I zipped up my weekend bag and put my coat on. Harry would be outside any moment and I'd told my parents that we'd be with them by 8pm, as soon as I could get away from work.
"So what are you up to this weekend?" Harry had asked over the phone on Tuesday evening as I sat on the sofa with my feet curled up beneath my body.
"I'm going back home to see my parents Friday evening."
"What time?"
"Why, do you want to come?" I’d joked.
"I'd actually quite like to," he’d replied somewhat gingerly, as if nervous to hear my response.
“You want to meet my parents?” I’d sounded much more surprised than I had intended to, and he’d laughed on the other end.
"Only if you want me to, that is."
I had of course, said yes. I wasn't sure on the standard protocol for meeting parents, as I'd never had somebody for them to actually meet, but after almost four months of being with Harry, I wanted them to meet him. And I wanted to let Harry into that part of my life; the part that had shaped and developed me into the person I was today. I wanted to let him in that little bit deeper and have him that little bit closer to me.
My mum was pleasantly surprised when I'd asked her if it was okay if Harry came with me. In fact, she sounded just as excited as I felt, which was both comforting and unnerving. I wanted Harry to feel welcome, not smothered by my own mother, who I was certain would be wooed by his natural charisma and good looks. Harry had laughed it off when I'd warned him, though I was perhaps most nervous about him meeting my dad. My dad had that over-protective streak that most dads had over their daughters. Dad’s prerogative. He was adamant that the majority of males were only after one thing, which I often wanted to quip that he could only think that now because that was how he behaved when he was a young man. Even though Harry enjoyed sex, perhaps even more so than most males his age, there was so much more to him than that. I wanted my parents to see all the good qualities in Harry that I did. I didn’t doubt Harry’s ability to impress and charm, but that didn’t stop a restless sea of nerves from running through me, right to my restless foot that tapped repeatedly on the floor.
A horn beeped twice outside and I switched the lights off and locked the door behind me. The evening air was icy and a white mist poured from my mouth as I shivered and blew out a shaky breath, and I gazed up into the velvety black sky in awe of the twinkling stars that lay scattered amidst the vast expanse of nothingness. Space and the universe was one of those things that I found both simultaneously fascinating and frightening; a continuum of time and space that had no foreseeable end. I often wondered how long forever was and what would happen once my life was over. I knew that time would still go on, but I knew that our world wouldn’t be here forever. The demise of Earth was inevitable.
I tottered over to the car parked on my side of the road, rubbing my hands together as the cold air chilled me to my bones. I wasn’t a car geek and had little knowledge and interest in cars, but the metallic dark grey Audi R8 was unmistakable. It was sleek, sophisticated, and had Harry written all over it, as well as inside of it, sitting casually at the wheel with his eyes lowered to his phone.
“Since when did you have an Audi?” I laughed as I stepped into the car.
He looked up at me and grinned.
“I’ve had it for a few months.”
“Mid-life crisis?”
He laughed. “Something like that.”
The seats were made from soft black leather and as I sank back into the passenger seat, the feel of it beneath my palms and the distinct smell of it in the warm air instantly had me reminiscing back to last weekend. I inhaled deeply and shut my eyes; letting myself travel back to that particular moment in time, which pushed a strange sense of warmth through me; one that sped up the beat of my heart and tingled beneath my skin. Six months ago, I would barely have paid attention to the smell. But now, the scent of leather that filled my lungs and drifted through my veins was so sexually enticing.
I was brought back to reality by the softness of Harry’s lips on the right corner of my mouth, and with my eyes still shut, I turned my cheek so that I could kiss him properly.
“Are you nervous?” I whispered against his lips.
He smiled and shook his head, and I lifted my palm to his chest and held it over his heart, which was beating steadily beneath the white and navy plaid shirt that he had on. I let my touch linger, soaking up his warmth, before slowly bringing my hand and lips from him. His eyes found mine, twinkling with a fiery hue from the street lamp outside, and I smiled before relaxing back into the seat; feeling somewhat comforted by his own calm.
The drive to Canterbury took half the time that I’d expected it to, which I assumed was because of the swift and powerful engine of the vehicle that we were in, as well as the emptiness of the roads that we drove along. Harry’s driving was almost as impressive as the car itself; controlled and effortless. Even though we were nearing speeds of almost 90mph at times, I felt safe in his hands. And that was in every sense of the word. I trusted him with my life.
We pulled up outside my house just after half 7. The house that I lived in was set before a large expanse of green; detached, though one of about five in a row. White bricks framed a house that wasn’t overly big, but it was one that I called my home. I’d lived there since I came into the world; I’d grown up there. As we walked past the gate at the beginning of the drive way and towards the black door right in the centre of the building, Harry linked his fingers with mine and held my hand tightly in his.
“Don’t be nervous,” he smiled.
His smile was infectious, and I laughed breathily as we stood before the door whilst I rummaged for my keys in my bag. My pulse was running away from my mind as I silently willed it to slow down and I could feel my clammy skin slipping against Harry’s palm, though he didn’t seem to mind. I knew that I was being irrational, but it was one of those things that I couldn’t control. I was nervous because I regarded Harry with an affection that I’d never felt before. He was the closest I’d ever come to being in love.
I pushed the door open and an aroma of warm home-cooked food and spices hit me. It was one of those home-comforts that made you feel ten years old again.
“Hello?” I called out down the lit magnolia hallway.
The door to the kitchen immediately swung open and my mum stood in the doorway with a huge smile on her face, surrounded by the soft lulls of the radio.
“You’re here!” she exclaimed almost disbelievingly as she walked over to me and put her arms around my shoulders. “And early!”
“Roads were clear,” I laughed as she squeezed me tightly before letting me go and turning her attention to Harry.
“And you must be Harry,” she declared with a smile.
“Nice to meet you,” he grinned, before holding out his hand for my mum to shake and then kissing her cheek.
Her cheeks were flushed as he pulled away and I could tell that she’d instantly warmed to him, just from his polite gesture. The door to the right of us which led to the living room opened and my dad emerged.
“Thought I heard some noise,” he smiled.
My heart pounded aberrantly as his eyes found Harry’s. I was certain that it was one of the most nerve-racking milliseconds of my life. Bar that one time that I had to get up in front of the whole school and play the piano as part of our music programme. Harry took a step forwards and held out his hand towards my dad.
“Harry,” he smiled as they exchanged a strong handshake.
“David,” my dad replied warmly. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Harry.”
“And you.”
“Can I get you a drink? Beer?”
“Beer’s good, thanks,” Harry smiled again, and he reassuringly brushed the tips of his fingers over the top of my palm that was resting at my side.
“Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” my mum spoke. “Perhaps you can show Harry around and then join us in the living room?”
