I updated early...hope that's okay with you guys lol. I will also update on Friday.
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Harry shuts the faucet and hands me a towel. I take it slowly, staring at his eyes. I don't know what to make of what he told me. And why is he staring at me as though I'm a ghost from his past?
I rub myself dry, watching Harry from the corner of my eye. He glances at me every so often, as though checking to see my reaction to what he said, what he admitted.
"I'm gonna go eat breakfast," he tells me. He sounds so uncomfortable, as though I'm a suddenly a stranger to him.
"Okay."
I wrap my towel around myself and dry off as Harry leaves briskly. When I reach my room, I find that the door is open and there's a pair of clothes, actual clothes on my bed. I slip on the smooth sweat pants and the T shirt and mentally thank whoever gave them to me.
Then I head over to the kitchen. My stomach tightens. I'm insanely hungry and I wonder what kind of food V has prepared. I spot her by the stove, making eggs and frying bacon.
Lola waves at me from the kitchen table, preparing the toast and assortment of cheeses. The other girls are there, as well. Liam is setting the table and Niall is wiping the counter clean.
"The men set up and clean up afterward, the women cook. We like to keep things fair," V tells me.
"That's a good idea," I nod. V smiles at me and gazes down at my clothes.
"Did you give me these?" I ask, adjusting the waistbad of my sweats.
V glances down at me slowly. "No, actually. Where did you get those from?"
I look at myself, then back up to V. Harry enters the room slowly and sits at the other end of the table, by himself. When our eyes meet, he looks away and rubs his neck. What was that about?
V smirks as she eyes Harry and glances at my clothes. Did Harry give these?
Harry doesn't make any indication that he wants to say anything to me, so I don't approach him.
Breakfast looks delicious. Everyone seems to talk quietly to the person beside them. Harry is at the other end of the table and he doesn't dare look me in the eyes for some reason. I cross my legs. Did I do something wrong in his chamber? Did I not pleasure him the way he wanted? Thoughts of inadequacy enter my mind and I feel self conscious.
I take a bite out of my toast and eye a slice of bacon.
"Please help yourself, Kitty," V encourages, but I hesitate. I've never been allowed to eat what I wished and all this fattening, tasty food on the table is a huge temptation.
"Thank you," I smile politely. I take a slice of bacon and an egg. Harry rolls his eyes. What's his problem?
Lola nudges me in the gut. "What's up with Mopey Dick over there?"
I tense up. I know Lola is just teasing, but there's nothing mopey about Harry's dick. He's almost consistently hard when I'm in the chamber with him.
"I have no clue," I answer.
Niall offers me juice and I accept. Harry sits by himself, poking at his bacon with his fork. Everyone else seems cheerful and friendly, then there's Harry skulking and glaring at me.
I help Niall with the dishes. Liam gathers the plates and cups and stacks them in his arm. His biceps clench and he winks at me. I roll my eyes and focus on Niall.
"So who are you paired up with this week?" I ask. Niall blushes.
"Marcy. She's very...demanding," he admits. I look over and see a short blonde with a loud laugh. She's tiny like a pixie, a human reincarnation of Tinker Bell.
Niall adds soap to the sponge as he begins the dishes.
"You don't like her?"
Niall snickers. "Well, she's kinda intimidating and a bit too thin for my taste. I like fuller figures," he tells me. Our eyes meet and he accidentally drops a cup. I catch it just before it breaks.
Niall smiles coyly and looks down, his cheeks brighten. He's so bashful, it really is very endearing, unlike Harry, who spews out curses and vulgar comments constantly.
I turn and see Harry. He has left his plate on the table, as though someone will come clean up after him. Harry walks over to me and takes a long gulp of his drink. It's pomegranate juice, thick and dark, a violety red color.
He sets the glass down on the sink and walks past me, brushing his shoulder harshly against mine. Niall glares at him.
"You're supposed to help, Harry," he speaks up. Harry's lips curl and he crosses his arms over his chest. His shirt buttons are open at the top, revealing most of his chest.
"Looks like you've already got some help," he nods at me. Then he places his hands in his pockets, taking long strides down the hall.
