DRIVE ME WILD | Part 1
You, a cart girl, meet CEO of Pleasing Harry Styles at the country club you work at. He's here for a game of golf but after a brief interaction with you, he's left wanting a hell of a lot more.
Mature Content: explicit language, spit kink, praise, dirty talk, fingering & protected sex. For an 18+ audience only. Word Count: 9.8k
DRIVE ME WILD | Part 2
DRIVE ME WILD | Part 3
* edits - h’s age (from 28 y/o to 27 y/o) *
Your hands are freezing, but given that today is exceptionally warm, you'll take all the relief you can get. You've got eight hours of pure sunshine ahead of you, so you should really make the most of your hands in ice filling up the cooler for the cart while you can.
Life as a cart girl has its peaks and valleys. You get to be outside a lot, something you love, and the members of the golf club that have become your regulars tip you well, something you love a lot more.
You need the money badly, with student loans piled high, no dream job in marketing as of yet and an apartment that's forever needing fixed, so you work here in New York at Cherry Creek Country Club nine hours a day, six days a week.
It's an easy job that pays good money, which is made better with the generous tips that you try and put away in your savings for a rainy day. You arrive at 8am, spend thirty minutes setting everything up and then you drive onto and around the course where you hang about all day serving refreshments to the players when they need it, talking and charming your way into getting that extra cash.
It's eight hours of that, then thirty minutes to pack everything away, and after that off you drive home in your own car that's on its last legs. A plume of black smoke follows you wherever you go in that damn hunk of junk, but at least that doesn't happen on the course.
You've been a cart girl since your college days that started six years ago, and you've been a graduate for two of those. You studied Business and Marketing at Syracuse, the dream job and goal to land yourself a career in this field by working for a company that's booming. There's a list of them in your mind from doing copious research for not only your studies, but from applying for internships and jobs too.
None of your applications have been successful. You're twenty-four and still here at the course and not some fancy high-rise in New York, but you're a firm believer in everything happening for a reason. You'll get where you need to be eventually when the time is right. The stars will align and all that jazz.
With the cooler full of various drinks both alcoholic and non on ice, you carry the box to your white cart parked up outside. The sun is scorching already, today destined to be fiercely hot.
You're dressed for the weather, with a white polo collared mini sundress on your torso, and your black bum bag clipped around your waist carrying enough change for the hundred dollar bills you'll likely end up with. These players don't carry anything less, but you're used to it now.
Your cart sits parked by the doors outside of the clubhouse, all players passing through there to get onto the course. There's a bar and café inside too, as well as restrooms and lockers, but most members hover in the building after their game; too keen to get started on it.
There's a few people on the course right now, however not too many given it's a Thursday morning. Most of the members will either be at work or doing some other rich guy hobby they have for the day, but you catch the sound of a couple more arrivals walking out of the clubhouse that you now walk towards.
Carrying the heavy cooler, you're too focused on looking at the ground to pay attention to who they are. If they know you and you know them, they'll call you by your name for you to look up, and they'll give you a smile. If they know you well enough, though, they'll know not to bother you. You're a klutz and it's best that you concentrate on not dropping the box full of ice and glass. You've done it more times than you'd like to admit.
With your eyes to the grey and cream gravel crunching beneath your white sneakers, it's not until the last second that you hear another set of footsteps right in front of you do you look up.
You're a few too late, though. The cooler box and your hands holding it meet a torso that bounces back harshly from the bashing, just like you do.
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry, sir!" You rush out as you regain your balance and look around in panic, praying your boss isn't around to see that, "I wasn't watching where I was walking and I-"
Your mouth snaps shut the moment you finish your quick glance of checking to see if your manager is lurking in any nearby surroundings, because you've been met by the prettiest smile you've ever seen. One that belongs to none other than Harry Styles.
You haven't seen his face here before, but you know it. You know him. He's the CEO of Pleasing, a cosmetics company that started up and took off to incredible highs in your last year of college.
Mr. Styles became a multi-millionaire within the first few months of him launching the business. They sell an array of products and apparel that have a chokehold on so many, and the success of that has put him in good standing with some of the titans of the beauty industry that have been in the game for years.
You'd applied for an internship at Pleasing straight out of college, wanting nothing more than to get involved with such a successful business that sold products and had a message that you adored. You never did hear back, an understandable thing in this world, but you were still a little salty about it.
That hasn't stopped you from buying a new product any time they do their quarterly launches, though...
He straightens himself up from the bump and laughs a little. Whether that reaction is from your garbled apology or the fact you've closed your mouth with invisible duct tape, you're not sure.
"No apologies necessary, love. I wasn't watching where I was going either." His voice is calm, his accent raspy and British. Your kryptonite.
Harry steps to the side and creates a path for you, his hand gentlemanly gesturing out for you to walk by with his smile just as bright and pretty as it was before, "To prevent another calamity."
You feel your skin burning up under his intense gaze, eye contact clearly something he's great at as well as being so damn good looking. You're nodding and walking by before he can clock on to the fact your face is as pink as the beanie on his head, desperate to keep some semblance of dignity in tact.
Reaching the cart, you set the cooler in its slot ready to unpack but talk yourself into turning around first, convinced that there'll be a large enough distance between you both now that Harry won't see you looking. He won't see you either because he himself won't have turned around. He's here for a game of golf.
