Wedding Dance (Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Part 2

He pulls me out of the tent into the balmy summer night. God! I knew it would be such a dance. Why did I say yes? I'm old enough to know that he won't just dance with me. He will expect more.

Suddenly he stops, turning to me, pulling me to his chest. The music is loud, but muffled.

"Dance with me," he whispers in the dark, and I look at him. We're standing in front of the lake. The moon plays with the water, and immerses it in a mysterious silver.

"My shoes! I'll sink in the grass," I whisper back, while I bend forward, supporting myself by grabbing his arm, pulling off my shoes. Carelessly I throw them onto the grass. The chilly grass feels pleasant under my aching feet. He smiles, shaking his head at me indulgently and pulling me again to his chest.

My hand rests on his shoulder, and it feels like there is no other place for it. I've never felt like this before. There is something between us. I try to find words for it, as I bend my head forward, and suddenly I feel his lips behind my ear. I open my lips a little bit, smelling him. He smells incredible. It's something with vanilla but not sweet; tangy instead. I wish I could press my lips against his neck. He presses me tighter to his chest, and my lips touch his neck accidently. God! His warm skin on my lips is like an electric shock. His hand runs over my back, and I bet myself that he will touch my ass, but no. His hand rests in the hollow of my back, but no lower. It's an intimate touch. Yes, that's the word. Intimate. His glances, his touches.

There is nothing sexual in it. It's erotic of course, but in a way I never experienced before. It seems he adores dancing with me alone in the summer night: only he and I. I smile a little, closing my eyes as I start to release my hand from his. For a moment he hesitates. I slide my hand over his chest. I have to swallow hard. God! His chest! My flat palm rests on the soft fabric of his shirt. I don't know why, but I feel safe for the first time in a long time. I feel comfortable, and I don't care about the others who saw us sneaking away. So I put my head on my left hand on his shoulder. His shoulders. They're broad but not in an "I attend the gym every day" way. I feel the wet spot of his wine-soaked trousers on my leg as he slides his leg between mine. I don't know why, but every time a man tries this, I freeze and end the dance with any stupid excuse. This time... I freeze for other reasons.

As the last tunes of the song play I grab his shirt. I hold his shirt tightly in my fist as I sense his breath on my neck. Another shiver runs over my body as he covers my hand with his. Tenderly, he opens my fist only to replace the shirt with his fingers. The grass tickles my ankles, and I have a stupid smile on my lips. I know it.

"You're crazy," I whisper against his neck. I feel the rumble in his chest as he laughs.

"I'm crazy? You're dancing barefoot in the grass," he responds cheekily. I blush and bite my lower lip. He's right. I'm the crazy one here. Dancing in the moonlight with a stranger, and I know where it leads.

So pliant in my arms. She twirls easily, and I close my eyes as I nuzzle against her cheek. My cock is hard, and I'm likely leaking with my intense need for her, but I make no move to seduce her or invite her up to my room. She isn't the kind of woman that I would be satisfied fucking just one time. And I don't have time for anything more tonight.

The music shifts and starts playing "Ever Since New York". I smile slightly because it surprises me to hear it played by the DJ, but it's a lovely song, even if no one else understands what the lyrics mean. And though she's only committed herself to one dance with me for spilling wine on my Gucci pants, I'm determined to wring every second I can out of feeling her in my arms. She's so soft. Her skin so warm. I can picture a future with her, dancing like this at coming weddings and events.