Mr. Styles » H.S.

Mara Zaragoza has never been the person of quite confidence. On her first day of at Portland University, she encounters with her Literature professor - Mr. Harry Styles. Who's a charmer and has expensive taste. Dealing with her anxiety and not accepting who she is, Mr. Styles brings out the best of her. With misunderstandings, finding love again, and completely bringing out the best of each other. Mara finds that her deepest affection in life is found in the one and only - Mr. Styles. Copyright © 2014 || All Rights Reserved

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25. Twenty-Four

*SOME SEXUAL CONTENT*

 

 

Did I mention we were going to a wedding? Yeah, a family wedding. One of Harry's aunts was getting married. It's the day before the wedding and Harry and I were at a menswear warehouse at London. He was getting his suite tailored. Apparently weddings in the UK are pretty fancy. Gemma told me a week ago durning dinner—which meant I had to get a dress myself. Which I did. It was another cocktail dress that hugged my body pretty well. It was a royal blue made with sequence fabric, and with long sleeves and it exposed the V of my breasts. 

I was sitting in one of the available sofas, and helped myself to some water and grapes. I was on medications, so no champagne. Don't know how many suits Harry tried on, but he was trying out a lot. Some with squares on them, with different shoes, blazers, vests, sheer shirts, etc. I was getting bored. Plus, I didn't know how to chose for Harry. "That one looks great on you," I will tell him. He'll look at me from the three-way mirror and say, "You said the same thing for the others." I shrugged my shoulders and went on with reading my book. 

It has taken a lot of getting used to Harry being part of the fame. When we got out the car, bam! flashes and flashes of lights. Harry and some bodyguards did their best to hide me. Even though I knew I was safe, the anxiety filled my lungs. I'll never get used to this. How does he even do it? Ignore the paparazzi and the shouting. I just get all nervous and panicky.

"How about this one?" He asks me.

I look up from my book and my mouth falls open. Dark blue dress pants, with shined black dress shoes, a white sheer shirt (tucked in and buttoned half-way), and with a black blazer. It was like seeing Mr. Styles all over again. I mean—I know Harry is Mr. Styles, but he didn't dress as much as before.

"Now, that's the one. You look miraculously handsome."

Getting up and walking towards him, I hug him from behind. Looking at him from the mirror, god did he look older. He was growing a small mustache and felt some stubble on his chin. His hair gotten longer, and his face older. Or maybe it's just the clothes. Because when Harry wears jeans and an old T—he looks eighteen.

"It'll match with your dress, a bit." Harry says. 

I laugh and pat him on the back. After that we went straight to Anne's home. We left the cabin a week ago, and I'm going to miss it. Anne was making dinner and I staid in the kitchen to help. Harry went upstairs to put away his suit and go shower. Gemma was with her boyfriend, so she won't be coming; and Rob is on his way from work. I was chopping potatoes into dices, and I'll mash them into mashed potatoes. Anne was boiling water for spaghetti. She chopped tomatoes and onions and garlic for the sauce. We were quiet, minding our own business.

"What you think of Cheshire?" Anne asks me. 
I say, "It's really lovely and peaceful."
"Would you ever move here?"
Her question surprises me, but I answer it anyway. "Maybe. If I have a reason to move here."
"And Harry? What about him?"
Okay, she's a mom. I get it. Dad would be asking the same questions to Harry, if he were here. "Harry … I really like him. Love him. He's sweet, funny, and caring. We might not have started in the right foot a while back, but we gotten to know one another. We might of fought and yelled at each other, but that's how we gotten closer. Through our mistakes and the love that is shared." I say putting the finished chopped potatoes in a bowl and began smashing them.
"Did you ever considered, spending your life with him?"
"I hope I do. I mean, he makes me happy."
We both share a laugh and just on cue, Harry walks into the kitchen.
"May favorite women in the world," he says. "Mara, may I have a word with?"
I look over at Anne, and lets me go with him.

We walk out to the backyard. The sun is setting, and the sky is filled with a series of purples and pinks and oranges. The breeze passes around us, and I breathe in the smell of vanilla. Harry was wearing sweats and a knitted sweater—my yellow knitted sweater. He looked really good in it. We stand next to each other, and enjoyed the sunset. Once the sky turned dark and the stars began to shine; the lights from the backyard turned on.

"Is there a reason why you don't drive?" He questions me.
"I get all panicky, and nervous. When I was close to getting my license, when the driver instructor told me to park—I panicked. Even worse, I began to cry. My Doc says, I shouldn't drive for certain reasons. I'm just—really sick." The word sick stings my mouth. "I know I won't get cured. I know the attacks will come and go. It's part of me, since the day I was born, and even though I hope to be cured—I won't."

Harry wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me closer to him. My face snuggled on his chest. He kisses the top of my head. "You know something," he says. I look up at him and he's looking at the sky. "You still need to ride me." I look at him puzzled. What does he mean I need to ride—oh. I smack his chest and he chuckles loudly. Wrapping his arms around my head and pulling me against his chest. Sometimes, Harry can't stop thinking about sex or bringing in new ideas. I mean, we'll try them one day, but for now—the present—we are doing the basics. 