I turned to Harry and he nodded, before grabbing our bags and taking them up the stairs.
After showing Harry the rest of the house, we went and sat in the living room with my parents. The room was very homely and traditional. It looked a little bit like something you’d find in a countryside cottage; cream walls with a red velvet three piece suite, large dark wooden beams across the ceiling. A large open fire roared amidst a brick opening in the wall; adding to the light that was coming from the glass chandelier above. As a child, I’d always watched my dad chop wood in the garden before helping him carry it inside and settling down beside the fire. It was one of those little quirks about the house that I loved.
I was surprised at how well my dad and Harry were getting along as they sat across the room from one another, engrossed in conversations that flitted between vintage cars and 70s rock, which I occasionally zoned into. Harry was confident and held his own, yet it wasn’t overbearing and he was warm and respectful towards my dad. He wasn’t afraid to ask questions and share his knowledge, and I think that my dad was pleasantly surprised by his mature approach to the conversations that they were having. He’d even somehow managed to make my dad laugh hysterically, which was a rarity. He had a very particular sense of humour that was dry and difficult to target; a combination of clever wit and satire.
Dinner came around and my nerves had completely disintegrated. I imagine that the large glass of white wine I’d had had played a part in that, though not as big a part as Harry’s warmth and politeness. Four plates of steaming hot homemade lasagne sat in front of us with a bowl of salad in the middle of the table. It was comfort food, but it was nice comfort food and had always been one of my favourites, particularly on cold winter evenings.
“Millie, can you pass the wine please?” my mum asked as she sat down at the opposite end of the table.
As I carefully leant over the table and handed her the chilled bottle, Harry caught my attention, smiling.
“They’ve always called me Millie. Ever since I was small,” I explained softly, just loud enough for him to hear.
“I like it.”
I shrugged and laughed. “It never really caught on at school. Only my parents call me by it.”
“Do you like being called Millie?”
“I don’t mind it,” I smiled. “But I prefer Emilia. Always have done.”
“So Harry,” my mum stole his attention from me. “Have you been to Canterbury before?”
“Nope, first time,” he smiled.
“It’s nice here. Relaxing.”
“Aka quiet with not much to do,” I interjected playfully.
Harry laughed and clasped his hand over my knee beneath the table. His touch was like fire; blinding my mind and igniting the beat of my heart. His thumb stroked over the thin denim of my jeans and I looked up at him and smiled, before his hand moved from me and he took his fork in his hand.
By the time we’d finished dinner, it was nearing 10pm. I was tired from the day’s work so I excused us from the table and took Harry up to my room. Even though I hadn’t lived at home for some years, my room was left untouched. The walls were the same pale blue that they had been when I’d left and the same photos of teenage memories lined my desk. The whiteness of the wooden furniture matched the linen upon my bed as well as the curtains, and my first ever bear from when I was born sat right in the middle of the double bed along the back wall.
“Why are you smiling?” I laughed as I looked up at Harry, who was glancing around my room.
“I don’t know. I like it... Being here, I mean.”
I walked over to the bed and sat down. The bed dipped at my side as Harry sat down next to me, sitting so close that there was just an inch or so between us.
“Why?” I asked softly and he smiled again.
“I already feel like I know you better.”
I blushed and he reached behind him and took the bear in his hands.
“What’s he called?”
“Bear,” I laughed, and Harry’s eyes warmed with amusement.
“Bear?”
“It was my first word.”
His dimple flexed and he put the bear back down where it was, before turning his attention to the photo on the side of my desk. It captured me and three other friends sat on the bottom bed of a bunk bed, dressed ridiculously and pulling some make-shift poses that we probably thought would catch on but never did.
“That was from a school trip to France when I was about 15,” I smiled reminiscently. “We got in so much trouble for sneaking alcohol in our suitcases.”
“Tell me something else,” Harry smiled as he turned to face me again.
“Like what?”
“Anything. Everything,” he laughed. “Where’s your favourite place?”
“Cornwall,” I answered without hesitation. “We went every year when I was a child.”
“I’ve never been.”
“You have to go. It’s lovely. Though I haven’t been in a few years. I miss it.”
The way he was looking at me had my heart pounding; it was as if he was trying to bury himself right into the heart of my mind.
“Perhaps we’ll go some time,” he smiled.
“Perhaps we will.”
He fell back to the sheets below and put his hands behind his head as he thought for a few moments. I twisted my body and lay down on my front at his side, and he lifted his head to look at me.
“What’s your favourite memory?”
I hummed. “I guess most Christmases when I was young. My grandparents used to stay for the week and spoil me rotten,” I laughed.
“Are they still alive?”
“No. They both passed away when I was ten.”
He brought one hand from the back of his head and moved it through my hair.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. It was a long time ago,” I smiled wistfully. “How about you?”
“Favourite memory?”
“Yes,” I nodded.
“Hmm. I don’t know... I have lots.”
He paused for a moment and smirked. “And last weekend is now definitely one of them.”
“It is?”
Harry turned on to his side and pulled me in towards him. “Yes,” he whispered. “Very much so.”
I exhaled a long and deep breath before his lips came on to mine for a gentle and lazy kiss in which neither of us barely even opened our mouths.
“Can I shower?” Harry mumbled.
I nodded as I pulled his lower lip between mine.
“Are you joining me?”
I sucked on his lip gently before letting it slip free.
I shook my head and smiled. “I showered before we left.”
Harry sponged a single kiss to my lips before sitting up and hauling his button-up shirt and white t-shirt over his head in one, leaving him in just his jeans.
“Is it safe to undress in here or shall I wait until we get to the bathroom?”
“My parents are downstairs and the bathroom’s just across the hall, so you’ll be fine,” I laughed as I admired his broad back and shoulders, slowly drawing my eyes down the deep crevice that his spine drew in along the centre of his back. He stood up and dropped his jeans to the floor, followed by his underwear.
“Towels are in the bathroom,” I muttered distantly as I eyed his naked form; crossing my legs slightly to try and relieve some of the tension that was building between my thighs.
Harry turned to me and smiled, and I couldn’t prevent a quiet groan from catching on the edge of my exhalation as his manhood lay bare in front of my very eyes. He laughed and leant down to kiss me, and as he did, I did everything in my power to keep him there; from the depth of my kiss to the grip of my hands on his forearms. I was perfectly fine with him not showering; he smelt of musk and man, and that scent was entirely arousing.
“I won’t be long,” Harry smiled as he slowly stood back up and walked towards the door, giving my eyes a free pass to indulge right until he pulled the door to behind him.
