Teaching Harry... | Harry Styles | AU|

Chapter 7

Harry couldn't stop thinking about Ms Dawson.

He couldn't stop the image of her beautifully flushed face from floating through his mind.

The flicker of surprise and embarrassment that flashed crossed her expression when he told her she was beautiful still dancing through his memories over and over.

A ripple of explosive nerves twitching in his stomach whenever he repeated the moment in his thoughts. Excited prickles swarming across his skin when he pictured the intensity of her hazel eyes or the fullness of her cherry coloured lips. The sound of her thick voice still continuing to hit his ears like soft caramel.

Harry knew from how hard it took him to shake Ms Dawson from his head, that he was thinking about her way more than he should be.

He needed to stop.

But no matter what he did nothing seemed to calm the sudden fire of hormones that burned inside of him. A new type of desire he had never felt before pumping through his veins.

This powerful sexuality he had discovered in Ms Dawson seeming to be the type of thing that once noticed, it wouldn't go away. Harry couldn't un-see it anymore. He could no longer see Ms Dawson as his sweet English teacher.

Because he was so fucking attracted to her.

Which would explain why he stupidly decided to search Harriet on Instagram, and then send her a drunken message. But not just any drunken message. His giddy horny mind deciding it would be a good idea to tell her that he had jerked himself off in the shower while thinking about her.

Which wasn't a lie.

Because he did.

And he had never came so hard in his life.

On Friday afternoon, after leaving Harriet's classroom and heading home. Harry just needed to get some of his frustration out. He just felt so flustered and pent up. His mind heated and agitated. Sex completely consuming his every thought.

So after coming home to an empty house, like he always did after school. Both of his parents obviously still at work with it being mid-afternoon. Harry decided to take a shower. Desperately wanting to rid his body of the sticky heat and grime that had built up from spending the day in stuffy classrooms with shitty air conditioning. And to also spend some time... alone.

So after stripping off all of his clothes and stepping his tall naked body under the stream of the shower. Harry allowed himself to get lost in his fantasies. The hot water coating his skin and hair as those addictive images of Ms Dawson returned to him. His big hand then involuntarily skimming down his stomach until it reached his already hard length. Losing himself in his imagination as he pumped the silky skin of his shaft with his fist. The very picture of Ms Dawson on her knees in front of him, all big eyes and parted lips as she begged for his cum, pushing him over the fucking edge. His orgasm hitting him like a bolt of lightning as he released a rough low moan into the hot steam that surrounded him.

It was an erotic moment. One that felt so fucking filthy and wrong.

Which only made it feel more exciting.

However, cut to the next morning. Harry now perched on the edge of his bed. His fingers raking through his hair as they massaged his scalp. Somewhat easing his throbbing head as he stared down at his phone that was clutched in his other hand. His body flooding with absolute horror as his bloodshot eyes drank in his very own unfamiliar words. The conversation he scrolled through feeling like a very distant memory that was imbedded somewhere in his hungover mind.

And he now felt anything but erotic as he looked at his stupid mistake.

In fact he felt like a fucking idiot.