17
TiO - Zayn
M y brain short-circuits the second she tugs that frilled skirt down.
She’s not sick. No one messed with her.
And yet… here I am, staring like a damn idiot, not doing a thing.
“What… what are you doing?” I mutter, trying to catch up. My brain’s moving in slow motion, stuck on repeat. Imogen locks her eyes on mine, shimmying that skirt off like she’s torturing me on purpose. My jaw nearly hits the floor as she peels her top off, leaving nothing but pink lace that screams at me to do something—anything.
Oh. Fuck.
“Wait—are we…?” I stutter, pointing at myself and her like I’ve lost the plot.
Her smirk challenges me. “Are you just gonna stand there, or are you gonna come here and fuck me?”
I stop breathing as I freeze. Seconds pass and then I’m ripping my clothes off faster than I can blink, tripping over my own jeans—almost face-planting in the process. “Shit, sugar, should’ve told me this was your plan. I’d have ditched everyone back at the bar in a heartbeat.”
“And leave your mates so soon?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I snap, moving toward her like a guy on a mission, losing track of everything else. My hands grab her face, pulling her into a kiss that’s pure need. Imogen melts, lips parting with a soft, needy moan that does things to me I can’t even put into words. She smells like something floral, and she tastes sweet, familiar. I lose myself in it for a moment, in her softness and warmth, before I pull back, breathing hard. “So… we’re really doing this?”
“Yes! Now hurry the fuck up before I change my mind.”
“Okay, okay—God, I love it when you talk dirty.” I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. Before she can get a word in, I lift her up, her legs wrapping around my waist, and I carry her straight to the bed.
I set her down, and she scoots back. I’m over her in an instant, caging her in as her back hits the pillows. The air between us crackles, and then my mouth’s on hers—deep, hot, needy. She melts under me, lips parting, her breath hitching as my hands thread into her hair. I break away, kissing down her jaw, grazing her neck, moving lower. Her breath catches in a soft gasp, sending a rush through me. Every inch of her, every shiver beneath me, it all makes me want more. I kiss lower, my hands following, each touch more urgent. This is everything we’ve been holding back, and I’m not wasting a second.
I kiss down her chest, and when I reach her breasts, holy shit—they’re fuller than I remember. My hand presses over her right one, savouring the feel, until she winces. Her breath catches.
“Ah, fuck!”
I jerk back, guilt slamming into me. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she says, softer, but there’s a glimmer of a smile. “They’re just sensitive. Just… touch them softly.”
I nod quickly. “Is that because of the pregnancy?”
“Yes. Now, please—touch me.”
I steady myself, running my hand slowly over her chest. I lean down, flicking my tongue over her small bud, watching it tighten under my touch. She gasps, and that sound hits me straight in the gut. Her hands grab my shoulders, pushing me up.
“More, Harrison. I need more,” she mules.
“You need my cock, sugar?”
“Yes,” she says, all breathless.
“With pleasure,” I growl, sliding her lace panties off and tossing them aside. But I pause, smirking as I meet her gaze. “But not before I taste you, again.”
I’m between her thighs in seconds, her scent hitting me hard. Spreading her folds, I dive in, licking and sucking like it’s the only thing that matters. Her moans fill the room, her head tipping back, and I grin against her. “That’s it, baby. Soak me.”
I slide two fingers inside her, curling them as my tongue stays locked on her clit, relentless and steady. Her moans climb higher, her whole body trembling, and then—fuck—she squirts, drenching me and the sheets. Absolute perfection. Imogen arches off the bed, caught in the waves, her head tipping back as she comes hard. She’s panting, her head lifting, eyes half-lidded and locked on me. I slip my fingers out, licking them clean, her sweet tangy flavour coating my tongue.
“So fucking sweet.” She rolls her eyes, still catching her breath, and I flash her a grin, feeling way too proud of myself. “That good, huh?”
“Yes! Now please, hurry up,” she groans. I settle between her thighs, ignoring the mess, gripping my cock and swiping a thumb over the pre-cum.
“But how good?” I tease, lining myself up, drawing it out just to see her squirm.
She clamps her thighs around my waist. “Harrison, you’ve got five seconds to put your dick in me or I’m grabbing my shit and—oh, God—” I thrust deep, burying myself to the hilt, cutting her off.
“Not God, baby. Me. And you’re gonna scream my name,” I growl, the tight heat sending a shockwave straight to my balls. I keep driving into her, deep and steady, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. Her cry echoes, sharp and breathless.
“Ahh—so good.” It fuels the fire burning through me, every thrust harder, faster. My hips roll, finding that perfect angle, her head tilting back, but I grab her chin, forcing her eyes on me. My voice drops.
“Look at me, Immy. I want those blue eyes on me when you fall apart.” She locks onto me, matching my rhythm, her hips meeting every thrust, and it drives me wild. My thumb presses against her clit, circling tight and fast. “One more,” I rasp. “We’re not done until you do. Come with me this time.”
Her moans spill louder, her hands finding her bouncing breasts, cupping them as she begs. “Harder, Harrison.”
I give her everything, pounding into her with unrelenting force. She tightens around me, her cries spurring me on. My thumb moves faster, my grip on her hips solid, anchoring us both. Her head tips back again, and I lean in, my voice a growl in her ear.
“Feel that? You’re so fucking tight, Immy. Let go for me.” Her scream shatters the air, my name breaking from her lips like a plea and a command all at once.
“Harrison… oh, God—”
That pressure in my balls finally snaps, and I thrust deep, groaning as my orgasm rips through me. She clenches tight, pulsing around me, her body arching as she falls apart, dragging me with her. “That’s it, sugar,” I rasp, barely holding on, my voice raw as I spill into her. We collapse together, breathing hard, and I glance down, grinning at the sight of her—wrecked, perfect, mine.
Her eyes flutter open, a lazy smile pulling at her lips. “I don’t think I can get up to go to the toilet,” she mumbles. I laugh, beaming down at her.
“You’re welcome.”
“Shut up,” she mutters, rolling her eyes, but I can’t help but laugh harder.
I get up, grab a towel from the bathroom, and toss it to her. She wipes herself down, still dazed, and I pull her to her feet. “C’mon.”
Her brows furrow, curious. “Where are we going?”
“The other bedroom,” I say, tugging her along. “I can’t be bothered cleaning that up now.” I flick on the light, grab a t-shirt and shorts for us both, and hand them to her. She pulls them on, the clothes swallowing her, and climbs into bed.
“Where are you going now?” she calls out as I turn to leave.
“To the couch. Figured you’d want some space,” I reply.
“Harrison, you just railed the fuck out of me. I think we’re past space.” Her amused tone makes me grin despite myself.
“Fair, but I was getting this room ready for you, anyway. It’s technically yours. I’ll be just outside.”
“Just come here. One night won’t hurt.” I sigh, switching off the light and sliding into bed beside her. She turns away, her steady breathing filling the quiet.
“Goodnight,” she murmurs.
“Night, Immy.”
But even with her so close, a strange emptiness lingers. I crave something deeper—something to match the intensity I feel for her. This connection is unlike anything I’ve known, and it terrifies me how much I need her. I want her to help me through this, make the nights easier, but I’m failing already. As silence stretches on, I realise I’m not just afraid of my feelings; I’m scared of how much she could mean to me.