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#mila kunis
actressparade · 2 days ago
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Mila Kunis
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freedomfireflies · 2 days ago
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The Playboy | 3. Devil In Disguise*
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Cool. Fresh. Wet.
Nothing beats a hot summer day like a swim in a large, refreshing pool. Absolutely nothing. Except maybe some lemonade.
And Harry can't get the thought off his mind. Not of the lemonade, of course, but the way the water glistens, reflects the sun, drips down the skin.
Her skin.
However, he couldn't care less about the pool itself. He only cares about Michelle and the way she looks when she comes up for air.
He's been watching her from the porch for hours, his eyes trained on her from behind his dark sunglasses, and from behind the cup of lemonade at his lips.
He's trying to act casual. Not make it so obvious that he hasn't been able to take his eyes off of the beautiful Bunny since he sat down.
She's not alone, either. She's surrounded by all the other girls, all laughing, splashing the water, throwing a beach ball around. 
They're having fun. It's a fun day. A relaxed day. Even Hugh has joined them, his legs dangling over the edge as he watches, a giant grin on his face.
But Harry only watches Michelle. Watches the way she runs her hands over her hair as she pushes it out of her face, the slick locks cascading down her back. Watches the way the water sparkles in the sunlight as it drips down her chest, over her tight, little bathing suit. 
And he especially watches the way she dives headfirst into the deep end, her ass in the air as if she's practically begging him to go over there and—
He coughs under his breath as the thought flashes through his mind, subtly readjusting himself in his seat to hide the fact that he's become painfully hard, even through his swim trunks.
She has to know what she's doing, Harry has decided. She has to. She's always been a tease, always been coy... but now more than ever because she knows he can't do a fucking thing about it with everyone here.
She won't even look at him, which is the worst part. She acts as if he's not even here, and it drives Harry insane. He knows she can't acknowledge him. Can't draw attention to him.
But he just... he needs those eyes on him. Can't fucking stand the thought that she's out there, probably soaking her suit, and not from the pool—all while he's forced to sit on the porch and watch.
Of course, she loves it. Of course she fucking would. In fact, he's willing to bet it was her idea that they all go for an afternoon swim.
And of course she's wearing that bathing suit. The one that hugs each of his favorite curves. The one that shrinks the wetter it gets. The one that magically unties if it's put under too much pressure, revealing a little bit more of her skin—
He abruptly stands to his feet, tortured with thoughts and ideas he can't act on. He strides over towards the counter where the lemonade resides, pouring himself another glass to distract himself.
He's finished off about four cups now, and he's worried he'll pass out from so much sugar. But what else is he supposed to do? Sit there with his dick in his hands?
"Oh, you girls tease too much," Hugh laughs from his spot on the ledge. "No, I can't come in."
"Come on," the girls all coo, lightly splashing his legs with water. "Please?"
He laughs some more and waves them off while Harry rolls his eyes.
He sulks back to his seat, a fresh glass of lemonade in his hand as he slumps down with a huff.
And Michelle, although coy, doesn't miss a beat.
He hasn't noticed, but she's been watching him from the moment he got here. Eyes raking down his body, eyeing his clean white t-shirt, and short swim trunks. 
And she knows exactly what lies beneath. His tan chest that she loves to run her hands down. His thick thighs that she loves to sit on. And his fucking cock—
"Michelle," Laura laughs, pushing some water her way. "Where's your head?"
Michelle suppresses a laugh as she shrugs. "Sorry, babe. Just... enjoying the sunshine."
Laura smiles sweetly, nodding her understanding, before swimming towards the group of girls near the waterfall.
Now left to her thoughts, Michelle can't help but remember the way Harry's body looks when it's wet.
And not wet with her, the way she soaks his chin, but the way he looks in the shower.
She's only seen it once, but it's... magical. 
He looked like a fucking god underneath the stream of water. Suds covering his skin, his curls wet and wild, and his body just begging to be touched. Admired. Adored.
It takes all her willpower not to march over to him and sit on his lap... among other things. 
But she's forced to look away, to smile, to ignore the way her body is begging her to ease the ache, anyway she can.
Both are pining for the other and it's getting increasingly difficult to hide. Their secret rendezvous in the closet was fun, but only left them wanting more.
And that was three days ago.
Which is the longest they've been without each other since they met. Sure, that doesn't seem like much, but for them... it feels like a lifetime.
Although neither one wants to admit how desperate they're growing. After all, why would they? Why would they admit that every thought, every feeling, every forbidden touch beneath the sheets is all for the other?
