by Ashley Love
He wasn't lying when he said he wouldn't stop saying it. Whether it was whispered softly against my skin after he'd fucked me so good I couldn't see straight or hollered absently after me as I leave the room, he says it...and often. He's content with whatever I give him in return, be it a withered look or a small, guilty smile because no matter what it is, he always receives a response. Sometimes it's a touch, sometimes it's a cringe but he always gets me. I can't just not acknowledge it. I don't have that in me. I used to. But I don't anymore.
"Harry, where are we going?" I giggle as he nibbles at the crook of my neck.
He pulls back slightly, grinning like it's Christmas morning as he presses the P button on the floor panel and I look at him confused. Why is he taking me to the penthouse floor? But I don't have much time to think on it because his lips are on mine again, his hands settling on my hips and I love it when he kisses me like this. Slow and steady like he's got his entire life to do it, tongue dipping in to taste me lazily. My fingers grab handfuls of his shirt, tugging him close to me as he tilts his head and nips at my bottom lip, pulling back every time I try to capture his lips again, a smug smile tugging at his mouth.
The elevator doors open and he's away from me in a flash, my body shivering from the loss of his warmth. He's walking off into the small hallway, eyeing the two doors opposite each other. He looks to one and then the other before stepping to the left in front of the door marked P1. He looks back at me and grins.
"Harry, wha—"
"Gimme your key," he says, holding his hand out to me and I eye him suspiciously.
"My key?" I reach into my pocket and pull out the small plastic card the front desk had given me moments before. "But I just—"
He shushes me as he snatches the card from me and shoves it in the lock. Much to my surprise the light turns green and he's pushing the door open, his face threatening to split from the smile on his face as he holds the door open for me and gestures me inside.
My mouth is hanging open slightly as I step into the lavish suite. I look around at the living area, furnished with overstuffed couches and glass tables, a dining area by the windows which overlook—I gasp—the lake which is winking back at me in the afternoon sun. French doors open into the bedroom, the king size bed large and inviting and I think about all the things we could do in that bed.
I jump slightly as I feel his arms slip around my waist, hugging me back against his chest and I let my eyes slide closed, my head lolling to the side as he nuzzles his nose against my pulse point. His lips kiss me softly and my hands go to his forearms, wanting to hold him and not wanting to move all at the same time. I'm drowning in him right now and I don't even try to stop myself. It's too hard. I just let him hold me, let him love me.
"You like it?" he asks, kissing my earlobe, and I smile.
"Yes," I grin and he gives me a squeeze before releasing me. I walk to the windows, surveying the view. "Harry, you didn't have to do this. It's too much. It's great but it's too much."
"Don't worry about it," he says as he steps up next to me, glancing at me and smiling softly before surveying the view himself.
"Yeah, but—"
"We got a payday," he says, his eyes cutting to me. "Don't worry about it."
I silence at this, turning it over and over in my mind. I don't know a lot about the financial aspects of what Harry does. I know he and the group are well taken care of, but they aren't rolling in cash like one would assume they would be. He doesn't like to talk about money, especially in regards to his career. I lean in and peck him on the cheek, which he blushes at. We both giggle. I can't get enough of him.
"What exactly did you have planned for me tonight, sir?" I ask, tilting my head to the side as I turn to him. He smirks, arms reaching to embrace me.
"Oh, you know," he drawls, his fingers threading at my lower back and he bites his lip in that way that drives me crazy, "Little dinner, little dancing."
I shiver. "No dessert?" I ask coyly and his eyes darken, a seductive grin pulling at his lips. My heart skips a beat. When did he learn to smile like that?
"I'm sure we'll think of something," he replies, his voice deep and I can feel it vibrate against my chest. I need to kiss him, but he pulls back from me suddenly. "Oh, I almost forgot!"
He pulls away from me and shuffles into the bedroom, returning a moment later with a pink box, handing it to me sheepishly. I suspiciously regard him, setting the box on the table. I pull the lid off and unfold the delicate tissue. My eyes widen slightly as I reach in to touch the sheer, light blue fabric before pulling it out and watching it unfold. It's gauzy and feminine and unlike anything else I have ever owned or worn before—the thin straps, the low neckline, the lacing up the back. A matching pair of panties, lacy and low cut, lay underneath it and I look over at him, finding him grinning like a fool.
