Cause your sex takes me to paradise.
Ten.
Michael’s slurred countdown rang through the trashed living room, his hand gripping Niall’s shoulder for support as I scanned Harry’s crowded Beverly Hills mansion for the man of the hour.
Nine.
Heart racing, veins constricting, palms clammy on my untouched glass of chardonnay as the seconds ticked by like hours.
Eight.
Eight months ago when we met I told him I wouldn’t fuck him until he was legally an adult, more for the sake of building a relationship together based off of our minds rather than our bodies. Eight seconds and I would be his, in every way we’d both craved for far too long.
Seven.
Where was he? Nobody seemed too concerned about the whereabouts of the only reason they were all even here tonight, save for Calum who was yelling Luke’s name repeatedly with “cunt” thrown in like it was nothing.
Six.
Ashton was going uncharacteristically wild with his arm around an almost completely naked Harry from where they stood on his gold-plated coffee table, taking turns guzzling vodka straight from the bottle before spraying it over everyone in true rock star fashion.
Five.
I was becoming increasingly worried that I couldn’t find Luke, especially considering he towered above almost everyone, my red lipstick leaving stains on my teeth as I bit my lip out of nervous habit.
Four.
I stood on the tips of my toes and began to raise my hlass to get Ashton’s attention to see if he could locate Luke, but before I could utter a word a cool hand covered my mouth followed by a long finger slipping between my lips, the taste of whipped sugar coating my tongue.
Three.
A low moan reached my ears as I sucked the icing clean from his digit harshly as the entirety of his finger disappeared into the recesses of my mouth, his hips pressing against my body from behind, Luke’s breath tinged with cinnamon and heat on my throat. My head fell back to his shoulder as his arm encircled my waist possessively while his nails dug into my skin, Michael’s obscenely inappropriate gestures visible through my fluttering lids making it obvious we were spotted.
Two.
Luke ignored the yells and congratulatory shouts as he spun me around and tugged me roughly into his sculpted torso, the wine glass slipping from my grasp and shattering on the marble floor just as his lips brushed tortuously against mine.
“One.”
Luke whispered hotly, then his lips were flush on mine and I fought to remember how to function now that I knew we would never again have to worry about stopping things before we went too far.
“Fuck her right in the pussy, Hemmo!” Calum cackled in a dreadful American accent, and I couldn’t help but laugh into the kiss as Luke walked us back towards the master suite just down an adjacent hall, his exasperated sigh and rarely-seen annoyed face quite possibly the cutest thing I’d ever witnessed.