In the time it had taken Harry to shower, I’d moisturised and slipped on a light grey tank top and some matching shorts that clung to my backside. He walked back in the room with a white towel tucked around him, hanging just below his hips. His torso was glistening in the subdued lighting that my bedside lamp gave off, but his hair was dry; now slightly thicker and messier from the humidity of the shower. With his hair looking like that and with the pink flush to his cheeks and chest from the heat of the water, he looked like he’d been well and truly fucked.
“How was your shower?” I asked as I propped myself up on to my elbows.
“Nice, though missing something,” he smiled as he looked up at me from his bag.
He pulled out a pair of chequered flannel pyjama bottoms and slipped them up his legs and over his hips before walking over to the bed. I stretched my hand out towards him as he knelt at the end of my bed with a knee either side of my feet. He inhaled deeply and stretched his arms above his head so that the muscles that lined the front of his torso pulled tightly beneath his skin and the beginnings of his pubic hair slipped just above the waistband of his bottoms. As he let that same breath out, his arms came down and he crawled over my body, so that his knees were between my thighs and forearms either side of my head.
“You smell nice,” he murmured against my lips as he held himself above me.
I crossed my ankles behind his back and drew him in so that he was resting between my thighs with his bare chest over mine.
“You feel nice,” I drawled as I ran my hands along the damp skin of his back.
“Mm?” he hummed as he grazed his nose over mine.
I slipped my hands beneath the waistband of his jogging bottoms and slid them over the curve of his backside. His skin was soft and warm, but the muscle beneath was firm. As his lips met mine, he raised his hips slightly and moved his hand between us; pressing his palm against the area between my legs and rubbing me over the material of my shorts.
“And how does that feel?” he asked softly.
“Nice,” I sighed against his lips, to which he smiled.
I lifted my hips up towards him and he singled his middle finger out from the rest; pressing it right between my cleft.
“Harry,” I breathed out without even thinking.
“You’re wet through your shorts,” he smirked as he continued to slide his finger back and forth.
I breathed out a shaky laugh as I began rocking my hips against his touch; simulating the motions of having him inside of me.
“You never asked me my favourite place,” Harry whispered as he tucked his hand beneath my shorts.
“Tell me your favourite place,” I muttered as my eyes fluttered shut.
His middle finger pushed past my wet cleft and curved upwards inside of me, stroking over my sweet spot.
“Right here.”
His lips moved so slowly over mine as he spoke and my stomach clenched, alongside my wet flesh around his finger. He smirked at my reaction to his words and pushed a second finger inside of me, stretching me, though still nowhere near to the size of his own girth.
“Sometimes I wonder if your body was made for me.”
I whined as I dropped my knees down to the bed to accommodate the fullness of his fingers, carefully moving back and forth.
“So tight,” he breathed out. “But I fit so perfectly.”
I lifted my head from the pillow and opened my lips up to him, tasting his sweet mouth.
“For you,” I whispered.
I wasn’t saying those words for his gratification. I was saying them because each time we were together, I felt like I was made for him. We came together so perfectly; not just physically, but emotionally as well. With Harry, I felt like I existed in a completely different world to the one that time and gravity confined us to. I couldn’t imagine giving my body to anybody else. I didn’t want to imagine it. Perhaps this feeling wasn’t just mine; perhaps everybody felt the same thing when they were with that one person that they wanted to be with. That made no difference to me. I felt this way and that was all that mattered. He smiled and withdrew his fingers from me, before moving his lips along my jaw and then to my neck. His tongue was hot and wet over my skin; teeth grazing my flesh every now and then as he parted his lips. He pushed my vest top over my stomach and breasts; covering my skin with his hands as well as his mouth. I pulled it the rest of the way above my head and sank back to the bed below.
Glancing up at me, Harry licked his tongue against the crotch of my shorts, until I could feel the wetness of his mouth seeping through the material. A shudder ran through me as he closed his lips over the material so that it absorbed his hot breath, before kissing the area and smiling up at me.
“I’ve never had sex in this bed before,” I whispered as he drew my shorts down my legs.
“No?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t lost my virginity until I was eighteen, and it was whilst I was at university with a guy on my course that I’d been seeing for a few weeks. It was one of those things that I regretted from time to time, but I knew that there was no point in dwelling on something that was long lost in the past. I bent my left knee and then my right, making it easier for him to remove my shorts.
“I guess we’d better make it worthwhile then,” he smirked before planting a wet kiss on my hip.
Harry pushed my legs apart so that they were almost at right angles to my body; hands clasped around the very tops of my thighs. He kissed the inside of my left leg, and then my right, before taking the skin between his teeth and marking me with dark affection. I held my hand over my mouth and whimpered against my own flesh. As the bruise stung beneath my skin, he licked the crease of my right thigh, continuing to hold my legs still. I knew that he’d take his time whether I pleaded with him or not. Harry rarely ever rushed; he liked to take his time to enjoy.
I watched through half-closed lids in anticipation as his lips sponged kisses closer to where I desperately wanted to feel him. They ghosted right down the length of my centre, before his tongue pushed me apart and drew a long, hot lick upwards until he reached my clitoris. My entire body convulsed as he flicked the tip of his tongue over the throbbing bundle of nerves, and then again; dark eyes looking up at even blacker pools. I bit my lip as a pleasured smile pulled at each of my mouth ends; tongue circling my clit every so lightly. My thighs quivered as he stroked the tip of his tongue back and forth down the right hand side, which he’d come to learn was my most sensitive part. My hips instinctively tried to buck towards his face, but the grip he had on me was too powerful for my body to fight against. Instead, every single ounce of pleasure was bitten into the back of my hand in a desperate attempt to keep quiet.
His tongue journeyed south and began to slowly dip in and out of me. I writhed restlessly beneath his tight hold; using my hands to clutch at the sheets and hold on to his own hands as I began to unravel at his sweet mercy. In the quiet of the room, wet flesh upon wet flesh sounded loudly amidst shallow breaths and soft moans. He lapped his tongue a few more times over my swollen clit before kissing his way back up my body and finishing on my lips.
“Do you have a condom?” Harry whispered, which I assumed was for my benefit so I didn’t have to get up afterwards.
I smiled against his lips and reached to my bedside drawer, where I felt around for a little while before locating a small square packet. I watched in silent awe as Harry pushed his pyjama bottoms from his hips and let his cock spring free; curving up towards his abdomen, though standing away from his body from the weight of his thick flesh. My stomach clenched at the sight and as he took the condom packet in his hand, I clasped mine over his and stopped him from opening it. It was far too tempting for my mouth to ignore. Looking up at him, I snaked my hands around his warm backside and pulled him towards me. His eyes lit up and he smirked as he shuffled on his knees until he was knelt over my chest, and as I stroked his cock in my palm, he reached for another pillow and propped it beneath my head. Without saying a word, he pushed his length towards my lips and held it there, ready for me to tease as his eyes flicked between mine and my mouth. I slid my tongue along the underside of the head of his dick and wrapped my lips around him. His flesh was like warm velvet on my tongue, and as I held him in my mouth, I felt him pulse hotly against my lips. His right hand came down to my face and he stroked my jaw as I took him deeper, before moving my lips back and forth slowly, which probed short and quiet moans from above me. The very beginnings of his climax trickled on to my tongue, hot and so very slightly salty. I rolled his balls in my hand and he braced himself against the wall; stomach muscles tight as his he pushed his hips forwards until I had to let him fall from my lips to catch my breath.
