by Ashley Love
"Please?" he asks, cocking his head to the side. He tugs his supple bottom lip between his teeth and I close my eyes.
"Harry," I whine, running a hand over my face, and I can feel him lean over me. I open my eyes and his face is centimeters from mine, his hands bracing himself on the back of the couch on either side of my body. His breath fans my face and a smile is tugging at his lips, his green eyes dancing as he presses his lips to mine. I let my eyes close slowly, watching him kiss me for a split second before giving in to the taste of him. I push at his chest when he starts to deepen it, knowing this is dangerous, far more dangerous than our usual trysts because we aren't behind closed doors.
"Goodnight, baby," he whispers softly, one of his large hands cupping my face as he presses his mouth to mine one last time before straightening and staggering back to the bunks.
I watch him climb in and swish the curtain to his bunk closed before finally settling back against the couch. There is a blanket and a pillow folded up at the end for me as there always is when I spend the night on their bus but I just don't have the energy to reach for it. The couch is warm from Harry's body and I hate it when I feel a pang of longing for him. I don't want this residual warmth. I want his skin and his mouth and his...ugh, just all of him.
I call quietly to Justin to hit the lights and I'm suddenly shrouded in darkness, the only light coming mutedly through the blinds as cars pass. I let my eyes close, fighting the images of every sexual encounter we've ever had as they race tantalizingly through my brain. I can feel my body begin to succumb to sleep, barely registering the thud of feet on the floor. I know this sound. It's the sound of one of the guys jumping down from the top bunks. I try to ignore it. I try to just fall asleep but I can already feel my body start to heat up and I wait, anticipation coiling in my belly.
"Scarlett?" The voice is soft and questioning and I feel a hand on my shoulder. An unfamiliar hand.
My eyes fly open and I jolt a little as I take in Louis's face hovering over mine. He jumps back a little, ripping his hand from my shoulder and grinning sheepishly down at me. He scratches at the back of his neck, embarrassed.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," he says softly. "I was just trying to see if you were awake."
"Well, I am now," I say, laughing a little, struggling to sit up. He chuckles, falling onto the couch across from me.
"I just... I wanted to talk to you about something," he tells me, his light blue eyes shining eerily through the darkness. Something about his stare unnerves me. I look away.
"What about?" I ask, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear nervously.
He sighs, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at the floor. I regard him curiously, watching as he rubs his hands together and I know he's thinking about what he wants to say. This can't be good. My heart begins to race as he looks at me, his eyes boring into my soul and I know right then and there...
"You and Harry have gotten pretty close, huh?"
He knows.
"Well, you know..." I say, trying to seem casual but my heart is threatening to burst from my chest. "We spend a lot of time together. He's a good kid. Really smart. A little unfocused, but really smart."
"Oh, he's focused," Louis says, chuckling to himself, and I fight the urge to widen my eyes. "Just not on school."
This is bad. This is really, really bad. The way he's looking at me, his eyes penetrating me, it's like he's looking into my soul. My soul that's screaming guilty! Chanting it over and over again. He blinks slowly, sighing before giving me a small smile, leaning back against the couch.
"I mean, you've seen him onstage."
I try not to shiver. "Yeah," I say swallowing hard. "He's talented."
"He's beyond talented," Louis says, nodding. "Harry has what it takes to be..." he trails, looking out the window and sighing. "He has what it takes."
We're silent for a moment, Louis gazing at me intently, me avoiding that gaze. He clears his throat and scoots towards the end of the couch, leaning close to me again.
"Look, I'm just saying...I know Harry. We've known each other... shit, for like... almost five years now," he says, gesturing with his hands and falling back against the couch once more. He looks at me and I look at the floor. He leans forward again, taking a deep breath, rubbing his hands together nervously. "I see the way he looks at you," he says softly and I try to keep my face stoic and unaffected while my insides twist and twist until I feel like I'm going to explode. "I'm not accusing you of anything, but I'm just saying...he looks at you like..."