Harry watches Michelle as intently as before with that thought on his mind. Legs spread, elbow against the armrest as he places two fingers along his temple, rubbing them up and down.
She can't see his eyes from behind the sunglasses, but she knows he's eyeing her.
She can feel it. Through and through.
Get in the fucking pool, she silently commands of him, letting her eyes linger on his face for a moment longer than she should. 
She throws him a smirk that has his cock twitching before sinking back under the cool water, disappearing from his lustful gaze.
And when she comes back up... his breath hitches.
It's always a sight. Every fucking time. Watching, gazing, soaking in every detail. The tan skin, the dark hair, the dip in her hip. All dripping—dripping. His favorite part. 
He watches as she gasps for air, a familiar sound, before her palms push the dark strands over her head and back down her shoulder blades.
He follows the movement, letting his eyes trail down her ass, down the back of her thighs, down the back of her legs as she stands tall to reach out for a glass of lemonade from the server.
She needs to get out. Right fucking now. Needs to get out and let him ruin her. Let him twist that pathetic excuse for bathing suit around his fist until it snaps. Till it falls to the ground. Till he can spread those gorgeous fucking thighs of hers and bury his face into her cunt.
It's what he imagines when he's fisting himself in the shower. His hand on the wall to brace himself, fucking pumping himself dry to the image of her looking down at him, her fingers tight in his curls.
The way it feels when she pulls—yanks his head up to kiss him. To devour herself on his tongue. Moaning into him as her sweetness coats her taste buds.
He lets his other hand fall to his thigh, fingers digging into the skin as he forces himself not to go there. He can't. Can't picture it. Can't remember it. Can't let himself act on it.
Michelle notices the way his nails leave crescent-shaped imprints along his legs, and she has to swallow a dry laugh. He'd been trying so hard to act indifferent, but she knew better.
So, she decides to be good to him. Give him a show.
She swims her way back over to Laura, who now resides by herself against the edge of the pool. 
Laura smiles when she sees her, and Michelle eagerly stands to her feet and leans in, whispering her request in Laura's ear.
For a moment, Harry's heart skips a beat. He doesn't know what she's doing, but he knows he won't like it.
And Laura's smile drops for a moment before she's nodding coyly, moving her fingers to Michelle's shoulders.
Harry grunts under his breath as Michelle lets her eyes flicker over Laura's face, her own hands moving to Laura's hips as she brings her closer.
Their chests meet softly, and Laura exhales a sigh as she lets Michelle graze her lips along her jaw.
Fucking cunt, Harry thinks to himself as he looks away. He glares at the white picket fence, focusing instead on a butterfly perched near the top instead of the Bunny in the pool. 
Michelle doesn't realize he's looked away, but it doesn't matter. He'll look back eventually, and she doesn't plan to stop on his account.
Her kisses become more focused, moving down Laura's neck as she pushes her against the edge once more for leverage.
Laura, in return, slides Michelle's bathing suit straps off her shoulders until they hang gracefully near her elbows. Her chest isn't exposed yet, but what's showing is enough to catch Hugh's attention.
Which is exactly what Laura was led to believe was the point. And to be fair, it kind of is. Hugh likes to see his Bunnies... getting along. Or getting it on.
Harry being here is just a happy coincidence. 
Their hips are still covered by the cool, blue water but Michelle doesn't mind. She doesn't need Harry to see everything. She just needs him to know it's happening.
She moves her fingers to Laura's thighs, gently grazing them under the surface of the water so she knows she's there.
And Laura smiles into their kiss, pulling at Michelle's bottom lip as an act of encouragement, and Michelle is quick to move higher in obedience.
Harry subtly moves forward in his seat, wishing more than anything he could be witness to what he's sure is one of the hottest fucking things he'll ever see, but in that moment, Hugh moves forward, effectively blocking his line of sight.
Can't catch a fucking break, he grumbles to himself as he huffs, now flopping back against the seat.
But Michelle doesn't stop. She plays with Laura for a moment longer, dragging the tips of her fingers along Laura's bathing suit, adding pressure along where her clit lies. She'd go further, if that was truly her intention, but it's not. And there will be plenty of other opportunities.
Laura's eyes flutter shut as her head rolls to the side, hands moving to Michelle's hips to bring her closer.
And since Hugh is clearing her throat, asking for their attention, Michelle finds it a good time to stop.
Even if Harry is her favorite plaything, she still doesn't like sharing. Not even with him. 