He ignores me for most of the day. I know I shouldn't let Harry's distant, rude demeanor get to me, but it does. He's two-faced. He's sexually interested in me when we're in his chamber, where he's mainly vulgar and possessive, but then he has moments when he's actually sort of sweet. I don't understand why he stared at my eyes, though. He had made a comment about them being both blue and green back on the balcony at The Ball, as well...
I finish helping Niall with the dishes and I wander around the house. Scarlette eyes Lola and I as we sit on the couch in the makeshift living room. There's only one couch, so Lola and I sit close together. She braids my hair into a fishtail. Niall walks in and smiles.
"Is that your natural hair color?" he asks, watching me with interest.
"Yeah, it's funny, though, because both my parents are brunettes."
Scarlette snickers. "I bet your mom had some fun with some ginger when your dad was away on business trips."
I sit up straight, glaring at Scarlette. "You don't know anything about my parents."
Scarlette leans her long body closer to mine and rests her chin in her hand. "You'd be surprised what I know, including the fact that they've put out a search team looking for you and your sexy ex-boyfriend is heartbroken," she tells me with a fake pout.
"What?"
"The tanned guy loved you?" Niall both asks and states. His voice softens.
Lola sits up. "You had a boyfriend?"
"Scarlette, could you come help me over here?" V calls. We all turn to see her. Her jaw is gritted as though she wants to spew out a hundred curses at Scarlette, but she holds her ground.
Scarlette clears her throat and nods. I shake my head, feeling confused and uneasy. I don't want to talk about my parents. I don't want to think about my life before the cult. I don't feel a hundred percent comfortable here, but at least no one judges me here. At least I have some friends.
V eyes me and walks away with Scarlette.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say V has a crush on you," Lola whispers and laughs.
"What?" I choke.
"It's like sisterly puppy love. V always tries to protect you, especially from the wrath of Scarwhore."
I laugh at Scarlette's nickname.
Lola pats my shoulder and I smile up at her. "I never had a real friend back home," I admit quietly. Lola hugs me gently.
"I had a lot of fake friends," she nods. "Most of them wanted to get with my older brothers."
"Oh, I'm sorry, Lola," I mumble, unsure what to say.
Niall sits down beside us. Marcy practically sits in his lap. She toys with his blonde hair and the bit that is streaked lilac.
"Niall, let's go back to my room," she suggests, whispering in his ear. He clears his throat.
Lola and I look away slightly, giving them a moment of privacy. Marcy swings her leg around Niall until she's sitting on top of him, cupping his face in her hands.
"Come on, baby, we only have a few days left until I have to choose someone else next week," she coos. Niall's cheeks burn red as he glances at me and back at Marcy.
"Okay," he agrees quietly.
I walk off to get something from my room and Lola follows suit.
"Who are you going to choose on Friday?" she asks. Her dark eyes lighten with interest.
I shrug. "I'm not sure," I admit. I actually haven't given much thought to it. I've just been trying to survive the intense sessions with Harry.
Lola nudges my shoulder. "You like Harry."
I cough. "No I don't."
Yes, I do.
"Just admit it, you like how vulgar and rough he is."
I cough even harder. "No, I-I'm."
Lola laughs. "Well don't look now, it's the man of the hour," she winks and leaves me to talk to Harry. Harry looks up from the opposite end of the hallway and rolls his eyes at me.
"What do you want?"
I cross my arms over my chest, recalling how I'm actually wearing clothes today, not just lingerie.
"Did you give me these clothes?"
Harry looks down at my legs, slowly, scanning me. "Maybe."
He starts walking off again.
"The sweats are too loose."
Harry laughs. "You're supposed to say 'thank you.'"
"Fine," I shake my head. "Thank you. I'd rather wear sweats than lingerie."
Harry pushes a strand of his hair back and I look into his eyes. "You don't need to show off your body to be sexy, Kitty. You look beautiful even in sweat pants."
"You're crazy," I laugh stiffly. I don't agree that I need to be half naked to be appealing; I don't think I'm particularly appealing at all, at least not compared to these Omega girls.
Harry takes a half step closer to me.
"You need to learn how to accept a compliment, Kitty," he sighs.
"No I don't," I cross my arms.
"Yes, you do."
I roll my eyes, purposefully trying to anger him.
"Why do you always look away when I compliment you?" he asks softly.
