untitled |h.s|

seventeen

Ariella

I rest my head against the door of my hotel room, letting out a sigh as I fight to peel the smile off my face. Harry was acting a little strange tonight, but I somehow managed to convince myself he just wasn't expecting to see me anytime soon and I showed up out of nowhere. I felt like there was more he wanted to say before he dropped me off, but he wasn't opening up on his own and I definitely pried a lot over dinner so I didn't want to push him anymore.

I was happy he was comfortable telling me about Amber, despite how nervous I was to even ask. I wish I could say I wasn't insecure, but the thoughts of our short-lived conversation after she left kept circling my brain. I honestly don't even know what to do with the information of him telling me he wants me, but something about him saying that sparks something in me that I don't really want to go away.

It's like a fire inside me, burning from the inside out, powerful in all senses, somehow painful yet pleasurable at the same time. It's the same feeling I got the first night I met him, only so much more intense now that I actually know him.

I won't lie, my mind has wandered to thoughts of that night way more than it should. Sometimes it's like I can still feel his hands all over me, his rough fingertips running along my smooth skin like he was desperate to feel me in any way he could.

I eventually force myself away from the door, throwing myself on my unmade bed as I let my mind go back to that night.

My back hits the mattress as he softly tosses me into his bed, my breath instantly picking up as he slowly crawls over me. The cross hanging around his neck dangles in front of my face as he hovers above me, tauntingly swinging as I stare into his darkened eyes.

I instinctively wrap my arms around his neck, urging him closer to me until our lips meet again. Our lips mold together as his hands wander all over my body, moving unbearably slow as his fingers meet the hem of my dress. I let out a whimper as he slides his hands under the thin fabric, so close to where I want him, yet so far from actually giving me what I want. He chuckles against my lips, warm breath fanning over my face as he pulls away from me.

"So needy," he whispers, sitting back on his knees to pull his shirt off of him, revealing his tattoo-covered torso and abs that might as well be a work of art.

"Please," I find myself begging. I never beg, but this man is getting me unbelievably worked up and my conscience has completely abandoned me by this point.

"Fuck, Ella," he breathes, bringing his hands back to my thighs and finally dragging my dress up over my hips. He continues slowly bringing the fabric up my body as he brings his lips to my neck, instantly attaching himself to the sensitive skin.

I let out a quiet moan when he finds a particularly sensitive spot, feeling him smile against me at my reaction. At that, he drops the teasing act and finally pulls the dress off of me entirely, leaving me in lacey underwear as he tosses the fabric off to the side.

He pauses, letting his eyes rake over me as he takes my body in. I can't help but smirk at his reaction, taking my opportunity to reach up and toy with his jeans while he's distracted. I unbutton his jeans, quickly moving to palm him through the thin fabric of his underwear, instantly earning a groan falling from his lips.

"Shit," he grumbles, grinding up into my hand in search of any form of relief while attempting to kick his jeans off.

Within seconds, he's left in nothing but his boxers, tugging my underwear down my legs. He doesn't even give me time to process what's going on before he's gripping my thighs and pulling my legs open, hot breath against my core as he looks up at me, silently asking permission to continue. I nod instantly, throwing my head back the second his tongue meets my core.