"You want me to wear this?" I ask him, giggling a little and he nods enthusiastically.
"Yeah," he says, licking his lips. I sigh, shaking my head at him, laughing as I set it back into the box. "You don't like it?" he asks, his brows knitting in concern.
"No! No, I do like it," I say, reaching out to touch his arm and he looks down, his fingers reaching to play with the hem that is hanging out of the box. I can't help but smile. "You want me to put it on now, don't you?"
He shuffles his feet and glances up at me from under long lashes before quietly saying, "Yeah."
And I can't help but giggle at him. He's too cute sometimes. I love him when he's like this...when he's... wait... did I just...? I take a step back, swallowing hard. I love him. The words echo in my brain and much to my surprise the walls don't cave in, the sky doesn't explode, the police don't bust down the door. Nothing happens. It's just he and I, in this beautiful room that he probably spent two thirds of his paycheck getting for us and holding a nighty that probably took up the last third, and he's asking me to put it on and I love him. I love him.
"Is everything okay?" he asks and I look up at him, his green eyes showing concern. I smile at him, shaking my head.
"Everything is fine," I say brightly, grabbing the box and walking toward the bedroom. "I'm just gonna slip this on."
"Yes!" he whispers softly, shimmying his shoulders in victory and I punch him in the arm as I pass. He grins at me, rubbing his bicep. "I'm gonna order food, okay? I'm starving."
I pause. "You want me to eat dinner in this?" I ask, chuckling at him and watching him tuck the phone under his ear as he dials.
"Yeah." He pauses, looking up at me. "Is that weird?"
"A little," I say, giving him a smile that says I don't really mind, because I don't. Because I love him.
I close the French doors to the bedroom and peel off my clothes, tossing them next to my suitcase which I find tucked into a corner of the room. I briefly wonder how he's done all this. But I guess it doesn't matter really. I pull on the underwear, adjusting them on my hips so that he gets a little peek of my tattoo that he loves so much and I shake my head at the thought of me actually having a tattoo. I've changed so much since coming on this tour. I'm less inhibited and more adventurous. I'm having fun again instead of having my nose always stuck in a book. I guess Harry brings out the kid in me, which is hilarious and horrifying all at the same time.
I pull the babydoll nighty over my head, careful not to untie the lacing in the back. I struggle a little but eventually get it on. I adjust it over my body, listening to him order dinner, his voice a muffled hum behind the doors. I step back into the lavish bathroom and am once again awestruck, taking in the large whirlpool tub and then the cavernous shower with six shower heads, three on each side. I catch a glimpse of my reflection and gasp at the sight of my body in such revealing clothes. The fabric hugs my curves in a luscious way, the sheerness showing a hint of my panties underneath and becoming more solid as it goes up to my chest, my breasts looking full and round under the stretchy fabric. I can scarcely believe that it's me looking through the mirror.
"Dinner will be her
e in a few minutes," Harry calls, his voice muffled to almost incoherence by the two rooms between us. "Did you put it on?" His voice is uncertain and its jumps in the middle like it does when he's really excited. I grin, and the smile that lights up my face is brilliant. I've never seen myself like this. I've never seen myself this...happy. I bite my lip, a blush warming my cheeks. I love him.
I shake my head at myself and stride back into the bedroom, tugging a little on the hem of the nighty before opening the doors, holding onto the edges and jutting a hip out. Harry is digging through the candy jar on the table by the couch, reaching in for a caramel filled bon bon. He looks up and his mouth falls open, the top of the jar tumbling from his fingers and bouncing onto the lush carpet, thankfully not breaking.
"Shit," he mutters, bending over to pick it up, his ears reddening as he holds the top of the jar dumbly in his hands, just staring at me from across the room.
"See something you like?" I question, swaying a little and giggling at my coyness. This isn't me, but I like playing the sexy vixen with him. He's a good audience.
