beware: a very cheeky and sexy scene is upon us xx
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"How much time do you have before you disappear on me again, Cinderella?" Is the first thing he says to me as soon as his door is flung open. I push past the muscular man in his doorway with a playful roll of my eyes, dropping my overnight bag in the centre of his entrance way.
"You're in luck, Prince Charming, because you've got me for the entire weekend." Harry's eyes nearly pop out of his head before he rushes over to me, smashing our lips together hungrily, my body molding into his instantly.
Leave it to Gwen to be a lifesaver for us, once again. She, somehow, convinced our parents to let us go on a weekend holiday, just her and I. She argued that we both needed some time away from home and away from our duties. We were granted an entire weekend to run around London for a mini getaway. I suppose Gwen's the favourite in my parents' eyes because they agreed almost immediately.
Gwen and I, with her security team and Niall, drove to London and checked into The Dorchester, a luxury landmark hotel in Mayfair. Her and I spent a good hour getting my wig to stay on with that insane liquid adhesive, hoping that it wouldn't slip during the night or if Harry and I decided to go all the way. I'm nervous about the wig and how strong the adhesive will hold up, but it proved strong after some head banging. Niall then drove me to Harry's and dropped me off only minutes ago. I have until Sunday at eight pm with Harry, meaning a full fifty-five hours together, uninterrupted. I couldn't be more excited.
"Have you gotten more beautiful since the last time I saw you?" As he gushes I blush, hiding my face in the crook of his neck and inhaling his manly scent. Who knew someone's scent could be so addictive, so mesmerizing.
"Have you gotten more charming since last we spoke?" I ask,though my words are muffled against his neck. Harry laughs and I'm unsure whether it's because what I said is funny or if the vibrations of my words has tickled his sensitive skin.
"I got you something." I pick my head up from Harry's neck, staring down at him with a cocked eyebrow. He slides me off his lap and goes into his kitchen, emerging seconds later with a bouquet of yellow tulips. "I remembered what you said about tulips being your favourite flower and also what you said about their colour. Correct me if I'm wrong but yellow tulips mean happiness, right?" I almost want to cry at how sweet he's being, but I hold the tears in and respond with a head nod. "And you make me happy, thus the yellow tulips."
"Why are you so perfect?" Harry only shrugs before setting the flowers down on his coffee table and returning to the position we were in moments ago.
"What do you want to do this weekend?" He asks once our initial reunion is finished and we're sat comfortably on his couch. We usually end up here, only this time our clothes are on and we're simply cuddling.
"I figured you would have made some plans for us."
"Oh I have, trust me. But if there's something you really want to do, I think we can squeeze it in." With the word squeeze, his arms tighten around my middle and his lips pepper quick kisses against my neck. The feeling creates butterflies in my stomach and laughter from my lips.
"I trust you." Is all I say, because I do.
I trust him with our plans for the weekend, but that's not the only thing I trust him with. I trust him with my feelings. I trust him with my every emotions. I trust him with my heart, which is not easy for me to do so. I even trust him with my life. I don't think I've ever put so much trust in someone after knowing them for so little time and that's when I realize that I may just like him more than I'm letting myself believe.
Could I love him?
Love can't be defined by time, religion, circumstances, gender, race, sexual orientation... Love is simply love. It's powerful and painful. It's exciting and scary. It's fulfilling and exhausting. Love knows no boundaries. Love just happens and there's nothing you can do about it. You can't fight it because it will always win.
I've been captivated with Harry since the moment I laid my eyes on him in that practically empty tube car. He's been nothing but kind to me, understanding, honest, raw, and caring. He may not know it, but he's been my rock; the person I turn to when I'm down and the person I go to when I'm so happy about something I may burst. He makes me the happiest I've ever been, completely and utterly happy. I can't imagine my life without him, not since the night we met. I see him by my side, I want him there; my rock, my man, my love.
"Mary, you're crying, baby. What's the matter?" I hadn't registered the thick tears streaming from my eyes until his thumbs were wiping them away. He looks genuinely concerned, worried that he did or said something wrong.
"Nothing." I assure him, placing my hands over his own. "I'm fine, really. I'm just happy." Like a small child, I nuzzle my face further against the warmth of his hand. He holds me there, thumbs wiping the tears away whilst his lips pepper sweet kisses against my dampened cheeks.
"You can't just start crying on me like that. You had me worried." Our voices are mere whispers, blending together to create a beautiful song. We're so close together that I can feel his heart beating against my bosom, smell the cologne from his body, and feel the soft tip of his nose brush with my own. The position isn't sexual in nature, but as innocent and comfortable as two grown adults can be.
"My apologies."
We stay in that position for what seems like hours, though it's only minutes, and enjoy each others' presences. It's like an army vet coming home from the war to his darling wife, who he hasn't seen in ages. We don't let each other go and when I'm no longer sitting atop his lap we're still always touching. Whether it's my hand intertwined with his, or his hand on my thigh, we're always connected, but physically and emotionally. I feel like this is what love is supposed to feel like: the yearn to be with someone at all hours of the day and when you're together never wanting to let them go.