“You have no idea how good that feels,” Harry whispered with a soft curve to his lips as I licked and sucked him for a few moments longer.
Having him in my mouth gave me the chance to really feel him; to feel each vein and ridge against my tongue. Though I struggled to take him all, that didn’t stop me from trying, and I gagged a few times as I pulled him in closer to me; so close that his neat pubic hair almost brushed against my lips. As he fell from my lips for a second time, he brushed his thumb tenderly over them. Harry’s taste and scent was so alluringly male; lingering strongly on my lips and tongue as he rolled the condom down his rigid length. He leant forwards and held himself above me with his eyes on mine and with a smile to his lips. We shifted on the bed and Harry pulled the duvet over us, cocooning us in warm secrecy. I felt my palms over his upper arms and shoulders, before settling them on the nape of his neck and lightly teasing the curls that hung there loosely. He lined himself at my wet entrance and slid himself inside of me in one slow yet firm motion. I dug my fingers into the back of his neck and pressed my lips against his shoulder as I tried to catch my breath. As I dropped my head back to the pillow and looked up at him, he came down on to his forearms. He flexed his hips and the mattress squeaked, and I smiled and held my index finger to his lips.
“Probably best you’ve never had sex in this bed,” Harry laughed quietly as he kept his hips close to mine and pushed himself in deeper.
He covered my mouth with his as a strangled cry pushed from my throat and he begun moving incredibly slowly inside of me; making sure to tease me with every hot inch of him. Part of me was imagining that it was my first time all over again; wishing that it was. My first time wasn’t like anything that I’d hoped it would be. But with Harry, he was always so tender. (Even with a leather crop in his hand). This was how I’d imagined it. Squeaking mattresses, duvet overhead, laughing, kissing, trying desperately to keep quiet. Fuck, he felt so good.
“Harry,” I whispered his name, just because it was his and because I could.
“I love the way you say my name,” he admitted as he pinned his forehead to mine. “Especially when I’m inside of you.”
“Harry, Harry, Harry,” his name rolled off of my tongue so perfectly.
He smiled and thrust harder and my own smile was wiped from my face; replaced with a deeply furrowed brow and open lips that quietly begged him for more.
“You’re so big,” the words passed my lips mindlessly in the heat of the moment. “Fuck me.”
He withdrew from me and twisted my hips so that I was on my front flat against the sheets. As his fingers linked with mine either side of my head, he filled me right to my core; holding himself still as I squeezed my needy muscles around him. There was no space between us; skin on skin rubbing and heating. I turned my head to look over my shoulder and his lips came down on to mine desperately. With each deep thrust, I could feel the drag of his hip bones on the backs of mine. I could feel the metal of his pendant sandwiched between my back and his chest. I could feel his breath on my cheek; lips grazing my skin as he whispered hotly into my ear.
“Come on, darling.”
He slid his hand between my stomach and the sheets and pulled me up against him as he increased his drive. I’d always loved the word darling, and hearing Harry say it whilst I was right on the edge did unspeakable things to my mind. From endearing to erotic in the flex of his strong hips.
“Fuck Harry,” I whimpered. “I’m coming.”
I shut my eyes and pressed my lips to the top of my hand, closer and closer, higher, tighter, until I came quietly around him; milking him over and over until he groaned into the back of my neck and collapsed breathlessly on top of me.
I stirred from my sleep in the middle of the night and Harry’s lips found mine almost instantly; as if in complete tune with my consciousness. He pulled my waist into his, stroking my skin, before I turned around in his arms so that my back was against his chest and he held me close until I drifted back off to sleep.
-
Harry and I were up and out of the house by 10.30am. The sun was out and the skies were blue, but it was still cold enough to warrant me wearing a jumper, coat and two pairs of socks inside of my leather boots. We’d discussed the possibility of Harry being seen out and about before we’d fallen asleep the night before; lying in a warm, sweaty tangle of limbs. Time had passed and my feelings had changed since my concerns about the possible speculation from the media and public. I didn’t have those same worries anymore. I wanted to be with Harry, both behind closed doors and in front of them. It was a huge part of his life and I wanted to be a part of it.
I’d chosen a quiet spot for us to take a walk, right through the countryside fields that lay flat behind the village that I lived in. I knew that once we reached a certain point, we’d be able to see the Cathedral towering tall above the townscape skyline. It was a place that I’d always gone whenever I wanted some time to myself to gather my thoughts, or to simply relax and empty my mind.
The green fields glistened with the cold morning dew; illuminated by a bright white sun that shone low and mercilessly in the sky. Apart from a few dog walkers and Saturday morning cyclists, Harry and I seemed to be the only ones amidst the beautiful scenery.
“How are your fingers not cold?” I shivered as I rubbed my gloved hands together.
Harry laughed and held his hands out. “No idea. Are you cold?”
I nodded and he slid his hand around my waist, pulling me against his body. His thick trench coat instantly sheltered me from the cool breeze that blew sharply against my cheeks every now and then, and I smiled as he held me in his warmth.
“I’ve been thinking,” Harry began. “After what we were talking about last night.”
“What about?” I asked curiously.
“I have a charity dinner that I’m going to not next Saturday, but the one after that.”
We came to a halt as we reached the peak of the low hill; turning around to be greeted by such peace and serenity. Not a person in sight.
“I’d really like you to come with me.”
I looked up into warm and hopeful eyes. They looked blue today; bright like crystals as the sun reflected in them. His lips were darker than usual and slightly dry and chapped from the cold weather, yet they still looked completely tempting and kissable.
“I’d like to,” I smiled. “If you’re sure.”
The tension in his lips and cheeks reduced and he smiled.
“We don’t have to say anything, or even hold hands. Liam and Danielle kept their relationship hidden for months before they came out,” he laughed, “but I’d really like you there. With me.”
“Will I get to sit next to you?”
Harry laughed again. “Yes.”
“Black tie event?”
“It is.”
