Sleepyhead

Hot Mess

There is something about having the most gorgeous boy on the planet go down on you in a supply closet that is oddly satisfying.

Oddly?

Who am I kidding. It’s like bloody fucking Christmas and Halloween and that day where all the best stores have a massive sale all rolled up into one big fucking awesome time.

It’s like...heaven.

If heaven was a boy with a very skilled tongue and even more skilled hands, then yes, it was heaven.

(And I sincerely hope that when I do take the final plunge of life, I’ll end up in a place that hands out fantastic orgasms and has a nice line-up of fit lads all ready and more-than willing to dish them out.)

“Jesus Christ,” I moaned, tipping my head back and literally trying my hardest not to shake all over the place.

Zayn pulled away, looking up at me. “You like that, babe?”

His eyes were golden and glazed over and that trademark grin where his tongue poked up just a bit behind his teeth and my God I just need him to stop.

“Oi, shut up already.” I wrapped my hands in his hair and shoved him back towards me. He didn’t even protest as I interlocked my fingers around his dark locks. He just grinned and moved closer, his lips making contact with my bare skin. “Zayn...” I moaned.

He snickered against me, his fingers sliding across my folds. “I take that as a yes.”

I just grunted in response, because honestly, who could form words when Zayn Malik had his tongue on your sweet spot and his finger in...well...

“Fuck...” I hissed.

My fingers grabbed the shelves and I bit down on my lip. Fuck. Just. 

Fuck me.

I could feel him grinning. His finger slid in and out as I lost all my thoughts to ecstasy. Bloody Zayn Malik and his bloody sexual skills. Honestly, how any woman or man is able to resist him is beyond me.

Zayn Malik was hot property. He was wanted by millions of girls (and I’m sure, boys) across the globe, all willing to drop to the ground at the quirk of his eyebrow.

And yet here I’ve got him, on his knees, trying to make it up to me.

This is the life.

“Zayn!” I shouted, quickly covering my mouth. Here it was. The big finale. The grand old show. I felt myself climax, the best feeling in the world, as Zayn slowly finished me off.

I was gasping for air, holding onto the shelf in the closet and trying my best not to fall over. Because...

That was the bloody best orgasm I’ve had in a long time.

He stood up, his hands grabbing my waist to stabilize me. 

I just blinked at him.

He blinked back.

“Yes?” He quirked an eyebrow, that naughty little smirk growing on his face. He knew. He bloody well knew the effect he had on me. It was written all over my screams and shudders and the fact that I couldn’t very well look him in the eye right now.

“Erm...” I mumbled, reaching down and yanking my thong and trousers up. “Thank you.”

He just laughed. 

And by laughed, I mean he cackled. Like I just told him the funniest joke ever created.

Rude.

“Thank you?” He snickered, dropping his hands off my waist. “You’re welcome, I suppose.”