He trails and I meet his eyes and I know, I know he knows. My heart is threatening to burst from my ribcage and it takes all my willpower to keep my breathing even. I contort my face into a look of what I hope is perplexity and amusement.
"He looks at me a certain way?" I chuckle but it dies in my throat when I see the look on his face.
"He's young," Louis says, shrugging but his gaze is still intense. "He's got a crush."
"Yeah," I say, returning his look and we're just staring now, speaking in undertones, weaving a web of white lies and omissions. "He's a sweet kid."
"Just go easy on him," Louis says, his eyes boring into mine. "Just be careful."
I stare steadily back at him. "You have nothing to worry about, Louis."
"Okay," he says, sighing.
"Okay."
He leans back and I do the same, each of us just staring at the other, eyes saying things that he won't flat out acknowledge and I refuse to admit. He gives me a quiet nod of his head, as he pulls himself from the couch, placing a hand on my shoulder before trudging back to the bunks.
I sigh, falling back against the couch cushions, curling up into myself. The sun is beginning to peek through the blinds, the inside of the bus lightening and there's no telling when we're going to stop. I could ask but my eyelids are heavy like my heart is heavy. How long is this going to continue? How many people are going to warn me before I give him up? What is it going to take?
18
"How am I doing?"
"Harry..." I say for the umpteenth time, looking up from his test paper. "Shhh!"
He sighs, fidgeting with anticipation, pacing the floor as I sit at the table in his hotel room grading his midterm. He hasn't missed one yet; his dates are perfect, his descriptions impeccable. I try to suppress my smile, my body tingling in anticipation. Shit, I want to give him this A just as much as he wants it, my mind roving over all the things he plans to do to me when he gets it.
We have been discussing nothing else for the past three days. Going through notes and flash cards, discussing his ideas for when he gets his A. Not if, he says, but when. He has big plans, plans that made me moan or shiver or simply giggle as he whispered them hotly against my ear. We've discussed it and mulled it over and just talked about it so much that the anticipation is killing me. I almost want it more than he does.
My face falls as I flip the page over. It almost hurts to bring my pen down, checking off all the elements of the Doric and Ionic columns that he missed. Shit.
"What?" he asks, standing over me. "What did I miss? Shit, it was those fucking columns, wasn't it?"
"Hang on," I say, grabbing for my calculator, silently praying for a ninety, but I already know. "89," I sigh and he stands there staring down at me dumbly before exploding.
"God dammit!" he exclaims, hitting the door frame of the bathroom with his open palm.
I look up at him, watching him scowl at the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, a small tent forming in the front of his pants. He was so close! I could just bump...but no. I shake my head at myself. I'm not bumping up his grades because of what's going on between us.
"I'm sorry, Harry," I say, sighing, placing my pen on the table, and I really am sorry. I glance at the bulge he's adjusting in his pants. I'm really fucking sorry.
"It's an 89, Scar," he sighs, looking at me pleadingly.
"Harry," I say warningly and he shuts his mouth immediately. He kno
ws where I stand on this. But God he looks so good today, just a t-shirt and jeans, but damn if he doesn't look amazing in them. "Why don't we study a little?"
He glares at me, plopping down on the couch. "I don't really feel like studying right now," he spits, glancing down at his lap and I smile, an idea blooming in my mind.
"You need to learn this, Harry," I say, getting up from the table and standing over him. "And you can learn this. You just need a little mnemonic device."
His eyes narrow at me as I kneel in front of him and then his face breaks into a smile as I undo the button of his jeans, sliding down the zipper. He lifts his hips eagerly, shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs and I can't help but giggle at his enthusiasm.
I reach my hand up and cup his balls gently, rolling them a little between my fingers, and he hums his approval and I swear I can see him lengthen a little against his thigh. He's watching me, his full bottom lip tugged between his teeth as I take him in my hand, bringing my mouth just over the head.
"Now think of this as a column," I say, my breath fanning across his sensitive flesh and he pants a little. "Harry," I say, and his eyes focus on mine. "Think of this as a Doric column."
"O-okay," he stutters slightly, his eyes slightly unfocused as he watches my hand hold him upright.
