Harry Styles
The evening seemed to be crawling by and it was making me shift in my seat. After seeing her straddle my bike— simultaneously groping me in the process— I was pretty damn wound up. Then tack on the way she had been looking at me for the past hour and the fact that she wan't wearing a bra, yet again, I was ready to fucking go. I knew for a bloody fact that she owned her fair share of lingerie, so I didn't understand why it was so damn hard for her to wear it? Like, fucking hell. She'd tortured me with her vast collection all semester. Honestly though, I didn't know what would have been worse— one of those mind-fucking inventions or the lack there of that I was currently having to deal with.
Well, it will make it easier later on?
The only problem with later, though, was the fact that it was later. The anticipation alone was going to give me a permanent case of blue balls.
Her little performance wasn't helping either. She sat there watching me and in a sinfully slow motion, she cut off a piece of her ricotta stuffed Gnocchi. She kept swirling it in the tomato vodka cream sauce, before popping in into her mouth. She left the fork between her lips far longer than necessary, hollowing her cheeks, before retracting it and running the tip of her tongue up one of the prongs. She smirked at me once she'd finished.
"I know what you're doing," I ground out. I could feel the muscles in my jaw clenching, my leg shaking furiously under the table. My anticipation was a fucking light up sign in the air above my head. I hand't even touched my food; I wasn't hungry for that.
"I'm just trying to enjoy my meal, Harry," she replied, all innocence and halos. For fuck's sake. She reached down and plucked up a singular green been, twirling it also in the tomato sauce before closing her full lips around it, sucking on it. All of my prayers for self-control were flying right out the goddamn window. This girl was going to be the death of me.
"It really is delicious," she purred, her hand moving beneath the table. Every muscle in my body tensed in anticipation of her touch, but she simply readjusted her napkin, smirking, before reaching for her glass of pinot grigio.
"Would you like dessert, then?" I asked, curling my hands into fists beneath the table so as not to yank her up and take her in the damned bathroom.
"Dessert sounds heavenly. What did you have in mind?" She cocked an eyebrow up at me... fuck, cock was definitely not the right word. Quirked, yes, quirked was a much better word. She quirked an eyebrow up at me, her challenge unspoken.
"I can think of a few things that interest me," I mused, tugging on my bottom lip with my thumb and forefinger. Just as I'd hoped, her eyes zeroed in my my hand, her tongue jutting out to swipe across her lower lip. Yes, this was the game that she'd been playing with me from day one. I was finally learning the rules, matching her on the incredibly stacked playing field.
"How does the tiramisu sound?" I asked, still watching her, my blood singing in my veins. Her face fell before hardening into an unreadable mask.
"I think I'd prefer something a bit more... savory. I have quite a particular pallet and I'm just not seeing what I want on the menu."
"Well, the Chocolate Bar is on Eighth; we will pass it on our way home, surely you will be able to find something to fit your particular needs there."
"Not unless they have edible lotion," she grumbled, her voice low, so low that I barely caught her words.
"We can always go in and ask?" I felt a hot flush threaten to color my neck and cheeks at my own words. How did she make it seem so easy? She always said shit far worse than that and it was like she got away with murder. She was never phased and here I was, struggling to sell one ill-intentioned joke and I couldn't even deliver.
"I'm sure they would be more than happy to help us find something to accommodate our... unique demands; however, it's late and they closed at ten. I suppose we will just have to fend for ourselves for the time being," she sighed, not at all disappointed.
"Pity. Perhaps another time." Her eyes snapped up to meet mine at my words and I flashed her a reassuring smile.
"Next time?" she breathed, every bit the insecure and broken creature I'd held in my office only hours before.
"Yes, next time." The promise those two words held was magnificent. Despite all of the anxiety about the University finding out, I did want there to be a next time. Fuck, I would kill for a next time.
"Are you ready?" I asked, my anticipation returning in full force.
"Yes," she ducked her head, smiling at me. It was an unbelievably innocent and shy smile, completely devoid of all of her usual tricks and seductive intentions. I felt myself smiling in return before reaching across the table for her hand. I helped her to her feet.
"Don't we need to pay?" She asked, confusedly looking towards the kitchen and then back at our table.
"Family does not pay!" Angelo cheered, emerging suddenly from the kitchen, his large cheeks rosy from the glass of red wine in his hand. We were the last two in the restaurant and I knew that they had stayed open specifically for us.
"Thank you Angelo, Maria," I smiled fondly at them. Angelo scooped me up in yet another one of his famous all-enveloping hugs. He did the same to a very stunned Darien. Maria smiled warmly at us before hugging me tightly, kissing me on both cheeks.
"She is very pretty," she whispered in my ear, "But I am not sure about her. Be careful, mio figlio (my son)." I smiled stiffly back at her. To be honest, I wasn't sure either. I had no idea what had drawn me into this situation in the first place, only that I wasn't anywhere near ready to get out.