I shrug. Zayn had said something similar at my birthday. I don't want to think about Zayn anymore.
Harry takes my wrist and leads me to his chamber. Oh God.
"You really don't know how beautiful you are, do you?"
We reach the chamber and he locks the door behind us. I rub the back of my arm awkwardly. I don't know why I feel so tense when Harry compliments me. I just feel uneasy, like he's teasing me.
"You make me nervous," I admit.
Harry takes a half step back, giving me more space to breath. He holds my chin in his palm and studies my eyes.
"You have no reason to be nervous, baby. I want to do a lot of dirty things to you, but I don't want you to feel ashamed, okay?" he asks softly. I don't understand how Harry can go from insanely sexy to rude to sympathetic in the blink of an eye. I also don't understand why I'm so quick to fall for his words. This is all under a contract isn't it? It's not like he feels emotionally connected to me.
Harry watches my eyes for a long moment. "You're my sexual submissive. But I do not view you as being any lesser of a person than me, if anything, I think you're really beautiful and intelligent and that intimidates me a bit...a lot," he admits.
I look up, meeting his gaze. "You're intimidated...by me?"
Harry bites his lip and nods shyly.
I can't help but laugh. Knowing that I've made Harry sexually frustrated and intimidated gives me a surge or confidence. Maybe V is right, being the submissive doesn't neccessarily mean I'm weaker, I'm the one that Harry wants and I can do things to make him frustrated.
"Take your clothes off," he instructs.
"Again?"
"Take them off."
"Okay..."
I slowly pull my sweats down and yank my shirt up. Harry doesn't touch me, he just looks at my body.
"You're absolutely gorgeous."
"No I'm not," I start laughing. Harry stares at me, unsure why I'm laughing. I'm not even sure why I'm laughing.
"You don't believe me?" Harry raises a brow.
I shake my head and laugh harder. "You know you don't have to flatter me to get me to stay in this house," I chuckle nervously. "It's not like you care about me," I say, using his words against him.
Harry's eyes narrow onto mine and his brow furrows, as though in anger. He takes me to the full view mirror and forces me to look at myself.
"I'm not flattering you, Katarina," he says. I look at his reflection. He's standing behind me, admiring me like I am some fallen, but damned angel.
"You're absolutely gorgeous. I have no clue how you kept men off you back home," Harry shakes his head, but still holds my gaze. I look down.
"It wasn't hard," I reply. Now it's Harry's turn to laugh.
"Zayn really missed out," he snickers. His eyes harden as he speaks Zayn's name. I shake off the negative thoughts surrounding Zayn.
Harry stands behind me, looking at my reflection. He lets his hands wander the length of my body, caressing the soft sensative skin of my neck, down to my navel and the tender nerves of my inner thighs. He explores me. His fingers are eager, but sensual, not aggressive.
"I want you to be completely comfortable with your body and your desires. Don't hide them from me, Kitty. I want you to tell me every sexual fantasy you've had since you came into this house."
"Excuse me? I do not have sexual thoughts. I-I."
Harry laughs. "Come on, Kitty. You mean to tell me that you've never thought about me, not even once?" he smirks, circling around me.
I stand still. My palms suddenly feel damp yet my throat is drying up. I've thought about Harry's body, his long, lean frame, the way his broad shoulders slope and he holds his long fingers behind his back, the way he slides his tongue over his lower lip and flicks his tongue out teasingly, the way his earring glints in the faint sunlight, the way his bandanna fastens on his forehead, controlling his unruly dark hair.
I've thought about Harry more times than I can count, but I could never admit it aloud.
"Fine," Harry sighs. He stands still, calm but eager to share his dirty thoughts. "I'll tell you everything I've wanted to do since I saw you."
I stare up at Harry. His gaze trails down the length of my body and i feel self conscious, as though his eyes are scrutinizing my flaws.
"When I met you outside your dance class, I wanted to fuck your ass."
I cough. "Do you even have a filter?"
Harry laughs. "I like being blunt."
"Looks like it," I grin.
"Tell me, what did you think of my suit at the ball?" he cocks his dark brow.
"Well..."
"You wanted to touch me, didn't you? You wanted me to tie your wrists with my bandanna and fuck your tight litte pussy as my lips sucked on your soft neck, leaving bite marks, didn't you?"
