Whenever I want to read something good, I turn to my Wattpad friends and ask for recommendations. There are many people here who have similar taste in books as me and look for a nice plot which is not only believable, but well structured with decent character development as well. So a few months back, my dear friend HarrysHighNote suggested that I read @WhoopsHarryStyles's work. She told me that she was blown away by her stories and that I should definitely give them a try. She said that she was one of her favourite writers here and since I trusted her judgement, I added her work in my library. I think I started with Steam which was exactly that: Nice and steamy lol. I am not very fond of smut but I had to give it to her, she wrote to attract your attention. I remember asking myself when I started on Secure "Why doesn't this girl have more reads?" I was amazed that she didn't get the attention she deserved and so I kept asking my friends to read her work. When I finished reading all of her stuff Press Release was out and by then I was hooked. One by one, her stories got me so absorbed that I caught myself wanting to ditch everything and just sit at home to read, which was impossible.
She is dedicated and passionate which is the best combination for a writer. She is also very sweet and polite, my kind of person. Now, her new story has finally reached what we were all hoping for. With more than 200 votes per chapter in the first hours of publication, Whoops has finally got some of the recognition she deserves. And this is only the beginning.
I like this girl because she is not fake. She is one of us. Different surely, but yet so similar.
So without further ado, I present our latest addition to the compilation from our friend from Colorado, USA.
The smell of the cooking turkey wafts through the Idaho vacation house, along with the particular scent of fresh-baked rolls which is my personal contribution to this shindig. As a baker by trade, I'm frequently asked to provide the yeasty products for a shared dinner. As someone who adores the texture, smell, and taste of freshly baked bread, I'm honored to be asked. Glenne was tasked with the apple pie, and the remnants of its pleasurable fragrance linger in the air.
"How long have you and Harry been a couple?" Shelli asks me as I watch her baste the bird while I form the remaining rolls to add to the oven when the first batch is complete.
"Almost a year," Harry responds, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaning his head on top of my shoulder blade, his chiseled chin digging in, making me twitch. "May I steal her away, Shelli?"
With a nod, Jeffrey's mom returns to her duties as chief cook, assisted by Allison. Washing my hands, I dry them on a nearby towel, glancing at the clock, as I want to be sure the rolls aren't overdone. Removing the fancy apron, I fold it neatly and lay it over the back of a bar stool, smoothing my hands over my grey sweater dress, my thigh high boots nearly reaching the hem.
"Where are we going?" I press Harry.
His dimpled smile is mischievous, and I wonder what he's hiding. In the living room, the space is filled with Azoff family members; Harry and I being the only non-Azoffs in the house for the Thanksgiving holiday. Plopping on the sofa, Harry pulls me down beside him as the giant screen reveals the start of the Green Bay Packers vs. Chicago Bears.
"Ohhhhhh," I whisper excitedly.
"You like football?" Irving directs his question to me, and I nod excitedly.
"My daddy loves watching the games and has no sons; as the eldest, I'm the one who got roped into attending our local high school football games every Friday night in the fall. It's one of my favorite things. The snap of the ball. The crunching of bodies. The 'oofs' and rushes and quarterback sneaks."
"As long as you aren't rooting for the damn Bears, you're welcome to watch," the older man teases. At least I hope he's teasing. I look to Harry for confirmation, but he's got a serious look on his face.
"Oh," I reply, "I just love the game. I'm not a fan of any one team."
Silence descends as everyone in the room halts their conversations to stare at me.
"I meant to say, 'I'm a huge Green Bay fan,'" I jump in quickly, and the tension eases. The chill hasn't passed, though, and I shiver. Harry pulls me closer to him, grabbing a giant throw from the back of the sofa to cover our laps. I curl in next to him, excited about the game, worried that I'll screw up in this first introduction to his adopted family. With a swift kiss to my forehead, Harry returns his attention to the television screen.
Shivering, I pull the throw up around my shoulders, cheering loudly when the quarterback for the Packers is shown on screen. Gotta keep up appearances, I remind myself. Frankly, who wins is unimportant to me. That sounds bizarre, but I know that each team has their own strengths and challenges. The analytical side of me prefers to pay attention to how they each use the skill and talent they have to best the other. It's an intellectual rather than emotional experience for me.
When the timer in my head sounds, I rise to exchange the rolls in the oven, but Jaye waves me off. "You keep watching the game," she says, "I'll take care of it. Besides, I need to get some pickles or chips for noshing."
"Thanks," I mouth to her, settling back into Harry's side. He's removed his arm from my shoulders, and I feel bereft, missing the weight of it. Soon enough, his hand drifts to my thigh, though, tracing lazy circles on the fabric of my sweater dress. The Packers are ahead by two touchdowns, and the family is as focused as ever on the screen as the Bears have the ball on the 12 yard line with a first down.
My skin jumps when Harry eases the soft fabric of my sweater dress up my thigh before he resumes his actions on my bare skin. Quickly, I glance at him, my expression meant to convey the insanity of his move. But his eyes aren't even on me, his attention drawn to the game instead. Or so I think -- until his long, tapered fingers work their way to my inner thigh. What the hell?
Although I'm surprised he's making this kind of move here, I gotta be honest. It's turning me on. Quickly, I glance around the room at the family, making sure no one notices what he's doing. Grateful when I spy them all attuned to the screen, I allow my leg muscles to slacken, providing additional room for my favorite digits to do whatever it is they are doing. Harry takes advantage instantly, his index finger shifting to play over the material of my thong.
Oh, wow. It's getting hot in here. Where just minutes prior, I'd been shivering from the cold, now I'm burning up. Harry removes his hand, and the disappointed sound around the room worries me. How had they known?
