Love is ours to make - ZAYN MALIK AU

It's not love but it's pretty close

We were both busy in an extremely pleasurable make out session whilst  entering his apartment. His tongue tasted  like smoke and peppermint mixing with  cherries. Bittersweet. Grey and pink.

  He was all over me and the  ardent kisses were sufficient to make my night a long one. His touches were nothing like a prince charming caressing you first while leaning to give you a kiss and your foot rises up in acceptance. It was hungrier than I thought, he just wanted to pleasure a woman and vice versa.

We were already in his apartment and he had strung the coat on the arm rest of his couch as he attacked me with his heavenly full lips. It was obvious to be honest that I couldn't get enough of him. Somewhere along the line, I wanted him. In spite of the occasional bitching I used to do as an underestimated colleague of Carla, somewhere along my horny needs there was always a thirst for Zayn Malik.

How his meticulous persona would be so conspicuous whenever he confronted someone, everything about him was complete and pristine.

No wonder there were bitches drooling over him all along. I was just too flippant to notice but now that I am having a taste of it, I can pretty sure say that I don't want it to slip out.
He was cumulatively charming, the sounds which could paint an inappropriate picture for a four year old were filled in his apartment. His pitch black couch was dipped down with quite a force as we both threw ourselves on it with him being on top of me. This was after he practically took off all of my clothing and my hands snaked around his nape as I hoisted up with my legs  wrapped around his firm waist.

The touches didn't seem to stop, gallant enough he managed to go for the third finger after the two were already inside scissoring. My eyes that were shut tight, crinkled a bit more to let a tear out which cascaded down my cheeks. To my surprise I never thought the action which I experienced would actually happen with someone like Zayn Malik. He kissed it away, the fucking tear was wiped off by his tongue meeting my cheeks with his puckered lips as if they were waiting for them to be touched. Trust me they were.

"gosh you're so..." Speech was just not ready to come out of my mouth. 

The smirk was way too adamant to leave his face, as he had plastered that on since our meet in Mr. Malik's cabin. it was just levelling itself up and down. Sometimes wide and faint otherwise. But it was equally devilish and attractive if one would define it and they must, in my opinion. 

"Margaret darling, don't be too hesitant when you express yourself." He coaxed as he had one of my wrist locked on the couch seat. Fastidious. It was a little uncomfortable at the start but as soon as the work started I felt like bed wasn't always a requisite for sex.

I bit my lip holding back a moan, as he had the tip of his cock inside, mercilessly sliding down my cervix. I am practically measuring his girth in my head the way his pushing it and pulling back. It was thick, huge and just right.

His hair were all on his forehead, tousled enough tickle my neck as he was pounding on me. But he abruptly turned his head looking at me to which I am sure was not for sucking my face.

"You're not pulling my hair... Why?" He quietly inquired as I held my breath for a second,

"Are you kidding me... Nobody touches Zayn Malik's hair. How would I then?"

I being the witty bitch answered as I see his eyes dilated even more then they should, like a vampire. They were no more glistening as they always do with golden tinge in it, now all I could see was a thin  dark brown ring.

"How could I like you more." He groaned, must say he was a little impressed by my response and I chuckled while engaging myself in a yet lustful kiss.