Matching Rings [h.s]

74

POV: HARRY STYLES

I'm still catching my breath, I can feel my heart pounding a mile a minute while my stomach continues to contract and relax to settle my organs.

That was one of the best orgasms I've ever had, and the feeling of letting go down the back of her throat while I had her slick skin grinding on my mouth— everything was so fucking perfect.

Baylin is fucking addictive. That's what it is— I'm addicted to her. The taste of her sweet arousal coating my lips is like heroin— the second I get the first taste, there's no going back.

She seriously keeps me fucked up.

She's still laying next to me practically lifeless, her limbs are numb at the side of her body as she stares at the ceiling. Of course I'm staring at her, the outline of her perfect nose and plump lips, she's so fucking perfect.

Flashing memories of her straddling my face, taking my length deep in her mouth, licking up the mess as it dripped down my skin. I could do it all a million more times if she ever gave me the chance.

But where does this place us now?

Before last night, the last time we spoke she was calling off whatever we had going on between us.

And then last night, she was running to my side while I was drunk off my ass, then decided to spend the night, and after a forgotten night of nothing— we had such a pleasurable morning together in bed.

And it's not that I didn't enjoy it, because holy fuck, but I almost would rather have stayed where we were before yesterday than now have this confusing feeling that I'm sure she felt too.

It takes us a couple minutes to regain our strength, neither of us could even get another word out after she put me in my place with her last comment.

When my brain was finally out of its post orgasm haze, and I was able to focus on something other than how perfect she looked, I cleared my throat to gain the attention of her.

Her eyes fall to mine, there's a joyful gleam of light coming from her side that sparks something inside of me.

The expression on her face is telling me everything I need to know, she's in a good mood. Which is great. She doesn't seem to be regretting this, as of now at least, nor does she look like she wants to escape.

It's just like how it was before.

A small smile to her swollen lips as she pawns on mine. It hits me that she rejected my lips when I tried to kiss her during our steamy situation. I don't even know if she realized she had done it, but it felt like an arrow had gone straight through my heart.

"God, you surprise me more and more every fucking day." I muse, "You know that?"

"What? How?" She chuckles, bringing her hands to her chest— as if it's her subtle way to put a barrier between us.

"You pull shit like... that." I mention about the position she put us in, "You always do things that make me question if it's really your first time for everything."

I can't explain how many times I've wanted to try that with her, but I was always too scared to ask and 'hey, sit on my face' wouldn't have been the best approach.

"Always?" Her voice goes an octave higher, in the way it does when she knows I'm right but still fights against me, "When have I ever done anything like that?"

Finally I tear my eyes away from her hypnotizing coffee stare and flip to lay on my stomach, purposely rolling a couple inches closer to her.

"Hmm..." I fake my thoughts, knowing damn well I could name many off the top of my head, "The scratching, the hair pulling, the biting, the teasing that drives me fucking crazy, the way you know what you're doing without having a damn clue, the time in the shower when you let me-"