"And what's this?" I ask, flicking my tongue out against the tip and he jumps, groaning deep. "Come on, Harry, it's an easy one."
"C-capital?" he stutters and I shake my head.
"Nope, that's this," I say, taking the entire head into my mouth and he moans low. "I just wanna know about this part." I flick the tip again.
"Um..." he pants, as I flick my tongue against him. "Echinus?" he questions and I shake my head, sliding my tongue around the ridge of the head.
"That's this part," I say after a moment and then flick the tip again. "What's this part?"
"Fuck Scarlett, I don't know," he moans, his hand delving into my hair, his head falling back, and I grip him tighter.
"Hey now," I say softly and he looks back at me again, chest rising and falling rapidly. "Don't give up on me. I'd hate to leave you like this."
His eyes widen and he sits up a little more, looking down at me seriously. I smile a little, biting my bottom lip. He grins, his hand moving from my hair to stroke my cheek. "Let's start from the top," he says, settling his hips more against the couch
I grin back at him, turning my attention to his dick in my hand, flicking my tongue against the head again, enjoying the shiver that runs through him.
"Um..." He lets his head fall back, thinking. "Ab..." he stutters and I flick my tongue against him again, eliciting a hiss. "Abacus?"
"Very good," I whisper, placing a kiss on the head and he grins lazily, my tongue slicking around the ridge again. "And this."
"Echinus," he says confidently, and I slip my tongue down under the ridge on the underside of his shaft, laving the little bead of skin there. His back arches, a soft "oh" falling from his lips.
"And this?" I ask, blowing coolly against it.
"Do it again," he pants and I oblige, listening to him hiss and groan, eyes shut tight. "Um..."
"From the Middle English word nekke," I whisper, flicking at the spot tortuously.
"Necking!" he exclaims and I smile, pressing a kiss to the spot, sucking the skin lightly and he jumps in my hand. I keep my eyes on him as I drag my tongue along the bottom of his dick, following the vein, feeling it throb under my ministrations.
"And the length?" I ask throatily. "This is an easy one. Think." I pause, turning my head to side, sliding my lips up and down the side of his own length.
"I...I can't fucking think when you do that," he groans, hips thrusting upward and I smile against him, causing him to growl deep in his chest.
"Think literally, Harry," I say and he looks down at me.
"Cock?" he asks and I laugh, resting my head on his thigh. "What?" he chuckles.
"Think less vulgar, and more romance novel."
"Um..." he says, his face screwing up in thought, covering his eyes with his hand. Then his head snaps up and he looks down at me. "Shaft?"
"Mmm," I hum nodding, pressing small kisses up and down the side of his length. He sighs. "And here?" I question, nuzzling the base of his shaft with my nose and he shifts.
"Base," he says and I shake my head at him. "It is too!" he exclaims.
"Not in Doric," I say slowly and he scowls.
"Fuck, I don't know," he pouts, crossing his arms over is chest.
"Come on, baby," I whisper, tonguing around the very base of him, watching him try not to shudder. "Greek work for columns..."
"Ah," he growls, letting his head fall back. "Stylos," he replies, the word pulled from the back of this throat. His head snaps up. "Stylobate!"
"And these?" I ask my fingers cupping his balls, kneading them slowly and his face screws up in pleasure. "Harry."
"Um..." He's panting and I rub slower, torturing him a little. "What's it start with?"
"An S," I say, nails tickling him a little and he jerks in my hand again.
"Something bate," he moans, hips rolling a little. "Shit...I know this."
"You should...music?" I hint and his eyes fly open.
"Stereobate!"
"Very good," I praise, sitting up over him again. "Shall we go over it one more time?"
He pants, nodding slowly. I wrap my lips around the entire head and he moans, "Capital." I flick my tongue against the tip. "Abacus." I run my tongue along the ridge. "Neck...er no! Echinus!" My tongue moves to lave the little bump just under the head. "Necking," he hisses and it turns into a groan as I run my lips down the length. "Shaft," he chuckles a little and I smile, tongue bathing the skin just above his balls. "Stylobate," he breathes and gasps when I tongue his balls. "St-st-stereobate."