Your theories prove wrong on both counts. Harry can see you, and he is turned around; his grin bright and eyes somehow piercing even thirty or so yards away.
He's at the tee-off with his white glove-covered hand gripping the handle of his club — something that he uses like a cane to prop himself up while he waits for his caddy, who busies themselves sorting out his bag — and he simply stares. It's not lewd or gross. It doesn't give you the ick.
It does make you fly back around fast though, any more movements from you stopped. It's like you're in Jurassic Park, and you're listening to the wise words of sexy Sam Neill telling you to stay still so the T-Rex doesn't eat you.
Not that you'd mind in this case...
You decide the best thing to do is to pretend you haven't seen him at all, that there's been no incident whatsoever. You've got a job to do and while that job probably means you'll probably see him again shortly if he wants a drink or a snack, you can put your game face on and get through it. Right?
"Excuse me, ma'am?"
Wrong.
Your body runs both hot and cold at the sound of Harry calling on you. You didn't hear footsteps, obviously too caught up in talking to yourself to listen.
You do know that there's no one else around, though. You're the only cart girl on until Alyssa comes in at 1pm, and everyone else is either on the course or in the clubhouse.
You turn around slowly, your fingers and toes are internally crossed that there is someone else around that he's asking for and you're simply oblivious to them, but as your shitty luck today would have it, there isn't. It's just you and Harry and from the way he looks at you, he's happy that that's the case.
"I'm sorry to bother you, I know you're busy setting up." He oozes charm and charisma, your body stiff from panic relaxing like you're living in an oasis of lavender and vanilla.
It's what he smells like, too; two average scents that are anything but that emanating from him, "I left my water bottle in my car. Any chance you could open up for me, please?"
You choke on the breath you didn't realise you were holding, Harry's eyes widening a little as you cough a couple of times, "Excuse me?"
"The cart." He gestures his non-glove wearing hand to the vehicle behind you, the body part large and ring-clad with prettily painted nails, "Do you mind if I buy a drink?"
Realisation dawns, your mind leaving the gutter it had slipped down into, "Oh. Of course, yeah. Right away, sir."
You turn around again fast, feeling Harry's eyes watch you as you move around to reach for the cooler. You don't have everything set up properly yet, so he'll have to make do with what you've currently got.
"Sir isn't necessary, ma'am." He speaks up, your movements paused. You face him again and find his eyes flitting up from god knows where, but they land on your own and crinkle sweetly thanks to his smile, "My name's Harry."
Your stomach swarms from not only the politeness he gives by calling you ma'am, the word sounding so much hotter with his accent, but from hearing him say his own name, too. Harry. It suits him, but he's got the kind of face where any name would. He'd make it his.
You gesture to your name badge, Harry's eyes reading the black writing against the gold background, "Ma'am isn't necessary either."
He meets your gaze again, and your own smile now appears which he seems to like. You step to the side and gesture to the cooler sitting open, your attention on it now.
"I've not got the cart ready yet, but I can promise whatever you choose will taste just as good as if it was."
"I bet." He hums, a hint of something in his tone now as he steps forward until he's right by your side, looking into the box as well, "What would a woman of your expertise recommend on a day as gorgeously warm as this?"
You glance at the bottles, all of them a bit of a blur because he pays them no mind now. You can feel Harry staring at you, patiently waiting for an answer, but you're stumped. Harry has you stunned; six years of this job flying out the window to the point where you feel like a newbie. Actually no, you feel like a damn schoolgirl with a crush.
"I'd lose the beanie and jumper for a start." You give him the side-eye and blurt out, wishing your lips were still sealed like they were before.
Harry doesn't though, not from the way he laughs loudly. The sound is rich and earthy and enough to make you join in, too. He's just got one of those laughs. It's as contagious as his smile, a smile you now can't help but give your undivided attention to.
"Don't you like them?" He faux pouts, his tone teasing.
You look at the hot pink woolly beanie on his head, finding a few chocolate curls poking beneath the rolled-up brim that look soft and sweet, before flitting your eyes to the grandad-style jumper on his lean torso; a mix of different shades of brown with rolled up sleeves and a white polo shirt worn underneath.
They're simple pieces, pieces that shouldn't really go, but they do. Harry makes them work so much so you're contemplating running out to buy the same things to wear together yourself, although you know they wouldn't look quite so good on you, nor anyone else who would try to emulate his look.
"They're alright. Not quite golfing-in-the-peak-of-summer appropriate, though." You shrug, just as surprised as Harry is by your sudden burst of confident cheekiness.
Harry clicks his tongue as he gives you a half-smile, the sight as cheeky as your shrug was, "And what would be appropriate?"
Nothing you’re thinking about.
"You're asking a cart girl for fashion advice?"
He shrugs now, his arm rising to rest on top of the cart's roof as he looks down at you through lidded eyes; his smile lazy, "Why wouldn't I when you've done such a stunning job on yourself?"
Well, this has taken a turn.
You open your mouth, but close it again, repeating this a few more times until Harry laughs lightly and you're broken out of the daze. He's still looking at you, his eyes roaming the length of your body unabashedly, and it's making you squirm.
"Weren't you thirsty?" You accuse, feeling the need to get him his drink and get him away playing his game before you do or say something that will get you in trouble.
