Mr. Styles (H.S.) [COMPLETE]

Seven

After getting little to no sleep, due to lying awake for most of the night trying to decipher what the hell happened and what the hell it all meant, Katherine's alarm went off entirely too early for her taste. But what could she do? She needed to be up and ready to make breakfast for the megalomaniac she now lived with and worked for. She needed to fulfill her job, even after what happened the night before.

This fact didn't stop her from lying in bed as long as she possibly could to avoid the morning. Visions of the previous night flashed through her mind and she almost couldn't believe it actually happened – but it did. It actually happened. She got fucked by her boss right on the kitchen table top. What in the actual fuck was she doing with her life?

Katherine winced as she pulled herself out of bed. She could feel every tender, overused muscle from her belly down to her thighs and everything in-between. Holy shit. If it hadn't been the best sex of her life, she probably would be regretting it right about now.

She padded across her bedroom floor to the bathroom, turning on the shower to let the water heat up – although in a house like that, it was almost unnecessary. Mr. Styles had the money to have things like instantaneous hot water and heated floors in his bathrooms – which there were, right below her feet. She never had to worry about stepping out of the shower onto polar ice caps ever again – well, as long as she was living there.

There were also heat lamps in and out of the shower, a phone by the toilet, and the best shower pressure in the western hemisphere – it literally felt like she was being massaged as she stood underneath the dual-headed spout. The shower felt good on her sore muscles. With every wince of pain, her mind cut straight to a memory of the night before and she couldn't help but want to feel him again.

She wanted so badly for him to make her feel wanted again – except she knew it wasn't going to be that easy. He was her boss. He was her boss and last night should have never happened. And she wasn't sure how the morning was going to go. Would he mention what they did? Would he ignore it? Would he grab her in his arms and fuck her senseless again because he too sat up all night thinking about it?

Not likely.

Katherine scoffed to herself as she got out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the shelf under one of the many heated lights. Mr. Styles was probably doing just fine not thinking about her this morning. What was there to think about? She was just a girl who gave it up all too willingly.

As she stood in front of the mirror drying herself off, her eyes raked up and down her naked frame – stopping quickly on her hips. Her mouth dropped open as she stepped forward, getting a better look. There was distinct bruising in the form of fingertips dug into her flesh, from her hip bones all the way down to her mid-thigh, which also wrapped around to the back of her thighs.

Holy shit.

What did he do to her? Was he really that rough? She didn't think so, but then again, she wasn't thinking about what he was doing to her hips...