BLACKHOUSE [H.S.]

Forty-Five

TW: guns, and blood

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"Wow," Harry breathes as I step out of the bathroom. "You look incredible."

My cheeks flush as his darkening eyes rake over my body, taking in the red, satin gown hugging my curves. The top half of the dress is tight, the straight neckline low-cut, to accentuate my breasts just enough to catch attention, but not too revealing, while the soft fabric pools around my legs to brush against the floor.

Harry hums in approval when his gaze catches on the slit that runs all the way up to my hip, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth when I reposition to show him that I'm not wearing anything underneath.

"Naughty girl," he tsks, taking slow strides towards me in his pressed, black tux.

My breath hitches, and I begin to wonder if forfeiting the underwear was a bad idea when the smell of his cologne hits my nose. He looks good, really good, and the way he's staring at me as if he wants to devour me sends a rush of heat to the apex of my thighs.

After several agonizing seconds, he finally towers over me, and I swallow harshly when he brings his knuckles up to trace the curve of my breast where it spills slightly over my top.

"No panties, hm?" He asks lowly, his hand falling to dip under the dress where his fingers inch dangerously close to my core.

"I didn't want the lines showing," I choke out before he reaches my slit, already soaked with my arousal, and a low groan erupts from his throat.

"Really?" He mutters, leaning next to my ear so his words send a chill up my spine. I nod mindlessly as his middle finger brushes against my clit, and I'm forced to grip onto his strong arms as my knees threaten to buckle. "Are you sure it wasn't to tease me, princess?"

I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind when I made the decision. Though, to be fair, he's ripped almost all of my good underwear. If anything, I was thinking of future, panty-less me, and the money I would be saving.

"Not everything is about you, you know," I breathe, earning a raspy chuckle from him before he places a quick kiss on my cheek, and pulls away.

The loss of contact causes me to whimper, and I watch with parted lips as he brings his fingers, slick with my arousal, up to his mouth to suck the wetness off with a hum. "Your pussy says otherwise," he smirks, my cheeks burning from the anticipation low in my belly. "And as much as I would love to punish you for the attitude, I'll have to save it for later. We've got to get going."

I clench my hands into loose fists at my sides, huffing in frustration at his teasing. His smirk grows into a wide grin, the appearance of his dimple causing all of my annoyance to melt away, only to be replaced by a rush of butterflies.