"Ugh!" I groan, flopping over on my best friend's lap. We're sitting on a bench in the park, our parents having forced us to get out of the house because we wouldn't stop singing One Direction at the top of our lungs.
"There there," she pets my hair twice then I sit up and continue looking through Pinterest.
"Dear lord. Harry Styles," I pause, shaking my head. "He just does it for me."
"Mmhm," she hum agreement, looking at her phone as well. I scroll through my feed, clicking and scrolling through related images of Harry.
"Why does he do this to me?" I mumble passionately. "Wear his hair in a bun and his tight ass pants, and his bloody hair."
"Damn his hair," she comments.
"Amen sister," I mumble back. "and his eyes, and teeth, and those long ass legs."
"Damn his legs," she comments again.
"Amen," I praise. "And his hideous shirts that he just makes look like .."
"Delicious," she looks up at me.
"Well I was gonna say something less ... prostitutey," I say and she giggles. "but yeah."
She giggles again and looks back at her phone.
"And his tattoos, and his big, warm heart," I sigh. "And his adorable personality."
"Awe," she coos.
"He just looks so cute," I whine looking at a photo of him cuddling Liam. "I just wanna take him home and cuddle him."
"Excuse me," a deep English accent says from behind us and a finger taps my shoulder. I slowly turn around, that voice coursing through my veins. My eyes widen when I see the British man himself, Harry Styles, looking at me with a smirk.
"Lillie," I whisper yell at my best friend.
"I see him," she whispers back.
"Oh good," I giggle and turn to her. "I thought I was going crazy for a second."
"You're not love," he chuckles and I look back at him with wide eyes. I lock my phone and shove it in my hoodie pocket.
"H-hi, hi H-Harry," I stutter, mentally face palming. "H-how are you?"
"I'm well, thank you love," he smiles at me, like he knows exactly what it does to me. "You know my name but I don't know yours."
"Y/N," I answer. He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles, making my heart race.
"Pleasure," his voice is low and husky, sending tingles through my body. "I was wondering if you could give me directions, I appear to be lost."
+
"Harry," I moan as he sucks on my sweet spot. His hand tangles in the hair at the base of my neck and the other slips under my shirt, his thumb rubbing my hipbone. I grip the side of his shirt, over his love handles, which are too cute by the way. A deep moan escapes my lips as Harry pushes me farther into the wall.
"Jump," he breathes and I do, wrapping my legs around his waist. He walks over to the bed in his hotel room and throws me down, climbing on top of me.
His lips attack mine hungrily, his body pressing mine into the mattress firmly. I claw at his shirt as his tongue invades my mouth, going over every inch. He gets the message and sits up, straddling my waist as he pulls his shirt off. My eyes roam over his tattooed torso, my heart speeding up at the sight. My eyes meet his and I see a hunger that ignites something inside of me.
I sit up and pull my shirt off as well, before laying back down. His eyes go darker then before and he growls deeply before placing his hands on either side of my head and hovering over me. His breath hits my lips, sending shivers down my body. Before I have time to bask in the glory of this wondrous moment, his mouth is on mine, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth.
Our lips move together sloppily and quickly, our bare skin rubbing together seductively. He grinds his hips into mine, evoking a moan from deep within me. He moans and I buck my hips up, eager for more. His fingers trail down the top edge of my bra over my breast, raising goosebumps all over my skin. His hand cups my breast and-
**
The alarm clock blares in my ear and I sit up right, gasping for breath. What the hell did I just dream, and how can I dream it again? This is what I get for reading smut right before bed.
.......