The thought of Harry in a suit sent my mind into a torturous state, especially if it was anything like the outfit he’d worn to the Burberry after party at London Fashion Week. There was something about a man in a suit that really got me going; from the way it clung to his frame to the elegance and sophistication that exuded from it. I was certain that Harry would be wearing something that far exceeded my expectations. And most likely something that showed him off gloriously in every way possible. But that was beside the point. The point was that Harry wanted me there with him. And I already knew that despite what he said, I wanted to hold his hand as we arrived.
I inhaled the refreshing country air and looked out on to the horizon.
“Thank you, by the way.”
“What for?”
“For coming home with me this weekend.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” he smiled. “I wanted to.”
“Yeah, but for being so good with my dad,” I laughed. “He’s not always easily pleased, but my mum told me that he really likes you.”
“I’m sure I’ll be the same one day, especially if I have a daughter.”
“You want children?”
“Well not now,” he laughed. “But some day, I guess.”
I looked up at him and he smiled; that deep dimpled half-smile that made my knees weak. The thought of Harry with a baby in his arms, soothing and lulling her to sleep with that low and velvety voice of his, had my brooding instincts going into overdrive. I’d never given children much thought; I guess it was just one of those things that I assumed would happen when the time was right. I knew that Harry would be the type of person to give his child his whole world. He was so kind, thoughtful and compassionate and one day, when he was ready to settle down and start a new chapter of his life, he’d make a wonderful dad and an equally as wonderful husband. Perhaps even more so than I could imagine.
Harry and I sat and talked on the top of that hill until the wintery air forced us back down to the sheltered town. We wandered aimlessly along the river as the sun began to sink behind the fields and the late afternoon darkness hung over us. My parents had gone out for a few drinks that evening, so Harry and I decided to stay indoors and cook together; somehow creating a culinary success of chicken and roasted vegetables.
“Where did you even learn to cook?” I laughed as Harry set our plates at the table.
I’d chopped and diced, but Harry had done the majority of the cooking.
“I used to watch my mum a lot when I was younger. I guess I just picked it up from her.”
“The most I can manage is pasta and scrambled eggs.”
He raised his left brow and laughed. “Together?”
“No, no. Two whole separate meals. It’s what I lived off during university. That and packets of smoked salmon.”
“Expensive taste,” he smirked as he sat down, and I took the chair adjacent to his, rather than opposite.
“Coming from the person with a Range Rover and an Audi,” I laughed. “Do you have any other secret cars I should know about?”
He finished his mouthful before looking up at me with an almost devious grin set across his face.
“Not yet... But I have had my eye on a vintage Jag for a while.”
I smiled as I stuck my fork into a sliced piece of courgette, watching him as he took another mouthful. Tongue first, lips after. He always did it; like he was really making sure that he could taste and enjoy what was going into his mouth. It reminded me of something. We were having dinner and all I could think about was him licking me to my end. He wasn’t even doing it intentionally and I was hot and flustered; squeezing my legs together beneath the table as I sneaked a peak up at him every now and then.
We washed and cleared the plates away before settling down in front of the fire and watching a film that we’d come across whilst flicking through the TV channels. I lay with my body curled up against his on the sofa; hand over his stomach as his wandered aimlessly over my back. His chalky grey cable knit jumper was soft against my cheek and palm. It smelt of a mixture of Harry and winter air; subtle hints of burnt wood that had caught in the fibres during our walk in the countryside. Lazy touches turned into lazy kisses, and we kissed for what felt like hours in a state of complete and utter warm bliss. I didn’t ever want to leave his arms.
-
“Well it’s been lovely having you,” my mum smiled as all four of us stood in the door way on Sunday afternoon. “And finally meeting you,” she turned her attention towards Harry, and I couldn’t help but blush.
“And you,” he replied with a quick peck of his lips to her cheek, before holding his hand out to my dad.
“I’ll be home the Friday before Christmas,” I smiled as I opened up the door and a cool blast of air hit my cheeks.
“Drive safely.”
“I will,” Harry smiled to my dad.
“And next time you’re here, I’ll take you to that vintage car fair that I was telling you about.”
I rolled my eyes at my mum before saying my goodbyes and stepping out of the door.
“I look forward to it,” Harry finished as he followed my path and the door closed behind us.
We drove the long route home; taking winding country roads and back streets. There was no rush and the weather was perfectly fine for a drive. And I was very much enjoying being in the Audi and the incredible smoothness of its drive.
“Am I dropping you off at yours or would you like to stay at mine?” Harry asked as we drove past the first road sign for London.
“That depends if you’d like me to stay at yours,” I laughed.
He took his eyes off the road for a quick moment to look at me.
“I’d like you to stay at mine.”
“Then I’ll stay at yours.”
“Good.”
I could see him smiling in the corner of my eye.
“But I don’t have any suitable clothes for work.”
“Well we’ll stop off at yours and you can get some?”
“Okay,” I smiled. “What have you got on tomorrow anyway?”
“Hmm... I think we have a radio interview at 9 but I can’t remember,” he laughed. “I’ll find out when we’re back.”
-
Harry and I sat on his sofa with our legs locked and the soft flicker of the TV illuminating the room. I wasn’t really paying attention to what was on the screen in front; I was more so lost in my own thoughts, which consisted of what seemed like everything and nothing. The blanket covering my legs was warm and I welcomed Harry’s body on top of mine as he leant over to kiss me with lips so wet and soft.
“Are you tired?” he spoke against my lips; smirking as I shook my head. I could tell that he was restless from the agitated caress of his hands running over my thighs and up the sides of my body.
“Do you remember when I said we’d test your self-control some day?”
“Yes,” I whispered as my heart began to pound.
“How about this evening?”
He slowly increased the pressure of his thigh between my legs.
“What do you mean?” I spoke through stilted breaths, caused by both anticipation and exhilaration.
“I mean,” he craned his neck and swept his tongue over my lower lip.
“Do you,” his lips moved over mine, “want to,” breathing hotly over my skin, “play?”
He parted his lips and gently flicked his tongue over my own.
“Yes.”
He smiled as he closed his lips around mine for a brief moment.
“Come with me.”
He led me hand in hand to the dining room of his house, which was a room that I’d only ever been in once or twice. The floors were made from beech laminate flooring with a huge oblong glass table in the middle that had black leather chairs tucked in at each edge. The curtains were cream and draped right from the ceiling to the floor, and I knew that they opened up to the street at the front of the house.
“I won’t be a moment,” Harry spoke before departing from the room and leaving me there.
I stood still for a moment, glancing around the room as I stood there with bare feet. I walked over to the curtains and pulled a gap between them to look out on to the night streets; lit only by a few streetlamps and dim lights through curtain-shrouded windows. It felt much later than it really was, and I knew that it wasn’t much past 7.15pm.
