Estranged • h.s.

21

HARRY

Is shaking a normal reaction? My hands are fisted as she bites her lip, unbuttoning my black jeans. Did my voice sound shaky? Can she tell I'm about to combust on the spot? I lift my hips for her as she pulls down on my pants and boxers, both items sliding down my muscled thighs and over my knees.

She lets them pool at my ankles, eyes trained on my dick the entire time. She looks like she's starving for this, and that makes my stomach do a flip. My dick responds with a twitch that has it shaking more, taunting the both of us.

My dick hasn't seen anything but my calloused hands for the last two and a half years.

The second she touches me, muscle memory will ignite a hunger that I've tried to keep at bay for too long. Her delicate fingers trail up my legs, over the daffodils tattooed on me that she doesn't bother to look at. Not on purpose, but because her one track mind is focused on something far more enticing at the moment. And I can't say I'm mad about that.

Selfishly, I'm buzzing with a suffocating sense of excitement - I feel like I've taken her radiance and injected it right into my veins. And still, there's a nagging feeling that I should stop her. Does she actually want to do this? Will she regret it?

I'm horrible. I'm not strong enough to turn her away now, not when my fingers still vibrate with the memory of her pussy squeezing them while she came with praise on her tongue.

Her palms glide over my thighs, the tiger tattoo disappearing for a brief moment beneath her pretty hand. I can't decide where to look. I'm overwhelmed with need. I've wanted this for so long, this level of intimacy between us to rekindle the flame of our affection. Do I watch her face, her hands, her mouth? Do I let myself feel everything and close my eyes?

She situates herself in between my legs, resting her ass on her calves as she finally breaks her stare onto my cock to look up at me.

A rush of something completely unknown to me hits me like a fucking bullet when I stare into her contact riddled eyes.

I would give anything to see her, the real her, in this moment. She has them in so often, that I've only seen her sky blue eyes a handful of times in the last two months. And it's never been when she's been close to me, or vulnerable with me.

"Take your contacts out," I say, my voice bare and pathetically breathy.

She tilts her head at me, that signature scowl that is somehow the most beautifully terrifying thing I've ever seen, working overtime.

"I said don't ruin this with questions, Styles."

I swallow before relaxing my hands, finally.

"It wasn't a question, Campbell. Take them out and stop hiding from me." My hands itch with the urge to grip her real hair to make her understand the demand.

She beats me to the role of dominance we've been dancing around for weeks, though, when she grips my cock with zero hesitation.

She squeezes the shaft, thick veins visible through the space between her fingers while the obnoxiously red tip shamelessly leaks. I hiss out a sharp breath, shifting from the aggressive but intoxicating feeling she sprung on me. And both of us stall the discussion as my precum leaks onto her soft hand.

I stare in awe. Watching it run over her fingers. Jesus, how is there so much? How am I possibly this turned on?

"I don't take orders from needy men. And you want it so, so bad."

Jesus fucking Christ. My head falls back as she loosens her hold a bit to pump my cock the slowest she possibly can. I let out a breath of relief from her hold, that had such a delicious amount of pressure, needing to compose myself for just a moment. But my throat quickly lets out a desperate sound when she squeezes the base again while her tongue makes brazen contact with the tip of my leaking dick.