Harry nods, his bottom lip hiding behind his front teeth released with a pop and into a smirk.
“I was. I am more than ever now." He nudges his chin towards the cooler, not severing eye contact with you an ounce, "I'll take a Corona, please."
You nod and take out a cold bottle, popping the cap with a bottle opener that's attached to the keychain on your bumbag, "It's five o'clock somewhere, right?"
"I'm feeling risky today." He winks with his grin still intact, soon fishing in the back pocket of his navy slacks for his wallet.
He pulls out a hundred dollar bill and extends it your way. You take it with a smile, unzipping your bag to grab his change.
"Keep it." You look up to find the bottle top paused at his lips, a firm but friendly look in his eye that tells you not to argue, "For the fashion advice..."
His reasoning makes you smirk, but watching Harry now take a sip makes that expression fade fast. Your focus instead hones in on the way his plush, pink lips purse around the top of the bottle, how his sharp jaw tightens as he drinks from it, the way the veins in his neck pop as he swallows down the freezing liquid, and the refreshing gasp he makes as he pulls the glass from his mouth that's back to smirking; his eyes running the length of you once more.
"...And the show."
Harry pushes off the cart with a grin, not another word spoken as he saunters back to the tee-off; leaving you without any, too. You don't think you'll ever be able to speak again. You can barely think straight.
You do know one thing, though, and it's that this day just got a lot hotter.
... LATER
Your theory proved correct. Today has been hotter than ever.
It's got nothing to do with the sun in the sky. No, the heat is all thanks to Harry that, when given the chance and close proximity, has not stopped smirkingly looking you up and down.
You both haven't spoken again since this morning, and he thankfully hasn't approached you for another beer or any drink at all. There's been a healthy distance kept between you both, respite found when you'd drive the cart off to a few holes ahead or behind him to check on the players there.
But the tension would only grow whenever you'd come close to whichever number he was at, finding him the same as you left him. Staring and smirking.
You've ended up stumped whenever you've caught him looking your way, so lost for words and in such a daze that you accidentally crushed a water bottle that you'd just opened for one of the players. Liquid spilled out and covered both you and the disgruntled man who asked for it.
Harry, at the tee of the ninth hole where you were parked up, had his driver in hand ready to take a shot. He simply snickered watching you flap over cleaning up the mess you'd made before he looked forward and took his turn. You just knew he was still grinning as he did it, though.
Your face was on fire and your apology to the water-covered man never ending. You were so embarrassed and it was all Harry's fault. If he'd just kept his eyes ahead on the game at all times rather than you trying to work, it wouldn't have happened.
Yet now as you sit in your cart at the eighteenth and final hole, you're the one looking forward, finding none other than Harry and his caddy sauntering over to take his final shot.
They talk quietly between themselves, a genuine and friendly conversation seemingly had, which is surprising to you. Most players don't give their caddies the time of day, but Harry laughs and smiles with his; eyes closed cutely with crinkles as he does, pearly whites on full display and dimples popping.
Harry still wears his beanie and jumper, the fact that it's eighty degrees not affecting him in the least, it seems. There's not an ounce of sweat to be seen. In fact, his skin is flawless and unbothered by the hot rays pounding down.
You don't know how he hasn't worked up one from the game, either. He and his caddy have walked to every hole as opposed to using a buggy, and you've watched him swing a club, too. Harry doesn't half put his all into it, especially when it comes to using his driver.
The way his muscles could somehow be seen flexing under the thick layer of his jumper as he smacked the ball as far across the green as possible, the correct posture he had and held as he looked to see the distance he managed to get it to - which was always somehow just the right amount - and the well-pleased smile on his face when he realised he'd nailed it... fuck, you were sweating just from watching him.
Harry's eyes meet yours as he climbs up the small embankment, the head of the club in his hand and his arm swinging back and forth a little. He grins and nods your way when he spots you again.
You look away as fast as possible, once more squirming from the eye contact. You need to get it the fuck together. There's no way he won't come over and say something to you once he's done; the constant looking and smiles sent your way the past few hours telling you so. It's almost your lunch break. Maybe you can drive off before he gets the chance?
His caddy now hands him his putter. You drop your head, your fingers bent as though you're inspecting your nails, and watch Harry get into position out of the corner of your eye.
He does it expertly, his hands gripping all the right places, with his feet planted firmly into the ground and his attention directly above the ball; eyes flitting between it and the final hole.
Yet as he pulls the club back, he doesn't look where he should. Harry, instead, turns his head and watches you as he swings the iron forward. He taps the ball with just the right amount of pressure; a hole-in-one scored without even looking, and a cocky smirk worn from knowing that just happened.
It's now even hotter than it was before. He's even hotter than he was before, if that's possible.
Your plan to drive off before he could make his way over is null and void now. You're frozen, and he's fast. Harry is barely handing the putter back to the caddy, nodding his chin for him to head off without him along with some muttered words spoken before he's walking over to you.
What should you say? What should you do? You just want him to go away before you say or do something stupid.
"You were right." Harry speaks up, the distance between you both no more as he stops at the cart and rests his arm on top of the roof, just like this morning, and looks down at you.
Staying still isn't gonna help you this time.
