His lips are so close to her ears he could tell me how her fůcking earwax tastes. The pictures are piling up from Harold's escapades overseas. Girls, girls, and more girls, at the award show, after parties, at the club, at fashion shows â they're everywhere and all of them are entirely too close to him for comfort. I suppose this, and him extending his trip for another few days, are my punishments for not coming to meet him but had I known he'd go girl crazy the second he was out of my sight I would've. He's in at least three pictures with his ex-fling Tara and as much as I know I can trust him I can't help the nagging feeling inside that says that I can't, especially since he hasn't called or texted me back since he left. The last communication we had was him telling me he was extending his trip and he didn't even text me back after I replied then.
As a new video about him from Yahoo News begins to play I push the power button on my laptop, not caring that I'm turning it off improperly, I just need to get it off of my screen and out of my face. The new therapist I'm seeing, Dr. Ramirez would be very disappointed right now. He thinks I feed my insecurities and judging by the hour I spent going down the rabbit hole that is the internet I think he's right.
Terra's been encouraging me the past couple of days to keep seeing him but instead I've went to two other shrinks. So far none of them seem like the right fit but all of them have been telling me relatively the same thing. I apparently have road blocks up to protect myself, which I knew, but according to therapist number one my reluctance to take them down is out of habit. He in part blames my first therapist, Dr. Greg, for my compulsive behavior.
When I was in treatment for my depression and anxiety Dr. Greg developed a series of routines for me to stick to in order to provide me with a feeling of control over my life. At the time these routines were something I gripped onto because of how out of my hands everything felt. I was thrown into college, adulthood, and losing my friends and being a spoiled sheltered kid coming up, I was going through a huge culture shock. My anxiety went crazy and I began to slip into a depressive state. I felt like my brain was always racing, like I was never prepared for life's newest obstacle and everything just felt so overwhelming. My routines became my salvation and soon I felt more in control and was actually able to function without fearing the next thing coming. Eventually I started applying this same principle to my life outside of typical things like working out, eating, or sleeping. Soon I had a routine for the way that I handled friendships and relationships, jobs, the way I managed my emotions, even the way I brushed my teeth. Even once I moved and Berkley, Amita, and Damien came into my life, I found new habits and figured out how to work them and my new surroundings into them.
My life has been one big routine until Harry. He's been the only person to enter my life in years that has been able to trip me up, to strip me out of my monotony and thrust me onto a new path. Feeling myself lose control like that has me scrambling to gain it back again. According to therapist number one, I've been pushing him out not only to protect myself from hurt but more so to protect my way of life.
I didn't like the way he came for Dr. Greg's neck for methods that more than likely saved my life at that time, but I must admit therapist one has a point. I've never been a huge fan of change so add in my other mountain of issues - self-loathing, pessimism, lack of faith in the human race as a whole â and you get the shįt show that is my outlook.
Although I was able to get something out of seeing all of the therapists I still haven't been able to find my right fit but I'm going to keep looking. I didn't realize how much it helped to talk to someone who's totally objective to my life until these past few days. I felt hopeful that I could change my ways for the first time in a while and that's enough to make me seriously search for a shrink that fits. I have to find a way to live in the now and I hope seeing someone can help me do that.
Head doctors aren't the only Phd's I saw this week, I also made a stop at my gynecologist's office. After she assured me that I am indeed not pregnant she administered my first birth control shot ever. She warned me that I might experience some side effects since I've never been on any form of contraception before and so far I've encountered each one. My stomach has been bloated to hell, I've been so dizzy I can hardly stand, not to mention the nausea, irritability, and breast tenderness. Had I known I would feel like I was pregnant without it actually being so I would've opted for the baby option. At least after nine months I'd have an adorable little member to add to our slightly dysfunctional family.