"Put it in."
"Stop, it doesn't fit."
"Oh shush, yes it will."
"No, Harry, that piece will not go there."
When Harry pulled out his small collection of puzzles, I wanted to marry him right then and there. He let me choose and whilst he sorted the pieces he let me connect the outer edges together to create the frame for the inside pieces. Then we, together, began putting the puzzle back together. There is a permanent smile on my face, one that I can't get off my lips, and it's all because I'm here with him, doing something I love.
"You just think you know everything!" I snatch the piece of of Harry's hand, a smirk on my lips, reversing our usual roles.
"I do." And with that I lower the piece into its proper home, which resides on the other side of the puzzle where Harry was trying to put the piece. He sighs heavily when he sees that the piece fits, and falls back in his chair. "Don't be like that." I watch as he pouts his lip out, looking like an adorable child. "Do you want to put it in? I can take it out."
"No." He stands from his chair across the coffee table from me, walking towards me in a slow manner, almost teasingly. "I think we should do something else." His voice seems to drop many octaves, creating a rumble of subtle pleasure deep within my loins to which I have to squeeze my legs together to rid myself of the feeling.
"Like what?" Harry shuffles so he's standing in front of me, before slowly getting down on his knees. His face is level with mine as I lean back against the couch, eyeing him closely. Honestly, he could do anything to me at this point and I wouldn't care. He could tell me to jump out the window and I just might do it, that's the kind of effect he has on me.
"Like maybe we can watch a film," His eyes are roaming my clothed body, the green irises taking longer glances at certain parts me than others, "or we can go for a walk," This time both of his large hands are atop my thighs, slowly pushing towards where I want them to be most, "or, you know what, I'm actually pretty hungry, so perhaps we can eat."
"We or you?" My breathing has become erratic as his face draws in closer to mine. No longer are his eyes on my body, but boy does it still feel like they're roaming about. His lips drag against my jaw, making their way to my ear, driving me absolutely wild.
"Me, but I wouldn't be opposed if you wanted something to eat too." I almost cave in right then and there. My eyes roll to the back of my head as his lips begin to suckle just below my ear and his hands begin to make their way towards the button of my denim.
I want him. I want all of him. But I also don't. I don't want us to spend the entire weekend in bed, having sex over and over again. I want us to...
"God." I purr out as his lips are surely bruising the delicate skin on my neck.
Perhaps sex wouldn't be such a bad thing. I can have what I want.
"Bedroom, now." I grab his face in my hands, eyes boring into his as I demand he take me to his room. He looks half shocked for a moment, but the reaction is quickly wiped off his face as he lifts me. I can't help but connect our lips together as he carries me into his bedroom, kicking the door shut on the way in.
One minute we're rushing, then the next we're savouring every bit of each other. One minute we're clothed, the next we're bare. One minute we're two, the next we're joined together to create one.
In and out. Fast and slow. Rough and soft.
Our skin is tainted with beads of salty water, leaking from unclogged pores as we cry out in pleasure and slight pain. They warn you that the first time hurts, but it also hurts if you've gone years without sex. It doesn't feel awkward, though it should. It feels familiar, like this is our hundredth time molding together.
His greased curls whisp against my forehead, the feeling only enhancing every other touch and whisper of soothing words. My hands are clenched together with his, our fingers tightly coiled, the knuckles turning a snow white complection. My eyes can't help but roll back in my head, but when they're not, they're admiring Harry's heavenly flushed features, hovering over me. My nails dig in his back and I fear I'm hurting him when he winces, but hushed encouragements to continue are expelled into the air.
His movements become sloppy with tire and desperate with need as I feel everything bubbling up within me. My orgasmic relief comes sooner than I thought humanly possibly. I give no warning before my moaning increases and a squeal of pleasure escapes my lips.
"Let go, Mary. I've got you."
His release comes soon after mine, his body falling limp atop my sweat ridden skin. When he pulls away from me, I wince, my body overly sensitive with the long-lasting pleasure. I feel feverish, exhausted, and complete, but in the best way.
We lay together in that bed, going for round two before we both drift off in exhaustion. I wake before him, when the sky is dark. I admire his beauty in the dark, my eyes being able to make out every aspect of him, anything I can't see is filled in with the memory of him seared into my mind. I take in the red scratch marks raised on his lightly acne-scarred back, like a beautiful, painful abstract painting, as he lays facing the other direction. I shuffle closer to him, missing our complete contact when he had turned over. My arms wrap around him as my face nuzzles against his shoulder-blade, a singular tear dropping onto his hot skin as the words I want to tell him flow freely from my mouth.
"I love you, Harry."
But he doesn't hear, whether that's for the best I don't know. All I know is that finally saying those words makes my heart feel full, but my guilt grow tremendously.
I don't know how much longer I can do this.
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