You turn your head and look up, the sun blocked out thanks to his body. Beams of it frame his figure gloriously as his smile shines down at you, instead.
"Right about what?"
"The outfit. Definitely wasn't golfing-in-the-height-of-summer appropriate."
You shrug your shoulders, your whole being relaxing thanks to that smile, "Didn't look like you were struggling."
"You were looking?" Harry throws back fast, his eyes glinting with mischief.
You give him a deadpan expression, "Fishing for validation at, what age are you?"
"Twenty-seven." He answers without missing a beat, your stomach swirling and thighs tightening from confidence in his tone. You'd forgotten what snarky comment you were going to make.
"You've done well for yourself at a relatively young age." You smirk, your body pulsing at the way Harry bites his lip to stifle a laugh.
He releases it with a pop, his eyebrow perking up and grin gleaming, "You know who I am?"
"I do. Better yet, I interviewed for an internship at Pleasing fresh out of college two years ago."
"Really?" Harry's other brow joins the first one raised, a look of complete surprise on his face now. You nod, but his head shakes slowly as he blows out a low whistle, "Someone on my team fucked up not hiring you then, didn't they?"
Your cheeks grow warm again, your thighs clenching together more than before while Harry simply grins, "What was your pitch?"
Fuck. You didn't think he'd ask you that.
"I don't wanna say."
His smirk only grows, a hand now resting on his hip as he eyes you up, "Why not?"
You’re feeling flustered and panicked. You and your big fucking mouth. Why the hell did you open it?
"Because it obviously wasn't a good one if I didn't get hired."
"Try me."
You huff a frustrated sigh, "You're not gonna let this go, are you?"
Harry shakes his head, "You don't get to be CEO of a multi-million dollar company by doing that, darling."
You weigh up your options, finding no good outcome. If you drive, you run over his foot and lose your job. If you tell him to fuck off, which you absolutely wouldn't, you'll get screamed at by your boss and lose your job. If you tell him, you'll never be able to show your face here again if he plans on making this his regular club. You'd have to quit, but at least that way you could do it on your own terms and without a potential lawsuit from breaking Harry Styles' foot. You really don't have the money for lawyers.
Going with the lesser of the three evils seems to be the only way out. It's an embarrassing end to an already embarrassing day.
"I suggested a Valentine's Day collection," your voice is quiet, but Harry hears you clearly. His eyes have widened already, his smirk still intact as he stops tapping his hip with his index finger, "and that the company name of Pleasing could and should, um- capitalise on that."
Harry's smirk shifts into a grin that is enough to give the Cheshire cat a run for its money, and he lightly laughs to himself, "So you're the one that suggested sex toys?"
"I'm the only one?!" You ask, eyes wide with horror and body cringing as you die inside from complete humiliation.
"Afraid so, love." He chuckles, running his tongue across his bottom lip that your focus hones in on, "I liked the idea. Was all for it too."
And just like that, something has shifted between you both. You don't feel embarrassed, at least not enough to want to die anymore. Not when his tone sounds piqued and a little promiscuous; the flirty energy from this morning back in full force.
You swallow hard under his intense stare, a conversation had between you both with just a look. Is he thinking what you're thinking? Is he feeling what you're feeling, too?
"It's a shame Pleasing hasn't branched out into that field." You find yourself somehow saying, the air growing hotter and thicker with each word spoken, "You'd make a killing."
"Yeah?"
You nod, with Harry's smirk coming closer towards you now as he leans down a little more. His hand is still on the roof, arm stretched straight as he looks up at you through long lashes, "Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer it if it's too personal."
You shrug, swallowing your nerves down again as curiosity floods you, "Sure. Fire away. I'm an open book."
"You've got a degree in, let me guess... Business?"
"Mhm." You clear your throat. Your mouth is dry again, no moisture left whatsoever, "And marketing."
Harry's brows rise like he's impressed, his smile showing it too, "Clever girl."
A shudder runs through you from his words before he purses his lips. Your eyes naturally fall to look at them while your mind runs to think about how they'd feel, about what they can do...
"You obviously know what you're talking about, and you had an idea if you pitched it to my company." He murmurs, your heart going hard in your chest in wonder of where he's going with this while his eyes flash dangerously from knowing where he's going with this, "So please... indulge me. What kind of toys should Pleasing look into selling?"
His question makes you internally combust. What is happening? How did we get here? On the outside you're calm, but you're screaming on the inside.
You wet you lips a little, with Harry's eyes falling to watch your tongue do so before he's back to patiently looking at you. The pale green shade of his eyes is diminishing by the second; a forest hue replacing it that tells you he's feeling as feral as you are.
"Um, vibrators?"
"You said it like it's a question when I was looking for an answer." Harry grins, his expression and response, along with what you've just said, causing you to blush hard, "Is that something you like to use, darling?"
Before you can stop myself, you're nodding. You're too caught up in him and too turned on to not.
But all that does is make Harry grin harder, his chin cockily nudging my way, "Do you prefer external or internal?"
Christ almighty.
"External." You manage to utter, an out of body experience practically happening.
"So clit stimulation?" He asks you with total confidence, no waver in his voice or squeamish nature to it. It's authoritative and absolutely arousing.
You nod again, a whimper leaving your lips that he picks up on. It makes his whole face beam upon hearing the sound, "Is that something that you need, love?"
