PULSE [H.S]

055

"No guilt is forgotten so long as the conscience still knows of it." – Stefan Zweig

Harry's going to kill me.

I sneak into the bathroom as he showers, careful to make sure he doesn't know I'm here. It's a stupid idea. I know it before I even attempt it, but I feel like messing with him.

I slip my hand past the curtain, knowing he showers facing away from the faucet. I turn the handle quickly, switching the temperature to the coldest setting.

And then I sprint out of the bathroom, laughing to myself.

He shouts, saying a bunch of curse words.

I knew he wouldn't be happy about it. What I didn't expect was for him to follow me out of the bathroom. He jumps out and starts chasing me. He's soaking wet, getting the floor wet as he walks.

He glares at me, catching me in his arms. He scoops me off the ground, carrying me bridal style. I yell, "Harry, you're wet!"

He drags me into the shower with him, the freezing cold water hitting my skin and making me gasp. I shriek, trying to escape from Harry, but he keeps me there.

Yeah, I didn't think this through.

He sets me down on my feet, but his arms stay on me. He raises the temperature, and the warm water soothes my shivering skin.

He says, "You think you're so funny, hmm?"

I laugh. "I do, actually."

The water drips down onto my clothes, which are now soaking wet along with the rest of me. I'm still not recovered from yesterday, so the dark stare he's giving me right now is making me nervous.

I turn to step out of the shower, but his hands pin me against the wall instead.

He says, "You think you can pull a stunt like that and just get away with it?"

I squirm under him, feeling weak. The tone he is using means he is up to no good, and my body wakes with excitement. My hands go to his chest, laying flat against him.

I taunt, "What are you going to do, Harry?"

The water hits his back, pouring over his shoulders and dripping down the front of him. The wetness of his skin makes me want to drag my tongue over him. I want to taste him.

He peels my wet clothes off of me until I'm naked in front of him. With my back pinned against the wall, he lifts one of my legs in the air, pressing his forehead against mine. With hardly any warm-up, he thrusts himself into me, giving me no time to adjust.

How he managed to get it up after being in freezing cold water, I'm not sure.

I whimper, the sudden penetration sending a sharp sensation up my spine. He still doesn't give my body time to relax as he is pounding into me forcefully, making me scream between my teeth.

He rasps, "I think you like provoking me."

His hands pin me to the wall, his fingers digging into my skin with enough pressure that I know I'm going to have marks later. Marks of passion are the only marks I'll ever have from him.

He growls into my ear, "I think you like when I fuck you like the little brat you are."

The aggression in his voice makes my knees shake, confirming what he said to be true. He slams into me, his hips grinding into mine with every entrance. My hand grabs his shoulder, steadying myself as my body jolts.

"Hmm?" he hums. "Do you like it rough, pretty girl?"

He drops my leg and spins me around, pressing the front of me against the wall this time with just as much pressure. I turn my head, my cheek being smushed against the wall.