My legs tighten as a pressure builds in my abdomen yet again.
"Harry, I-I"
"I wanted to take you on the balcony, pull your legs up around my waist as I thrust into you, over and over, filling you up," he pops the 'p.'
I stare at Harry. He grips my waist from behind and stares at my reflection in the mirror. How can he say these things so plainly in front of me?
"I want you to pleasure me," he says and it's an order. But the soft, yet gentle eagerness in his voice makes my chest tighten.
"That escalated quickly," I laugh casually. Harry's dimple pops in his cheek.
"I don't like being sexually frustrated and just fantasizing about what I want to do to you makes me hard as fuck," he admits.
I clear my throat as my cheeks grow red.
"What should I do first?" I ask, but Harry's words already have my legs throbbing and the slight, but needy ache grows between my legs.
Harry lets his eyes scan me up and down. "I want to tie you with handcuffs as you choke on my dick and I eat you out."
I stare at him. My legs are shaking slightly and I feel the warmth building in my abdomen, but I'm unsure if it's from fear or eagerness.
I kneel down slowly before Harry and he smiles at me. He takes handcuffs from the drawer in the corner of the room and tightens them on my wrists. I've grown accustomed to the tight metal material and a few bruises have formed on my skin.
Harry grins. He lifts me up and lays me gently on the bed beforing attaching my handcuffs to the bed post. He swipes his tongue over his lips and bites down teasingly. Just as he is about to wrap his red bandanna over my eyes, he leans closer to me and stares at my face.
"You're not wearing make up?" he asks.
I shake my head, "No, it came off when we...showered and I don't know how to put it on, so I didn't," I tell him.
Harry shakes his head as he takes in my features more carefully. I look down, unsure of myself.
"No, don't look down. I want to see your face. I rub my chin against my shoudler awkwardly, unsure what to do as Harry stares at me.
I rub my knees and look down again, out of habit. Harry takes my chin and tilts it upward immediately.
"I asked you not to look down," he tells me sternly.
"I don't know where else to look," I admit.
Harry grits his jaw. "I want to see your face, Kitty. I want to see your eyes," he murmurs softly.
"You've seen my face many times. What else is there to see?" I snicker.
"That's the thing about beauty, you keep staring and staring, wondering if it's all real, the redness of your hair, the fullness of your pink lips, the freckle on her chest, and your eyes. Your eyes burn a hole right through my chest," he tells me, moving a strand of my hair back.
I start laughing hysterically. Harry's eyes soften, as though hurt by my reaction to his words.
"Why don't you believe me?" he sounds so sincere.
I laugh harder. "Because you're lying."
Harry's brows arch as he stares at me, angry now. "Why would I lie to you? You and I both know I like to say whatever's on the top of my head."
I lean up on my elbows, but Harry doesn't move back and our faces are mere inches apart. His silver earring dangles as he grits his jaw.
"You don't care about me," I say, even though I'm incapable of accepting affection. My parents never showed any interest in one another when I was growing up. The might as well have been sworn enemies. And even though I'm not sure what exact reasoning I have, Harry's compliments make me feel so nervous-- regardless of whether they are provacative or sweet.
"Yes I--" Harry stops himself. "That has nothing to do with the fact that you're beautiful."
"Stop."
"What?"
"Stop trying to compliment me. You're mocking me! You and I both know I don't look like those other girls."
"Damn right you don't," Harry snickers.
My heart pounds limpishly in my chest. I can't accept Harry's compliment and yet my heart sinks realizing that Harry acknowledges how I'm not stunning like the other Omega girls.
"I won't allow you be insecure when you're with me," Harry says calmly. I look at his mouth as he breathes the words out slowly.
"Then I should never be with you."
Harry bites his lower lip harshly, as though trying to disctract himself from an internal pain. He unbuckles my wrist and ankle chains and takes his shirt off. He lays under the covers with me.
I stare at him, dumbfound. Harry gently takes my hand and rubs the bruises forming on my wrists.
"Why do you think I went to The Ball? he asks softly.
"Because you wanted to bother me," I tease. "To kill me..."
Harry's eyes darken to small slits of green. He's angry. "Trust me, if I wanted to kill you, I would have already done it."
