The Maid For Styles

Chapter 68

A/N: I've edited this authors note in, because I want to let the future readers know that this chapter got fuck all votes. Like, they dropped so much. It may not look like it or whatever, but right now, it does. I posted this last night and it's seriously got like nothing compared to what my chapters usually do. Please, just, please vote. I mean, I spend hours on end writing these things and to be rewarded with such a lack of votes just really sucks. I don't even know if you have actually liked this chapter or not. Like, it's frustrating. This may sound quite rude or whatever, but I'm kind of upset and annoyed. So, if you're reading this now, please vote. Please just press that little fucking star and I swear I will love you forever. It takes like a second. A second of your time is all I'm asking. And, honestly, such a lack of votes always like puts people in a bad mood and shit, like, I dunno. I don't really feel like updating when I see that people don't even bother to vote. It's disheartening, man. Anyway, just use your finger or your mouse thing to press the star just once and you will become my favourite person in the world. Thankyou to all the people that actually do vote all the time. I love you like I love free wifi. Ugh, okay, this rant has been long as fuck. Oh, well. Don't even care. I'm mad. Deal with itttt. I love you all. PLEASE VOTE. xx

Chloe's POV

The smell of sweat and sex were the only tangible things in the room as we lay on the bed, sticky skinned with rapidly moving lungs that were desperate for air. We were completely and utterly knackered-the second round we'd indulged ourselves in proving to us that we'd poured the remaining energy our bodies held (after the first arousing session) into the activity.

Harry's bed sheets clung to my body as if that was the only thing they knew how to do, as my limbs entwined with Harry's, in a way that should've been uncomfortable, but made the both of us feel secure instead. With my head on Harry's chest and his arms around my torso, I felt completely at ease and absolutely worn out.

"As much as I hate to put my masculinity at risk, I think you've completely worn me out, baby," Harry grumbled, his chest vibrating under my cheek.

I cracked a small smile and snuggled further into his grip. "Me too."

"It's not even late yet," Harry told me, our naked bodies tangled together under the sheets, perfectly. It amazed me how our bodies fit together. Every crevice and joint on my body seemed to effortlessly connect with Harry's, leaving no room for space in between us.

"I know," I whispered, closing my eyes, using the tip of my finger to draw patterns on Harry's chest.

My smile widened when I felt him shudder lightly under my touch. When someone could considerably affect your body, it managed leave you feeling vulnerable, knowing you'd subject to every touch that was placed on your body. But, when you held the same power, a sense of pride and honour was placed on your shoulders, allowing you to hold your head high, because if the feeling was the same as the one you received, you couldn't even begin to explain how thrilling it was to be the basis of it.

When Harry's fingertips grazed my bare back, drawing lines that were seemingly similar to letters, I opened my eyes and released a small laugh. It was apparent that the strokes Harry continued to trace on my skin were being repeated, as if he wanted me to take note.

"What are you drawing?" I murmured, trying to focus on the somewhat sketch that was being traced on my back.

"Guess." That was all I got in reply, but I could tell by the giddy quality Harry's tone held, he was in the mood for a game.

I sighed lightly. "Okay, start again."

His fingers traced two vertical lines, before he drew a third line that seemed to link the previous two. I tried to ignore the shot of electricity Harry's fingertips produced and aim my attention towards the game we were playing, but getting lost in Harry's touch was all too easy.