Harry Styles - Instant Attraction Ch. 08

8. Surprise

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Charley blew her hair out her face in frustration as she threw her pen across the room. She had only exchanged a handful of texts with Harry in the two weeks that had passed since the whirlwind trip to London. All the texts she had received had indicated he was writing and he would try to see her soon. He hadn't called her, and she hadn't wanted to interrupt his process, but she itched to hear his voice again.

The initial hype in the media surrounding their relationship had died down, and she'd stopped seeing her face on front covers of all the magazine stands as she passed by them on her morning runs. It had been an interesting first week back, running each morning and being pursued by at least three or four paparazzi. They weren't as fit as her, though, and it made her smile watching them huff as they tried to keep up and get a shot.

Young girls had stopped her every day asking for a photo and Charley had politely smiled and obliged, then continued on. She always gave the same answer, saying yes, Harry was very nice in real life, and no, she didn't have an Instagram account to follow. The woman at the coffee cart where she got her coffee every day had tried to shoo the paparazzi away from Charley as she was served, telling them to leave her alone. It was very sweet, but unnecessary. She just ignored it as best she could and continued on with her life.

The one thing that was truly starting to bother her, was how much she missed the physical contact with Harry. Sex with him was unreal and she seemed to have developed an unhealthy addiction to it. She missed his cheeky behaviour, slow smiles and intelligent conversation too, but right now her need was a little more base than that. Without any pressing deadlines to take her mind off it, he was starting to feature in almost every fantasy she'd ever had.

Charley knew Harry was busy with his album, the intensive writing process incredibly important to him, and she got it. She wasn't remotely concerned about that. She was just...horny. Really horny. Wasn't he horny, too? Was it just her?

Fuck, this is ridiculous, she thought, feeling like a sex-crazed lunatic as she thought about the heavy weight of him above her as he stroked into her.

Exasperated, she got up to pick up the pen she'd just thrown into the kitchen. To start with she'd been fine, working hard all through the first week home to achieve her deadlines. Then, once everything had returned to normal, she had started to have the erotic dreams again. Unable to sleep as she thought of Harry's hands on her body, she tossed and turned in frustration each night, until she had pulled her vibrator out the dresser drawer in defeat. She'd used it nearly every night to help her sleep a little better, picturing Harry going down on her and their electric night outside in London. It helped, but it was only a stop-gap. The unique chemistry they experienced together had probably spoiled her for life. She was always going to know that it could be like this, and now she knew it did exist, she wouldn't want to accept any less.

"I've turned into a sex addict," she groaned out loud in her apartment to no-one as she considered using her vibrator in the middle of the day. A Harry sex addict, she corrected herself inwardly. She didn't crave anyone else. Just him. The texts he had sent were sweet and flirty, but nothing in his words hinted that he felt as deprived as her.

An unwelcome thought occurred to her suddenly. Was he sex deprived? They hadn't actually said they were exclusive. Maybe he was sleeping with other girls. Could he be? He was a pop star - he could have anyone. A different woman every night if he wanted. The thought of his hands on another woman's body made her feel physically sick, her stomach turning. Stop it, she scolded herself. You don't have any claim on him, not really. Somehow she knew Harry wouldn't do that to her. Would he? No. She was just ridiculously horny and it was messing with her brain.

"This has to stop," she said out loud to try and snap out of it. Abruptly, Charley put the pen in her hand on the kitchen counter and made a decision. She stood erect, shoulders back as an intriguing thought crossed her mind.


This is a modern world, right? Why does it always have to be the guy who wants and initiates sex? Why can't it be the woman? Why do I have to wait until he's ready to see me?

As she held onto that thought, Charley determinedly showered and put on her sexiest pair of lingerie - a black lace, barely-there, thong bodysuit. She looked at herself in the mirror and gave herself a pep talk out loud.

"Come on, Charley, you look hot. What guy wouldn't be lucky to have this?" She fluffed up her long, black hair, boosted her breasts with her hands and gave herself a sultry look in the mirror, turning to check out her exposed bum. Then she rolled her eyes at herself. Okay, you idiot, You can't pull arrogance off. Honest assessment time. Can I pull this off? She'd never worn it for a guy before, never feeling confident enough.