He chuckles dumbly, eyes licking up and down my body as he nods. "Yeah... I knew you'd look good in that." He sets the lid of the candy jar down and steps up to me, hands smoothing around my waist, his eyes glued to my body, leaving enough space between us to not impede his view. I grin, watching his face as he licks his lips, just staring. He makes me feel so beautiful. I wonder if he even knows. No one has ever made me feel more like a woman than him. The way he stares at me, as if it's the first time he's seeing me, every time. It's overwhelming and amazing and I love him for it. I love him.
I bring my hands up to cup his face, his skin soft against my palms and his eyes finally meet mine. He chews his bottom lip sheepishly and I gently nuzzle my nose against his before kissing him sweetly, my hands sliding back to scoop up into his hair, his curls trapping my fingers against his scalp. His palms flatten against my lower back, pulling me flush against him and I moan into his mouth when his hands slide down to grip my ass.
He's walking me backwards, his legs tangling in mine and we stumble, falling against the end of the bed, sinking into the plush comforter. We laugh together, him struggling to toe off his sneakers before sliding one of his knees between my legs. He braces himself on locked arms, staring down at me for a moment before swooping down and kissing me hard. I lose myself in it, my hands finding their way under his shirt, smoothing up the soft, warm skin of his back.
He kisses me like this for what seems like days, his lips sliding over mine, his tongue slipping in to taste me over and over. My hip is pressing into his crotch and he presses back hard, pushing himself against me, his thigh snugly between my legs, and it feels good and it teases and I love him.
There's a knock at the door and he groans, giving a small push with his hips, burying his face in my neck and sighing before pulling himself away from me. I start to follow but he holds up a hand to me and smiles, his eyes looking me up and down and I remember I'm in my underwear. I giggle a little, bouncing on the end of the bed as he walks from my view, going to answer the door. I hear male voices in the other room and my eyes widen as slowly a food cart with covered trays comes into view being pushed by a man in a chef's uniform.
"No, really, I can do it," Harry's protesting, following him and looking perturbed.
"It's part of the service, sir," the waiter says mildly and busies himself with getting the cart situated next to the table.
I'm frozen in place, my brain battling between running to the bathroom, which could potentially cause the waiter to glance up and see me, or from sitting here quietly, hoping to remain unnoticed. Harry glares moodily at him as the waiter sets the table and as he does so he catches a glimpse of me through the doorway. His eyes widen slightly and I look away, tucking a strand of long hair behind my ear and biting my lip nervously. I shouldn't be seen here like this with Harry. But then again who's the waiter going to tell.
Everyone, Scarlett. I'm sure the press would love to know America's golden boy is fucking his tutor.
"I'll take it from here," Harry interrupts, holding a few bills out to the waiter who peels his eyes from me and takes the money in a daze.
He moves to pull back but Harry grabs his wrist, pulling him in closer and talking lowly into the man's ear so that only he can hear. The man's eyes widen and I see more money exchange hands. The man nods at him, glancing at me one last time before making his way out. I guess that's that.
Harry glares after him and I giggle slightly at his possessiveness, which draws his attention. A slow grin pulls at his lips and he asks, "What are you laughin' at?"
"Nothing," I say, standing up and stretching a little, exposing my panties to him and he licks his lips in appreciation. "What's for dinner?" I ask, walking to the table, leaning against him to peer over the cart.
"Steak for me," he grins, placing one hand on my hip and uncovering his plate. "And smoked salmon for the lady," he mumbles against my neck as he uncovers my plate. I can't help but smile at him. He's too cute sometimes.
"No chicken fingers tonight?" I ask, invoking the little joke he and I have about his choice of entrée at practically every restaurant we go to. He narrows his eyes playfully at me, ignoring my jibe and walking around the table, pulling my chair out for me.
I bite my lip to suppress my grin as I sit and he pushes the chair underneath me, always the perfect gentleman. He places his hands on my shoulders, his palms warm and soft against my bare skin and he leans down to drop a kiss just next to my ear before rounding the table and sitting across from me.
We dive into our food, talking easily and without awkwardness. I'm comfortable with him. He knows me and I know him and I feel warm and happy. He makes me happy. I love him!
