All That You Are

Chapter Ten

For the last four nights out of six, Harry has spent his evenings between her thighs. Kissing her, teasing her, fucking her. They're insatiable, the pair of them. Lingering looks and fuck-me eyes.

And in those past four encounters, Harry has encouraged Y/N with her newfound confidence. The first night she rode him, she was an anxious mess. But last night? She rode that man like a fucking bull.

Harry can't get the memory out of his head – how her tits bounced, her head thrown back as he gets a perfect view of her beautiful neck.

He finds her completely irresistible, even now – standing before him in slimming workout gear and boxing tape wrapped around her wrists and knuckles.

Two days ago, she came clean and expressed how frightened she feels when Harry's not near. It made him feel quite uncomfortable, even knowing Mike is with her when he's not.

She had asked very politely to join him in the gym one day this week, for him to teach her some basic moves that would help her defend herself if she ever needed it.

She was sick of being a damsel in distress, and the thought of Harry training her may or may not have led to another round of love-making in the shower that night.

And while Harry is completely content with their agreement, (he'll train her if she massages his back for an hour tonight), Y/N is not as happy as she was when she first proposed the idea.

Because two nights ago she hadn't been shown around Kitty's, and she hadn't met his very forward fuck-friend Lily. Today, she did.

"Hm, you must be the wife."

"Yes, hi! It's nice to meet you. I'm actually going to be taking over as management here, so if you have any suggestions or ideas for anything at all, I'd love to hear them."

Lily thinks Y/N is possibly the most naive woman she's ever met. And as she takes her in, her anger begins to boil. Her? Harry consistently turns her down for her?

"Yeah, I know all about you... the virgin wife."

Y/N's eyes grow large. "Excuse me?"

"You know, before you came onto the scene, I was Harry's favourite girl."

Y/N tries not to appear unsettled, like her bitter tone and snarky words don't crawl and embed themselves under her skin.

"Good for you?" That seems to piss Lily off even more.

She squares her shoulders, pressing her lace-clad breasts into the air. Y/N shifts her weight between her feet.

"You know he was here with me recently, right? Just a few weeks before that whole wedding-bomb fiasco."

Y/N's blood turns cold. "And he took me into my little red room, and fucked me until I couldn't feel my legs."

The last time Harry mentioned he visited the club was the same night she tasted him for the first time, out on the balcony for the entire city to see.

And he let her. Only an hour after being buried deep inside another woman? No. There's no way. He wouldn't do that. Not to her. Harry wouldn't.

Y/N squints, desperately trying to think through her foggy mind. He wouldn't do that to her, would he?

"You expect me to believe that?" She deadpans.

Lily smirks. She knows she's gotten under Y/N's skin. "All Made Men are the same, Mrs Dellucci."