When He Holds Your Hand

The bathroom was nothing special, but the bath was big enough to fit the both of us comfortably. We tangled our limbs to sit at opposite ends, my legs over his and his arms over mine.

“Happy to be here?” Harry asked, thumbs stroking my knees.

“I suppose…” I grinned, the final tingles from Harry’s handy work in the hallway had begun to settle.

“I meant what I said, no games,” he smiled coyly, like a schoolboy talking to his first crush. “I like meeting with you too much to ruin it again.”

“I like you too, Harry, that’s why I was angry.” I linked my fingers with his so he knew the anger was no longer there. “It was a good thing we stopped doing what we were doing, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to be here with you.”

“The last thing I want is for anyone to find out, it would be terrible for both of us; but I just wanted to see you, and the only way I could do that sometimes was with Will at your side.” Harry looked at me with such earnest that had any anger still lingered it would have dissipated right there.

He was wiser beyond his years in so many ways but he was still 19, and learning that life was not always fun and games, and that having an affair with a married woman was not as fun as it seemed.

With that, a new worry was added to my list: the one where I didn’t want Harry to get hurt and lose the light he seemed to have at all times. My feelings for Harry definitely changed in that second. I wasn’t just driven by lust for him now: I cared for him and that was going to be my downfall, because from the look in Harry’s eyes as we lay in the steamy water in silence, he felt exactly the same.

“Let’s just agree that we should only see each other when it’s planned.” I broke the silence, the moment becoming too intense and feeling that Harry’s gaze was seeing far too much of what I was feeling.

“That sounds like a very good plan.” Harry sat up and slid his hands down my inner thighs, indicating that our serious conversation was over and that he had other things on his mind. “But we don’t need to think about that just yet.”

He gestured for me to sit up, which I did, and he leant forward, wet hands cupping my face to pull me closer as he kissed me, a lazy, messy kiss.

“For now, we just have to worry about what we’re going to do for the next two nights,” Harry breathed, giving a small moan as I pulled at his bottom lip with my teeth.

“As I said, I have my book.” I pulled away and smiled.

“Layla.”

“Harry?”

“Layla, you are not going to be needing that book.” The deathly serious look he gave made my stomach jump. “We’ll barely have time to eat…” he grinned. “…food, that is.”

My eyes widened at the prospect. Could I handle Harry’s apparent insatiable appetite? We had a lot of catching up to do, and having him all to myself was something I was definitely happy about, but I was also aware that by the time we said goodbye in two days’ time I would be a stone lighter and with the early stages of a six pack.

I lay back down and with the tub being wide enough Harry pushed my legs apart easily. We both giggled as he slipped and shifted awkwardly to manoeuvre himself onto his knees leaning over me, one hand on the edge of the bath behind my head and the other heading down between us. Pressing his forehead against mine he watched my reaction to his fingers, circling and teasing my clit but not quite touching it, grinning with an evil joy when I whined for him not to be mean.

“I love it when you whimper like that,” he whispered, as I felt the tip of his cock at my entrance. He was teasing himself stroking the head between my folds. “You’re so reserved all the time but I tease you and the mask comes down.”

Before I could deny wearing any kind of mask, he pushed his way inside of me, the water washing away my wetness and making his entrance harder but no less delicious. I wrapped my legs up around his waist so he could go deeper, wanting every inch had to give to fill me up completely.

“Ohh, Harry!” I moaned before his lips crushed against mine, his free hand now grabbed at my left breast, kneading and pinching until my nipple was painfully hard under his finger tips.
Water splashed around us as our bodies moved, tiny waves moving in the same rhythm and spilling over the sides and down onto the black floor tiles.

Still sensitive from earlier, my g spot was quick to reawaken, and it wasn’t long before I was clinging to Harry, begging him to fuck me harder until, with a loud profanity which echoed around the room, I came. Harry, on the other hand, was still going strong, and despite my tightening around him, he carried on, a blissful smile on his face.

“You’re going to cum again,” he panted against my neck, teeth grazing my skin hard enough I knew there would be a mark. I shook my head, mouth incapable of making words. “Yes, you are.”

I slipped a hand between us and began to stroke my clit, rubbing it and playing with it the way I knew would make me cum in seconds. Harry sat back up, eyes fixed on my fingers as he thrust into me,

“You’re so fucking sexy.” His jaw was tensed, and I could tell it was taking everything he had not to lose control.

“Do you want to cum, Harry?” I teased, seeing him struggling turning me on more than I could have imagined.

He shook his head despite us both knowing it was a lie, but the lie tipped me over the edge, the furrowed brow and flushed cheeks along with his desperate need to release sending me toward my third but not final orgasm.

He was quick to follow, a loud and blissfully pained cry falling from his parted red lips. He swore repeatedly as my muscles contracted around him, both of us lost in our joint moment of pleasure.

Harry bent over and lay his head on my chest, arms wrapped under my back making me arch up against his clammy torso.

“So, that’s the hallway and the bath taken care of,” I could hear the smirk on his voice, and despite his collapsed state and the humour in his tone that it was no idle threat when he added, “Where next?”

Notes