Blind | h.s. [COMPLETE]

Chapter Eight

*Smut warning*

Enjoy ;)

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The suddenly electric atmosphere in the kitchen rippled across Paisley's skin.

"Paisley," Harry whispered against her neck as he wrapped his arms around her.

She couldn't hold back the whimper that spilled from her open lips. His embrace felt so good, especially when he slid one arm up until it tucked under her breasts and the other down until his hand gripped one of her hips. She loved the way he used the leverage he gained from his firm hold to control the movement of their bodies.

The feel of him hard and needful behind her drove her insane with want. Her body readied itself immediately. She rubbed her thighs together as wetness settled against her panties.

With one hand, Harry cupped her jaw and drew her head to the right. Then he claimed her mouth, sucking on her lips and exploring her with his tongue. She let him lead, loving how commanding he was. He wasn't rough at all, but he took what he wanted. And she was willing to give him everything.

Paisley reached a hand back and grabbed his hip, her fingers extending further around to rest on the clenching muscle of his rear. Then, just to make sure her intentions were clear, she grasped his ass and pulled him against her. She swallowed his groan as their kisses grew more urgent, more desperate.

When he bent his knees and rolled his hips into her ass, she cried out—a sound he elongated by kneading her breast and rubbing her nipple over and over with the pad of his thumb.

Minutes passed as they writhed against each other within the firm embrace of Harry's strong arms. His warm wet kisses were languorous and dizzying. His quick breaths and throaty groans sounded out a language her body understood, responded to, and needed to hear again and again.

Her hands shook with the need to touch him. Finally, she reached her free hand up and wrapped it around the back of his head so she could stroke him encouragingly. He read her movements correctly. His kisses came faster, harder.

When his lips moved to her jaw, then her ear, then her throat, her chest heaved and her body ached with want. "Please," Paisley finally begged.

She tried to turn in his arms but he gripped her tighter, for just a moment. Then he relented, releasing his hold long enough for her to move. She moaned in relief when she could wrap her arms fully around his neck and hold him to her. He kept her trapped against the counter, but she reveled in the tight press because it allowed her to torment his obvious arousal with her thrusting hips and writhing abdomen.

His hands blazed a teasing trail from her breasts to the sides of her stomach to her hips, and back again. She squirmed under his touch and needed more of it. Needed it on her skin.

She withdrew her arms and found the hem of her shirt. He pulled his body off hers just enough to allow them to work together to remove it. She dropped it to the floor, relieved to feel his big hands exploring her skin with such enthusiasm.

Harry's eyes raked over what she'd revealed to him. Paisley blushed at the intensity of his observation. "Aw, darling, you're so very pretty."

Paisley's heart exploded at the affirmation his words provided. Whatever insecurity about her ordinariness she might've still harbored in the back of her mind disappeared completely at his exclamation.

He dropped his head to her chest and licked and nibbled and kissed all along the lacy edge of her bra. As he flicked at her covered nipple with his rigid tongue, his arms reached around behind her. Her bra fell loose into their arms and soon it joined her shirt somewhere on the floor.

Paisley's moan was loud and needy when he cupped her breasts and alternated sucking on one, then the other. Her hands flew to his head. Her fingers curled in his hair, pulling hard enough Harry winced. She held him to her as she arched her back to offer him better access. His mouth was driving her insane. She'd never had someone lavish such attention to her breasts, and she'd certainly never felt so weak and wanton from it. She snaked one hand down his back and fisted his black shirt between his shoulder blades. "Off," she demanded as she tugged at it.

He reached down, his lips still greedily devouring a nipple, and wrenched his shirt off, only dropping his mouth from her when he absolutely had to.

"Oh God," she murmured appreciatively as her eyes surveyed his broad chest.

There was so much more to him than she'd seen in the elevator. The variety of miscellaneous tattoos that curled around his left arm, accompanied those that splayed across his broad shoulders and chest, his rib cage, the v-shape of his hips. She was left wanting to know where else ink swirled on his beautiful body. His browned skin revealed the amount of time he must've spent without a shirt under the summer sun, and made the tattoos stand out even more.

Her original impression was so right—he was so handsome. She wanted to explore every inch of him, to trace every ridged muscle and every tattoo with her fingers and tongue.

Paisley's mouth went right to the half of a heart etched just beneath the swallow on his left pectoral muscle. Her hands clutched the firm muscles of his sides. Harry threaded his fingers into her hair and held her to him. Her tongue ran around the rigid edge of the broken heart before trailing down and finding his nipple, which was right at the natural height of her mouth.

"So good," he rasped. He pressed a kiss onto her hair.

She flicked her thumb back and forth over the skin she'd made wet, so she could pay attention to his other nipple as well. He groaned at her teasing touch. She smiled at getting him back for how deliciously he'd tormented her earlier.

His skin felt so good under her fingers, and tasted better—just a little salty from how hot they'd been in the elevator. She imagined them in the shower together, using her own bare, soapy hands to wash the day off him. A smile formed where her lips were still pressed against his chest. Another time, she mused. Please let there be another time.

All this slow exploration made her ache. The cleft between her legs was wet and throbbing. Her body begged for the relief of his touch. And she hoped and prayed his body was making the very same pleas.

She sucked his right nipple into her mouth and flicked her tongue against it until he fisted his hand in her hair. She couldn't tell if he was holding her in place or trying to pull her away. Maybe both. But she could tell, either way, he liked it, because he grunted and rocked his hips into her.