Je t'aime

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JE T'AIME | STYLES

    Harry looked beautiful tonight, more disheveled than usual, more wild. Harry's chestnut brown hair was haphazardly combed to the side, a storm of determination and madness brewing in his greem eyes. Harry's blue dress shirt was tucked into his pinstriped black pants, secured into place by a pair of black suspenders. Dangling loosely from Harry's neck was a half done-up red tie. The ceremony had ended a few hours ago---in which all the guests had left me and Harry behind. 

   I felt so nervous around him, the fact that he was french topped that off. French men are so charming and will find a way into a girls' heart or between her legs. Harry will manage to do both if I don't leave soon enough. Although, he has been a pain in the ass. He has kissed my best friend, my other friend and some of my colleagues, and that disgusted me. But why does he still have this spell over me? Shouldn't I despise him?

     "Je vous veux (I want you)," he said soothly, but I didn't understand. "Je veux que vous enveloppez vos jambes autour de mon cou (I want you to wrap you legs around my neck)," he stared at my lips, licking his own as his grip on my waist became tighter. "Confus (Confused)?" 

     I nodded my head. I understand simple words---like oui or non but anything else, it was all just a muddle for me. I knew what confus meant, he asked if I was confused, I was so confused. Here I was, with my hands against his hard chest and his chin merely touching my nose. His green sparkly eyes searched for mine and his tongue licked his lips. 

     "My aunt will be picking me up soon," I said, nervously. "I-I should leave."

     His smirk lifted upwards and there was a mischevious glint in his eyes, "Nous avons seulement commencé (we've only started)." He tilted his head to the side, brushing his nose against mine. My chest thumped against his and my thighs couldn't open up, "êtes-vous nerveux (are you nervous)?" 

     I furrowed my brows, but before I could open my mouth, he placed his lips against mine. I could process nothing but the feverish movement of Harry's lips against mine. Next door's lively music and dancing patrons had faded to black, as if nothing in my strange world existed but Harry's lean frame, pressed up so hungrily against mine.

     My stalled and rusting engine of a petite body had exploded to life, a figurative spark igniting within my chest and shooting a debilitating wave of electricity through my extremities. His lips were toxic, a combination of softness and power, or giving and taking that I already found myself addicted to.

      Harry asked for no permission when he thrust his wet tongue into my mouth, fervently exploring each of my caverns, effortlessly plowing through each wall and barrier that I had put in place. My body seemingly responded without consent, my tongue meeting with Harry's in equal desperation. My eyes had shut at some point; my clamy hands resting against the strong planes of his chest, the hammering of Harry's heart pulsating beneath my fingertips.

    His lips were a cool drink of water on a sweltering Virginia night, fingernails trailing along the itchiest of flesh. I felt Harry's all-consuming hands slide from the small of my back along the arch of my ass, squeezing the flesh of my behind so hard that my teeth clamped down on his lip. Pulled from my trance, I broke away from Harry's lips, gasping when I became aware of the heated scene.

     The color literally drained from my face. I wanted to slap him but then, I should've slapped myself. He smirked at my facial expression, releasing his grip on me. "La chance que je suis à déguster telle douceur des lèvres d'une fille (how lucky am I to taste such sweetness from a girl's lips)?"

   My hands were trembling. "Wow, I can't do this. You cannot just do that! Just because you're french, doesn't mean you can just put your tongue in my mouth!" Then I stared at his lips. "But oh, that was amazing. Oh no, I have to leave. I cannot." I spun around very quickly, releasing deep breaths. 

     "Je vois que tu chérie bientôt (I'll see you soon sweetheart)," he said, grabbing my hip. Then he whispered something in my ear. "Je suis accro à toi, Madeline, et je ne peux pas attendre pour drainer tout cela innocence hors de vous (I'm addicted to you, Madeline, and I cannot wait to drain all of that innocence out of you),"

I didn't understand what he said but my legs began to tremble from the seduction of his voice.