Sun shines through the shades and onto my baby blue walls. I smell mint mixed with cologne and my lips tug into a small smile. Two strong arms were felt around my waist, tracing shapes on my hipbone. Here we are again, in my bed, reminiscing on the previous events of last night. Every weekend, he'd come to me. Saturday through Sunday. His lips always ended up finding mine and his words made me forgive him every time. I knew I wasn't the only woman, which pained me. But, as long as I had him to myself for those two days, I was content.
Saturdays were spent fucking, usually. Our relationship is anything but plain. I give him what his wife can't. She can't give him oral like I can, or call him Daddy like I can. He fucks me in ways I can barely describe. Dominance is his specialty. So, he usually indulges in handcuffs or some sort of restraint for me. Teasing and edging for hours on end with the repeating phrase, "If you cum, I'll make sure you won't sit right for weeks, darling." His raspy voice holds great authority, but the offer is always too tempting to pass up. After Saturdays, I typically can't walk or sit right for a few days. But, that leaves time to recover for the next Saturday to come. His green eyes are always so welcoming, yet hold a lustful glint whenever we lock eyes. Whenever I'm about to cum, he always wants me to make eye contact. His eyes are usually a few shades darker, and comforting. He also has a thing for choking and spanking. There isn't a Saturday that passes where I'm not being choked and told to shut up or spanked and told to behave. I'm not allowed to call him by his name, either. On Saturdays, Daddy is the only exception. Anything else will result in immediate punishment. I guess you could say he's a bit harsh, but for some reason I enjoy being told what to do and how to do it.
Sundays are spent in bed, cuddling and comfortable. It's more romantic than Saturdays. Sundays include breakfast in bed, an abundance of kisses and touches. He was more emotionally attached on Sundays, as was I. I knew he'd leave by 10, to meet his wife back home for brunch. We'd never talked about how wrong it was for us to be together, we just acted in the moment and loved eachother secretly. He's a strange man to be with. Yet, those alluring green eyes and brown curly hair pull me in every time. There's not a moment that goes by where I don't think about what it would be like to pull his curly hair as he ate me out. Or, how his long slender digits adorn by cool, metal rings would feel inside of me.
"I know you're awake, Sol. I can feel you thinking from here." His deep voice vibrated through the room. It held playfulness, but more so concern.
"Sorry, I spaced off for a minute." I shift to face him, locking eyes with the beautiful green eyed man.
There he laid, clad in my white bedsheets with nothing but a smirk on his face. Dimples pierced his cheeks as his hand began to caress my bare thigh. Comfortable silence was among us, and it felt good to be touched by him. His smooth fingers tracing letters and shapes into my leg.
"Solána, I want to fuck you." His voice laced with lust as his eyes never leaving mine.
Heat rose to my cheeks as I bite the inside of my cheek. It's Sunday, and we never have sex on Sunday. He's either stressed, or wants to remember me bye.
"Harry, its 8am. You want to fuck me?" I blurt out, my eyes widening as I realize I called him by his first name.
It was a nice first name, it complimented his demeanor and fit when you said it. Yet, he didn't like it when I called him by his first name. He preferred Daddy.
"Sol, what did you say?" He was happy I fucked up, what an asshole.
I kept quiet and my gaze wasn't on him anymore. His hand gripped my jaw swiftly, making me look at him in the eyes. His eyes were darker than usual. He wasn't smiling, but had a menacing look across his face.
"Solána, what the fuck did you say?" He asks again, but this time, he didn't wait for a response.
His lips found my neck, and soon enough I was on top of him. His bulge was prominent in between my legs as he laid back onto my pillows. Both my hands were bound behind my back as my bare chest was pressed into his. He was going to fuck me, and I couldn't be more excited.
"Sol, darling, do you want me to fuck you?" He quirks an eyebrow and grinds his hips into mine.
I can't help but let out a moan as he speeds up, grinning devilishly at my loss for words. He wanted a reaction out of me, and he sure as hell was getting one.
"Yes, fuck, Daddy I want you." I choke out, and he ceases movement. I gasp at the lack of friction between my legs as I whimper.
He didn't say anything, but pushed his length inside of me in one swift movement. He didn't thrust immediately, he just had me sat on him as he filled me to the brim. Tears pricked my eyes as my walls adjust around his large length. I gasp out for air, as he sat and watched me suffer. He was always the one to get off on my physical pain, because he loved the rush. His wife would never let him fuck her at 8am while he bounds her to the bed and edges her for hours on end. That's why he needed me, to release his sexual frustrations. He let it all out on me.
"Stop holding back, doll. Daddy likes it when you let him know it feels good." He coos, and I can't contain myself.
I was a moaning mess as I shifted on his lap, but he held me in place. Shaking his head, he lowers his lips to my ear.
"Calling me Harry was a good joke, doll. You know not to do that, don't you? I thought you were well aware." He hums, and slides out of me. What a fuckhead. I didn't even cum.
I groan and huff, nodding just so he would praise me. I slide on his teeshirt and tie my hair up, licking myself chap lips as he began to get up and dress himself. A suit adored his body as he slid on his slacks and buttoned up his blazer.
"Doll, I have to run. I'll meet you back on Friday, okay?" He strides toward me to place a kiss on my lips, deepening the kiss as his hands wander across my body. I stop him slowly.
"I'll see you Friday, Daddy. Don't be late." I whisper, encouraging him to go on as he nodded and pecked lightly at my neck, exiting my bedroom.
The front door shut, an indication that he had left. I was going to miss him, god was I going to miss him. He was what I longed for on weekdays. I hope the feelings were mutual.
"I've got you for the weekend, Styles."
a/n
hi hey hEllo this story was inspired by a song of of sza's new album bc that's my bitch but anyways VOTE + COMMENT & add for updates loves!!
all the love. J x