I stay quiet, knowing he's right.
"I went to The Ball because I wanted to get to know you, I wanted to fuck you, yes, I still do, but I also wanted to understand why you never looked people in the eye for too long, why you were always so nervous, so prudish, so afraid..."
"It's the way I was raised...I was taught to be modest and obedient. I-I had no confidence in myself, I still don't," I admit.
Harry cups my face in his warm palm.
"Don't let other people's scrutiny cause you to be uncomfortable with yourself," he tells me. I get the feeling that he's talking about my life back home, my mom in particular.
I lean my head back slightly and Harry extends his arm. I rest my head on it gently. We lay there for a few hours, just holding each other. I feel rigid at first, but I allow myself to relax and just lay with Harry.
"I've never slept with a girl," he admits with a shy smile. I find myself smiling, too.
"Neither have I," I laugh quietly. Harry leans closer to me and traces my chin with his forefinger.
I am about to look down when I stop myself. Harry smiles.
"I want you to feel beautiful, Kitty. So long as you're with me, I want you to know that you're smart and stunning. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise," he whispers, cupping my chin.
Harry unlocks the collar on my neck. I rub my throat slowly. Harry doesn't speak.
I hold my breath as Harry licks his lower lip slightly and leans his head closer. I stare at him, immobile. Of all the things he has done to pleasure me and I have done to him, a simple kiss shouldn't be so terrifying, but for some reason, it is.
It means something more now that I have gotten to know Harry to an extent. More is riding on our lips touching and tasting one another now that we are no longer total strangers, now that we know one another's flaws and quirks. And that's precisely what V created this institution for: to weed out this kind of emotional depth of relationships, to put pleasure and pain before love.
But the closer Harry leans his head toward mine, the way his green eyes widen as he focuses on my lips...there's something building in his heart and in mine and it terrifies me. I'm too afraid to be loved, but I am desperate for affection. I want to be a virgin, but I also want complete sexual independence and liberation. But there's no real solution to the contradicting emotions I feel.
Harry kisses me.
His mouth feel soft and delicate, like a honey suckle blossoming in the spring. He is very gentle with me, craddling my face in his palm. He leans his head closer to mine, moving his mouth against mine in a rhythmic way that makes me feel as though we are making unspoken poetry.
He ends the kiss abruptly and holds my hand in his, kissing it slowly. We curl up closer to one another under the covers, unsure what we have just done. It feels like we've transgressed, like we're doing something wrong by being soft and gentle with one another.
We lay together for a while, a few hours. Harry strokes my hair softly as he pulls me to his chest. His lips follow along the curve of my collar bone and to my breasts. He kisses the spot over my heart and my chest tightens as though he has stabbed me. Harry's gentleness is just as striking as when he's rough. He's a passionate man, there's no way to deny it.
Harry holds my gaze for a few minutes before parting his lips to speak. His eyes are heavy, eager, but frightened to ask something.
"D-did you love him?" Harry whispers loudly.
"Who?"
Harry clears his throat as though it is too painful for him to speak.
"Zayn."
I look at my hands, wondering a long moment. The longer I take, the softer Harry's eyes become.
I smile slightly, embarrassed by my old feelings for Zayn.
"Maybe," I admit.
"Oh," Harry breathes softly. He looks down, avoiding my eyes. Then he sits up on the edge of the bed.
I can't say I hated Zayn in all the years I've known him. And I can't deny that I didn't have some feelings for him, feelings I wish I didn't have given how he betrayed me.
Harry stands up and I follow suit, unsure what I said wrong.
"Are you okay?"
"Get out," Harry breathes. He rubs his chest momentarily, as though his skin were burning.
"W-what?"
"I'm not your boyfriend, or your friend, nor will I ever want to be. You mean nothing to me. Absolutely nothing."
I stare at Harry. My chest begins to itch and burn, as though Harry's insult was poisonous.
"I-I know, I'm sorry," I mumble, unsure of myself. I knew Harry was just trying to flatter me with his compliments. I knew he was only milking me for the hell of it. And knowing that I knew made everything that much worse.
I stand up, slip my clothes on quickly and walk out quickly, too embarrassed to look back. Harry shuts the door behind me.