The idea makes me smile somewhat but I shake the thought away and take another large gulp of whiskey from my glass. I didn't even think about kids until the idea of having one was taken from me, now for the past few days it's been on my mind pretty heavily. I came to realize that I was disappointed that I wasn't pregnant and I still can't pinpoint why. I don't have a mothering bone in my body, hence my speediness to get on birth control. Still, I can't help smirking at the thought of little curly haired babies running around here until we had to shop for a new place. The thought is as enlightening as it is unsettling.
Pouring another glass of the harsh brown liquor I promise myself it's my last one. I drank entirely too much last night trying to keep up with Terra via Skype. My low tolerance level definitely showed this afternoon when I woke up with a raging hangover. I heard however, there's nothing that gets you over it faster than the hair of the dog that bit you, so to speak, so after eating I poured myself a couple of glasses.
T and I ended up falling asleep together on Skype last night but when I woke up she had already gotten up and ended our call. Her words nonetheless rang true in the new day's light. She reminded me that Harry is everything I've ever wanted in a guy and she couldn't be more right. He's literally my dream man and I can't believe I'm allowing my past to mess this all up. No, I have to take full responsibility, according to therapist number two, I'm messing this up not my past. I've always had a tough time breaking habits and putting a stop to being the way I am will prove to be the hardest.
Regardless of how tough it'll be I have to do it. He's the sweetest and although he can be a bit of a chick magnet, as far as I know, he deserves my trust. My hope is I can take it a day at a time and gradually be better not just for him but for me as well. I pray I don't have to do anything drastic to make the change stick so I hope slow but sure change works. I want to do whatever I can to make this work like Terra said but I just can't get on board with faking it with him.
For starters it's too much damned work. I'd have to wake up every day and be someone I'm not. No one has any idea how hard it is to get up in the morning and have the first thing you do be to put on a proverbial mask. I sure as hell didn't when I gave T that dumb aÅs advice. It wasn't until I had my own mask to wear that I realized the truth.
It's suffocating in every way imaginable, in every way that matters. You lose sight of yourself trying to be everything for everyone and when the dust settles no one is there for you. People enter your life for who you pretend to be for them not for the real you, not that you even remember who that is anymore. Once you finally realize how detrimental the damage you're doing is, it's too late.
Not only am I beyond against pretending to be anyone else, I just couldn't with Harry. He has the type of face that I can't lie to. His eyes alone hold so much purity in them when he looks at me it makes me feel dirty, unworthy. Not because he's "Harry Styles" but simply because he's so open and honest with me and I can never seem to be with him. I've never lied but being here in his house, living with him, kissing him, making love to him, it feels like a lie. My presence is all the lie necessary. My being here is saying 'I'm ready and I'm willing to try,' I know it's why he's so confused when it comes to us. My mouth says no while my presence says yes.
Being whoever it is he wants me to be would be more of a disservice to him than me. If I'm fake with him he's going to get to know and fall for the facade then when the time comes and I'm tired of faking it, and the time will come, he'll be blindsided by who I really am. Gone is the girl who looks perfect, acts perfect, and knows all of the right things to say. I'd be her difficult to deal with replacement with baggage as heavy as bricks and no sense of how to be with another person. I guess in a way I'm wronging us both. I can't learn to get better if I'm pretending to be someone else.
I suppose if all else fails we could just walk away but I don't think that I can, I'm used to him now. In the past I found a twisted sense of happiness in being alone. It's not complicated, there's no one to impress. And after going through everyone who ever mattered in my life leaving me it was easier to just depend on my own company. So what I have abandonment issues, there are worse things.
It's hard as hell to let someone in once you've been closed off for so long. It's even harder to deal with the melted muck of feelings once they get there. You'll need their help to clean up the mess someone else made and it's not fair. It's not fair to them because they have to dive head first into your crazy and it's not fair to you because you have to deal with the growing pains that come along with the change. Not to mention rebuilding your emotional wellbeing with someone brings you closer in ways not accessible to others.
