Pretty Venom |N.H|

75

Jasey Foster

August 20.

"Five minutes alone," he practically laughs. "Five minutes. That's all it takes for us to lose control?"

His head lifts, tilting to the side. His lips press to the inside of my thigh, his teeth grazing over my skin as he begins to smile again. Once he looks back at me, his smile grows, drunk on lust.

My hands play with his hair, a mess between my fingertips. It's soft, my fingers running through as soon as contact is made. What I imagine a cloud to feel like.

"Are you saying you want to stop?"

He shakes his head at my question, completely against it. "Absolutely not."

He pushes himself up with his right hand, shifting above me. His mouth presses to my neck, closer to my collarbone. My head presses further into the couch on the bus, his kisses becoming messier as he tries to cover my neck in them, now taking advantage of the additional room I had provided him with.

In between kisses, he slips a finger into me, pumping it into me slowly, so incredibly slow that I'm begging for more from him.

Nothing with Niall is ever slow. The kisses are always rushed, out of breath. The sex being so new still, that we are caught up in the idea of just being together, so exciting that everything is going fast, until we are tangled in each others arms after. The moments spent together flying by.

It's like he is trying to make up for it right now, making sure to go as slow as he can to make sure that every bit of sensation is being fulfilled.

I don't even remember how I wound up on this bus anyway.

All I know is I had seen Niall in one of the halls in the venue, a simple kiss shared between us that had led us to run with each other out of the side door of the building, racing to the tour bus.

I don't know how long I have been here with him, but I wouldn't be surprised if it had been five minutes, flying by and tricking us into thinking it was an hour long affair.

He lifts his head up, his forehead pressed to mine as he hovers above me. He keeps the same rhythm with his finger. "Can't get over this new hair with you," he says quietly, his lips rolling against each other afterwards. "You're so fucking pretty. I wish you could see yourself the way I do."

He adds a second finger, my eyes squeezed shut as he increases to a steady speed with his hand, while his other is holding himself up. I can tell he is analyzing every feature as my body reacts to how he is touching me. I guess this is him making up for not being able to do this on the plane.

"Obsessed with you," he sighs, as if this realization is almost painful for him. His lips find mine quickly, pressing them to my own before parting. The pad of his thumb circling my clit has my mouth opening against his, a heavy breath leaving in the process. "My beautiful, beautiful girlfriend."

He's been saying nonstop this for days – Girlfriend.

He's been reminding me every day that I'm his, in a sweet way, rather than in an overly possessive, territorial way. It's sweet, and it makes my heart flutter every time.

His eyes are locked on mine, the light blue shade that I had been captivated by since the day I met them is shrinking behind the growing black shade of his pupils. He is loving this just as much as I am. Maybe that's why it's always great doing this with him, because even if he isn't getting anything in return, he enjoys putting me in a trance, knowing he is making me feel a certain way that no one else could.

"Does this feel okay?" he asks. A pointless question really, since I'm sure he can feel the tight grip my hand has on his bicep, holding him as if I'm afraid he will pull his hand away from me in a teasing manner.