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

Twenty-Three

"I want to get you naked. I want your soft skin against my own. I want to fuck you in those sexy heels, Miss Mason," Mr. Styles breathed against her lips, his breath warm and inviting.

Jesus fucking Christ. How could she possibly say no to something like that?

A low whimper escaped her lips as she pressed them against his – her open invitation to him. His mouth moved hungrily over hers as his hands ravaged her upper body. She wanted to be naked with him. She wanted everything he just said. Oh, god. She needed it.

"You are an addiction," he breathed against her jaw as he kissed down it, his fingers swiftly popping out the buttons on her shirt in the process.

She was happy that he decided not to rip it off of her body like he'd done in the past.

"Oh, Jesus," Katherine whimpered under her breath as her hormones went crazy from his touch and from his words, from his presence.

He tugged open the front of her shirt, exposing her white lace bra as his hands palmed at her breasts, his mouth working down the side of her neck. She gripped his shoulders tightly, not knowing what else she should do with her hands. She was so inexperienced with the passionate-fuck-in-the-middle-of-the-day-against-a-wall sex. But in true Mr. Styles fashion, he was raring to take the lead on this one, just like every other time.

His fingers gathered up the material of her shirt and pulled it out of the skirt before sliding it off of her shoulders, tugging it down her arms until it was in a heap on the floor. His mouth never seemed to leave her skin as he continued on his quest to get her naked. And suddenly she was standing in front of him wearing only her panties and heels, wondering how in the hell he was still dressed.

Katherine slipped her hands into his suit jacket, sliding it off his shoulders as his mouth finally broke away from her skin, his lust-filled eyes looking deeply into hers.

"I want your soft skin against my own," she repeated his words back to him and watched as his eyebrow cocked in appreciation.

He continued to watch her as she slid his tie out of its knot and dropped it onto the floor. She unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off, exposing his tanned hardened muscles and smattering of tattoos. His eyes never left her as she unfastened his belt and slacks, letting them drop to his ankles. The only movement he made was to kick off his shoes and step out of his trousers.

He was a sight standing in front of her wearing his black Calvin Klein boxer briefs and his designer black socks.

"Innocent meets evil," he said lowly, stepping toward her, his arms boxing her against the door.

"You're not evil," she whispered, looking into his eyes. He just stared back into hers with a smoldering look.

"And I'm not innocent," she said a little braver, watching as his eyes flared with her words.