They see all of the raw nasty bits, handle them in their hands, and help repair them. Those kinds of fingerprints can't be wiped off.
The bittersweet part about it all is that even once you're fixed, you're fůcked. Now you're close to this person who helped you and if they decide to leave that's it. A supremely clumsy exit from them knocks down all of your progress and you're back to spare parts scattered all over the ground.
It took me years to build my defense walls as high as they are. It didn't even take Harry a month to find a spot of weakness and slip right on through. Before I could see what was happening he was past the guards and sauntering his way through the front door proudly, tool belt in hand, fully ready to fix me. I love him and hate him for it.
I know in my heart that if he ever leaves, I'll be okay, because I have to be. But late at night when the rest of the world is fast asleep or starting their day I'm going to allow myself to feel it. I'll take my hand and shakily touch the burning hot skin over the gaping hole in my chest. It'll throb his name and I'll cry, howl even. But in the morning after my eyes are swollen shut from crying myself to sleep I'll push the gnawing pain of loss to the farthest corner of my mind. I'll slip on my mask and face the day just like nothing's wrong because as far as anyone knows, nothing is.
I stop my inner monologue just long enough to turn off the television I wasn't watching so I can get started on dinner. Just listening to myself it seems like I hate who I am. I don't. I love who I am, the pride I have in how far I've come, the confidence I have in my appearance and the way I carry myself. I get self-conscious and insecure at times but who doesn't. The things I love about me outweigh the things I hate by a ton. It's just when it comes to relationships the things I hate seem to rear their ugly heads more often which is why I don't let things get deep.
With Berkley neither of us was really interested in the other. Sure we were attracted, we had fun together, enjoyed each other's company but we kept things at the surface. I'm fine as long as it stays there. Harry is totally different he's a deep sea diver. Deep is never deep enough, he just keeps going.
Sometimes I don't even feel like it's me resisting him, at least not consciously. It's like my brain's defense mechanism. Shutting my heart out, because what does it know, and moving my mouth totally on it's own, before I can stop it.
I'm forced from my thoughts when the front door opens. Harry isn't supposed to be home for another couple of days. That knowledge makes my heart speed.
Gripping the knife I was using I tip up the steps to the foyer only to find an empty area as I peak around the corner. Stepping further into the space I peer out the door into the neighborhood, the sunset outside making a beautiful backdrop for such an eerie scene. Harry appears in the doorway suddenly, bags in hand and strapped around him showing he didn't want to make two trips to the car.
His head is down as he fiddles with one of the bags so before he can see me I throw the knife into the kitchen. I don't need him thinking I'm crazier than he already does.
The clattering catches his attention, his eyes immediately connecting with mine. Neither of us says anything.
He looks... I don't really know what other word to use outside of delicious. I've been extraordinarily horny since I got my shot and the way he's looking right now, in tight jeans and a soft v-neck, isn't helping.
He slams the door behind him, drawing my eyes from his body to his eyes as he drops his bags to the floor all at once. My stomach floats up like I'm on a rollercoaster as he approaches me with tunnel vision and hard steps. Before I can say a thing I'm in his arms.
His lips cover mine with an urgency I've never felt before as he walks us backwards to our bedroom. I struggle to keep up with his movements, only getting the opportunity when he breaks away from me to pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the ground. Again, before I can speak I'm tangled in him.
My back hits the closed door of the bedroom as his hands roam my body. One ends up squeezing my hip, pulling me closer to him, while the other grasps my chin, holding me in place for his soft lips and tongue to ravish me.
I take my moment to speak as he moves on to my neck, tongue kissing my tender spot until I moan.
"We need to talk," I breathe, trying to focus my brain.
No sooner do the words leave my mouth that his lips are back on mine. I hear his belt buckle jingle and involuntarily kiss him harder. My body knows what it wants yet my brain is trying to be logical and think about the apology I need to offer him.
