May [H.S]

05 •

Harry

•••

Ne pas déranger.

Dimples.

Immersed in sweat, a stinging chill tickles up my back, spreading in an electric warmth in my core. Symphonic, my chest flutters, losing its sharp inhaling breaths. Bright simmering orange beams from the sun pour through the ruined shades, relaying on a striped glow on the wall. Filtered, I run my hand through the strands of my sweat-lined hair. It's no use helping the pieces in their place as they come unruly, cascading down over my flushed face.

Wandering, my fingers turn white latching onto the edge of the wooden table. In a frenzy, knocking the lampshade over, I hear it thud to the floor. Not tuning in for the sound of shattering glass, fully occupied.

"Fuck," I curse, hoarse, and out of breath. The uncontained rasp catches in my vocal cords. Fluttering my eyes closed is the only remedy for the tangent feeling in the pit of my stomach, diseasing my mouth in dryness. Its advances to ruin the ambiance were working tooth and nail through the pleasure. My consciousness was a curse, that stinging reminder.

I pinch my eyes closed, focusing on the disappearing black dots under the dirty tangerine sheen.

"Juste comme ça," My throat closes as I moan out French gibberish, catching eyesight with the beaming hazel eyes staring up at me. Nearly green in the tainted lighting. Her lips pucker around my tip as she whimpers into my dick, splaying her hands over my happy trail.

An ungrounded gag sounds in the area as I buck my hips, chasing the fiery cinch in my abdomen. Unconsciously, both of my hands fly down to her head, taking a dominant hold on the destroyed bun that held her mounds of raven hair. Those falling strands are nothing but a tool to help myself further into her mouth, hitting the back of her throat with each thrust. She takes me like a champ, a little sloppy with her tongue.

I pull out of her mouth, watching her lips part to reveal a long string of silva connecting from my tip to her bottom lip. "M'gonna fuck your throat, darling. Is that okay?" Coyly, I purr under my breath. Narrowing my lust-consumed eyes on hers, filled with crippling want. Fuck, I knew she was dripping wet for me. Nevertheless, I wouldn't indulge.

"Yes, please. Fuck my throat, Harry." Is the only thing that comes from her meek voice. Echoing, down below, I bite my bottom lip, unable to hide the shameless smirk that overrides. I yank her hair, stationing my dick right at her pristinely parted, peach lips. Thin and bridged at her cupid's bow. I feel her tongue circle my tip as I let loose a gravelly exhale, "What did I say about fucking calling me that?" I snap, forcing my tone harsh. She moans around my cock, remorse in her tearing eyes, the pressure was tipping, "S'why sluts like you don't get to talk."

I yank her hair with one hand, resting my thumb on her chin with the other.

"Let me make use out of that pretty mouth, yeah?" What's her name again? Avery? Ava?

Fuck, like I care.

I don't give her time to nod around me, feathering my thumbs on either side of her head as leverage to thrust down her throat. As the embers char all throughout me, flickering images bleed into my head. Encourage as my eyes fall heavy and my lids close. Stolen of my air, I tilt my head back, grinding into her face.

Full brown beautiful eyes, fluttering in spite. A more than adequate green gown falling over her curves, the slit just at her thigh, teasing the encased angel underneath. Tattoos littering her skin, accentuating their perfection. Those heavenly lips, talking, frowning, puckered around a thin red straw.