He tells me about Memphis, his hometown and two stops away, one of the last dates of the tour. He wants to show me around. He wants to introduce me to his grandparents. He wants me to meet his best friend. He has all these grand plans and in the back of my mind I know that we can't really do any of these things. But he's gone to so much trouble tonight. So maybe...maybe just for now...just here in this hotel room, our sanctuary, I can pretend with him. I can believe that I can sit next to him at the General Store and let him buy me a cheeseburger, which he swears are the best in the world. I can believe that I can go fishing with him and his grandfather. I can believe that we can be normal. Just for now. Just in this moment, I let myself believe it.
My toe nudges his underneath the table and he smirks at me, his socked foot caressing my ankle slowly, and I lick my lips at him, watching his eyes darken slightly. I bite my lip as my toes climb up his denim clad calf, rubbing up to his thigh and pressing gently between his legs. His eyelids flutter, mouth falling open slightly and I can feel him hardening already. I'm just about to suggest we take this to the bedroom when there's a short knock at the door. Harry groans, pulling himself from his chair and trudging to the door.
"Who's that?" I ask, slightly nervous. He doesn't respond, swinging the door open.
Another man in a chef's uniform tries to push the cart in but Harry doesn't let him pass, just hands him his money and bids him to move on, which he does. Harry sighs as he pushes the cart towards the table. I crane my neck, trying to see inside the large metal tub sitting on the cart. I stand as he approaches the table and gasp as I see bowls of ice cream buried in the ice—chocolate, strawberry, vanilla, along with fresh strawberries and bananas, whipped crème, chocolate syrup, and sprinkles.
"Ice cream bar," he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck and I smile, dipping my finger into the mound of chocolate ice cream. I bring it to my lips, watching him from the corner of my eye as I suck it clean.
"Mmm," I moan softly, my eyes falling to him and his jaw is slightly slack, eyes trained on my mouth.
I grin at him and snatch a strawberry from the cart, offering it to him. He eyes it for a moment then looks at me as he tentatively bites into it, his lips brushing my fingers, juice dribbling over my han
d. He juts his chin out, his top teeth tugging his bottom lip into his mouth and sucking, trying to keep the juices from dripping down his chin but to no avail. He brings his hand up, wiping the liquid that is sliding down his jaw, chuckling slightly.
I lean in to kiss him, his lips sweeter than usual from the berry, and his hands grip my upper arms, losing himself in the kiss, his mouth ravaging mine. My hands go to his waist, fisting in the soft cotton of his t-shirt. I smile as his lips trail down my jaw, sucking lightly on my neck, his hands pulling my hips against his and I can feel him, half hard under the fabric of his jeans. He's slipping the thin strap of my nighty from my shoulder, replacing it with a warm dry kiss, tugging at the fabric impatiently, and I can't help but tease him a little.
"Come on Harry, I want some ice cream," I whine, pushing down a grin and he growls, scooping me off my feet and throwing me over his shoulder.
I yelp, closing my eyes as he sways, my stomach tightening, but he regains his balance, charging forward into the bedroom. I lose myself in laughter as he bumps into the door frame, asking him what the hell he's doing and he silences me with a swift smack to my ass before dropping me on the bed and pouncing on top of me, mouth devouring my neck.
I wiggle beneath him, pulling our bodies more firmly up onto the bed and he's pressing his thigh against me again, and I can't help the moan that bubbles from my throat. I feel him fully hard, trapped beneath the denim of his jeans and I want him. I need to feel him, any part of him. My hands smooth under his t-shirt, his back wide and warm beneath my palms. I'm panting as I pull his shirt up under his arms, pushing him back just enough to kiss his chest, and I can feel his moan vibrate against my lips as he throws his head back, my tongue laving his nipple gently.
He whimpers slightly when I switch, my hands sliding down his sides, thumb rubbing the soft skin just beneath his belly button. He pulls back, ripping his shirt over his head, settling back on his knees and looking down at me. He licks his lips, his warm hands smoothing up my bare thighs, pushing the hem of my nightie up, growling as he exposes my panties and brushing his thumb along the ink of my tattoo.