He moans into my mouth as we stumble into the bedroom, lips still connected. His fingers waste no time heading for the buttons on my night shirt and his lips and tongue find the special spot on my neck again, offering encouragement to the space between my legs to moisten.
"Baby I need to tell you-" I moan as his hands grip and massage my ass.
"Don't," he grunts, his hands leaving me to go to his pants, "Don't say a word."
He kisses me possessively, sliding his skillful tongue into my mouth, his hands in my hair holding me steady. I'm lost in the feeling, all thoughts of words leaving my brain with each kiss. His lips are paradise and the rest of him ascends that.
I open my eyes as his kisses taper off. He stares directly into me as he kisses me roughly, taking my bottom lip between his teeth before letting it go to kiss me again.
I'm breathless as suddenly I'm hoisted up, my panties are pushed aside, and I'm slid down onto his hard manhood. The room echoes with our satisfied exhales as he becomes fully sheathed inside of me.
All sanity leaves my brain as he slips his arms under the crooks of my knees and, while tonguing my neck, lifts me up and pulls me back down onto his hardness. My eyes roll back, the feeling's too good too right.
The sight before me is so sexy I feel close even though we just started. My hands grip the back of his neck and shoulders as I ride him mid-air. The end of my shirt pools around my waist as his hands grip my behind and upper thighs, working the muscles in his vein covered forearms to guide me. His jeans rest snuggly around his thighs, I can hear the frantic jingle of his belt every time I slam down onto him.
My body shakes and I throw my head back as he speeds up, thumping into me as he pulls me down. The sounds of our colliding bodies fill the quiet house.
Crying out as I orgasm unexpectedly, my eyes close so tightly I'm seeing stars. I don't know what I said, maybe it was his name, maybe it was a plea to God, maybe I accidently put a curse on someone I have no clue. All I know is the way I feel right now should be illegal.
Just as I get used to the feel of suspended sex my back is against the comforter of the bed and I open my eyes to his. He looks wild, unhinged even, and it's the sexiest I've ever seen him.
"Turn over," he rumbles, his words definite â not to be defied.
I do as I'm told and nearly rip off my shirt before busying my fingers, giving him a show as he gets out of his clothes. I hear him throwing his shoes off and quickly after his pants.
What can only be described as a growl escapes his throat before I feel a slap against my right butt cheek making me wetter on impact.
"Oh God yes," I hiss out arching my back for him.
He smacks the left cheek as he positions himself behind me.
Entering me slowly he catches a rhythm that has me arching for him even more. Swiftly, he changes up his smooth pace for something more hammering.
I scream out again and beg him not to stop as he pushes my back down with both hands. It seems the more I arch, the lower he wants my upper body until I'm face down aÅs up taking all of him with no interference. Everything is punishing, his strokes, the roughness of his hands on my body, his grunts. He's so deep I lose my breath.
Just as I'm on the cusp of falling over the orgasmic edge he pulls out and flips my pliable body over onto my back. Before I can complain he's in between my legs again, picking up where he left off.
I find it so hard to catch my breath especially as he tongue kisses my neck and chin. His kisses are such a sweet contrast to the rough pace we crash into each other at, however they don't last long. His head ends up resting in the space between my neck and head as he glides into me. He grabs my thighs and pulls my legs up, opening me up more for him.
As his hands grip my hips I can feel them bruising and I relish in it. This is what we both needed, to take out our frustration in our favorite way we communicate. Every grunt and moan is the apology we both mean wholeheartedly. The house fills with our groaned promises to never do it again, the vow to work harder, try more.
My eyes shut tightly as I ride out the feeling of his sweaty body against mine, sticking to my own perspiration as we work hard for each other's forgiveness. Just as my breathing borders hyperventilation and I close in on an orgasm Harry pulls out, causing me to groan until I feel his lips wrap around my nub. His tongue explores me in sloppy, wet, languid movements. Feeling him make love to my nethers with his mouth has to come in at a solid second place in my top favorite things in the world second only to being with him in general.