Or Hugh.
Especially Hugh.
"Having fun without me?" he calls with a smile, leaning back against the edge of the pool where he's still perched. "Come on, girls. That's not fair."
Michelle meets Laura's eye with a coy smirk before turning around so she can face him. "Then why don't you join us?"
Her tone has a sensual lull to it that has Harry gritting his teeth, fingers digging into the arm rests as he watches from a couple hundred feet away.
Much too far away.
"Hmm, maybe," Hugh replies softly, chuckling some. "If I didn't have such an important meeting to get to."
The rest of the girls begin to coo their disappointment, begging him to stay before he can even stand up.
And he laughs, the fucker eating up every one of their delicate touches and soft cries for his attention as Harry rolls his eyes from the porch, lips pressing together to suppress a look of disdain. 
Laura leaves Michelle's side so she can swim up to Hugh just as the other girls are and Michelle takes the opportunity to slowly look Harry's way.
She feels her cheeks flush when she notices his posture, his legs spread out casually as the hem of his shorts are pulled higher, revealing his thighs. 
He's still leaning back into the seat, his sunglasses perched on the tip of his beautiful nose, and the tan of his skin glistening with sweat underneath the hot sun.
She would drool if she could, her eyes flicking across each part of his body, drinking him in the way he's now drinking his lemonade.
A moment later, Hugh is standing from the ledge, dusting himself off as he waves goodbye to his favorite Bunnies.
Michelle watches him go, rather eagerly, because now there's nothing and no one standing in Harry's way.
She just hopes he realizes it before it's too late.
And thankfully for her... he does.
The moment Hugh has disappeared into the mansion, Harry is standing from the chair, eyeing Michelle as she pretends to casually swim towards the waterfall.
She's calling for him. Harry knows that much. The slight catch in her breath as she ducks underneath the stream of water has him sure.
So, he does what he's wanted to do since the moment he arrived.
He approaches her.
Slowly, of course, and as subtly as possible. Pretending to only be going for an afternoon swim, his fingers finding the collar of his shirt as he lifts it over his head.
Michelle notices and does everything she can not to stare. Although, nobody else is quite as restrained.
She notices at least three of the other girls gawking at his chest as it's finally revealed, doing absolutely nothing to hide their fascination.
But Harry hasn't the slightest clue that he's the object of their attention as he slips his shoes off and heads for the deep end. 
And yet, everyone turns to watch as he dives off the edge, rather skillfully as he submerges himself under the water, heading straight for the waterfall where Michelle eagerly waits for him.
She pretends not to care, simply hopping onto one of the decorative rocks that resides near the falls, and gently squeezing some water from her hair.
When Harry finally comes up, he's a few feet away from her, his green eyes practically glistening as bright as the water.
This time, she knows she's breathless, her heart fluttering inside her chest as he shakes his curls back and forth before running a hand through his hair.
She squeals as the droplets find her, scrunching her nose as she cowers away. "You're like a dog."
He smiles softly, wading closer until he's right in front of her dangling legs. "Are you calling me a beast?"
His tone is playful, although she knows the implication behind his question, and slowly, she squeezes her thighs together a touch tighter. "A wild one, yes."
"Hmm." The soft hum has her reeling, her eyes slowly widening as he reaches up to grab the backs of her calves, ever so slowly pulling her legs apart until he can slide between them. "I like that."
She's quick to wipe the wonderstruck expression from her face, rolling her eyes as she leans back on her palms. "Just because Hugh isn't here doesn't mean you can be."
He pulls at his bottom lip with his teeth, suppressing an eager smile as his head shakes lightly. "Not doing anything."
She eyes him closely, nodding her chin towards his body slotted between her thighs. "No?"
The giddy grin grows. "No," he repeats, amused. "Just doing my job."
"Your job is to help Hugh," she corrects, but he tuts.
"My job... is to take care... of his precious Bunnies," he whispers, eyes falling down to her lips until she's sure she isn't breathing. "So that's what I'm doing."
His fingers are getting tighter around her skin, pulling her closer until almost every inch of their bodies are touching.
She wants to indulge in him. In the feeling. In his touch.
But she can't. Not here, not with everyone around.
"Harry," she warns sternly, glancing up with narrowed eyes towards the rest of the group. "Let go."
"No."
Firm. Resolute. He doesn't move an inch, nor does he back down from what he truly wants.
Which is her.
And deep down, she doesn't want him to. But she turns her glare to him anyway, reaching up to grasp his jaw tightly.
