The Flat

4

Moments later, my eyes popped open at the sound of a loud door slam.

"Fuck you! You stupid fucking tosser!" I heard Natasha's voice echoing in the hallway.

Still somewhat tipsy, I crawled out of bed, propped my door open and craned my face out into the hallway. Natasha was storming out towards the front door. I stepped out and looked around only to see Harry standing in the doorway to the guest room behind me.

"What the fuck, Harry?" I whispered.

"She's a stupid fucking cunt!" he yelled.

"Fuck you!" Natasha's voice echoed from somewhere in the house.

"Oh my God." I walked to his door and pushed him into his room. "Stop yelling in the hallway," I whispered as I closed the door behind us. "You are going to wake up Aaron. He needs to sleep."

"Does pretty boy need his beauty rest?" Harry mumbled sarcastically.

"What?"

"You bring Tasha and I here, just to let these arseholes walk all over us."

He was very angry. I began to try and talk him down. "You both are here as my guests. But you two decided to act immature all day and behave like horny kids. Don't think I've forgotten about the bathroom incident, that was disgusting."

"That's funny coming from you," he scoffed.

"What?" I said, taken aback.

"Aaron had his hands all over you all day."

"Aaron is my boyfriend."

"That's right. Boyfriend. How long have you been seeing him? A week? Two?"

"Harry..."

"You sit there on your bloody high horse preaching about no sex before relationships." He was staring at me so intensely.

"Oh please, Harry. I've been seeing him for over a month."

"But what you really mean is no sex unless a guy blows a load a cash on you," he continued, ignoring me.

"Harry, you're a guest in this house–"

"A load of cash for a load in your face!" he yelled, "Isn't that right?"

"Excuse me?" I gasped.

"Everyone could see the grass embedded in your fucking knees and the satisfied look on that fuckers face when you two came back. Every man knows that look. Tell me, were you enough of a lady to spit, or did he pay you enough to swallow?"

I slapped him. Hard. His cheek was bright red. He looked back at me, shocked and pissed. His eyes had gone cold.

"Fuck you," I said. But that wasn't enough. I slapped him again. Harder. "Fuck you!" I tried to slap him again, but this time he caught my wrist. I reached my other arm back and he grabbed that one too.

"No, fuck you!" he yelled.

We began to struggle. He pinned me, my arms over my head, against the wall, pushing his body against mine. Suddenly I was aware that I was in nothing but boy shorts and a grey tank top, no bra. He was in nothing but his boxers. He smelt of sweat, salt water and sunscreen. I was so horny that the smell of him was beginning to make me wet. It didn't help that his muscles were tensing against my body to hold me in place.

His eyes locked with mine as he whispered, harshly, "You little slut. Acting like you are better than everyone else..." My eyes widened in shock but before I could protest, he leant in, pressing his lips against my ear. "Walking around in that tiny red bikini all day..."