Your blood had quickly started to boil after the umptempth girl had walked up to your boyfriend and tried to grind her slutty body against his. The cheeky smile he had directed towards each girl before finally moving away only heightened your anger and before long you found yourself lost in the crowd of bumping bodies. A hard body presses against your back, one that’s unfamiliar, and you can’t stop yourself from pressing back against him out of anger and frustration with your popular boyfriend. The thick hands behind you grip your hips tighter as you allow yourself to glance over the bodies, looking for the familiar body of Harry.
He isn’t hard to spot, his long torso leaned against the railing of the VIP section as his hard glare stares right through you. You smirk to yourself because you’ve gotten exactly what you wanted, Harry feeling as insecure as you had earlier. What you weren’t counting on was his body to start pushing through the crowd until his long fingers are wrapping around your wrist tightly to drag you away. You stumble behind him as he leads you through the crowded club towards the bathrooms. Turning left down an empty hallway, he swings you around him into a rarely used bathroom, slamming the heavy door behind him. His darkened eyes are glaring through you as his chest heaves, fists clenching at his side but you stand your ground.
“What the FUCK was that?” he demands, craning his neck to the side to crack the bones wickedly.
“Whatever do you mean Harold?” you ask sickenly sweet, crossing your arms under your chest while tilting your head to the side.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about” he seethes, stepping forward until he has you back against the bathroom sinks.
“Why don’t you tell me Harold… do you enjoy making me feel insecure when it takes you so long to step away from those sluts when they press against you” you snap, reaching your trembling hands forward to shove his body away. Something flashes in his eyes and for a brief moment, you know he never meant to make you feel that way. As quickly as it flashes behind his dark eyes, it’s returned, his pride and possessiveness overcoming any other emotion he could feel in that moment.
“So you thought it was ok for you to act like any other slut in this club and press against some other guy!” he shouts loudly, flinging his hand to the side to illustrate his point.
“How’s it feel Harold? To know some other guy could make me feel the way you make me feel? To know he could possibly do it better? That some other guy could fuck me better than you?” you taunt, stepping forward as you fill his mind with doubt. He growls, low in his throat, and his long fingers are gripping your upper arms while shoving you back against the wall of the bathroom.
“Fuck you” he hisses in your ear, lifting you against him as your back makes contact with the wall.
“No, fuck you Harold! Fuck you and your need to be surrounded by all those girls! Fuck you for making me feel insecure… fuck you!” you cry out, a few tears slipping down your cheeks as his large hands push the hem of you plum bodycon dress up to your waist. His mood shifts for a moment, eyes softening as he gazes at the tears slipping down your face. A long finger reaches up to wipe them away, his soft lips kissing the rest away.
“No one… NO ONE can fuck you like I can” he whispers in your ear darkly, fingers gripping your waist tightly.
“No one knows you like I do… no one can make you feel like this” he breathes against your ear as you grip the curls at the nape of his neck.
“No other girl can make you feel like I can Harry, remember that when some other slut tries to press against you” you groan against his ear, gasping when he rips the flimsy material of your lace knickers from your body. He groans against your neck, leaning his head off your shoulder to watch as you fumble with the button and zipper of his black jeans. The heavy material hits the tiled floor with a soft thud and Harry’s pushing your farther up the wall while gripping the backs of your bare thighs. He takes a moment to gaze down at your body, dress pushed up to your waist with your slim thighs wrapped around his waist. It’s a sight he’s seen many a times but he’s never gazed at you this way when he’s been so angry. He smirks and the sight irks you as his long fingers trail up the smooth expanse of skin to the apex of your thighs.