I turned on the balls of my feet as I heard Harry come back into the room. He dropped something behind the door and it landed with a light thud, before finding my line of contact and walking over to me. He kissed me once. And then again. Moving his hands beneath my jumper and sliding them over my waist. His touch was firm and rough, yet his lips moved delicately over my own. My body was a frenzy of sensations and as he leant into me even further, I wrapped my right leg around the back of his and pulled him in towards me. He smirked against my lips as he clasped his hand around my thigh and pushed it back to the floor. Apparently we’d already started.
“We’ll start by taking this off,” Harry drawled as he pushed my jumper over my head. I stood with my lower back pressed against the window sill; completely sandwiched between that and Harry’s body.
“And this,” he smirked against my cheek as his hands moved behind my back and he unclasped my bra with one swift flick of his thumb and forefinger.
My breasts fell free; nipples already hard from the work of his hands upon my body. He flicked the pads of his thumbs over the stiff peaks, just once, before dragging them down my body and popping the top button of my jeans open with an equally as skilled flick to the one that had removed my bra. He dropped to his knees and pulled both my jeans and underwear down to my ankles; looking up at me as he held the back of my knee to help me step out of them. His lips ghosted the very innards of my thighs before he came back up to his feet and stood tall before me with his hands either side of my hips. The touch during my swift undressing had been minimal, but it was enough to have my pulse pushing blood through me and hairs standing on end.
Naked, I watched as he walked over to the open door and came back with one of his white t-shirts.
“I want you to wear this,” he spoke as he lifted my arms over my head and slipped it on. “For now.”
It fell mid-way down my thighs and draped loosely over my torso; covering my body, bar my limbs. I looked up at him with confused eyes; not quite sure why he’d undressed me to dress me again.
“If you’re wondering,” he whispered sultrily as he leant towards my ear. “I’m covering your body because I don’t want you to get cold in here.”
His fingertips danced just beneath the hem of the t-shirt.
“And I remember how aroused you were to see yourself in that mirror when you were spread upon the bed.”
His lips came over mine.
“You’re sensitive to visuals,” he smirked, “I don’t want you giving into your own body before we’ve even started.”
Harry’s cryptic words held me mesmerised. I wasn’t entirely sure what this test was going to involve, but judging by the look on Harry’s face, I had a feeling that he was going to challenge both my physical and mental stamina.
He turned from me and pulled one of the leather chairs out to the centre of the floor.
“Come here,” he asked gently, though with a wickedly erotic twist to his voice.
I walked over to the chair and stood before Harry.
“I’d like you to sit as you would do normally but with your knees apart and your ankles either side of the chair legs.”
The leather was cool on the backs of my thighs as I sat down as Harry had asked; watching as he walked back over to the door and pulled out two strands of white rope. He held my gaze as he knelt at my feet and bound my ankles to the wooden legs of the chair; rope twisting right up to just below my knees. I tensed my thigh muscles as I tested to see if I could bring them together.
“Notice how I’ve bound you from ankles to knees?”
I nodded.
“You won’t be able to close your legs unless I untie you, so you may as well save your energy.”
Another cryptic line to play on my mind. His words suggested struggle, though I couldn’t see past the dark glint in his eyes as he smirked up at me. He smoothed his palms along the insides of my thighs right until his fingertips reached the creases, before standing up and walking behind me.
“I want you to sit on your hands,” he breathed hotly into my ear. “And stay like that.”
He bunched my hair into his palm and pulled it to the right, so that my head followed and the left side of my neck was extended and exposed for his lips to venture upon. I shut my eyes and exhaled sharply as he planted hot, wet kisses so slowly over my skin.
“You’re not to touch yourself,” he murmured as he pulled my hair tighter.
“What if I do?”
His lips spread across my skin, as if he were amused, before he moved back to my ear.
“I’ll turn your chair to face the window, open the curtains and won’t untie you until you’ve made yourself come.”
His words reached my groin instantly and my muscles tensed, forcing a heavy breath from my lips. I shuffled in my seat and slid my hands beneath my thighs with my palms facing upwards. He let go of my hair and my head jolted back to the centre. He walked to the corner of the room to a sound system that was attached to the wall; humming to himself as he ran the tip of his index finger between his lips in thought.
“You like the cello, don’t you?” he asked as he pressed a few buttons.
“Yes... Sir,” I added as an afterthought with a seductive slant to my voice.
His head turned quickly over his shoulder to look at me; eyes wide as the left side of his mouth kinked. Harry was naturally dominant, but he wasn’t a Dom. In that respect, we were equal. But I wanted to test his reaction to that title. I wanted him to play with me. To test me. Push me. The look on his face as I addressed him in that manner was one that I hadn’t seen before, and the tension that pulled between us at that moment in time told me that he was going to do just that.
The harsh bow of a cello sounded across the room and my ears pricked as I watched him walk towards me, until he was standing between my legs and bent over with his lips just moments from my own. I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to ask him to kiss me, but I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth.
“Control,” he breathed out softly, only just loud enough to overcome the heavy drum of my heart. And then his lips were gone, before I’d even had a chance to capture their fullness against my own, and I was watching him walk from the room. He was leaving me and I couldn’t do anything to stop him. I was powerless. Nervous with uncertainty. Yet so incredibly wet.
“How long are you leaving me here?” I breathed out hastily.
His silence teased me more than his words ever had, and I sat there unknowing; hands still set firmly beneath my thighs, legs spread.
“Oh Emilia,” Harry turned on the balls of his feet as he reached the door and I looked up at him with wondrous and awing eyes.
“The safe word stands outside of that room as well.”
The warmth in his own eyes settled the nervous twist in my stomach instantly, and he looked at me for a few fleeting heartbeats before leaving the room and pulling the door to.
I shuffled on my seat as I tested my restraints once more. I wondered whether Harry would be able to tell if I touched myself... Perhaps he’d be able to smell it in the air, or catch a glisten of moisture on my greedy fingertips. But whether he’d know or not, it would be a betrayal of the trust that he’d put in me. It would be disobedient. It would show weakness on my part. Lack of control. The whole point of me being tied to this chair was to test that and I was going to use every ounce of strength and energy in my bones to take myself as far as I could go.
I shut my eyes and focused on the music drifting through the room; desperately trying to cloud my awareness of the incessant throbbing between my legs. Being spread and open like that heated my insides; knowing how easy it would be for Harry to tease and play with me... when the time came. I wondered how I looked. With a quick pull of my t-shirt, I’d be able to see myself; pink and glowing. Just being able to see my nipples poking through the thin cotton of Harry’s t-shirt made me want to pinch and caress them. Harry was right when he’d said that I liked visuals. There was something about seeing the human body react to certain things that I found so incredibly fascinating and arousing. Seeing my nipples hard made me focus on the hot tingle and ache even more so, and as my mind wandered down my body, I inadvertently whimpered as I focused on the dull throb between my legs. I was wet before and I was even wetter now.