She pulled away and turned to look at Darien; I couldn't help but wrap a protective arm around her waist, "It was very nice to meet you," she smiled a bit too warmly before turning back to me.
"Now, it is late. Get out, both of you. Go to bed, bimbi sciocchi, (foolish children,)" Maria scolded, pushing us out the door.
"To bed, she said?" I murmured, waggling my eyebrows at the violet-haired girl next to me. She grinned wickedly up at me and I could already see the mischievous gears whirling in her kinky little mind.
"That she did." She smiled impishly up at me, cobalt eyes shining bright in the dim glow of the ever present New York lights.
"Would you like to go to bed with me, Miss Grace?"
"That I would, Professor."
I grinned down at her, before bending suddenly and scooping her up. I threw her over my shoulder in the same fashion I had at that god forsaken orgy she'd been at.
"Put me down you caveman!" she shrieked and slammed her fists into my back, "I am not some conquest from the neighboring cave!"
"I apologise; I'm not quite sure Neanderthal's have developed the ability to understand complex patterns of speech, or really any form outside of grunting as of yet. Come along, Conquest, my cave awaits," I cheered, carrying her triumphantly back to my bike parked across the street. When I finally put her down, sliding her body down mine, planting her feet firmly on the ground in front of me, I could tell she was fighting a losing battle with the growing grin on her face.
"Sit," I ordered, pointing towards the leather upholstery. She gave me that look that said "I'm only humoring you, don't fucking push me" and straddled the bike. I narrowed my eyes as she leaned down low on the leather, propping herself up on her elbow, regarding me cooly. My flannel was barely buttoned around her slender frame and the unfastened neckline fell low, exposing more to the public eye than I cared for.
"That's enough," I quipped, scooping up my helmet and moving towards her.
"Oh, no you don't-."
"No complex speech patterns. Remember?" I grinned at her before shoving the helmet down over her head. She popped the faceplate open and glared at me.
"You're on my shit list, Styles," she growled, glaring at me. I chose to ignore her, throwing my leg over the bike and starting the ignition.
"Hold on, Conquest. I'm in a bit of a hurry. Someone was trying to seduce me during dinner." Her arms wrapped securely around my torso, gripping harder than necessary, and I floored it. The tires screeched against the pavement before we rocketed forward.
***
Not for the first time, I was glad I lived alone. Leala and Max had approached me about going in on them with a larger flat, but I'd said no. Lee was a great time; she really was. She just didn't know when to end that good time. I knew that I'd never get anything done if I lived with her and she wasn't the type of person that could live alone. Max had graciously opted to continue living with her and they got on well for the most part. She still brought home stray co-ed's, but the number had decreased dramatically. When she'd first transferred to NYU she'd seen us at a bar and had zeroed in on us immediately. She'd flat out terrified us until we understood her orientation— she'd made a move on Max's then girlfriend and yet somehow the two had ended up living together. That whole story was still a mystery to me, but hell, it had worked out for them and it kept Leala happy. It was fine by me.
"This was mildly funny at the restaurant, Harry, but now it's pissing me off," Darien hissed, her voice bouncing up to me from the floor. Her arms were crossed against my back and I knew that she had to be wearing that adorable half grin, half scowl she'd adopted lately.
"I find it absolutely hysterical," I chuckled, twirling the key ring around in search for the one to my flat.
"I'm sure you do," she grumbled while I inserted the key into the lock.
The second we crossed the threshold, my body was on fire, scorching wherever hers touched mine. She squirmed on my shoulder and I knew that she felt the same.
"Put me down, Harry; I mean it," she ordered. Her voice had changed; she wasn't playfully angry anymore. There was something libidinous fueling it.
"Quiet, Conquest." My hand connected hard with her bum and she let out a startled yelp, the fire between us enveloping everything. I stalked through the flat, not bothering to turn on any of the lights— we wouldn't need them. I kicked open the door to my bedroom and flung her down onto the large mattress. She landed with a huff, before propping herself up on her elbows and glaring up at me.
"Come on, Caveman, don't fail me now. Right now, all I'm getting is the 'saw' part in 'I came, I saw, I conquered'." Her smart mouth was my undoing. I shrugged out of my jacket and ripped my t-shirt off over my head.
"I never professed to being Julius Caesar, Miss Grace," I murmured, regarding her seriously. I moved to stand in front of her, placing one knee on the bed at a time, straddling her infuriating form, " Simply a man, captivated by a woman." I stared down at her, dipping my head so that my face was a mere few centimeters from her own. She just rolled her eyes, reaching up and winding her hands into my hair to pull my face to her own. I groaned when she tugged harshly on the strands wound around her skilled fingers and she took that opening to invade my mouth with her tongue. My hands slid up her sides, beneath the fabric of my flannel, tracing her warm flesh. My hands wandered to her breasts, cupping them. My thumbs tweaked her nipples, letting them harden further. Her low moan vibrated in my mouth— her tongue still twisting with my own.
