RIDE ✧ {H.S.}

22.

POV ✧ HARRY STYLES

Pleasing is quite simple, really.

But I'll let Clio give instructions.

I'm a man taken by obsession.

Another night spent with just my hand felt useless- it would never satisfy her absence and realness only her flesh could give. I hated the way she made me chase, but suffered through in hopes of someday relishing in her beauty, succumbed entirely to the pleasure she provided.  She made me fall so hard I couldn't image life without complete devotion. This woman consumed me.

But sometimes it hurt to look at her.

I was missing something I never had. My mind wrapped me with such a possessive force field that I almost couldn't grapple with the fact she wasn't mine. I wanted to wince at laughter that wasn't brought on by me. It made my stomach turn to see I wasn't her only source of joy. There was probably someone else that comforted her at the end of the night. Someone else that stroked her hair, curled into her, and breathlessly kissed in a fit of passion. She'd never let me be that person.

I wanted there to be ease in our intimacy. Like her palm was made for mine, like we both knew the common place my hand would grace her body. There'd be routine in our touches. 

She had this strange grip on me that I couldn't quite understand. Too much of our time together was wasted with this guilt and hesitation. The emotional exhaustion felt second nature.

Contractually, I couldn't have her.

My mind was so twisted for wanting the only thing my status couldn't bring. Accardi intertwined me in something sicker than intended. I've been playing with too much fire to antagonize the brand, but the consequences could kill me. 

Logic didn't fuel my brain. Absolute, deafening lust controlled my every thought. It was like I couldn't act straight with her in the room. Her presence, the simple aura she radiated- it was so beguiling. There was a simple charm that unlocked my deepest needs. I needed her to be my everything. I needed to be so involved with Clio that she couldn't imagine another reality without my lips.

This was an absolute sickness and there was only one antidote- her.

I wanted to be the only one that truly understood her.

I didn't expect her to show up to my room. I fully prepared to be left with only my hand and the same reoccurring dirty thoughts that helped me through many lonely nights. All I could do was anxiously tap against the arm rest of this hotel chair, hearing the subtle clock ticks indicate each moment lost without her presence.

Fuck, this is ridiculous.

My head was pounding from all the liquor I consumed, pulling me into a destructive thought pattern. I hadn't packed enough pills to hold me over since I planned to leave sooner than expected. The only thing to get me high was her.

I needed my fix.

I needed some strong chemical compound to overwhelm my mind to the point where I'd forget the pain. Sometimes I surprise myself with just how desperate I can be, and this is one of those moments.

My zipper budged as I desperately tried to pull my pants down. The slickness of the leather seat aided in my undressing. The fabric around my waist was tight, my pelvis lifted while I unbuckled. As quick as my pants hit the floor, my eyes carefully darted towards the entrance. My room was on the other side of the estate, carefully partitioned off so she couldn't find me. Livia had informed everyone of this rule- men and women weren't allowed to intertwine. They had to be in their separate wings to avoid impending scandal.