After dinner, Harry and I laid on his bed. It was a warm night, so no covers. The Rolling Stones played low in the background. He played with my hair, while I traced his butterfly tattoo over and over again. I liked these moments with him. Us devoured in the silence. Appreciating our existence, and nothing else. My hand traveled down his torso, playing with the small hairs by his belly button. I stopped at the hem of his briefs, and looked up at him. His eyes were closed and just enjoying the music. I ran my hand back up to his stomach and traced his tattoo. Mara, you don't even know the first thing on giving a hand job. I fucking palmed him, what's the difference. I scowled at myself.

"Why you stopped?" Harry mumbled. "I was quite enjoying the pleasure."
I feel my face heat up. Hiding myself against his stomach, he laughs.
"Do you want to?" He asks. 

His question surprises me, that I sit up and move a little away from him. When it comes to giving hand jobs—well, it's awkward and weird. I was never taught that, even though Jade talks about it almost all the time. "Mara?" His voice takes me away from my thoughts. I shook my head, hugging myself and rubbing my arm. Harry pats the empty space next to him. I shake my head. Already feeling my chest tighten. Harry sits up and pulls me up to his lap. His warm hand placed on my stomach—right under my shirt. "Breathe, or this won't work out." Inhale and exhale. Inhale and exhale. He moves his hand up and down my stomach—making me relax and comfortable. 

He then lays me across the bed. He takes his briefs off. My eyes look away. Oh, why did I put myself into this. "Feel me, baby girl," his breath hot on my neck. I tense a little. His hand leads mine down his body to his torso. I don't even look at him because I'll get embarrassed and regret living. After he leads my hand down to his member, I gasp. This time I have to look at what I am doing. My eyes meet Harry's at first. A soft ocean green. He takes my hand and I wrap it around his strong member. Slowly we're moving up and down. Low moans escape from Harry's lips. I bit my lip and enjoy the pleasure—Harry's hand suddenly leaves mine and I'm pleasuring him. Pumping faster. I graze my teeth on his neck; leaving wet and sore marks. Moans escape his mouth—my name escaping Harry's lips. "Oh fuck, Mara. Fuck." Harry whispers softly by my ear. I can feel him ready to come. Harry throws his head bad, and moans my name out. Coming in rings, Harry catches his breath. "Taste me," Harry says breathlessly. I bring my hand up to my lips and lick them—my eyes never leaving Harry's. He bites down his lips. I suck and suck on my two fingers. Harry takes my face in his hands and kisses me hard. His tongue slipping into my mouth and tasting me. 

I cradle my body on top of his. The kissing heats up when I begin to rock back and forth on his groin. His hands on the panties, playing around with the lace. I kiss him down his jaw, to his neck. Harry's grip tightens on my waist as I sucked on his neck. Making him throw his head back and moan my name out. So, I thought. This is what's it like to be dominant. I build up my confidence. "H-Harry, I want to ride you." I say. Ride didn't sound like the correct word to use, but it was worth the try. A devilish smirk appears on his lips. "Oh you may, Miss Mara." I get off. Harry takes off my underwear—leaving soft butterfly kisses. Both us are eager for this … experience. Harry puts on a condom and lays back on the bed. 

I gulp, the moment I get myself on top of him. We struggle a bit, sharing embarrassed laughs. Once I feel his tip at my entrance, Harry puts himself in. "Slowly now, baby girl." My hands are propped up on his chest, and I throw my head back; as I rock back and forth on him. His hands tight on my hips. Inhale and exhale. I see Harry, close his eyes and hold his bottom lip in between his teeth. "Y-You like this?" I asked him. Trying to sound confident and dominant. Harry moaned. "Yes, Miss Mara." I'm turned on by his vulnerability. I take one of his hands and lead up my body—making him massage my breasts. I throw my head back, enjoying the pleasure. Hovering over him, I kiss him hard on the lips. Our breathes loud when we pull apart. "Oh fuck, Miss Mara," Harry gritted through his teeth. "Faster," he says breathless. "You l-like it-t fast?" He nods his head. I bounce on him and once in a while I leave love bites around his neck. I can feel the ecstasy. The spark twist in my stomach. "Oh … Harry," I say loud. I come easily and seconds I feel him twitch inside me. I collapse on his chest, and we both catch our breathes. Harry's chest goes up and down slowly—he pushes my hair out of my face. He kisses my forehead. "Oh baby girl," he breathes out. "That was exceptional." We both laugh and get more comfortable in bed. Harry turns the lights off, and I cuddle next to him. His long-lanky arms wrapping around me. Harry pulled me closer, not wanting me to disappear. But, how can I disappear. I didn't want to leave him. I think, he knows that. 

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Hello! I am sorry for taking so long.

I started my fall semester, and

it's been hell.

I'm posting two chapters tonight.

Prepare to be blown away.

xx, ISA

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