"I thought you were a good little Playboy," she mocks, hoping to intimidate him, but to her dismay... he only smiles.
"I am being good," he replies confidently. "I'm doing exactly what you want."
"And what is it I want?"
Another soft hum in the back of his throat as he straightens up. His lips near hers, his eyes moving down for a moment as he whispers, "For me to take you right fucking here. In front of all your friends. Until you're sobbing into my hand, begging me to let you cum while they watch."
Her lashes flutter as his sweet words hit her ear, and she can practically taste the sugar on his tongue from his earlier drink. 
He's divine. Telling her exactly what she wants to hear and exactly what she knows she can't do, no matter how badly she wants to.
"You'd love that, wouldn't you?" She turns the question on him, needing to put him in the spotlight if she hopes to make it out alive. "To feel me squeeze you so fucking tight?"
Her fingers move to his wet curls, brushing them back along his forehead as he nearly melts into her touch. 
But his jaw is still tense, his eyes mischievous and full of wicked intent as he lets her paint him the perfect picture.
"Yeah?" she murmurs softly, the tips of her fingers moving down his cheek in a gentle caress. "Bet you've been waiting all day to feel me, haven't you? Poor little Playboy... bet you're fucking dripping for me, aren't you?"
He chuckles bitterly, wondering if she knows just how dangerous the game she plays is. "Bet you wanna find out... don't you?"
The question is back on her and despite the cocky smile she gives him... he's right, and she knows it.
"Maybe another time," she replies, moving her hands to his chest so she can shove him away. "Go on, now."
However, he's right back between her legs before she can shut them, now grabbing at her hips in retaliation. "Uh uh, Michelle. That's not how you play nice."
Her eyes narrow as he looks over her expression, hissing softly under her breath, "I never play nice." 
"You will today," he corrects. "If you want what I can give you."
"Not here," she retorts, already glancing over his shoulder towards the oblivious group of Bunnies near the shallow end. "Enough, Harry—"
Suddenly, his grip tightens, and he yanks her right to the edge of the rock, forcing her aching cunt to collide with his lower abdomen.
His voice deepens and as his tense expression finds her, he growls, "I'll tell you when it's fucking enough."
Her lips part in protest, but before she can really reprimand him, his fingers are sliding over the top her thigh towards the hem of her bathing suit.
She knows exactly where he's headed, the tip of his forefinger hooking underneath her suit until he can pull it away from her soaking cunt.
However, just before he can really feel her, she's grabbing at his wrist, pausing his actions as she looks towards the group of girls. "Har—"
"Shh," he hushes softly, eyes flicking up to hers. "We're just talking. Nobody knows, sweetheart, we're alright."
Her chest rises and falls quickly as she struggles to wrap her head around their current position.
If she truly wanted him to stop, he would, and she knows that. But she also knows that he knows... she wants it.
Which is why he's refusing to let her fight him. 
When she doesn't answer, he pushes his finger further into her, finding her dripping core until she's reeling, legs already attempting to close around his body.
He clicks his tongue, head tilting as a smug grin pulls at his lips and he looks up. "You know better than that, Bunny."
Unfortunately, he's right, she does know better. The lingering sound of the rest of the girls laughing in the distance should be her reminder to act as casual as she can. 
But the idea... knowing they're so close to her dirty little secret, that they could discover what she's really been doing—who she's really been doing.
It's thrilling and coupled with the curl of his finger to pull out a whimper, she can't resist but do just that.
He's quick to dip his head down, forehead meeting hers as he hushes her once more. "Don't make me cover that pretty mouth. I'd hate to fucking do it—"
"Your fault," she retorts, fingers gripping the edge of the rock as she steadies herself, eyes lowering to find his. "Shit—"
"Don't make me stop," he repeats, grunting softly as he quickly thrusts a second finger inside her until she bites her lip. "Alright? Be quiet and take my fucking fingers like the good Bunny I know you are."
Her breathing becomes labored as she leans back so she can look down, loving the way his arm flexes as he forces himself inside her, veins taught against his skin. 
"No, look at me," he grunts, his nose nudging hers until her lashes flutter upwards. "Yeah? You look at me, alright? Don't let them know."
She nods once, doing her best to comply, and to be quite honest, she doesn't find it that difficult to focus on his beautiful face. Thick eyelashes that lead to his stunning eyes, a pool of their own she could drown in. 
