Hoax

Chapter twenty-eight

Harry Styles 

Vegas – what a time.

I celebrated the love between two people I barely know, I shared a bed with my stunt girlfriend, and I fucked her on the final night.

Even I'm not stupid enough to believe I don't have a personal highlight from this weekend...

Still, I can't quite believe Estelle and I hooked up.

I would never tell her this, but I couldn't stop thinking about the endless things we could do together, ever since I had her on that table in her dining room, a few weeks ago.

However, no matter how many dirty scenarios I imagined before falling asleep, none of them could prepare me for how good sex actually was with her.

I felt the red mist descend on me when I saw that Tom guy practically fucking her with his eyes. I couldn't stop thinking about how she was mine; my girl for the evening, whether it's a fake relationship or not.

My possessive side showed itself and for some reason, that possession turned into horniness.

I knew I had to have her...and it was better than I could have imagined.

I've always thought Estelle was a sexy woman, but God, getting her off with my tongue was so arousing.

She truly does taste like strawberries on a summer evening...

All the little noises she made, drove me crazy too.

I was so hard for her; all for her.

When we fully had sex, she felt just as good; whimpering, panting, and moaning at all the right times.

When I felt her coming undone whilst we were on the bed, I would have done anything for her in that moment, and I did.

She begged to see my face when I finished.

Her request, so arousing in the moment, that I went against my better judgement and permitted; flipping her over, so we were face to face.

That's the only bit about last night, that brings a twinge of regret to my chest.

I did missionary.

I never, EVER, do missionary.

I hate it.

I always have.

I don't like being that physically close to someone during sex; it's too intimate.

And yet, I did it.

I did it for Estelle.

And I hate myself for it.

This tiny seed of awkwardness has brewed in my mind since breakfast and now, as Estelle and I drive back to LA, it's burying itself even deeper into my mind.

As Fleetwood Mac plays through the speaker systems of my car, I can see Estelle bopping away in my peripheral vision.

To say we hooked up last night, things this morning weren't as awkward between us, as I thought.

If anything, Estelle's been acting like nothing's happened at all.

She's been chattering away all morning about the most random things.

"I'm dreading this weekend"

Here we go again - I think.

"Why?" I ask, also trying to match her normal tone.

"My audition is on Saturday – for Little Women" She elaborates.

"You'll be fine" I mindlessly say, not realising that I'm attempting to reassure her.