Dear Iris [h.s]

chapter thirty eight.

Harry Styles

We stumbled upstairs and without even taking our lips off of eachother, made it to my bedroom in a state of total desperation. My calves hit my bed and back I went, lying flat on the bed to which then Iris came and straddled me.

Fuck.

Every single day I seem to be more blown away by her. She's so fucking beautiful in every single way possible and its insane to think she's even given me the time of day. I feel like the luckiest man in the entire planet, and I think it's justifiable to say that statement is true.

Before she leaned in to kiss me again, she grabbed my hands and held them next to my head, interlocking our fingers and she looked down at me with such a sweet, innocent smile. My heart skipped a beat and I was left at a total loss for words.

Her smile will be the death of me.

Her lips came crashing down onto mine in a kiss full of hunger and lust. Both of us lacked composure of all sorts, and this was definitely the most frantic kiss I've ever shared in my life. The best kiss I've ever shared in my life.

Quickly, I flipped us over in one motion so I was towering over her and her flushed cheeks which made my heart feel funny for a second. Somewhere between downstairs and here, I tossed my sweatshirt away and became topless, Iris however is still fully clothed in her little paint covered dress with daisies sewn onto the fabric.

My hand trailed up her thigh, bringing her dress with me until I met her ass and held it as I kissed her neck, sucking gently on that spot between her ear and her jaw which I know she likes.

Iris' hand was dancing along the waistline of my trousers, undoing the buttons and the zipper before tucking it's way into the band of my boxers. I pulled away from her neck, looking her directly in the eye and shaking her head in disbelief.

"You're fucking insane." I said, my voice low which she clearly liked, a smirk took over her face and she held my face to pull it down closer to hers.

"Merci, joli garçon." Iris smirked, smiling away to herself full of pride, knowing how much I love when she talks french.

I screwed my eyes shut and my head dropped to her shoulder, as Imumbled, "I fucking love when you speak french."

I rolled off of her so I was laying next to her and kicked my trousers off, my boxers were nearly off as well, but when Iris perched herself up on her elbows, kissing me on the cheek, I got distracted. Her hair looks so good right now, slightly messy and the curls really have a mind of its own at the minute. God, it looks incredible.

My hand went between her thighs and a breath hitched in her throat. She looked at me with parted lips as I moved my hand slowly up her thought until I met the fabric of her underwear, where she then swallowed nervously.

"Harry," She whispered, "Can we just...erm I..."

She paused, getting all flustered and rosey cheeks, not being able to find the words for the smile on her face. I knew what she was trying to say though, however seeing her get all flustered made me pretend like I had no clue. Until I realised that she's embarassed as fuck and although it's cute seeing her flustered, I don't want to make her feel embarrassed.

"You want to cut to the chase?" I asked her, leaning in close so that our lips are just millimetres apart, my finger holding the bottom of her chin. My other hand was still between her legs, resting on the top of her inner thigh. Iris nodded, so I moved my lips closer to her ear. "Which chase is that?"

"I don't know," She smirked, placing her own hand dangerously high on my own thigh. "The one where you're inside of me."

Oh my fucking god. My heart rate just increased by approximately a million and suddenly my bedroom feels like the heating has been on full blast all day. Now I'm the flustered one at a loss for words and to be honest, who can blame me?