She searches his familiar features for her favorite parts. The dark pink of his lips every time he licks them, the cute tip of his nose, the indent on his high cheekbones. 
Sometimes she can't believe that such a beautiful face is making her feel these wonderful things. Her stomach twisting, toes curling, cunt clenching around him as he does this to her.
It makes the pleasure tenfold and nothing in the world can stop her from leaning closer and kissing him. 
She's quick with it, only a light peck, but enough to taste him. Enough to have him growling in the back of his throat as he goes harder, doing his best not to lay her back against the rock and split her in fucking half.
When she innocently looks down at him again, he almost loses his last ounce of composure, forcing himself to remain calm as he stills his fingers inside her for just a moment. "Are you gonna be quiet for me?"
She bites at her lip once again, squeezing so hard it begins to sting. "Maybe. If you do it right."
She loves pushing him like this, Harry has noticed. Loves trying to find his temper, find his rage. Find what pushes him over the edge until all she sees is white-hot bliss.
To punish her, he brings his soaked fingers up to her clit, pinching it tightly until she chokes on a whine and lurches forward.
"Shut up," he hisses again, his expression menacing. "Quiet, Michelle. Don't ruin my fucking fun."
She wants to be cocky. God, she wants to show him who's really in charge. Wants to fist his hair, squeeze his pretty throat, force him onto his knees. Wants to purr in his ear until his pupils blow out the way she loves. Wants to know his body aches for her.
But right now... fuck, he knows she can't. Which is why he took the opportunity to have her in front of everyone. To force her to be quiet, the one thing she can't ever seem to be.
She wants to take back her power, but she doesn't know how.
Until...
"Michelle," he warns, already anticipating what she has planned, and deciding he won't let her get that far. "Don't."
With a demurred expression, her head slowly rolls to the side, a smile sweeping across her lips. "Don't what?"
He grits his teeth together, driving his fingers harder inside her aching cunt, trying desperately to stay casual for the onlookers while also forcing her to give him what he wants.
"You will cum for me, Michelle," he hisses, leaning his lips closer to her ear so only she might hear his threat. "Do not fucking play this game with me, sweetheart."
"Not... a game," she pants softly, eyes fluttering shut as she feels his hot exhale against her neck. "Just not gonna cum."
"Enough," he hisses, thrusting his arm forward until she's forced to press her lips into his shoulder to keep from whining. "Be my good fucking Bunny, Michelle, I know you can be."
She doesn't respond, simply clenches around his fingers as a reminder of what he's missing.
"Fuck." He can tell he's losing his patience and if Michelle doesn't comply soon, they might do something they both regret. "I know you wanna soak me, sweetheart. Know how fucking bad you need it. Need to feel it. Let it happen. Come on, darling, don't be difficult."
He focuses entirely on her, in all the ways he can. His options are limited, but he makes sure that everything she feels is blindingly sweet. Every curl of his finger or press of his thumb to her clit. He wants her to know nothing but pleasure. Nothing but release.
She will cum for him. She will. Harry won't let her leave this fucking pool until then. He'll show her exactly how dangerous her little games can be.
The low, dangerous tone in his voice has Michelle praying to deities she doesn't believe in, the stars behind her eyes overpowering her common sense.
She doesn't know if she's ever seen him this determined, but she can't say she doesn't adore it just a little.
"Michelle," he warns again just as she chokes on a whine. "You know what I fucking wan—"
"Guys!" a voice suddenly calls, causing Harry's movement to still as he quickly looks up into Michelle's eyes. "Michelle!"
With a racing pulse, Michelle slowly looks from Harry's frazzled expression to the group of girls near the other end of the pool. 
They're laughing, waving her down as they drink their lemonade and toss a beach ball around.
They don't seem suspicious, but she can't truly be sure.
"Relax," Harry instructs in a confident murmur. "We're just talking. Stay cool, sweetheart."
With a quick clear of her throat, Michelle straightens up, fingers subtly wrapping around Harry's wrist which is hidden from their view. "Yes?" she calls back, forcing a comfortable laugh. 
"Come join us," Laura begs, glancing between them. "Both of you! We never see you around, Harry."
This is true. If Harry isn't with Michelle, he's with Hugh. And if he's not with Hugh, he's with Michelle.
Which is exactly how he likes to keep it.
And even if he wasn't currently knuckles-deep inside Michelle's decadent cunt, he still wouldn't oblige.
So, with a glance over his shoulder, he forces a tightlipped smile. "No, you girls have fun. I'm about finished, anyway."