More seriously, she stood in the lingerie and tried to look at her body objectively. Her skin was smooth and a light olive colour. Her entire body was toned from her workouts, so she was confident in it. She put her hands on her hips and turned to look at her bum again. It wasn't small and perky like Caroline's, but it was quite shapely and definitely curvy. No guy had ever complained, anyway. She shrugged. Harry certainly hadn't.

"Get dressed, Charley, you can do this," she muttered, turning away from the mirror and heading to the wardrobe. She selected a navy blue and white polka dot wrap dress, that had short sleeves, and tied around the waist. She'd always put a double knot in it due to the dangerous nature of it - pull the tie and she'd be fully exposed. This time she only put a single knot and bow in it. The whole point being easy access after all, she decided with a grin.

Putting light makeup on and sliding on black ballet flats, Charley grabbed her purse, and without another thought lest she change her mind, left her apartment. Arranging an Uber from the elevator, she felt butterflies fill her stomach. Would he be home? It was Friday afternoon. Harry had replied to her message asking what he was doing earlier that day, by saying he was still writing and would text her tomorrow. It had been softened with a kissy face emoji and he'd said he missed her.

She didn't want to interrupt his writing process, but surely he needed a break? He'd been working almost two weeks straight. She was pretty sure he hadn't even left his house once in that time. Well, she hoped he hadn't, her mind resisting the thought he could be with another woman.

Tapping her feet nervously in the lobby, she waited there until the Uber arrived, not wanting to give any waiting paparazzi the opportunity to waylay her. The app on her phone dinged and she noted three photographers, all distracted, eating lunch and chatting. Taking the opportunity, she rushed out the front and hopped right in. She hunched down as the Uber left the curb, then surreptitiously glanced back, breathing a sigh of relief that they hadn't noticed and were still eating their lunch, chatting with each other.

Guiding the Uber to her destination, she had a good twenty minutes to reflect on how stupid this was, her fingers constantly itching to text Harry and let him know she was coming, and opening her mouth to tell the driver to turn back around. You only live once, she repeated her favourite mantra to herself as she got out at the end of Harry's driveway.

Once the car had left, Charley walked up to the private security gate and stopped. Shit. She'd forgotten about that. Well, this would have to do. She pressed the speaker button that had a bell over it.

"Si?" A woman's voice came over the speaker, and Charley was struck dumb. She'd been expecting Harry.

"Er, hi. This is Charley Pearce, I'm here to see Harry?" she said hesitantly.

"Espere," the voice said briefly. Wait, the voice said. Growing up with a Spanish father and a Brazilian mother, Charley was fluent in both Spanish and Portuguese, which had come in very handy with her European contacts. The romance languages were also similar to Italian and French, so she could get by well with them, too.

She waited what seemed like a long five minutes, shifting her weight restlessly from foot to foot. She'd nearly decided to leave, when the gate was buzzed open. Looking at it, she hesitantly pulled at it, then stepped through, letting it close behind her. Walking up the drive, her steps became slower and slower as she reached his front door.

"Well, you're here now, just knock," she whispered to herself and raised her hand to do so. But before she could, the door swung open and small, old lady stood there looking suspicious.

"Quién eres tú." It was a statement more than a question. Who are you?

"Hola, me llamo Charley," Charley said politely. This must be his housekeeper, as the woman was gripping a disinfectant spray in one hand, and a cloth tucked into her apron.

Charley smiled timidly at the woman. "Espero no estar interrumpiendo." I hope I'm not interrupting.

Mollified by Charley's politeness and apparently fluent language use, a smile creased across her face.

"I'm Maria, Harry's housekeeper," the woman said, switching to heavily accented English. "I could not get his attention to tell him you were here, but when I see you on monitor I recognise you from magazine," she said slyly. "I think you be just the thing to get him to take break. He's upstairs in studio."

"Oh!" Charley laughed, blushing at her innuendo. "So he doesn't know I'm here?"

"No," Maria chuckled and pressed her free hand to Charley's upper arm. "And I am leaving now. You tell him I said to take break. I made casserole, it's in fridge." Her expression softened. "Get him to eat please."

