plaything || harry styles au

prelude

You stand in the mirror and admire your figure. The silky gold lingerie set hugs your body in all the right places. Black scarpin heels cover your feet, giving your legs a sexier shape than normal.

Working in a high end gentlemen's club wasn't your first career choice, but it pays the bills. College wasn't for you, you were too indecisive on your major. You could never truly decide what you wanted to waste your life away doing. So, why not take advantage of your looks right now?

Tonight was a special night, you were personally picked to give a private dance to one of the richest men in the world. Harry Styles, owner and founder of the fashion line Apogeé. You're one of the more well liked seductresses, men are easily drawn to you. Everything about your hair, skin, smell, voice, you exude sex.

Fluffing your hair one more time in the mirror, you saunter towards the secluded room. Two gigantic security guards stand outside the door, greeting you with a nod and opening the door from you. A curtain drapes over the doorway for extra privacy, your nimble fingers slowly pull them apart while the door shuts.

Harry's breath catches in his throat and his eyelids droop. You're even more beautiful than he expected. He hand picked you from a list of the most popular dancers, something about you caught his attention almost immediately.

You turn slowly to the wall and press a button to play music. Sounds of Kelly Rowland, Wale, and Toni Braxton fill the room. One foot crosses slowly in front of the other as you make your way towards Harry.

"Good evening, sweetheart. Thank you for joining me," Harry groans as you sit to straddle him. You pin his wrists to the arms of the chairs and bring a finger to his lips.

"No talking or touching unless I say so," you purr out. Harry's eyes grow dark in response and he nods his head, never breaking eye contact with you.

You stand up and make a slow circle around the chair, trailing your up finger along the skin of his arms and neck. You move back and stand behind the chair, rubbing your hands across Harry's shoulders and breathing against his neck. A smirk makes its way across your face when you see his jaw clench and a shaky breath leaves his nose.

The toe of your heel lands lightly on Harry's shoulder, years of gymnastics blessing you with incredible flexibility. Your fingers slide into his curls and tug, tilting his head back to look at you, "are you naughty, Mr. Styles?" A barely audible groan flares through the back of his throat and he nods slowly. "Good," you grin and bite your lip.

Letting go of his hair, you strut back to his front and drop to your knees. His eyes stay locked on your every movement and his breath becomes shallow.

"Can you be a good boy and keep your hands to yourself?" He pinches his eyes shut tightly and breathes out a small 'yes'. The material of his beautifully designed suit is smooth under your fingers as you slide them up his thighs. His knuckles are white from digging into the sides of the velvet lounge chair.

"Goddamn temptress," he grumbles under his breath, biting his lip as you look up at him with warning. He knows he's not supposed to speak, but the words rip through his teeth ravaged with lust. His cock is hardening fast and pressing against his zipper.

You stand up to straddle him again, moving your hips seductively to the music. You bend down mere inches from his face, "why did you choose me, Mr. Styles? Speak up."

Your confidence drives him wild. He's always been dominant with women, always has them trembling in his hands. You're different, a fresh and welcoming change that he needs. Even if it is just for one night. Even if it's just a dance.

"You're quite extravagant. You take my breath away. Can't tell if I wanna ravage you or marry you." He shivers at your nails scraping lightly down his neck and chest.

"You're quite the man, Mr. Styles. I may have to break some rules for you."

"Please let me touch you." His voice is husky and deep, barely above a whisper. The sound of him begging sends a rush of wetness to your core. You're normally one to keep it professional with customers. No touching, no personal questions, and no lust from you. Most customers aren't as handsome as Harry, however. They're actually quite a few years older. The young billionaire that built an empire for himself turns you on in ways you weren't familiar with.

"Tell me what you want, Harry."

"I want you all to myself. Come be my personal pet, love. I'll provide you so much more than you can buy with your salary here." You quirk an eyebrow at him and actually contemplate his offer. He shyly reaches up stroke a piece of your hair, "I have a whole side of my house that you can stay in. Your own personal room, bathroom, library, and gym. I'll buy you whatever you want and have a housekeeper tend to your needs."

You're taken back by the depth of his offer. Anything would be better than the dump of an apartment you live in now. And it would get you out of this job, no more middle aged rich men ogling you with their aged eyes. Their wives at home oblivious to their actions.

"You've got yourself a deal, Mr. Styles."