mixture of concern and confusion in her words.
"Y-yeah...I just." He shook his head. "I'm gonna go. I just didn't want you wondering where I went if I disappeared for a little bit."
She gave me an even more perplexed look, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. "Okay, honey. Whatever you need. You know you don't need my permission to do anything. This will always be your home."
He nodded, as if to convince himself that what she said was true.
She made him pause before leaving the room. "Honey, did you wake up Olivia?"
He froze immediately, turning to look at her with shock on his face. He started stammering. "Uh, y-yeah -- she, um...she's awake. She's uh, she's just getting ready, you know?" He took a deep breath. "Girl stuff."
His cheeks started to turn red as the words came out, and he started scratching at his neck again as he involuntarily replayed the situation in his head.
"Honey, did something happen? Why are you acting so strange?"
He laughed nervously, shaking his head. "No! No, of course not. Nothing...I just need to go. I'll be down in a little bit. Cover for me with the fam?"
She didn't like that she knew something was going on with him, but unless he told her, there was nothing she could do. She knew him well enough to know he always had to process things before he was ready to discuss them.
And with that, he meandered his way back up the steps, shutting the entire world off around him. He had tunnel vision as he stepped into the guest room he and Eleanor were sharing. Suddenly, he felt claustrophobic, needing to get the clothes off of his body as his body temperature rose to an uncomfortable degree.
He stepped into the bathroom, shedding his t-shirt and starting for his pants. He looked in the mirror, feeling like a foreigner in his own body as he looked around.
This was home.
He should be in his bedroom.
Not the guest room.
With all of her shit everywhere.
He let his head tilt back when he thought about his bedroom. His mind wandered to how many times he had laid in the same spot Olivia was in, how many times he had jerked himself off right there as well.
His Olivia.
God, she was gorgeous.
He didn't want to admit it, but he had grown closer to her over the past few months, emotionally. He replayed the night of his drunken debacle, how her eyes had danced in the darkness with him. How he had let his imagination run a little wild as he learned more of the sordid details of her life. He remembered feeling so warm inside when she touched her hand to his chest, and he had to put his hand over it in hopes she would never take it off.
He remembered how badly he had wanted to kiss her that night. And how he had just dismissed it as a drunken mistake.
But there were far more moments that weren't drunken mistakes. The feeling of her arms around him on his four wheeler, how she felt between his arms when he taught her golf, the times he nuzzled his nose in her neck and caressed her face. All the bitten lips and soft murmurs, the jokes and the banter.
And then this morning.
She laid there, on his bed, with her most precious parts exposed. And it was heaven.
He remembered seeing the slight patch of hair that was cutely maintained, how her long hair was a mess around her face, how her beautiful lips were parted and moaning something as she fingered herself in front of him.
He groaned at the memory, frustratingly running a hand through his hair before going to flick on the shower. To cold. To handle the hard-on that had been raging for a good 30 minutes now.
She was so wet.
He had never seen Eleanor that wet, even in all the years he had been with her.
Her kitten was just bare and begging for him to burn it into memory.
"Fuck, Harry. You're an idiot," he mumbled to himself.
He quickly pushed down his boxers, the only remnant of his clothes, before stepping into the shower. He hissed when the frigid drops assaulted his burning flesh, yelping in the process.
Unfortunately, it wasn't helping his now painful erection.
Why did he react this way!? Livvy was just the help. She might have been a friend, and they might be close, but he was engaged. To her boss.
But the way she had bit her lip while she was pleasuring herself.
Frustrated his erection wasn't going away, he switched the temperature to a warmer one and grabbed some liquid soap, lining up his hand and gripping his extremely hard length. He was going to have to take care of this the old fashioned way.
He wondered what she was thinking about as she was fingering herself.
Slowly, he started to pump his length like the teenage boy he felt like right now, the one that jerked off to the idea of his crush because he couldn't seal the deal on his own.
Was she thinking about him?
He let his thumb and index finger slightly brush over the tip, elongating his thrusts as he worked himself from the base to the tip.
What he wouldn't give to have buried his face or himself into her, replaying every second of his memory of her having her legs open for him.
She was so wet. He bet it felt like heaven to be buried inside of her.
He took a shaky breath, free hand going to the wall to hold himself up as he continued to manhandle his manhood, imagining it was her instead.
He glanced down as he jerked off, the water from the shower head making water trickle down his face and blur in his eyelashes. As he's looking down, he can't help but imagine what she would look like on her knees, taking his length into her mouth.
Eleanor never did that.
His body started to tremble, getting closer to his orgasm.
"Fuck, Olivia..." he muttered.
And just like that, he came the hardest of his life so far, his seed splashing the shower wall and hitting the drain.
He panted like he just ran a mile, forehead exhaustingly leaning against his forearm as he tries to calm down.
After his orgasm, clarity circled his mind as he leaned spent against the wall.
He just jerked off to Olivia.
Not his fiancé.
God, he really was an idiot.