Sanctuary [h.s.]

Chapter Fourteen (*)

"I could eat that girl for lunch
She dances on my tongue
I know it's just a hunch
But she might be the one"

***

I'd be lying if I said I haven't been consumed by thoughts of my last encounter with Harry all week. It was the most intense experience of my life, not because it was rough or aggressive, but because it was an overwhelming fusion of emotion and physical sensation that left me utterly breathless. Each moment with him was a symphony of touch and feeling, played out with exquisite precision and care.

The memory lingers in my mind, vivid and potent, like a painting in my soul's gallery. Harry's touch was both gentle and electrifying, sending shivers down my spine with every caress. His hands explored my body with a tenderness that felt almost reverent, making me feel cherished and desired in a way I had never experienced before. The way he looked at me, with those intense, mesmerising red eyes, was as if he could see into the very depths of my being, understanding my desires and fears without a single word spoken.

I'm still a bit embarrassed that I shed a few tears, but in that moment, I had no control. It was as if all the emotions I had been holding back were suddenly released, spilling over in a torrent of sensation. His movements were slow and deliberate, each one building up the tension until I was teetering on the edge of an abyss. After being brought to the brink so many times, my mind dissolved into a haze of pleasure, leaving my body to react purely on instinct. My tears were a testament to the intensity of the experience, a physical manifestation of the overwhelming waves of ecstasy that washed over me.

The connection between us in those moments was something beyond the physical, a deep, almost spiritual bond that left me feeling both vulnerable and incredibly alive. Even now, as I replay those memories in my mind, I can feel the ghost of his touch on my skin, the echo of his whispered words in my ear. It was an encounter that has left an indelible mark on my soul, a reminder of the profound, consuming passion that exists between us.

Every time I recalled how gentle he was and the tender aftercare he provided, my stomach did a flip, sending a rush of warmth through me. His touch, so soft and considerate, lingered in my memory, making my heart flutter each time I thought of it. I knew then, as I know now, that he's not a bad person. There are moments when he seems like a trapped wild animal, eyes flickering with a hint of desperation and a restrained ferocity. But beneath that, I saw the vulnerability and the yearning for connection that he tried so hard to conceal.

I would have never allowed our level of intimacy to go further if I didn't trust him completely. Trust was a fragile, precious thing between us, a thread that held us together despite the complexities of his nature. It felt rewarding in a profound way to know that my instincts were right, that my trust was not misplaced. The way he cared for me afterward, ensuring I was comfortable, wrapping me in his arms, and whispering soothing words, reinforced that trust. It was in those quiet, intimate moments that I saw the real Harry—the one who, despite his cynicism and charm, had a heart capable of deep, genuine affection.

The realisation that I was right in trusting him brought a sense of fulfilment, a quiet victory in the battle between doubt and faith. It was a confirmation that, despite his dark edges and the shadows that often loomed over him, there was a light within him that shone brightly when we were together. This knowledge was a balm to my soul, a reminder that even in the midst of complexity and uncertainty, there were moments of pure, unadulterated connection that made everything else worthwhile.

So after a few days of distracting myself with work, I gave him a call. My heart pounded as I nervously waited for him to answer, each ring echoing in my ears like a drumbeat. My fingers picked at the pills on my sweatpants, a nervous habit I couldn't seem to break, while I chewed on the inside of my cheek, trying to steady my racing thoughts. The anticipation was almost unbearable, and I half expected to end up reaching his voicemail, my anxiety building with each passing second.