Random Harry Styles Short Stories || Completed!

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"I am not your 'babes," you repeat for what must be the tenth time politely shoving his mobile back into his hands. "And I'm not giving you my number."

He rocks back hard on his heels, hands casually stuffed in his pockets, a challenging look on his face.

Pointedly, you spin your bar stool away from him wondering why he's even bothering with you in the first place. You are certainly not the sexiest girl in the hotel bar or the one with the least clothes on, so what's a guy like him want with a girl like you?

"M'not in the mood for games" he pauses, his lips just grazing your ear, "babes."

"I love games," you say dismissively, "and I love winning games."

With that, you don't spare him a backward glance as you pop out of your seat and stomp across the bar dragging your coat and purse behind you. The hotel bar isn't big enough for you and him, so you'll be satisfied with your three vodkas and cranberry and have an early night.

The corridor is mostly empty, a testament to just how late the night is. Most of your night had been spent batting off cocky chat up lines and cheeky suggestions from the curly haired man that refused to call you anything but babes.

You step into the lift and press your floor number.

If you hit the lift button harder than normal, you tell yourself it's because you're tired and tipsy and not because you're frustrated. It's not that you hadn't considered it because - Christ - you definitely had. But he was just so completely sure that you'd sleep with him, like it wasn't even a question. Like you were playing a game and he had won before you even made a move. And if there's one thing you hate it's giving something to someone who expects nothing less.

You startle as a large, multi-jeweled hand stops the closing doors with a slam. Then, suddenly, he's there - leaning against the now open doors, feet crossed, chin slightly tilted, just enough that you can tell he's looking down his nose at you. Most noticeably, that same slight smirk, raised eyebrows, challenge shapes his face - letting you know that he's here to play and you're sure to lose.

"Babes, I told you, m'not leaving till' I get your number," without taking his eyes from yours he juts his chin at your mobile stuffed nearly imperceptible in your back pocket. "Told ya, m'not in the mood for games."

He slowly removes his right hand from his pocket, holds it in between you two as if his patience is thinning and this is his last-ditch effort to play night.

You scoff, throwing your head back and rolling your eyes. "You're really thick. You know that?" You lean around him and press the button for your floor. "Get out of the way or I'm going to scream," you threaten evenly, crossing your arms and raising your eyebrows challenging.

He laughs dryly, no humor in the sound, but mischief flashing in his eyes. He takes an aggressive step toward you, driving you back into the wall and forcing you to look up to meet his eyes. His smell is overwhelming - something musky and faintly like leather. A stray lock of his slicked back hair dangles off his forehead and you notice the stubble that just shadows his jaw. The warmth of his body surrounds you, his hands pressed flat on either side of your head and one of his thighs bent into yours. You're sure if you lean forward even slightly your hips will be touching and your forehead will tuck perfectly under his chin.

You force yourself to break away, realizing you've been holding your breath.

"Don't fall in love," he quips, the corners of his lips curved upwards ever so slightly.

His hand falls from your peripheral and you stifle a gasp as you feel it trace the curve of your waist and wrap around the back of your bum. The pads of his fingers dig forcefully into your skin and with a shove, you feel your hips grind into his. His eyes glance down to cheekily peak at your now very exposed cleavage.

You bite your lip because god you hadn't noticed how wet your panties were.

His lips crash down on yours. The warm softness capturing yours and just like that you're kissing him back - hard. When his tongue slips into your mouth you meet it with your own. An overwhelming warmth is beginning to burn in your core and you can feel it flushing your body; making you feel too hot suddenly. His thigh rubs up against your pussy and you grind once on it embarrassingly and you can feel his grin in the kiss. The needy sounds of your kisses filling the lift.

As his clever fingers sneak under your blouse and bra to cup your breast, you move your head to the side to offer him access to your neck. You hiss as his teeth nip at your sensitive skin and then planting a warm kiss on the spot. His tongue licks a fat stripe over the mark and -

Ding.

You feel Harry step away from you. Your eyes flutter open as you see him adjusting his suit and combing back his hair to order. As the doors finish opening, you see an older couple waiting curiously. You embarrassingly realize that you're still propped against the wall with thighs pressed out and you're head tilted back wantonly.

"Excuse me," you mutter, feeling your ears burn as you scurry after Harry off the lift. He's walking down the corridor, apparently to your room.

"Hey!" you yell tersely, "this is my floor."

You're a step behind him as he flashes something over his shoulder to you, not sparing a glance. It's your room key and -

Fucker.

"That's my mobile," you scramble to stop him and manage to push him back against your room door. He holds your key and mobile above his shoulder, and well above your head, in one hand. He uses the other hand to wrap around your neck, his index finger tucked under your ear, and thumb under your jaw to force your head back.

He's staring down his nose at you - again. His eyebrows raised and lips quirked infuriatingly.

"I win."