PULSE [H.S]

042

"A shower is not just about cleansing the body; it's a ritual of renewal and rejuvenation." — Oprah Winfrey

I'm still in bliss when we make it back to the apartment.

I follow Harry inside, kicking my shoes off.

He says, "We need to get cleaned up."

Watching Harry finish in his pants is not something I thought I would ever witness, but the fact that he got so much pleasure out of pleasuring me is a huge turn on. He also complained about how gross he felt the entire ride home, which was just entertaining.

I laugh. "Yeah, you definitely do."

He glares at me, which makes me laugh more. We walk up the stairs together, silently, but there's some sort of tension hanging between us. It's like there's unfinished business, and we both know it. When we get to the top of the stairs, we both pause.

We just stare at each other as I try to get a read on what he is thinking right now. I'm assuming he's trying to do the same exact thing to me. I don't know what he is thinking. I don't even know what I am thinking, I just know that something feels weird. It feels risky to be the one to speak first, but I do.

"We could..." I say slowly, still trying to read his face. "Get cleaned up together?"

He grins devilishly, and I'm instantly glad I suggested that. His hand hooks onto my arm, and he drags me into his bedroom. We don't make it to the bathroom before he is pressing me up against a wall and slamming his lips into mine. I'm so glad we were both on the same page about needing more tonight.

When we can finally pry ourselves off of each other, we shed our clothes and drop them in a pile on the bathroom floor. His bathroom is twice the size of mine. He turns the water on and steps in once the water is warm enough. I step in after him, and the water pours over us.

His hands slide to my waist immediately. He blocks the stream of water with his back, shielding me from it. I look at the butterfly tattoo on his chest, smiling a little at it. I trace it with my finger, outlining the whole thing. I like that I put a permanent mark on his skin, and now he put one on mine.

Harry's hands go lower, grabbing my ass and squeezing it. The second I raise my eyes from his chest to meet his eyes, his lips are on mine again. Maybe I needed more because I didn't get to feel this. I didn't feel his lips on mine; I didn't feel my hands all over him.

He controls the kiss, poking at my lips with his tongue. I part my lips, letting him slide his tongue inside. Our tongues press together, going to war inside of my mouth. He inevitably wins the battle, and then his tongue is stuck all the way down my throat. I don't normally like when guys use tongue, but I want Harry's tongue to suffocate me.

His hand tangles in my hair. He grabs a handful of it and pulls it backwards, forcing my head back so he has better access to my mouth. The action makes my heart race as I gasp against his lips, feeling the slight sting on my scalp. I open my jaw wider, letting his tongue explore every inch of my mouth.

When I push back against his tongue and put mine inside his mouth, he pulls on my hair harder, making me whimper. I don't try doing that again, for the sake of my scalp health.

I take control for a moment, attaching my lips to his neck. I suck at his skin, biting down enough to elicit a hiss from his mouth, which is music to my ears. Feeling risky, I stick my tongue out against the base of his neck, running it up the length of him as water trickles down it.

He moans, grabbing my face and pressing his lips against me again, keeping me from wandering. It's his turn now, as he sucks on the skin of my neck, just below my jaw. When he finds my sweet spot, I slam my hand against the side of the shower as the pleasure hits me like a brick.