Soft lips and a spongey tongue travel around and inside of me, lapping up my wetness until I'm gripping his hair in my hands. Before I can get too used to the feeling his warm mouth leaves and his body slithers up mine before he plunges into me again forcing my evasive orgasm out of me. My entire body clenches before letting go and relaxing in his capable hands.
I can't get used to a pace. He keeps changing it up from hard to soft, staccato to a crescendo, only to stop suddenly and go down on me, sensually kissing my lower lips with open mouth tongue kisses as I ride the wave of my orgasm.
I don't know how many times he repeats his unpredictable routine but I know I'm exhausted by the time he rolls us over so that I'm on top. He slips into me with ease from all of our wetness and grips my hips as I ride him slowly, looking down into his eyes. It's the first time we've truly looked at each other since this all began and it makes the sensations between us feel that much better.
"Fůck," he groans out, his head falling back eyes slammed shut.
I echo his sentiments as I pick up the pace just a smidge. It's something about seeing my hands sprawled across his tattooed chest, the ring he placed on my finger shining like a beacon â beckoning me to move faster, work harder. I lose myself as I ride him, watching him enjoy me from this angle feels otherworldly. His head is turned to the side, his face hiding in the end of a pillow, as his grip moves from my hips to my aÅs clumsily as if he can't decide between the two. The veins in his neck are pronounced, striations in his chest prominent as he hangs onto me, his mouth wide open.
"Oh God," he growls, bringing his face out of hiding. He grabs my shoulders and pulls me down to kiss him before wrapping his arms around me in a bear hug and slamming into me.
My breath staccatos at the pace but nearly stops when he kisses my neck before moving onto my breasts. They're so sensitive from my piercings and the birth control I can hardly stand it. The balance between pain and pleasure, the noisy way our bodies slam together, and his sexy labored breaths and groans have me climaxing.
He holds my body down so in the moment I don't shoot up like a rocket. Seconds into my bliss his moans mingle with mine and I feel warmth spread inside of me. It's a new feeling that somehow seems to extend my moments in nirvana.
As we both come down from our high our breathing slowly levels out and he releases his death grip so that I can roll off of him. Lying side by side I think he realizes the weight of what just happened as he breaks the silence first.
"I didn't even think about it sweetheart, we didn't use anything," he offers, his tone apologetic, still chasing his breath.
I smirk to myself and shake my head. My brain struggles to string together a sentence, "Don't worry about it."
And he doesn't.
We don't talk about anything else because he falls right to sleep and after snuggling into his chest I'm not far behind. I can honestly say it's the first solid amount of sleep I've gotten since he left.
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What's up my good people!!!!
Hope yall enjoyed the chapter! I had this chapter ready since a few days after the last one and it's been burning a hole in my computer lol School is almost over for me so I'm having a lot of papers and projects due and finals are about to hit so I wanted to be ahead of the game, I have the next chapter ready for the next update so yall don't have to worry about my ass being late lol I'm really excited about the next few chapters so I'll be in writer's mode as soon as I'm done with school stuff!
This chapter's Question...
When does school end for you?
This chapter...
Chileeeee lol I wanted this chapter to be raw and real and to show the passion Harry and B have for each other. This chapter has always been something I've thought of writing but I never had the right couple to write it for but they allowed me this opportunity lol Hopefully yall found it as spicy as I intended :)
This chapter's song...
Enemy by The Weeknd. I'm not a huge fan of The Weeknd to be honest I don't think he can sing lol However, when I heard this song I felt like it was so effortlessly sexy and very raw, overwhelming, and passionate which is the mood I wanted for the chapter so hopefully yall could vibe with it.
As for new follower S/O's...
This time we have:
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Thanks so much for following and I hope I don't disappoint!
Invite your friends to read and follow and leave me some feedback in the comments!! I love hearing from yall!!!!
Until Next Time,
WBN