Michelle wants to smirk at his subtle double entendre, but instead... she pulls his wrist even closer to her aching body, and she notices his brow quirk higher as he feels her clench around him.
He had thought she'd cower away while they were being forced to converse so the silent demand to continue has his cock throbbing inside his swim trunks.
"Maybe another time," Michelle finally answers, a slight waver in her voice undetectable to anybody else but him. "You... you have fun, yeah?"
Laura pouts but doesn't give up quite that easily. "Come on, you two can chat any old time."
Unfortunately, that's not the case, and Harry refuses to let the few moments he's allowed to be with her in the public eye go to waste.
So, as Laura continues to plead with Michelle, Harry slowly pushes in further, stretching her just enough to have her eyes widen until he can drive his fingers harder, making her nails scratch down the rock.
"Re—really," Michelle insists, shaking her head slightly. "I'm good right here, ladies. Just... just gonna soak up a few more moments in the sun."
"Not the only thing you're gonna soak, are you?" Harry whispers softly, although the venomous tone in his voice has her breath hitching. "Gonna soak my fingers first."
He's determined, Michelle will give him that.
But... so is she.
And as the group continue to wave her down, she continues to subtly rock her hips against his hand.
"Then, you're gonna soak my fucking tongue," Harry continues, smirking at the girls who have no idea the filthy things he's secretly saying to her. "And then... gonna take my cock. Gonna take it so well, like you always do—"
"Easy," she warns, feeling the way he's working himself up as she glances towards the mansion. "Behave, Playboy—"
"Cum for me," he repeats. "Don't make me beg."
Truthfully, that's exactly what she had wanted him to do, and the second he says it... he notices the gleam in her eye.
He should have known better. After all, she's nothing if not consistently stubborn, and right now... he'll do anything she wants just to feel her flutter around him.
"Michelle," he hisses, forcing himself to take a deep breath. "Please. Need to feel you so fucking bad, sweetheart."
He can do better, she thinks, and smirks at his needy tone to prove it.
He wants to roll his eyes, but his cock is making all the calls for him, and without a moment's hesitation, he whimpers, "Please let me."
The transfer of power to her has her cunt clenching pitifully and it's all she can do not to scratch her nails down his back.
And it's at that moment, she realizes they've made a horrible mistake.
Because she is going to cum for him, but there is no way on fucking earth she'll be able to hide it from the twenty people still lounging around the pool.
Her fatal flaw has always been her noises, and while they might be Harry's favorite part, she can't say she's happy about it.
However, it's much too late to stop it, and as the orgasm begins to rip through her, Harry jumps into action. 
His body, which was already mostly blocking her off from the rest of the backyard, moves even closer to her, turning in such a way that he can slap his hand over her pretty pink lips.
"Shh," he repeats softly, watching as her eyes flutter shut and she whimpers into his palm. "Attagirl. So fucking good for me, yeah? You're alright. I've got you, sweetheart."
She feels spent and it's not even over yet, her body practically melting into his as he does his best to keep her firmly planted to her spot.
Thankfully, the attention of the group has moved elsewhere, giving Michelle enough privacy to catch her breath without their suspicion. 
But that doesn't mean they're out of the woods yet.
"You're gonna stand up," Harry instructs her next, casually looking around the yard as if completely disinterested. "You're gonna stand up, you're gonna get out of this pool, and you're gonna meet me inside."
She hums her response, not wanting to give into him quite yet. "I don't know, the girls seem to really desire my company—"
"Michelle," he interrupts firmly, his relaxed tone dropping as he shoots her an authoritative look. "Do not test my patience. I haven't much left to offer."
She wants to be smug, but the comedown is still strong, and she can tell her body isn't through with him yet. "Eager, are we?"
"Very," he growls, moving closer to her so he can whisper his promises in her ear. "So be good, little one. And I promise I'll make it worth it."
Her eyes widen, but she quickly relaxes her expression as he pulls away.
Then, she watches. Watches him swim back to the edge of the pool, grasping into the ledge before pulling himself out, his body dripping deliciously as every girl in the yard watches him shake his curls.
He doesn't look back once. He simply grabs a towel and heads through the double doors, disappearing into the mansion as Michelle is left breathless.
She can hear the group chattering about his looks, his body, his charm.
She's never felt jealous before but, in this moment, something changes.
She heads for the edge of the pool as well, rolling her eyes as she hears one of them gush, "Ugh, we need to invite him to the party tomorrow night."
