Possessive

Chapter 4

 Ella's POV:

"do you have some aces up your sleeve?"

Intoxicating.  That was the only thing running through my mind as Harry's lips moved skillfully against mine. Everything about him screamed that this was a bad idea, from the many tattoos canvased across his skin, to the way he could change from playful to menacingly sinister in less than two seconds. 

His hands slid up my arms leaving a wave of electricity behind them.  My conscious was telling me to push him, shove him do anything to make this stop, but every time he slyly glided his tongue over the bottom of my lip begging for entrance all rationality was thrown out the window. 

"You can open your eyes." My eyes flew open to be met with a very pleased looking Harry, usual smirk plastered on his face.  I had been so caught up in the moment, in the rush of playing with something dangerous, that I failed to notice the absence of his lips.  For all I knew Harry could have psychotic tendencies, it wasn't in the slightest bit normal for the...interest he had taken in me.  But the danger appealed to me, it was thrilling, making my feel something I hadn't felt in a longtime.

"Tell me your mine." His husky voice rang through my ears.  I shot up one eyebrow up, taken back by the sudden change in his demeanor.

"Wha-"

"Tell me your mine Ella." If it wasn't for the burning and almost demanding look on his face I would've thought he was absolutely joking.

"No." I stated, looking at him if he was absolutely mental.  Hell he may even be.

"It wasn't a question." Stepping forward, his gaze immediately hardened, lips forming into a thin line.

"It wasn't up for negotiation." Biting the inside of my lip, I was silently cursing myself to choose now of all times to have a newfound confidence.  The way his muscles pulsed on his jawline indicated he wasn't in the slightest bit pleased with my answer.

"You're coming with me." Before I had the chance to register what he had said, my arm was being forcefully pulled through the crowd of sweaty bodies.  Frantically looking around the dance floor, hoping to catch someone's eye, all hope of a stranger swooping in and saving me just like Harry had completely diminished away.  Even if I had captured a strangers attention, the tattoos and stone cold stare permanently etched onto Harry's face would surely frighten anyone away from me.  

Harry more then forcefully pushed his way through the belligerently drunk people, never taking his sight off of wherever he was taking me.  After what seemed like a painstakingly large amount of time his hands released me from their grip to slam open the exit door.  Almost immediately he reached into the back pocket of his jeans reaching for a small object.  When the flicker of a light and the abundance of smoke filtrated the air, I recognized it as cigarettes.    Taking a long puff he slowly released the smoke out between his lips, the hard set of his jaw slightly easing. 

"What the fuck are you looking at?' He spoke with authority as if he were better than the man standing less than 5 feet away from him.  The man quickly adverted his gaze elsewhere coming in the direct line of my eyesight.  A small smile appeared on the strangers face and in any other circumstance I would've felt obligated to return his polite gesture, but I feared for the mans safety if I did.

"You better look the fuck away. Now."  The shortness of breath and ragged breathing emanating off of Harry had made me divert my attention back to him.  The veins in his neck were all but throbbing and in my slightly altered state I wanted to ask him why he was so easily angered by the slightest of things.  Instead of making the situation potentially worse, I settled on trying to grab his arm to calm him down.   His head snapped in my direction and for a frightful second I thought he was going to start yelling at me, until his face softened, a small sigh parting between his lips.