"Yes." The one word is spoken so fast that a person would miss it if they weren't listening intently.
Harry was, though. He was ready and waiting for it.
He purses his lips again, his eyes squinting like he's contemplating something. You simply watch him with a racing heart, your breath growing fast and choppy, and your cunt now throbbing.
"I'm feeling terrible that you weren't hired at Pleasing, especially with such an incredible pitch given." Harry speaks out after a few seconds, your cheeks feeling so warm that you just know they're the same colour as his beanie, "Can I make it up to you?"
His face has inched even closer to yours now, his hand dropped from his hip and resting on the space of white leather seat by your hip. You feel dizzy. Delirious. Drunk on him.
The fact that you're at work and you're both on the golf course right now only adds to how turned on you are but the main driving force for your arousal is Harry and his charming, gorgeous, lustful ways. You need him. You need him more than you've ever needed anything or anyone before.
"Please."
Harry groans a little, the space between your mouths closing some more. His breath smells like mint, and his lips look divine while giving you an open-mouthed grin as he looks down at you; your head tilting back as though acting on instinct.
"What do you need, hm? What can I do?"
"Kiss me. Touch me." You gulp, a fire blazing in your chest, stomach and cunt that only Harry can douse, "Fuck me. Please, sir."
The 'sir’ slipped out and you feel yourself growing shy, but it's a feeling that's snuffed out fast. Harry's eyes have darkened further and he groans softly again.
His hand on the seat comes up to cradle beneath your jaw while pushing your head further back, too. He grins deviously at you, eyes bouncing between your own before they fall to your lips that are parted and panting, ready for him.
"As you wish, ma'am."
You don't have time to register the words rolling off of Harry's tongue because he's pushing it into your mouth now and teasing your own in slow, languish movements. The connection forces delicate moans from both of you that are caught by one another.
Harry withdraws his, closing both of his lips around your top one slowly. They're as soft and sweet as they look.
His thumb traces your skin as he kisses you, every action screaming expertise. Harry knows what he's doing, you can tell already, and it's enough to make you hungry for more.
Your hands fly up to grip the back of his neck, the soft cotton collar of his polo shirt brushing against your fingers as you dig them in and part your lips for more. Harry gives you his tongue again, entwining it with yours with as much need as you entwine yours with his.
The embrace is messy, with mouths moving sloppily until you're nothing but clashing teeth and heavy breaths. It's so fucking hot.
He's dominant with every move he makes, and you let him be. The way he holds your face and explores your mouth at his own leisure, and with so much desire, too... that's what gets you off.
You can't help but whimper and whine, noises that cause Harry to smirk against your lips. The feeling of his curving up as they kiss you does nothing but make you even wetter.
Harry leaves your lips alone for a second, your mouth glossy and swollen chasing after his own while he presses chaste kisses to the corner of it instead, "Get out the cart, darling. The side away from me."
You don't hesitate, shuffling along to the right-hand side like instructed until your feet meet the grass and you're standing up dizzily. You smooth down your dress and unclip your bumbag, tossing it onto the seat while you track Harry's sleek movements as he walks around the front of the cart to join you.
The eighteenth hole is at the end of the course with nothing but trees behind and to the sides. It's private, especially with the cart blocking you both. No one would know either of you were here unless they needed to play the hole and as far as you remember, the player that arrived after Harry is four or five holes behind. You have time.
Harry looks at you like you're a dessert and he's been dieting, his eyes hungrily trailing up from your feet to your face. He keeps walking until he's right in front of you, but he doesn't stop there.
His steps force you to back up until your back hits the cool metal of the cart that's been in the shade. His hands splay against it either side of your head, caging you in while he smirks down at you.
"Someone really did fuck up not hiring you. You do so well following orders." Harry hums, his voice deeper and more delicious sounding than ever before.
You can't help but whine again, your thighs squeezed together to settle the ever growing throb in your cunt. You can feel how soaked you are; insane amounts of arousal pooled in your underwear all thanks to Mr. Styles.
"Is that something you like to do, darling?" He presses, lapping at his bottom lip while you bite yours to stop yourself from moaning loudly, "Follow orders?"
"Yes." You quip quickly, your voice strained and so full of want. You know he can hear it.
He confirms it as he grins, his chin tilting down until his lips are teasingly mere millimetres from your own, "Be a good girl and take your panties off for me, then."
You don't hesitate, your fingers making fast work of slipping under your skirt and hooking around the sides of your white lace thong. You pull it down your legs, kicking the fabric out from your feet with Harry's hungry eyes on you all the while. He jerks his chin forward again, lips ghosting yours once more.
"Spread your legs, baby."
You comply quickly, but parting your legs only worsens the pulse in your cunt from the loss of pressure there. The cool air hits your hot skin, your thighs tense and damp with arousal coating your skin an almost embarrassing amount.
What has this man done to you?
Harry teases you with his lips a couple of times, moving his head as though he's going to wrap his own around your top one for another kiss, but he pulls back every time they brush until you're left whining.
"Please."
With another open-mouthed grin, his bottom lip drags against your own, "Again."
"Fuck- Harry." You're a breathless mess, desperate and close to screaming from how badly you need him, "Please, please, please."
