Legendary // H.S

20.

'Another splinter under the skin'

*

Sweaty skin, panting breaths, rough touches. Over and over again in my mind. The sound of his panting breaths as he kissed me at my most intimate part, the way his fingers felt pushing into me at such a melodic rhythm. The more I try to push it from my memory, the harder it is to forget, and the more frequent the images are. It's muscle memory, really. When I stare in the mirror, night and morning, while I get undressed, it's like I can see and feel his hands on me. His callous palms brush against my smooth skin, causing a friction that only sets off the compendium of dirty thoughts in my brain, all threatening to brim over and expose themselves to the light of day.

I assumed that with the alcohol and drugs in my system, a concoction I most certainly regretted the next day, that I'd forget most of the evening, but everything was in a bright technicolour. Every beat of the club, the smell of the alcohol, the touches from not just Harry; I remembered it all. Which made the hangover the next day ten times worse. It hit me in flashes on the Saturday, in a sequence of movie stills. Until it finally started unravelling to scenes, and suddenly I had a whole motion picture to watch behind my eyes.

It's not that I regret what happened, in truth it was the best I'd felt in a long time. Letting go like that was what my body had been longing after for far too long. Ignoring the rules I had conditioned myself to follow my whole life and allowing myself to feel something other than boredom, it was exhilarating, something I could easily get addicted to. The problem is, I'd never been in a situation like it before. Specifically, I'd never been fooling around with someone I did business with, let alone three of them. The moment with Babz and Zayn was unexpected, but it sent my adrenaline through the roof. I felt like I could do anything in that moment. If Harry hadn't been watching me with such hungry eyes, I probably would have followed them into the toilet like they asked. But that was the issue. Harry was staring at me with such intensity that in that moment I knew I'd be leaving with him, and I wanted only that.

Once we were alone, there was no stopping us. Zero self-control. The taxi driver was probably mortified at the scene in his rear view mirror, the sounds and conversations coming from the backseat. I hope I never find myself in his cab again. What happened inside my flat, I'd never forget that. No one had tied me up before, even though a part of me secretly desired it. The minute he grabbed that scarf I knew I would be enjoying myself. Then he took his time and prolonged the experience as long as he could. Not one orgasm, but two. The only time that had happened in my life was when I pleasured myself. Joe was too vanilla for that. He'd always get too tired. I made him cum twice before, but he looked like he was having a seizure immediately after I decided to never try again.

As much as I hate to admit it, I hope this continues. Now that I've got a taste of the type of person Harry is in the bedroom, I'm not sure I can stop. I know that it means nothing, for once that's all I want. I want to be a person that can have meaningless sex, that can revel in the pleasure of it regardless of who it's with.

Part of me worries that I'm too dull for that type of thing, though. Since meeting Harry I've pushed my boundaries so much, that I hardly recognise myself anymore, but when it comes to this I don't know how good I could ever be at it. I'd been in a relationship for so long before, I don't know whether it's possible for me to just stick to sex. It's not that I feel anything for Harry other than contempt, he infuriates me, but when he touches me I forget all of that anger. It's like these actions become a way for us to release it, that we're fucking it away. However, we haven't fucked. Yet.

We haven't spoken much, just like the last time we were intimate. I had made sure to keep him updated with my work, but contact has been minimal. In truth, I haven't even been to the warehouse this week. It's been a long, quiet, three days.