Charley felt sudden warmth towards the old woman. She could tell she cared about Harry. This wasn't just a regular housekeeper-client relationship. She smiled at Maria.

"Gracias, Maria. Fue un placer conocerte," Charley squeezed Maria's hand as the old woman gathered her things and left. Looking around, a flood of memories overtook her from the last time she was here. Her skin burned and her hormones started to rage out of control again. Heart beating fast and her palms becoming clammy, she slowly took off her shoes and left them by the door. As she moved past the dining table, she placed her purse on it and headed to the stairs.

Quietly, pulse racing, she padded up the steps to the second floor, hearing muffled singing and guitar chords. Reaching the landing, she wiped her hands on her dress and straightened her shoulders in an effort to appear confident.

God, look at you, you're a mess, she berated herself and tried to pull herself together. Her body had started to tremble at the thought of him being in the room next to her. Time seemed to slow down as she edged towards the studio. The door was closed.

Leaning her ear against it, she heard the singing and guitar stop. Heart racing, she took a step back quickly. Was he coming out? No. The guitar started up again, his voice repeating the melody he'd just sung. Now or never, Charley, she told herself sternly. She gulped down a breath, and, with a shaking hand, she gently pressed down on the door handle and slowly opened it.

His back was to her. Charley's breath caught at the sight of him and she took a moment to drink him in. He was wearing one of his white t-shirts that she could see his tattoos through. Harry was sitting on a stool with an acoustic guitar on his lap, head bent forwards over the strings as he hummed out a melody.

Snapping herself out of it, not wanting to seem like a creeper, she gently cleared her throat, and the playing stopped.

"Maria," Harry said exasperatedly as he started to turn. "I don't need any food, or drink, I'm fine, honest-"

Charley stood hesitantly in the doorway as Harry froze with eyes fixed on her, his mouth falling open. The silence lengthened. He didn't move, or say anything, and Charley began to worry. Had this been the wrong thing to do? Was he upset she was interrupting? Take control, her subconscious whispered, and without volition, her hands moved to the tie at her waist.

She noted his eyes dropped to follow the movement, taking pleasure in how they widened, pupils dilating as she pulled the knot free. The dress opened effortlessly and she shrugged it to the floor, standing in the black lace bodysuit. She stared at the ground a moment before looking up at him through her lashes hesitantly.

Two more heartbeats of silence passed, then suddenly Harry made a choked sound. He practically threw his guitar down and in two large bounds, was standing over her, his hands on her body and his mouth roughly on hers.

Finally! Charley's body screamed in relief as his large hands spanned her waist and then ran down over her ass. He moaned, his tongue pushing into her mouth to stroke hers, backing her up until she was pressed against the wall across the hallway from the studio.

"Fucking hell, Charley," Harry said thickly as he came up for air, then immediately started kissing her jawline and down her neck. Charley gasped and gripped his biceps as his hands lifted up and cupped her breasts that were spilling out of the tight lingerie. "Let me look at you."

He pulled away from her and looked down her body, taking in her kiss-swollen lips, dark eyes and the scrap of lace she was wearing. "Oh God," he moaned and turned her around so he could see the back.

Charley pressed one side of her face against the wall and slowly wiggled her bottom at him, hearing Harry's breaths come short and fast behind her, his hands coming to grip each globe of her ass.

"I'm dreaming," he muttered from behind her. "I've passed out from lack of sleep, and this is a dream."

Charley turned back around, and with one hand, found the hard bulge in his jeans, eliciting another groan from him. With the other hand, she gripped the hair at the nape of his neck and yanked him down to her so she could kiss him.

Palming him, she felt her blood pressure rising at the feel of his response to her. She needed him now. "Harry," she whimpered into his mouth. "Fuck me."

Harry's brain was muddled, his heart stopping briefly at her rough words, then thundering on out of control. This was really happening, he thought dazedly as he drank in the dark nymph standing in front of him. Without another word, he bent and lifted her into his arms, striding deliberately down the hall to his bedroom, eyes locked on the woman in his arms. The woman who had been fuelling his all-day all-night song writing binge. The woman from his unforgettable night in the hotel suite's courtyard in London.