Truthfully, Michelle had already thought about inviting him, but now the idea of having to share him and his body with this bawdy crowd has her fuming.
"Harry is not a toy to be played with," she calls as she grabs a towel for herself, and the girls look over. "Hugh made that very clear. You girls know better."
Immediately, they all nod, feeling small under her authoritative gaze. She sounds like she's reprimanding them, which hadn't been her goal, but it does make her feel better knowing she might have scared them away.
Satisfied, she smirks as she heads for the house, making sure to dry every droplet from her body before focusing on her hair.
She scrunches the towel through her dark strands as she walks, eyes scanning the large rooms for any sign of Harry.
But... she doesn't see him. 
She supposes he could be in the coat closet, the same one she met him in a few nights ago.
But upon further investigation, she finds it empty, and her brows begin to pull together.
She can't very well call out his name, and he gave her no further instructions past meet me inside.
She can hear the girls beginning to find their way indoors as well and she can't deny she feels a tad disappointed at the idea of losing her chance to be with him.
After all, once Hugh returns, they'll be forced into their next activity which unfortunately does not include Harry splitting her in half the way he promised.
She begins down the third-floor hallway, looking in each room for any sign of the curly haired troublemaker, but to no avail.
She's moments from giving up, when behind her, the sound of a door opening before her upper arm is grabbed and she's being tugged backwards.
She already knows it's him, but that doesn't stop her from whirling around to chastise his behavior.
And when she does... she realizes where they are.
Hugh's bedroom.
She hadn't thought Harry would be dumb enough to hide in here of all places, but the look on his arrogant face proves that in fact, he actually is dumb enough.
"Harry," she hisses, yanking her arm from his fingers quickly as she looks around. "Are you—"
"Out of my goddamn mind? Yeah," he exhales softly, lustfully, and the look on his face tells her everything she needs to know. "Gotta have you right now—"
His hands are already attaching themselves to her hips, shoving her against the closed door as he kisses her deeply, pressing his hips firmly into hers, devouring her at every point.
He's like an animal, touch-starved and ravenous, pulling at her bathing suit until it falls from her shoulders.
But Michelle isn't as easily convinced, and she places her palms on his chest to shove him back. "Harry, not in here—"
"Yes, in here," he corrects, stepping up again. "Nowhere else go to, sweetheart—"
"He could come back any minute," Michelle argues, but doesn't stop him from running the tips of his fingers up the sides of her thighs once again.
He smirks, dipping his head down until their noses brush softly, humming in the back of his throat as he whispers, "Then you better turn around."
She feels her breath hitch at the low tone of his instructions, but he doesn't give her enough time to comply before he's grabbing her hips and flipping her around until her chest meets the hard surface of the door.
She feels him crouch down to his knees before he's tugging the rest of her suit to her ankles, lifting her foot so he can slip it off quickly.
Her palms help steady her as he moves in, kissing along the back of her thigh as he moves higher, cursing under his breath at each delectable taste.
He lets his tongue flatten along her soaking core, taking in each drop as he groans into her, hands pulling at her hips to practically yank her down onto his face.
She whimpers softly, nails scratching along the wood as she bites at her lip, head already reeling. 
And then... he stands up.
Stands up, and grabs the back of her neck to force her away from the door and over to the bed.
He's never rough with her, not like this, and her heart races at this change in behavior.
He shoves her onto the mattress, face first before grabbing her hips and angling her ass up.
She gasps as he forces her to bend over the edge of the bed, easily kicking her feet apart until he can run his fingers over her tight, little hole for a second time, pushing inside her quickly to feel her out.
"God, you're such a fucking whore for me, aren't you?" he seethes from behind her, eyes fluttering at the way she clenches around his fingers before whining. "Fuck, sweetheart. You are, aren't you? Say it—"
"Yes," she answers immediately, hands clutching the comforter as she drops her chin to her chest, body reeling. "Yes, Harry, please—"
"Enough," he snaps, cutting her delicate begging short. Normally, he'd give anything to hear her plead with him, but she was right, they don't have a lot of time, and he can't waste it throbbing in his fucking swim trunks.
He pulls his cock free, fisting it tightly before meeting her sweet cunt for what he hopes is only the first of many times today.
Poor thing gasps when she feels him, and his ego swells, his own teeth gritting at the feel of her soft walls around him.
He doesn't wait, doesn't go easy, doesn't warn her. He simply grabs the pole of the headboard in one hand, her hips in the other, and fucking drives himself as deep as he can fucking go.