But it's only that the Bears have scored, and I missed it. Part of my brain ponders how the Packers offense could have left a hole that size while the rest of me is purely devastated at the absence of Harry's hands on me. The teasing has had the effect of making me wet, and I wiggle on the sofa cushions, trying to create some friction with my thong.
Returning his hand to my thigh, Harry stills my movement. He leans over to me, whispering in my ear, "Stop that. I'll help, but you're drawing too much attention moving around like that."
Silently, I curse him. He got me in this state with his lazy finger movements. The least he could do is finish the job. As I think the words, his whole hand cups my mons, and I shift my body so that I'm slouched to give him more access. Fuck. I'm enamored of this man who is so brave and brazen here in the living room of his friends. The wetness drips from me, and I know Harry feels it as he begins to draw his middle finger over my cleft through the fabric of my panties.
With one swift move, Harry moves aside the material and plunges his middle finger inside me, just as the Bears score a two point conversion, and the frustrated sounds of the fans around me rise up, drawing attention from what may be happening with us. Hooking his finger, Harry keeps up the harassment of my vagina while tickling my clit with his index finger, and I feel the pressure mounting as my orgasm approaches. Wildly, I reach for the front of his trousers, knowing that his cock must be hard, potentially even dripping with pre-cum.
His breath hisses as I come in contact with his hardened length, and heads swivel to us. Harry recovers quickly, "That was hurtful. We better get an extra touchdown to keep us ahead."
The family nods, their heads swiveling back to the screen as the Bears master the onside kick, and the Azoff attention is back in the game. Harry shoots me a dirty look, and I shrug to indicate that maybe he shouldn't have started this little game if he can't hack it.
Removing his hand from me, Harry licks his fingers, drawing them across his tongue. My insides quake and melt. Pushing aside my hand, Harry unzips his trousers, and I find that my boyfriend hasn't worn any underwear. My eyebrows raise, and Harry's dimple makes an appearance as his devilish smile takes over his face. He indicates I should sit on his lap, and I'm appalled.
And wet. And ready.
After another careful look at the faces around me, I oblige, shifting positions so that I'm straddling him, my back to his chest. My movement has drawn attention from Cameron and Jeffrey, but they both quickly swivel their heads back to the game as the Packers fumble and there's a mad scramble to get the ball which seems to be escaping everyone's grasp.
I hold myself up slightly as Harry pushes aside my thong and slides into me. Holy sweet gods of football! He feels so amazing, deeply embedded like I've not experienced in days. I grind on him as I cheer with the rest of the household as the favored team comes up with the ball. With a bounce, I pull myself away from Harry and slide back down again, his cock catching on the walls of my vagina, causing the desire to cry out. Biting my lip, I examine the faces around me again. It's nerve wracking, and incredibly hot, to fuck Harry in this environment. I want to cry out, but there's nothing but a commercial on the screen. Halting my movements, I melt backwards into Harry who is talking to Jeffrey about what the Packers need to do to regain control of this game.
Meanwhile, both of Harry's hands have shifted to my core, and they assault my clit in turn while his cock is still inside me. It's an incredible sensation; I'm not sure this is the right time or place for it, but I decide I no longer care. I'm too close to that elusive orgasm.
Football talk swirls around me, and I try to contribute, but my words won't form so I keep my mouth closed, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the whimpers inside me. When the game is finally back on, I playfully slide forward and back on his cock. I know I'm having an effect when his breathing hitches, and his hands move to my hips to guide me. As the Packers quarterback throws the ball to his favorite wide receiver, and the family around us starts to rise in their excitement as the player runs towards the goal, Harry drives into me from below while the attention is focused on the screen.
The swirling intensity inside me grows and I slam back onto him in rhythm until we are both panting, cheering on the team, but also inspiring our joint undoing as Harry squirts in me just as the player crosses the line, holding up the ball, and I cry out with everyone else in exhilaration and rapture as I fall over the edge of sanity, the convulsions flowing through my body as I come hard.
As the yells from the touchdown fade, I stand fully, noting that Harry has quickly tucked himself back inside his trousers and zipped up before also standing to exchange high fives with the other family members.
Turning to me as the group waits on the edges of their seats for the extra point, Harry kisses me passionately, his tongue tackling mine in our own game. Breathless, I rub his cheek as I pull away from him, a strand of spit still connecting us.
Irving steps over to where we're standing to clap me on the back. "You said you weren't a fan of any team, but that cheering at the touchdown would indicate deep passion."
"You said it," Harry grinned. "She was decidedly feeling some deep passion there."
I cringe, but since no one else knows what he means, I ignore him. Excusing myself, I return to the kitchen, flushed.
Upon seeing me, Shelli quickly fills a glass with ice water, handing it to me. "The football is getting to you, I see," she smiles.
"Something like that," I reply, preparing to withdraw the second batch of rolls from the oven.
"Those are some pretty buns in the oven," Harry's adoptive mom comments, and I freeze. Fuck. We hadn't used a condom.
A knot forms in my stomach. We hadn't talked about kids in ages. I mean, when we first started dating, we agreed that we both wanted them, but is this the right time? Through the rest of the game, I sit silently, nervous, my thoughts swirling.
As the Packers secure their victory with a field goal less than two minutes before the game is over, Harry takes my hand, pulling me from the sofa and guiding me outside into the crisp fall air.
"What's going on?" he murmurs.
"We didn't use protection," I comment, and Harry shrugs. Actually shrugs! "A little one that's half you and half me would be one more reason to give thanks on this day." Grasping my hand, he draws me to him, kissing me deeply.
"I love you. A baby would be a bonus," he whispers, and I am content with his response. Relaxing, I allow Harry to guide me to the dining room where the meal has been laid out. Regardless of the results of any future pregnancy test, I know what I will give thanks for on this special day. He's sitting right next to me.