F A B R I C / Harry Styles
- Reads 269
- Votes 7
- Parts 4
Ongoing38m
Last published Sat, Sep 21, 2019
"We must've been cut from the same fabric,"
I looked at him at the other side of the table, sitting there his head placed on his underarms looking at me like a curious child. He smiled knowingly over the petrol material spread out between us. He knew what he was doing, he knew what he wanted to say but he'd rather tell me through anything but words. I did the first cut and I knew he was right.
All Rights Reserved
#391
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I anxiously staring at him, waiting for him to laugh and tell me it's a joke, a really bad fucking joke. He's in front of me in a blink of an eye and picks me up. My legs wrap around his back as he holds my thighs firm. My back presses against the wall as he pushes us against it. His breath intertwining with mine. He presses his lips to mine and I can tastes the wine he must have had before coming to see me. His grip on my thighs tighten and he pushes himself harder against me. I gasp as the feeling of him between my legs ignites. "Harry," I breathlessly pant trying to pull myself away. "I haven't done any of my moves and you're already screaming my name."
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