With one hand, I worked furiously to release the few buttons she'd closed on my shirt; throwing the fabric aside when I was finished. I pulled my mouth away from hers, catching her full bottom lip between my teeth and biting gently. She released yet another low moan in response. My mouth left hers then, licking, kissing, and sucking down her jaw to her neck and collarbones. Her back arched automatically the second I closed my mouth around one of her nipples, teasing it with my teeth, swirling my tongue around the sensitive nub. I yanked the fabric of my shirt down her arms and she threw it aside.
Her breathing was shallow and fractured— her heart racing in her chest. I released her breast and retraced my trail back up to her mouth where I let my lips hover above hers, yet again.
"You are far more valuable than Zela," I breathed, my thumb stroking her cheek. Her face went slack, obviously recognizing my reference to the fallen kingdom from the long ago history. Some wild and unknown emotion flared up in her previously playful cerulean gaze and she was like a woman starved. She crushed her mouth back down to mine and it was like I could feel all of the desperation and insecurity she kept locked away behind so many walls and masks pouring into me through the contact of our bodies— of our souls.
Her fingers worked to release the buckle of my belt in record time and I knew that there wouldn't be any foreplay. No, this was different. I could feel her need and I felt my own rising up to match hers. She popped the button to my jeans and yanked them down my legs along with my briefs. I kicked them away and she moved suddenly, flipping us, taking me with her. At dinner, I had imagined this evening proceeding in a much different fashion, but everything had changed within the span of a few breaths. This wasn't the wild, angry sex we'd experienced in my office or even in the practice room that first night, this was something more.
I tugged her hair free from the tie and an amethyst curtain cascaded down around us, limiting my view— tunnel vision, with her as my ultimate destination. Her lips found mine again as she rocked her still clothed hips against my straining erection. I gasped, craving any sort of friction between us. I moved my hands to grip her hips and rock her in a faster rhythm before peeling the obscenely tight fabric off of her body. She kicked the leggings away, her small hand coming down to take hold of my length, pumping. Her tongue twisted against mine, fighting for control. I moved a hand up to cup her face, holding her to me. My eyes flew open at the dampness of her cheek. Silent tears were spilling out of her closed eyes.
I pulled away; I wanted to ask her why, but she never gave me the chance, "Please, not now," she breathed and I could hear the panicked desperation in her voice, "Just kiss me." I did. I'd already pushed her past her breaking point today and she was so near it again. I didn't know how much more she could take. My hands moved to her sides, tracing the contours of her body, a thin layer of flesh covered her bones and I vaguely wondered how much she ate and how often. She'd eaten more than me at dinner, but that wasn't saying much. I'd taken maybe three bites of my filet before losing all interest in my food.
"Do you have one?" Her hot breath fanned out against the crook of my neck and I nodded toward the bedside table, completely at a loss for words. She flashed me a small smile before leaning away from me. My eyes fluttered closed and I heard the tell-tale rip of foil before I felt the smooth latex against my tip. She rolled the thin plastic on quickly before her swollen lips kissed me there. My eyes flew open, drinking in the siren hovering above me. Gentle violet waves cascaded down around her shoulders. Wide midnight eyes shone in the muted light filtering in through the closed blinds. She looked terrified, a young girl about to be swallowed up by the sea. All of that was gone in a moment, though. She blinked and the mask was back— the cool sexual predator she impersonated taking over.
"Will this make you a conquest or me?" She grinned, sinking slowly, down onto my length. My eyes screwed closed as I struggled to control and understand the sensations and emotions washing through me. Lust, sorrow, amazement, and... anger? That last one was out of place. Why was I angry? What did I have to be angry about? Suddenly the image of those silent tears slipping down her cheeks burned its way back into my mind and I realized that was why I was angry. I was furious with whatever, whoever had hurt this drowning girl; abandoning her to suffer through the world on her own with the scars they'd left in their wake.
Slowly, unhurried, she began to move, sinking herself down onto me before retracting and repeating the process all over again. My body was burning with need. It was too much. I needed more than this. My hands found her hips and I willed her to increase her pace. She followed my motions, rising faster, falling faster.
"Harry," my name was a half sob, have prayer and I clung to her, pulling her down to kiss me. My unspoken promise translated through the contact we were sharing. I was here— here for her. She wasn't alone. I moved my hips to join her now desperate rhythm and the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room; it was intoxicating, almost as intoxicating as the girl above me. Her skin was glistening, her scent inebriating; she smelled of rich, french perfume, floral shampoo, and sex. Breathing her in, I ran towards the edge of oblivion, leaping off and soaring down into the darkness. She came with me, those heart shattering, silent tears slipping between our mouths, flavouring our kiss. I clung to her still as we fell, settling back down into infinite nirvana.