Unexpected

33. Helen

I should be pissed off at him for coming here looking for me, but I'm not. I don't know why but I like the way he is jealous or maybe even possessive, it makes me feel important in some way.

I still can't believe what we said to each other. He told me that he thinks about me all the time and I that it is more than just fun.

Man, this guy in such a short time got me out of my mind. It was only two weeks, but intense. After that kiss in his room, time no longer makes sense to me, it seems like an eternity has passed.

And now here we are, in his car in Vancouver, me straddling him half naked, his erection pressing against me.

This is all insane, but I love it. And I don't want to stop.

He kisses me, tasting every point of my skin: lips, jaw, neck, collarbones... When he uses his teeth gently a moan escapes my lips. He wants to leave his mark. It would be better not, but I can't get him to stop.

My hands are under his white sweatshirt and I can feel the shape of his abs; he is sliding his on my thighs up to my panties.

"These, off," he whispers in my ear. He knows what he's doing, he knows he's driving me crazy.

I smile biting my lip and kiss him. He tries to get rid of my panties; I throw them on the next seat. He took off his sweatshirt and his undershirt too.

"Good," he says, looking down at me with that look of him.

I begin to untie the tie on his sweatpants. Harry lifts up a little to lower them along with the boxers.

He looks around, as if he's looking for something.

"What are you looking for?" I ask him.

He points to a hatch in front of the passenger seat. "Open that, condom."

God, right. I was about to forget...

I do as he tells me. I reach out and take one. I don't even wonder why he has so many in his car, I already know the answer.

I don't pass it to him. I want to take care of it this time. He looks down on me with a smirk on his face.

"You should see yourself through my eyes," he says softly, putting a lock of hair behind my ear.

"How do you see me?"

He doesn't give me an answer. He just smiles and kisses me. He lifts me from life and enters me. "Move, please..." he begs.

I start moving up and down on him slowly. I run my hands through his hair, they are damp with sweat.

In this car it is already hot, the windows are starting to opaque.

"Helen..." he pants. He takes my hair with one hand from behind my back and pulls it lightly, causing my neck to bend. He kisses it and continues to make the hickey he started earlier. His breath on my skin tickles me a little.

I squeeze his shoulders, my nails in his muscles that contract and relax. "What, Harry?" I say, moaning.

"It feels like I can finally feel you deeper, and closer," he whispers in my ear.

He lets go of my hair and I look him in the eye. I move faster on him and his breathing becomes heavier than before. "Clos— oh my. Closer?"

He kisses me, slips his tongue into my mouth. He puts both hands on my buttocks and pushes me firmly more towards him.

"Harry..." I moan. I'm trying to be quiet but I really can't.

Our noses touch. On my lips, closing his eyes he says, "This isn't just sex, babe." Oh shit.

"What's this?" I ask him, pretending to be stupid. He can't possibly mean what I think.

"Something I've never felt before. And you're the first, Helen," he says, panting.

No, that can't be true.

As if he had read my mind, he puts his hand on my cheek and says, "I swear to you. You believe me, don't you?"

He seems sincere when he says it, it's just my stupid head that keeps reminding me how many girls he's been with, so I nod. "I believe you" and I kiss him.

He makes me move with more strength and speed, until I feel the climax getting closer and closer. I can feel Harry throbbing inside me. A few moments later I come, moaning his name, my head thrown back.

He sees this image and comes, holding my waist tightly. "Oh fuck..." he says with heavy breathing.

"Yeah," I smile at him.

I know it's not the most romantic thing in the world, but I'm happy with what we did.

My head is resting heavily on his pectorals, he is stroking my back under my shirt.

He kisses me on the hair. "It's late, I have to take you home."

When I sit back in the passenger seat, I notice the writing on his side window: "We just made love." It makes me smile when I read it in my mind.

I've always thought that love is only made with a person you love. That there is a lot of feeling while doing it, not just physical pleasure. It is a matter of no small importance...

A little voice in my head asks me, "So does that mean he loves you?"

I shake my head involuntarily but he doesn't notice. He could never love me, it's just absurd and will never happen.

He has a hand on my thigh and as he drives he occasionally turns and smiles at me. He doesn't do it often, but when he does it it fills my heart. I love his smile.

Slowly I'm starting to doubt that maybe that's not just what I love about him, but much more.