Harry Styles is spending the summer in a quiet villa on the French Riviera, hoping to find inspiration for his third album. It's not happening. When he sees a beautiful windsurfer racing across the waves, he believes lessons might be a good distract...
Harry made his way around the house, extinguishing every light. The last glow had faded from the western sky, and the stars shined bright and distinct in the darkness. A crescent moon hung just over the pines behind the house.
They slipped into the water, still warm after a day under the midsummer sun. Swimming slowly, in silence, a hand or calf occasionally trailed against the other's skin. Lia stopped for a moment, standing straight and still, looking at the dark sea and star-laden sky.
He came behind her, the length of his body against hers, his arms resting crossed beneath her breasts.
He whispered in her ear.
"Does it ever drive you crazy, just how fast the night changes?"
After a moment he turned her to face him, and with his thumb wiped the single tear that slid down her cheek.
"Why are you crying? That was meant to make you smile, not cry."
"That's my favorite. Of all the songs I've ever heard you sing, that's my favorite. I wanted to be the girl with no regrets." She took in a tremulous breath and let it out in a poignant sigh.
"And? Are you the girl with no regrets?"
"I'm not certain..."
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He kissed her. Not a fleeting kiss, like before. His lips, echoing his speech, were slow, thoughtful, soft. He pulled her against him, and the kiss turned into something else entirely.
He tasted sweet, like the meringues they had shared, and his tongue was persistent. Lia heard a brief, sweet moan of pleasure and was startled to realize it had come from herself. She was nearly lost in the feel of him.
Breaking away from the embrace, Harry ran his fingertips from her shoulder, over a taut nipple, and down across her belly. Their eyes were locked as he slid his fingers between her thighs. Lia knew exactly who made the noise that time.
And then she was lost, neither seeing nor hearing, only feeling the push of his hand against her, his fingers inside her. Curling a leg around his hip, she brought her body tight against him. She gave herself up to pleasure.
Harry held her when it was over, stroking her hair, her back, until they both began to shiver in the water that had quickly lost its daytime warmth.
"Let's go in."
He led her out of the pool and up to his room in silence, naked, dripping. She no longer averted her eyes from his exposed body, watching the play of muscles in his back, arms, buttocks and legs as he mounted the stairs ahead of her. His lean torso was straight from chest to hips, his legs the well-muscled shape of a runner. It was a satisfying sight to see.
Still silent, they showered and prepared for bed, both knowing that sleep was still some time away. Harry didn't try to hide his arousal, which came and went as they moved from place to place, sometimes standing apart, sometimes skin to skin.
When Lia, having remained for a moment after Harry was finished, came out of the bathroom, he was sprawled face up on the bed, one hand behind his head, the other slowly touching himself.
She crawled to him, allowing her hair to trail up his legs, between his thighs. He gathered it in his hand and swept it over his groin; Lia saw him throb. He wrapped the length of her hair around his hand and gently pulled her up as he turned on his side and they were face to face.
"I felt you. In the pool. I felt you around my fingers, squeezing so hard. I've never felt that before, not like that."
He leaned in and took her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking it softly, then did the same to her earlobe before nuzzling in the crook of her neck.
"I like it here, your hair is like a waterfall over my face." He kissed her neck, his tongue pressing on her skin between his open lips. A hand passed over her hip and belly, to rest on her breast, where he toyed idly with her nipple.
Lia, whilst happy to receive his undivided attention, also wanted to explore every inch of him. Give him the pleasure she had felt. She pushed him onto his back again and kneeled at his hip, considering her options, surveying him from head to toe. She knew what she wanted.
Straddling his thighs, she leaned forward, his erection pressed between their bellies for a moment. Slowly, she lifted herself up and moved down his body as her hands covered the swallows, then traced the edge of the butterfly, finally following the curve of the fern leaves. She was kneeling again, looking down on him, their eyes locked as she took him in her hand.
As she stroked him, firmly, slowly, he looked away and covered his face with one arm while his other hand clenched, gathering folds of sheet in his fist. When her mouth closed around him he gasped, and his hips began to move involuntarily with her rhythm as she pulled on him.
After some time, as her movements slowly increased in speed, he stopped her.
"Lia... I want to be in you. Can I be in you?"
She didn't need words to answer as she positioned herself over him, guided him, until he was in her to the hilt. With his hands resting on her hips, she set the pace, raising and lowering herself, somehow feeling that he went deeper every time.
The pace increased, and Lia began to feel her pleasure mounting. She tipped her hips forward to change the pressure between her thighs.
"I want you to feel it again," she whispered in his ear as the crisis approached, "Be still."
He let her give herself what she needed. As her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps, he felt her tighten around him until she cried out, hips grinding against his, waves of compression rippling over him. Unable to contain himself, he withdrew slightly, then pushed forward with a low growl once, then twice, before pulling her down to collapse on top of him.