But I was to sit on my hands until Harry freed me of his command. The brooding cello helped to soothe the rapid beat of my heart; running through my veins like a hazy sedative. It was hard and fervent in places, lamenting in others. Part of me wanted to call out Harry’s name; the other half wanted to sit and wait.
And I did. With my hands tucked beneath my thighs, I waited patiently and torturously; sighing frustratedly as the concerto came to an end began to run through again. I’d found it much easier to shut my eyes and relax the first time around, but as it played through for a second time, I drifted between states of agitation and discomfort. I wondered how long he planned to leave me here. It had already been over half an hour, or so my mental body-body clock guessed. But half an hour wasn’t a long time at all... I knew that things like this could last for hours at a time, sometimes more.
As the piece of music finished its second run through, my attention fell quickly to the opening of the door. Harry’s eyes instantly found mine and my words locked in my throat again; smothered by my shallow breaths.
“How are you feeling?” Harry asked as he kept his eyes on mine.
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Good,” he smirked before leaving the room just as suddenly as he’d appeared.
“Harry,” I called out desperately.
And again, louder. Nothing. I groaned and dropped my head back to the ceiling, shutting my eyes.
Time passed and the weight of my thighs upon my hands sent them numb. I wriggled from side to side. Obedience, I told myself. The leather moved beneath me and in turn, began to smooth over the very base of my centre, creating a tormentingly gentle friction. I inhaled deeply as I pushed down harder in an attempt to relieve myself. It was so subtle, but felt so incredibly good after being spread for such a long time.
My eyes shot up to the door as it opened once more. Harry’s bare feet sounded softly upon the wooden floor as walked towards me and stood behind the back of the chair, before leaning forwards and letting his hot breath slide down my neck. He’d showered- he smelt warm and clean with soft hints of mint. But he’d still gotten dressed again, wearing just a plain white t-shirt with slack blue denim jeans.
“Are you turned on?”
His question took me by surprise.
“No,” I lied indignantly; still frustrated that he’d come in and left me before this, hot and wanting. He moved around to my front and squatted between my open knees. I watched his hands as they graced over my thighs and pushed the hem of the t-shirt right up to the tops of them; revealing my entirety to him.
“Okay,” he remarked humorously with a quirk to his lips, and I glanced downwards to see an unmistakable wet patch on the chair. Without touching me, he’d already kissed, teased and fucked my mind.
He stood back up and leant forwards, brushing his lips over the shell of my ear.
“Did you touch yourself whilst I was gone?” he asked quietly.
I shook my head slowly and he traced the outer shell of my ear with his hot tongue.
“Are you lying to me, like you just did when I asked it you were turned on?”
I shook my head again, rendered speechless.
“Did you think about touching yourself?”
“Yes.”
“I bet you did.”
He placed his right knee between my legs and pressed it forwards so that it was pressing firmly between my open cleft; hard denim on sensitive flesh.
“Harry,” I whimpered.
“You’ve got my jeans wet,” he whispered into my ear so quietly that I could only just hear him.
I exhaled shakily as he withdrew his knee from between my legs and walked to stand behind me again.
“Arms up,” he instructed as he pinched the shoulders of my t-shirt.
I slid my hands from beneath my thighs, now hot and clammy, and held them above my head. He pulled the material from me and dropped it to the floor at my side.
“And back where they were,” he instructed, and I placed them back between my legs and the leather of the chair.
“Where did you go?”
His hands moved over my shoulders and across my chest, and as his palms brushed over my nipples, I arched my back towards his touch.
“I finished what we were watching on TV and then had a shower.”
I laughed; his response was so casual and blasé. But my humour didn’t last long. Whilst he caressed my breasts with his hands and fingers, he began sponging wet, open mouthed kisses over my shoulders; pressing his tongue to my skin as he did so. They came up the left side of my neck; so warm and soft as his breath washed over my skin.
“You’re not to come until I say you can,” he spoke between kisses. “Do you understand?”
I could feel my body trembling as the work of his hands descended to my stomach, rubbing firm circles over my skin that lowered inch by teasing inch. They reached my thighs and he began kneading my skin with his fingertips; ghosting his lips over the hollow behind my ear.
“Do you?” he whispered.
“What if I can’t?”
I’d never had to stop myself coming before. If anything, I’d usually had to focus on getting myself there, though this had never been the case with Harry. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to hold out; to deny my body of that natural urge once it was teetering right on the edge. I was already climbing that ladder. My muscles were winding up with each passing moment of Harry’s hands and lips on my skin, tightening, seeking that merciful release of pleasure. But I wanted to do this for Harry. For me. For us.
“You can do anything you put your mind to,” Harry spoke into my ear as his thumbs teased the creases between my pubis and thighs. “And you will not come before I say so.”
I shut my eyes and concentrated on the careful movement of his fingers.
“I’ll try,” I sighed in earnest.
“You will,” Harry corrected. “Or I’ll leave you tied to this chair until there’s a puddle on the floor.”
I groaned loudly in response to his erotic threat and he smirked against my skin.
“Though we’re not far off that, so perhaps I’ll have to rethink.”
I swore quietly as he finished his trail of kisses right upon my cheek; lingering there for as long as his hands continued to brush against my thighs.
“Kiss me first,” I pleaded. “Please.”
His hands left my thighs; the left holding me at my waist whilst the right came up to my neck and splayed over my jaw and cheek. He applied a gentle pressure and turned my head to face him, no more than a couple of centimetres apart. His eyes flickered back and forth between mine, holding me right in his stare, before closing the gap between us and pressing his lips to my own. His kiss was slow and sensual and he stroked my tongue with his as his lips covered mine. I wondered if it was possible to climax from just kissing. If it was, then I was positive that this was the type of kiss that could send somebody over the edge.
“Beautiful,” he whispered.
With my eyes still shut, I listened as he shuffled behind me. When I finally opened them, Harry was sat just foot or so in front of me on another one of the chairs from the table. His eyes were on me; legs parted as he sat with his back against the leather chair. His hands rested on his thighs; fingers splayed to their full span. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, and as he wet his lips, he leant forwards and placed his hands over my knees, rubbing my skin.
“Shall we relieve some of that pressure?” he spoke quietly, making sure to pronounce each of his words.
I nodded slowly.
“Show me how you use those little fingers of yours.”
His gaze never left mine, and after a few heavy beats of my heart, I brought my right hand from beneath me and grazed it along the inside of my thigh.
“Okay,” I whispered as my fingertips teased the skin right at the top of my thigh, slowly moving them downwards.
