Chapter Sixteen
You do nothing
But captivate me.
~~~~
“Charlotte,” Harry’s eyes darkened in mere moments from my touch; I could hear the hitch of his breathing stop in his mouth, the slight hissing between his teeth as his body tensed up from my forward move, “do you have any idea what you’re doing?”
I had a clue what I was doing. What I was doing was playing with fire; I was dangling my coy fingers over the licking flames, teasing it, hanging over the brink of danger and safety. Harry’s emerald eyes were watching me closely, though I could see the constraint emulated in his imperturbable yet seizing gaze. Yes, I was looking danger right in the eyes, but I wasn’t hiding from it. I was teasing it simply because I wanted something in return.
This was all his fault. If he wasn’t so damn controlling, we would’ve never have been in this situation.
So I locked my jaw and boldly kneaded him through his jeans, the material straining against his swollen length; I could feel the tight bulge under my fingertips—I could feel what lay beneath, hidden in the confines of his jeans. His undeniable size was evident to my touch, and it was daunting yet I couldn’t help but feel the least amount of intrigued by the tightness under my fingertips, and I couldn’t help but feel mesmerized by the susceptible look in Harry’s gaze, how he went utterly stagnant under my one, firm touch, how I was suddenly the only person in his world as of now. He craned under my move, he bent to my will, and it was utterly fascinating to see how the tables have easily turned in this situation. Normally I was the one who bent to his will; I was the vulnerable one, and here we were at a standstill.
I could either back away from his smearing stare and gain absolutely nothing from this, or I could venture from the world I have ever known and step outside of the stable box I have been concealed in for my entire life. I could strive from this certainty and delve into the unknown—it was all up to one person.
Me.
I have never touched or seen a penis in bare view; I’ve seen some on pictures (don’t ask), but I have never seen one with my own eyes. But in this moment between Harry and I, I was unable to break our powerful gaze as I began touching him more, wondering if he was in pain right now on how tight his jeans were against the most sensitive part of his entire body.
“Charlotte,” This came out as a low, warning growl between his teeth. In my peripheral vision I could see his hands clawing into fists, clenching and unclenching to relieve some tension. “You’re pushing it, baby girl.”
“I don’t care,” I murmured under my breath. And it was true. I was past the point of caring; my sex was throbbing painfully, in need of a release, and my curiosity was building with a dangerous haste. I licked my lips nervously and cupped his thick length in my hand, squeezing gently and watching Harry’s face crumble right in front of me from the small yet significant movement.
