Malefactor [H.S.]

38*

My eyes lightly flutter open, shutting again instantly when bright sunlight hits my face. I groan, pulling the covers over my head and rolling over to turn away from the sunlight. When my body hits a wall—a warm, muscular one that begins to shift the moment I hit it—my eyes open in confusion.

I blink a few times, bringing a hand up to rub the sleep from my eyes. Somehow, in the comforting embrace of sleep, I managed to forget that I'm in Harry's bedroom. He stirs and lets out a low grunt as his face contorts, pulling the blankets from me and covering his own face like I did a moment before. He's still sleeping, but any more movements or noises from me will pull him to the surface of consciousness. I watch him for a moment, wishing I could keep laying here and fall back asleep, but my bladder is extremely full and I need to pee.

Reluctantly, I carefully climb off his enormous bed and stumble my way over to the bathroom. My thighs are on fire from last night, causing me to wince with every step. I try to power through, telling myself that if I pretend my body isn't the sorest it's ever been, maybe it'll stop hurting.

But at least I'm sore for a good reason. I've slept the wrong way before and woken up with legs a few steps down in terms of pain, so at least I got two orgasms out of this.

As I lower Harry's boxers covering my bottom half, I find yet another culprit for the soreness between my legs: dark hickeys littered all across my inner thighs. I groan, sitting down to pee. I rest my head in my hands, shutting my eyes as my head vaguely hurts. I have no clue how long I was knocked out since I'm not even too sure what time I got here last night, but this headache is definitely the result of either too much or too little sleep.

When I finish up and wash my hands, I find the case I left my contacts in last night. I pull them from the solution and pop them back in, the world shifting into focus. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, cringing at how wrecked I look. There thankfully aren't any hickeys decorating my neck like there are on my thighs, but I'm sure the second I take my shirt off to shower, I'll find some on my chest. The rest of my appearance, though, isn't as well put together. My hair is greasy and sticking up in a million different places, likely the result of Harry grabbing it nonstop and my own decision to push my head down on the bed so he could fuck me from behind.

Nope, I'm not thinking about that right now. I've been awake for less than five minutes; I don't need to start having flashbacks already.

In an attempt to distract myself and get rid of the taste of morning breath, I grab the same spare toothbrush I used when I stayed here last week. Between the alcohol I drank with Riley, Harry's dick being in my mouth, and him making out with me while having my own cum lingering on his tongue, I could throw up from the thought of the pure amount of bacteria probably festering in my mouth right now.

Leaving the bathroom with clean teeth and a scrubbed tongue, I step back into the bedroom only to find Harry half-hunched over in a seated position, running his hands through his hair. He squints as he looks up at me, brushing his hair back so it's no longer hanging in front of his face.

"How long have you been awake?" he asks, his voice incredibly raspy from having just woken up. He still sounds and looks half-asleep.

"Like five minutes," I shrug, wandering over to the side of the bed I slept on. Looking around on the nightstand, I frown when I don't see my phone anywhere. "I just got up to pee."

"What are you doing?" he asks, collapsing back down to his side. One of his eyes shuts as it presses into his pillow, the other remaining half-open and watching me walk around.

"Looking for my phone."

"It's probably downstairs with mine," he says, sitting up again so I can see his smirk as he adds, "We didn't come up here with very many clothes on, remember?"