If I wasn’t so turned on, I would have felt a little apprehensive to pleasure myself in front of him; despite the fact that he’d seen me in all sorts of ways. But my body was so desperate and needy and a quiet moan broke out from my throat as I ran my middle finger between my cleft; instantly covering my finger in my own arousal. I teased my entrance with small circles and my wetness sounded out in the now quiet room.
“That’s it, darling” Harry breathed out heavily; eyes still set upon my own. “Go a little deeper for me.”
I pushed my finger inside of myself and teased my hot walls with the same circular motions.
“Good girl,” he encouraged. “Tell me how good it feels.”
“So good,” I whispered.
Without taking his eyes off of me, he undid the buckle of his belt and popped the top button of his jeans open. The zip fell open and I caught a glimpse of his bare length; no underwear beneath his jeans. He moved the left side of his jeans apart further and pulled his cock free so that it was resting firmly against the white material of his t-shirt. The contrast of his tan-pink skin upon white was so incredible to see; flushing a slightly deeper crimson as it neared the swollen head. Yet once free from his jeans, his hands resumed their place back on his thighs, and with dark pink lips and even darker eyes, he sat and watched me play until my middle fingers were wet to my knuckles and I was moaning and squirming with pleasure.
A strangled cry slipped past my lips as I felt my body heating and tightening with an insatiable need to come. I looked up at him through heavy lids and he was watching me with such intense concentration; mouth ends set upwards ever so slightly.
“Don’t come,” he ordered calmly.
I mewled pathetically. My mind was drunk on pleasure; in a completely different world. I could hear Harry’s words, but I couldn’t get my body to adhere to them. There was only one thing that I could focus on, and that was riding my climax through to the orgasm that had been building from deep within since the very first minutes of being tied to this chair. With a few touches to my clit, I’d be there, and as I slipped my fingers from my wet flesh and drew them over the hypersensitive bundle of nerves, I moaned with heady relief.
“Emilia,” Harry admonished.
His voice was rough and thick with warning and as my legs began to shake, he launched himself forwards on to his feet and grabbed my wrists; holding them in one of his hands as he used the other to whip his belt from its loops. I strained as I tried to pull my hands from his. His grip tightened even more so as the leather swept through the air, and before I could process any of my own thoughts, he was binding the belt around my arms and the back of the chair.
“So greedy,” he scolded with his lips just moments from mine as he pulled the belt tightly. “What happened to your self control?”
He then slapped the area between my legs hard. My stomach muscles clenched and I cried out as heat shook through me. Harry was mocking me and I was getting off on it. I wasn’t sure why; I felt humiliated and embarrassed that I’d lost my self-possession in front of him, but so unbelievably aroused from his chide. Warm leather dug roughly into the skin just above my elbows; the kind of dull ache that I knew was bruising my skin with each passing second.
“Bastard,” I breathed out a quiet laugh in both frustration and disbelief. “That’s tight.” My climax had already completely dulled, reducing me to a hot and shivering mess. He raised his brow with a smirk to his lips, looking me straight in the eyes.
“It’s meant to be. And I preferred Sir.”
So he did want to play... As his lips ghosted over mine, he pushed his middle finger between my swollen flesh and buried it deep inside of me; much deeper than I could reach.
“Stop thinking about how wet you are.”
He stroked me so excruciatingly slowly before curving his finger upwards and pulling against my g-spot so that I could feel it throughout my lower body.
“And how sensationally tight your groin is.”
I shuddered. His voice was soft; almost trance-like as he spoke. I felt myself slipping deeper into that world that I loved; that world in which only Harry and I existed.
“You want to have me inside of you, but you don’t need it.”
I clenched around his single slender digit and pushed my hips forwards as much as I could, unable to think of anything else but how incredible he felt.
“Not yet,” he finished in an almost inaudible whisper.
Want versus need. With his fingers inside of me, I was finding it impossibly difficult to differentiate between the two. He stood up and removed his t-shirt; jeans still around his waist, though undone and revealing. I watched him slide his jeans down his legs and step from them so that he was standing naked before me. He was Adonis, in all his natural male glory. I looked up at him from beneath my lashes and with my lips parted; not daring to break our stare. He moved his chair forwards and sat down with his knees either side of mine. He was so close; so close that if I could reach my hands out in front of me, I’d be able to run them over his chest and through his hair.
“Seeing as you seem to be struggling,” his lips moved slowly as he spoke. “How about you watch.”
Harry stroked his fingertips along the length of his shaft, right up to the tip, before wrapping his hand around himself and sliding it back down to the base. Moving upwards again, he squeezed the head of his dick and I watched in complete and utter silent awe as a small bead of moisture rolled down from the tip and over his curled index finger. A relieved groan passed his slightly open lips as he moved a closed fist over the tip and then back down, finding my eyes as he did so. He let go of himself and leant forwards, holding his index finger to my lips. The skin was wet and as he pushed his finger between my lips, I sucked my flesh around him and smoothed my tongue over his salty skin.
“Hmm,” he hummed with a seductive smirk as he slowly slid his finger from my mouth and wrapped his long fingers around himself with ease.
My heart pounded erratically as he pleasured himself in front of me with slow and firm strokes that had his stomach muscles tensing and chest flushing pink with heat. Each time he breathed out heavily, my core muscles clenched that little bit tighter, craving release; yearning for a satisfaction that only Harry could give me. Alongside teaching me a lesson, he was showing me how he made himself feel good in the most natural way that he could, and it was, without doubt, one of the most erotic moments of my life.
An amused slant graced Harry’s lips as he continued to look at me.
“Are you going to come just from watching me?”
He increased the flick of his wrist ever so slightly and I slowly let go of the breath that I’d been holding in. The swollen head of his dick appeared with each downwards stroke, slightly pinker and wetter each time, and I couldn’t stop a quiet mewl from slipping past my open lips. All I could think about was taking him in my mouth; tasting him.
“No,” I answered feebly, though it certainly felt like I might come. I’d never felt so hot and exhausted and ready. It was on a completely different level to the time that Harry had teased me to orgasm over and over when I was tied to the four poster bed.
“You forget that I can see you,” Harry interrupted my thoughts as his hand gradually came to a halt and his eyes settled between my legs.
“I can see exactly how turned on you are.”
He wet his dry lips right after he spoke, before leaning forwards and skimmed his lips over my right cheek.
“I’ve never seen a girl drip before,” he whispered hotly. “But you just did... Right down on to the leather.”
I turned my cheek and brushed my lips over his; holding them on him, breathing heavily, so still. His fingertips drew feather-light lines up my left thigh, until his hand was covering my entirety, though not quite touching. His lips spread over mine as he pushed out his two middle fingers and began stroking my wet centre languidly, back and forth, from my entrance right to my clitoris. I whined through parted lips and used the sturdy legs of the chair that mine were tied to as leverage to rock against his touch.