Your pleas win him over as he smashes his mouth against yours again, your hands once more locking around his neck while his come down to grip your hips as he kisses you deeply. He pins them to the cart as his own press to your stomach; a bulge in his slacks so thick, hard and large felt against it that has you gasping.
He pulls his hips away from you, his lips separating from yours, too. You moan for more, which only makes him grin.
Harry drops his hold on one of your hips and snakes it between your parted legs, the body part disappearing under the skirt of your dress. His fingers start to make a teasing trail up the inside of your thigh, your breaths growing choppier the closer he comes to your cunt.
Upon the pads of his fingers now lazily running through your drenched folds, there's a sharp intake of breath from you at the incredible feeling and relief his tender, teasing touch gives, and a guttural groan from him.
"Fuck, you're so wet, darling." He coos, your hands gripping the collar of his shirt tighter, "Such a messy girl. Who did this to you, hm?"
Harry watches your every expression, grinning hard as he waits for you to speak as he soaks his fingers. They move up to touch your clit, the place you need touched the most.
Just before either of those things can happen, he snatches his hand away fast. The loudest, most pathetic whine from you yet is heard, which only makes Harry smirk harder than ever.
He brings his fingers between you both, the pads glistening with your arousal that he eyes up before turning his attention back to you.
"So pretty. Looks so sweet, too. Wanna taste yourself for me, darling?" You nod fast, your needy reaction making Harry grin as he jerks his chin, "Good answer from a good girl. Tongue out."
You part your lips to do as he asked, Harry teasing the tip of your tongue with a tap of his index finger before he's sliding it into your mouth along with his middle one. You close your lips around them and suck, and the taste of your juices on his skin is incredible.
"Do you taste as sweet as you look?" He asks, eyes glazed over and jaw a little slack from watching you work his digits.
You smirk around his fingers before he slides them out, "Open your mouth and you'll find out."
Harry parts his own lips now, bending his knees a little until he's eye level with you. He tips his chin in the air ready for what you're about to do, and you give him it in the form of a string of saliva leaving your lips to drop onto his waiting tongue.
It pools on the tip, the sight as hot as the action and his compliance. You don't hesitate to slam your mouth against his now, turning the tables slightly. Harry's breath hitches as you messily twirl your tongue around his own, both of them covered in the faint taste of your arousal and a mix of your salivas.
A deep moan from you is caught by his mouth upon him once more slipping his fingers to run between your drenched folds, with Harry making fast work in giving your clit the attention it so desperately needed. There's no edging now, the pads of his digits pressing down on the sensitive bud and circling slowly; your hips bucking, legs shaking and hands around his neck vice-like as you pant hard.
Your head feels so light from him working you over with his fingers on your clit and tongue in your mouth; everything so perfect and carnal. His hand on your hip still grips the area fiercely, nails biting into your skin as he picks up speed and delivers more pressure to your slick pearl.
Harry's lips leave your own to trail sloppy kisses along your cheek, down to your jaw and onto your neck; your head tilting to the left to give him all the room he wants to mark you up however he wants.
His teeth nip at the area as he slides away from your clit to your hole, teasing there with slow circles, too. You're moaning loud as he sucks at your skin, nodding in a desperate bid for more.
"Fuck. Keep going, Harry. Please."
He shows mercy, no demand for more pleas. With complete ease thanks to your wetness, Harry slides two ring-clad fingers inside your cunt, your walls stretching to allow the welcome intrusion before hugging them fiercely once you're filled to the hilt and he's knuckle deep.
Pulling his mouth from your neck, Harry's hazy eyes meet your equally hazy ones. He's standing tall again, looking down at you with a smirk that has you as wet and weak as his fingers do, and just watches as you fall apart from his digits stuffing you full.
"Need to see what pretty faces you're gonna make. I just know they're gonna be gorgeous." He coos, pulling his fingers out slowly, "You ready to make more of a mess of my fingers?"
You're nodding deliriously, your stomach swarming with butterflies. Harry grins before he's pressing a sweet kiss to your nose, his thumb coming up to press against your almost-too-sensitive clit.
"Good girl."
Your walls are quick to clench around him as he sinks them back in at an angle; the tips hitting your g-spot. He strokes the sweet spongy zone as his thumb circles your clit, the perfect amount of pressure in both spots making you see stars.
But upon Harry pausing both things to instead fuck his fingers in and out of you fast, the heel of his hand hitting your clit with every quick thrust, you stop seeing stars. You float amongst them now, your knees buckling, eyelids lulling and jaw practically snapped off.
Harry doesn't relent his pace, nor does he stop watching you. You can feel his gaze burning hot as he watches your every ecstatic expression, his looking awe-inspired and amazed. You could come just from looking at him and how determined he is to make you feel good, which he absolutely is.
Your loud and broken moans hit the hot summer air. The sound echoes faintly in the trees around us, harmonising with the wetness of your arousal around his fingers that relentlessly fuck you.
"You look so fucking pretty." He grins lazily, blown-out eyes roaming every bit of your face in complete admiration as his thumb traces soothing circles on your hip, "Am I fucking you good, baby?"
You nod and whimper, "Yes. So fucking good, Harry. The best."
"Come for me then." He drawls, eyes darkening more as he arrogantly jerks his chin your way, "Be a good girl and come for me."
