[ONGOING] 18+ ⚠️: Contains mature and explicit content // an enemies to lovers fanfic
Pre‧tence (noun) BE - An attempt to make something that is not the case appear true
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"Believe me, one day, when you least expect it, I'll carve out your heart...
"Mistakes are the portals of discovery." - James Joyce
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Shit. Fucking shit.
What the hell?
That almost got out of hand... my heart was racing so fast in my chest that I could already hear it echoing in my ears.
Why did I let it come so far? I could still feel the hands of the motherfucker clearly and distinctly on my body. Especially the place where he had grabbed me by the waist. His fingers had dug desperately into my skin as he pulled me closer to him.
I could feel the outline of his very hard erection clearly with my ass and the way it had excited me and still did disgusted me. I couldn't explain what the fascination was that I felt... but I was ashamed of it.
We had literally pressed our bodies together and the way he shamelessly and obviously showed that he liked it made me hate him even more. He had appreciated the dance too much for my taste.
I hated the fact that he thought he had won the upper hand over me, because if he thinks I'm just going to give up without a fight then he's fucking wrong.
But how the hell did he find me here in New York? The city is not exactly small.
I guess the universe just hates me, but I hated surprises like this even more. And never in my life was it pure luck that had led him to me, something else was behind it.
Only what? What led him to me? I had been so careful...
And fuck, I just couldn't think straight. It was like a bad dream... only that I couldn't just wake up like that. Why did he have to show up just when I was working?
I detested being interrupted while working and I hated it even more when I couldn't finish a job. But the danger of Harry betraying me to the security guards was too great to stay in the club.
The amount of anger and frustration I was feeling right now couldn't even be put into words... and I hated my brain for replaying the situation of the feeling of his hard cock pressed against my ass over and over again.
This is pure hell, for sure, but I don't accept my precipitation. And I certainly don't give Styles the satisfaction of winning. Only over my dead body.
He seems to have known full well that I couldn't let my guard down and he had played with that knowledge. Either he was just a sick son of a bitch who plays with his prey before he delivers it, or he took a special pleasure in making my life a misery.