Her teeth find the duvet as she bites hard into the fabric, letting the scream rip through her before her body practically comes alive with pleasure.
It rolls right over and through, right down to her fucking toes and the tips of her fingers. 
He lets her catch her breath before pulling out and thrusting back in, creating a slow tempo that he knows will drive her fucking mad.
"What would your precious Hugh think of you now?" Harry sneers and she swallows a needy mewl. "Huh? If he could see you? Fucking gripping his sheets? For me?"
Truthfully, Michelle doesn't even want to imagine what Hugh would think, so she simply whispers Harry's name, the rough pads of his fingers engraved in her mind. 
"His precious, little Bunny," he continues, almost bitterly. "Mine to ruin."
She believes him, truthfully. Believes more than anything that she really is his to devour as he sees fit.
At least right now.
She knows the threat of being caught hangs in the air, but she supposes that's why she feels so fucking desperate. Why she thinks she's never been more turned on in her life.
Harry already knows this is the best sex of his life. It already is with her and his desire to make it last all day is nothing but a pipedream with the way she's squeezing him.
She had called him an animal and now Harry suspects she might have been right. He's never felt so alive, so needy, so demanding. He's a slave to his desires, completely out of control. He has no thoughts in his mind except the urge to chase the feeling she's giving him.
Watching her—fuck, he's not even sure he's really in his body anymore. The way her hair looks wrapped around his fingers as he tugs her up, or the way her jaw drops, or her eyes roll back.
Everything she's doing is for him—because of him. His ego feels fucking huge, and he can't resist forcing her to make every noise, every movement, every clench just for him.
"Knew what you were doing, didn't you?" he calls. "Wearing this fucking bathing suit when you knew I'd be watching."
Another sharp thrust, his hand moving from her hair to her clit so he can pinch another whimper from her.
"And Laura," he continues, and Michelle wants to smirk. At least now she knows he was watching. "Think you're so fucking coy, don't you, sweetheart? Thought you were playing with me, hm? Thought you'd make me mad?"
She wants to nod, seeing as he's right but she doesn't get the chance with the way she already feels herself getting closer to the edge. 
She moves her hips back, meeting his thrusts in slow, sensual rolls as he begins to kiss along her shoulder blades.
"Didn't make me mad," he mumbles, lips grazing her skin as he talks. "Just made me sure that you're a little fucking whore who needs to be watched."
Again, she can't really disagree with his flawless observation, but she can straighten up until her back meets his chest.
His thrusts falter for a moment at the change in position, but he invites her in greedily, nuzzling his face in the crook of her neck as he wraps an arm around her lower stomach, tugging her as far into him as he can.
And then, he feels her tiny hand wrap around his wrist, pulling it from her aching clit as she brings it to her mouth.
Her ruby lips wrap around the tips of his fingers as she sucks them in, dancing her tongue around the remnants as he curses in the back of his throat.
She's a fucking vixen and Harry can't resist moving his hand to her throat as he squeezes harshly, forcing her head up.
"Be a good girl and swallow," he seethes in her ear, the low threat rumbling like thunder. 
She does as instructed, and he pulls her face to the side so he can kiss her, practically devouring her in any way he can. 
It's never felt so good, never felt so right. 
Fucking her on Hugh's bed, despite his rules and his own fucking ego, and Harry wants to lock them both in this room forever and never stop. Never stop fucking her, never stop having her. Always.
It becomes a race to make each other finish first, their own pride needing to prove something they can't explain.
Each moan, each thrust, each pinch. It's not for their own pleasure but for each other's. Needing the release, needing the feel. 
Needing to know only they can make the other feel that good.
And when they finally hit their high, they see angels. A symphony of breathless pants, curses, and whimpers that have their sweaty bodies collapsing into each other.
They whisper each other's name like a plea, knowing nothing else but each other as they do their best to regain their grip on reality.
Harry doesn't let go. He keeps her firmly pressed against his chest as he decides that at least for right now, she's only his. She's not a Playboy Bunny. She's not Hugh's. She's not a sexual object he has to share with the world.
She's his. 
Only his.
His devil in disguise.
However, right when he's deciding that nothing will ever feel better than this moment... they hear a throat clear from behind them.
With wide eyes and racing hearts, they turn around, coming face to face with Hugh himself.
"Well, well, well. And what do we have here?" 
Next:
~ The Playboy | 4. Tired of Waiting for You*
Previous:
~ The Playboy | 2. Can't Take My Eyes Off You*
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