True to the form of following Harry's orders so far, you do it again. The knot in your lower stomach unravels fast, your climax hitting hard as you clamp around his fingers; fingers you know you've soaked.
He doesn't slow them down, continuing to fuck them into you fast to get you through your high, the heel of his hand hitting you hardened clit every single time. You can feel your release run down your legs; legs that tremble from the orgasm that barrels through every bit of you like a freight train.
Harry watches your facial expressions, reading them like a craft to be perfected. He slows his fingers as your high fades away, bringing them to an eventual stop before moving his lips to press against yours softly.
Kissing you gently, he slowly withdraws his digits until you're whimpering into his mouth over how empty you feel, wishing they were back inside you already.
His lips also leave yours, more whines from you followed up from missing them already, too. Harry laughs through his nose, a smirk stretching his face as he brings his fingers to your mouth. He hovers the pads over the plump area while eyeing you up, asking for permission before connecting the two parts.
You give him a needy nod and with that, Harry closes the gap. He gives his undivided attention to your mouth that he smears your juices over, coating the area with your arousal like its lipgloss.
"Are we even yet?" He asks you, his tone rugged as much as it is light and playful as he pulls your bottom lip down, revealing your teeth for a second before letting it spring back into place, "Have I made it up to you?"
You roll your lips into your mouth until they're clean of your come, releasing them into a grin as you shake your head, "Getting there."
Harry grins, too; the answer he was hoping for received. You look down between your bodies, finding both of his hands on your hips now still pinned against the cart, and his cock straining against his slacks begging for some attention as well.
He catches your eyes when you look up at him through your lashes, giving you a tut as you give him a giggle, "You're trouble, aren't you?"
Shrugging nonchalantly, you slip your hands from around his neck to the sides of it until they're beneath the collar of his shirt. Every part of his outfit is still intact, beanie included.
While you'd give anything to see him naked, the mystery of what that looks like is such a turn on for you. Pair the unknown with the fact that you're both outdoors, where you work, and too desperate for each other to properly undress, that only makes this whole thing hotter. You love it.
"I asked you to fuck me, and you agreed." You throw back, your thumbs grazing along the slightly stubbled part of his neck as you give him doe-eyes and a pout, "Just wanna make sure you're a man of your word."
Harry cocks his head back, his brow raised as he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, "Didn't I just give you a fucking with my fingers?"
"You did." You bring your lips to the corner of his, his facial hair tickling your skin, "but I need another from the cock of Mr. Harry Styles. C-" You kiss his cheek, his breath hitching, "E-" another kiss to the other cheek, to which Harry exhales shakily, "O."
He slams his lips against yours before you can do it to him, your breath snatched and the back of your head lightly hitting the metal of the cart as his hands greedily roam every inch of your torso. Your back arches into his palms when he roughly cups and squeezes your tits before he's trailing them up to your face, gripping your chin harshly and tilting it up to deepen the kiss even more.
You can feel how hard Harry is from where his thick, pulsing cock is pressed against your stomach. It makes you wetter than you already are, with more arousal pooling upon him pulling his hips back to make hasty work on undoing his metal belt buckle and the button of his slacks.
He moans into your mouth after taking out his cock. His unconfined length nudges against you as he fishes through his pocket where a foil wrapper is soon heard; finding the condom he was looking for.
Harry separates the kiss, giving you a wink and showing you a smirk before he's looking down at the rubber in his hand. You watch his ring-clad fingers work to open the packaging, but your attention deviates further south.
With his jumper and shirt bunched up at his hips, you catch a peak of two fern tattoos inked there above two deep v-lines. The sight of both things makes you clench around nothing, your mouth filling up with saliva from thoughts of running your tongue over the art and area.
You're zoned in on his cock in no time, though, his trousers and underwear pulled down just enough to free it. His pretty pink tip leaks pre-come and rests against his toned lower stomach and the happy trail there. Prominent veins run up and down the silky length that stands thick and rock solid; his balls full, heavy-looking and begging to be in your mouth.
Harry now rolls the clear condom down onto his cock, a hiss leaving his swollen lips from the touch before he's giving you his blown out gaze again the second he's wrapped up. You give him yours, too; a newfound hunger existing in both of us.
Harry nudges his chin towards you, a half-smile worn and his dimple popping, "Turn around for me, baby."
You do so with a held breath, the anticipation and arousal killing you. You can feel Harry's eyes trail the length of you again, his focus honing in on your ass.
"Arch your back for me and lift your skirt up."
You comply again, both hands gripping and pulling the hem to show him what he wants to see; your ass and cunt. You look over your shoulder, catching him squeezing his cock with a slack jaw.
"Use your hands to show me your tight little holes."
Once more, you do as you're told, with Harry taking in a sharp breath at the sight of you displaying yourself. His eyes meet yours after taking their time to greedily gaze, a grin stretching his face.
"Fucking perfect."
There was a small gap between you both, but it's fully closed now as Harry presses himself against you. Your hands and forearms rest against the cart, your ass pushed out and heart racing as every inch of his cock can be felt brushing over your ass.
Harry situates himself to hold your skirt up with one hand that he keeps on the base of your spine, and the other to grab his cock that he lines up with your cunt. He dips his tip inside before withdrawing and sliding his silky length between your sodden folds, your breath stuttering along with his own as he does it over and over again; the torment of the tease turning you both on even more.