He'd barely slept or eaten. He'd had to write, it was an obsession. As much as he'd wanted to see Charley, the mistress that was his music had called out to him every time he'd considered leaving the house to see her, and he could never turn it down. It had ended relationships he'd had before. Yet here she was. Like he'd called for her without knowing and she'd responded.

Laying her down on his bed, he didn't hesitate to pull off his shirt, then dispose of his jeans and briefs. Within a few seconds, he was crawling naked between her legs, mouth coming down over hers, his erection achingly hard. His skin felt like it was on fire as their lips connected and, at that moment, he felt like he needed her more than air.

His fingers dipped between her legs and found her soaking wet, already swelling with her readiness. Fucking hell, Harry though deliriously as he pushed the black lace aside and pushed two fingers inside of her, anxious to feel her slick heat.

Her cry of pleasure stabbed him in his gut and he wondered if he could come without her even touching him. It felt like he might explode at any moment. He had to be inside her. He withdrew her fingers, used them to hold the lace aside and lined the tip of his cock up to her entrance. He heard Charley pant desperately.

"Fuck me, Harry," she demanded again, and he thrust in hard, her words making him crazy.

They both cried out at the connection, still for only a moment before their bodies required them to move, to create that delicious friction that would send them flying. It didn't take long for either of them. Within moments, Harry was releasing inside of her as he felt her insides spasm down around him as she came, too.

Sweaty, breathing rough and ragged, they lay there for long moments afterwards. Harry had collapsed on top of her, his damp body heavy, but Charley didn't mind in the least. He was still inside her and she could feel the pulse of his length within her starting to slow.

With a groan, Harry finally rolled off her, lying on his back next to her. "Holy fuck," he said in shock, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He turned his face toward Charley, to make sure she was really there. She was. Hair damp around her face, skin glowing from sweat, wearing that incredible piece of lingerie, eyes closed with a smile on her face.

A smile crossed his own face seeing hers. Had she really just come here and pulled her dress off and told him to fuck her? The smile widened and he rolled onto his side to face her, leaning up on an elbow.

He reached across with his other hand and slowly trailed his fingers from the apex of her thighs up her stomach, between her breasts until he reached her soft mouth. She finally opened those beautiful hazel eyes and butterflies erupted in his stomach again at the look in her eyes. Sexy, sated, happy.

"You look very happy with yourself," he commented, unable to stop smiling.

Charley grinned widely back. "I am." She couldn't help it - she giggled as she stared up at the ceiling, unable to believe what she'd just done. Getting up to use the bathroom, she walked on trembling legs and sent Harry a wink over her shoulder, knowing he was watching her and appreciating her bare ass.

Cleaning herself up, Charley looked at herself in the mirror, the difference in her appearance vastly changed from only an hour ago. The woman looking at her was no longer anxious or tense. She was relaxed and looked like the cat who had got the cream. She giggled at the analogy and came out the bathroom where Harry was still lying on the bed, naked. He'd put his arms up behind his head and was leaning against the headboard, one knee up. He looked ridiculously gorgeous. It really shouldn't be allowed.

She paused at the end of the bed and smiled at him, where he grinned contentedly at her, his dimples deep. She let her eyes rake over his muscled torso and abdomen, skate over his sexy tattoos, down his thighs and back up to trace over his beautiful face. Yum, she thought. And then, reluctantly, she said, "Well, see you later," and saluted as she walked out the room. The look of shock on his face was priceless.

"Hey!" he called after her, but she just chuckled and went to his studio. Finding her dress, Charley pulled it back on, tying it neatly around her waist. She silently congratulated herself on how easy the outfit had been to not only get off, but to get back on. Harry hadn't even removed her lingerie, he'd been so keen to fulfil both their needs. Convenient, she smirked.

She headed for the stairs as Harry came out of the bedroom, quickly pulling his black jeans up sans underwear. Charley darted down the stairs with a giggle and grabbed her purse from the table, heading for the door. She felt amazing and strangely empowered by her actions as Harry chased after her in shock.