MAGNETIC [H.S.]

8. better than none*

"Look at you, Miss independent woman. Bad bitch Ashton, with her legs spread in a grimey bar bathroom, crying for me. Crying for an orgasm from a man who hates her. Not so tough now are you Poppet?"

I violently bit into my bagel, replaying his words again and again. They have haunted me for days, like a dull buzz in the back of my brain that I cannot shake no matter how hard I try.

How dare he. How dare he speak to me like that. How dare my body respond in such a way, the ultimate betrayal.

Fucking hormones.

Even now sitting at my desk, I can feel the warmth pooling between my legs. I can feel my chest flush at the memory of his thick fingers inside of me. No man has ever spoken to me like that and gotten away with it.

Fuck, no man has ever spoken like that to me at all, and certainly not right before making me come so hard that my legs shook.

Just the memory of it had me clenching around nothing. My nipples tightened in my shirt and a pathetic whimper escaped my mouth.

I needed to be fucked.

I couldn't think of anything else. I had gotten no work done, my brain was a mess, I was so on edge I even snapped at my sweet Rose this morning.

It was almost afternoon now, I had come in late today after trying and failing to rub one out. Then I got pissed so I went back to sleep.

I needed a plan. I wanted revenge. A way to make him feel as small and pathetic as he made me feel in that bathroom. I wanted to haunt him, to drive him to madness the way he'd done to me.

I couldn't form a plan in this state though, I could barely form a sentence, so I was going to have to get off before I could get even. Times like these are where Grant used to come in handy.

I finished work after several painful hours and all but ran out the door. I stopped at my favorite deli and got a huge sandwich with a monster pickle for dinner.

I ate that pickle with pure vengeance on my mind. Nothing had ever felt more satisfying than biting a chunk off of that damn pickle.

I needed to calm down, I was getting myself far too worked up over what? A MAN? Harry fucking Styles!? He did not deserve to get such a reaction from me. He didn't deserve to take up this much real estate in my brain, but I could not shake him.

My whole self ached for him.

It was eight p.m. when I finally broke.

I had tried to distract myself, lounging around watching trashy television in my underwear and a t-shirt, but my body was still buzzing.

I would not give him the satisfaction of calling him, but I would gladly indulge in the next best thing.

My fingers swept across the screen and hit call without a second of hesitation.