"You did well, Harry," I tell him, pulling up a little. "Now Ionic."
"Nooo," he moans, his hand wrapping in my hair, trying to tug my mouth to him gently. "Now you suck on it."
"No," I say a little firmly and he pouts down at me and I almost cave, the head of his dick now a deep purple, pre cum leaking from the tip. "There are only two differences between Ionic and Doric that I told you you needed to know. One has to do with the..." I trail, wrapping my lips around the head, feeling it throb, tasting salt.
"Capital," he moans low and I smile, pulling my mouth from him. "Its um...it's a scroll right?" he asks, rubbing his forehead frustrated.
"And the scroll is called...?"
"A valet," he says and I giggle a little.
"A volute," I correct. "Close enough," I add when he looks at me pleadingly. "And these?" I ask, cupping his balls with both my hands, allowing his dick to lay against his stomach.
"Base," he sighs and I smile at him.
"Okay, now from the top," I reply and he grins at me, fingers tightening in my hair as I take him into my mouth, listening to him breathe the terminology as my lips and tongue hit the designated spots on his dick.
"Oh shit, Scarlett," he moans, his other hand going to my head, guiding me up and down his length. "Fuck, that feels so good."
I can tell he's close, all my teasing heightening his senses, and I know its pride that has him holding out. I remove my mouth from him and he whines, his face screwing up, head falling back. "Are you gonna cum for me?" I ask him and he sighs a little, hips twitching upwards at my words.
"Please," he whispers softly, his head rolling to look at me again, eyes filled with want.
I smile at him and oblige, taking him into my mouth again, sucking hard on him, enjoying his hisses and moans, the way his nails scrape at my scalp, fingers pressing me harder down onto him.
"I'm gonna..." But he doesn't get the last word out, spilling warm into my mouth, catching me only slightly off guard, so some of him dribbles down my chin, the rest sliding down my throat.
I hold him in my mouth until he goes soft, then I climb up his body, wiping my lips as I straddle his waist, pressing my ear over his
racing heart. His arms wrap around me, hugging me close, his panting breath stirring my hair.
"Damn, that was amazing," he moans, his arms squeezing me and I giggle a little against him, listening to his heart slow.
I hum in response, rubbing my cheek against his chest, feeling his hands wander down my back, cupping my ass and pressing me harder into his lap. I gasp when I feel him hardening against me already and I look up to find him licking his lips.
"So the deal was..." he says, grinding against me lightly and I pant a little, that warm tingle spreading from my stomach down between my legs, "that I would get whatever I wanted if I got an A."
I swallow hard. "Y-yeah, that was the deal."
"Well," he says grinning, his nose nuzzling against mine, "I guess since I got a B... that means you get to do whatever you want."
My jaw drops and he grins at me somewhat shyly, but that predatory lust is darkening his green eyes and I can feel him now fully hard against my center. I moan a little, pressing harder into him and his eyelids flutter.
"Feel free to ravage me," he grins, chuckling slightly and I lick my lips.
"Oh I plan to, baby..." I mutter, my lips brushing his as I speak. "I plan to."
19
I can't fucking take it anymore. If I hear her giggle one more time I swear to God I'm going to rip my ears off and eat them. Four hours. Four fucking hours on a bus with this airheaded tramp and I'm losing my mind. I thought riding with the guys was bad, but fart jokes and racy innuendo are nothing compared to the asinine chatter of the wardrobe girls and her.
Gigi Love, pop princess, or so was the title that has been given to her by the tabloids and teen magazines. She's America's sweetheart...or so she was until three days ago when the latest issue of Rolling Stone came out. Her phone rings off the hook, calls from her publicists and her agent and her manager, all with tales of record stores in the south pulling her CDs from the shelves, politicians crying indecency, and preachers giving sermons on purity and chastity. She responds with coy giggles and widened eyes, feigning innocence and ignorance. It is enough to make me want to kill myself.