Rough [H.S.]

three.

TW: some drug usage (marijuana) and degradation/rough sex

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Opening up can open some wounds, how does it start and and when does it end? Only been here for a moment but I know I want you.
Song: I'm With You by Vance Joy

July

Two weeks. Two fucking weeks later I got a text from Harry. It was very similar to the last text I had received. Asking if I had plans and if I wanted to meet up. This time he was inviting me for an afternoon on his grandfather's yacht. No mention of him using me to get himself off and then dropping me at my door like the whore that he seemingly thought I was.

I knew what I should have said. I should have said absolutely not. Actually, I should have said absolutely not, you motherfucking asshole. Or made it even simpler and just blocked his number. But I didn't. I didn't even try to put up a fight or act disinterested. I responded immediately, telling him I was free and could meet up with him whenever.

He was a walking red flag and apparently I was completely fucking colorblind.

So there I was, pulling my car into the parking lot at one of the most exclusive yacht clubs in the area. I flipped down my sun visor to check my reflection in the mirror briefly. Primping myself before seeing Harry was evidently becoming a habit. I was generally not overly concerned about my appearance. I enjoyed fashion and looking nice, but spending hours readying myself in front of a mirror was not something I did often. That was until I met Harry. Now, obsession over how I looked was commonplace before meeting up with him.

Take today for instance. I spent all morning perfecting my beach waves, making sure I applied my makeup so that it didn't look like I was wearing makeup, and finding an outfit that showcased my tits. Knowing we were going boating, I settled on a dusty blue bikini with flowers embroidered on it and a dark floral sundress thrown over the top. The bikini top was just a bit too small, giving me the sexiest underboob ever. I was fairly certain Harry would lose it when he saw me, if only internally.

Swiping some gloss over my lips, I flipped the mirror closed before grabbing my beach bag and hopping out of my car, making my way down to the marina. Once there, I followed the signs until I got to the dock that contained the slip I was looking for. Stepping onto the seasoned wood platform, I steadied myself as it moved slightly under my weight. Walking down the long dock, I made my way to slip F-113. Coming up to the slip, I looked in awe at the impressive 40-foot yacht tethered to the dock. Examining the commanding vessel, I noticed the boat name painted in fancy script on the stern. Ready to Run. Good name for a boat I suppose.

Standing on the dock, I craned my neck, looking for any sign of Harry.

"Hello?" No answer. I stepped off of the dock and onto the back platform of the yacht. "Harry?"

Suddenly, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Looking down, I saw a white dog with tan spots come running at me, rubbing its body up against my legs, wagging its tail wildly. It was wearing a bright pink collar and appeared to be some type of bully breed.

"Hi there!" I cooed, kneeling down to pet the dog. It immediately started licking my face with its warm tongue. "Aren't you the cutest!"

"You probably shouldn't go around petting dogs you don't know. Or getting on boats when the owners aren't around."

Harry's voice startled me. He must have come up from the cabin. I let my eyes scan his body for a moment. He looked as delectable as ever in white swim trunks and a red Hawaiian shirt left unbuttoned on his torso showing off the dark ink that littered his skin.