Pretty Please Don't Pinch Me

61. Having A Wee

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"Harry, if this is you, it's not funny," I say, unable to keep the fear from my voice.

Suddenly, I experience total silence before my arm is yanked and I am pulled closer to the unknown person.

I scream out for help in a natural response, and I am cut short as the assailant's lips press hard onto mine, placing his tongue forcefully into mine.

I dig my fingernails into his arms – hard. I'm sure it's left a mark, but it doesn't stop him from kissing me, now moving down my neck. Nibbling at my skin. I do what every self-defense class teaches a woman to do when fighting off a man. I knee him in the groin and he wails out in pain.

Harry.

"Harry you dick!" I say, shoving his shoulder. "That wasn't funny."

My eyes have adjusted somewhat to the dim surroundings and I can now see him huddled down, holding his crotch, hissing through his teeth to ease the pain.

"What was that for?" he moans, rather audaciously.

"I didn't know it was you. I thought you were an attacker... I guess I was a little bit scared maybe," I reply honestly.

He takes a step forward, to which I am now leaned up against a table, with Harry pressing his body into me. He runs his finger along my jawline, tilting my chin back to expose my neck, kissing me ever so slowly as he does so.

"Did you like it?" he asks, his voice low, changing the mood of the room almost instantly. I can't even answer, only managing to tilt my head back more, a moan escaping my lips as his hand slips into my underwear.

"What about this?" he asks, running his finger along my entrance. "Do you like this?" I lean forward, my mouth instinctively finding his in the dark, and I playfully bite his bottom lip as we part. Another quiet moan escapes me as he slips his finger inside me, teasingly circling my most sensitive spot. I have never been so turned on before in my life. The thrill of hearing the hushed sounds of the show on the other side of the wall, to the possibility of someone walking in on us is undeniably thrilling. 

"I want you," I breathe, barely able to get the words out of my mouth.

"You have me," he replies – probably smirking, as he knows what I mean. He is giving me the perfect answer every girl wants to hear, but not appeasing me with what I truly want right now.

"You know what I mean," I say, grabbing hold of his belt buckle and unfastening the clasp. He helps me, pulling his pants down only slightly, followed by his Calvin Klein briefs. He fumbles in his jacket pocket, and I hear the now familiar sound of the plastic wrapper and he takes me completely by surprise as he lifts me up by my thighs so I am now sitting on the table. In one swift movement I am on the table and he has entered me, and I can't help but cry out in surprise as my body molds around him, adjusting to his size.

"Shh," he orders gently, placing his hand over my mouth, his thrusts slow, but forceful. The simple gesture turning me on so much more. Every plunge of his edging the table further back, and I clasp onto his hair for support. The tighter I hold onto him, the more eager his thrust, and I feel like I could simply die of pleasure.

I have to bite onto his shoulder to stop myself from saying those three words that are threatening to spill out of me. I don't want to say it, I need to say it, and I am almost certain that he can pick up on it. I feel it edging out of my every pore, and feel it threatening to flow over as I start to lose sense of my surroundings.