He presses down on the bottom of your back a little more, making you arch and push your ass out even further. You open your mouth to beg for him to stop with the taunting, but a guttural groan comes out instead upon him sinking into you entirely in one slow but sharp roll of his hips.
Your breath is knocked from your lungs as his thickness stretches you out, the mess he's caused allowing him to slide in with complete ease. Harry's own breath is choked and broken, his forehead dropping to rest between your shoulder blades once he's all way in; every inch of him feeling fucking incredible.
"Jesus fuck- God, you're so fucking wet and tight." He speaks through gritted teeth, his now free right hand reaching out to press on top of your own against the cart, "Feels so good."
You nod and whimper, you mind fogged over, "So fucking good."
His lips pucker against your back, a sweet kiss delivered before he's pulling his head away and bringing his chin to tuck itself between your neck and shoulder. You can feel his grin against your skin as he pulls out slowly, your mouth dropping into an O-shape as your brow furrows.
Harry leaves nothing but the tip in, teasing you for a few more seconds before he's slamming his hips back forward. Your centres connect harshly; the cart rattling.
He does it over and over again until tears spring from your eyes. Every withdrawal makes you whine, and every thrust shuts up any sound that could happen. They catch in your throat while he grunts and groans freely, his grin never letting up either.
His cock hits deep, your g-spot massaged perfectly with his tip, but you need more. You need it faster. Harder. Rougher.
"More." You croak out, Harry's hips in the middle of pulling out again, "Please, Harry. Give me more."
"More?" He throws back fast, "I'm giving you every inch, darling. You're gonna have to be more specific than that."
He knows what you mean, what you want, but he's a tease. He wants you to say it. He wants you to beg for it.
You'll never be above doing it. Not with him.
"Fuck me hard, sir. Give it to me fast and rough." You plead, your pussy fluttering around his cock, "Give me more."
You melt at the feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to the space of skin beneath your lobe, the area taken between his teeth nipping it lightly next, "Good girl. Much better."
And with that, he's slamming his cock back into you hard, no slow withdrawal coming after it like it did before. It's all fast. All rough. He's fucking you as mercilessly as you wanted.
Harry pulls his head away from the crook of your neck and leans back a little, taking his hand off the top of yours to grab your hip. You can feel him looking down to where his cock fucks in and out of you, his hips bruising your ass that ripples from every hit they give.
The sounds of your bodies continue to echo, your legs trembling and your whole body tingling. You feel so dizzy in the best way, an open-mouthed grin on your own lips as you toss your head back while Harry pounds into you with all he has.
"Taking me so fucking well, baby. Every fucking inch. God, you drive me wild." He drawls, sounding drunk on lust for you like you are for him, "Looks so fucking good. You're soaking me, too. Messy girl."
You know that's the truth, because you can feel it as much as you can hear it. Your arousal is slick around his length, the sounds practically pornographic. The whole situation is.
Harry kicks it up a gear when his hand on your hip snakes around to your front, the fingers he used to fuck you before now making fast work of circling your clit. You aimlessly claw at the metal while your body jolts from the feeling, your ass pushing back to meet his sharp strokes; his body's only mission being to get you to come hard again.
You're seeing stars once more, your mind swimming with pure euphoria. The second knot in your stomach is close to coming undone.
"Shit, fuck-" He pants, your walls clamping around his cock, "Hugging me so tight. 'm not gonna last."
"So don't." You moan, rocking your hips with a little bit of skill and thought to make him feel as good as you do, "Come for me, Harry. Need you to come for me, please. Give it to me."
After a few more circles to your now oversensitive clit and his cock hitting all the right places, your orgasm barrels through you. It hits so hard, your pussy practically pushing him out from the force of it.
That doesn't deter him, but spurs him on. Harry powers through it, grunting and groaning as you gush around him. You can feel your climax coating your thighs, his own approaching. You can tell by his strokes that are starting to stutter.
He sees you through your high, though, his fingers leaving your clit to grip your chin. Harry turns your head to smash his lips against yours, catching every broken moan and whimper you give him.
It's not long before you're catching every sweet and sexy noise he makes as he unravels. His hips still harshly against your ass as he spills his loads into the condom, his whole body seizing and lips against yours shifting into a smile of pure ecstasy.
You bring a hand to stretch over your head, grabbing the back of his neck as he swims with the stars like you still do. Your fingers stroke the slightly sweaty skin at the nape where his damp curls tickle; your own grin growing, too.
Harry comes down from his climax as you finish your own, lazy kisses given to each other with soft hums of exhilarated exhaustion. You can't believe that just happened. What you just did, how good it was, where you did it and who you did it with is something you'll never forget.
You separate and pull your head back, taking in Harry's freshly fucked-out face. There's a sheen of sweat over his skin now, perspiration never looking so good as he practically glows.
His lips are pinker than ever, glossy and swollen from the kisses. They're lifted at the corners thanks to his giddy smile, the expression creasing the corner of his eyes that are still shut; his long lashes that you find myself envious of fanning across the high points of his peachy cheeks. He's so fucking pretty, and you're crushing hard than ever.
"I think now's as good a time as any for you to finally give up the beanie and jumper."
Your tease has Harry's eyes fluttering open, a throaty chuckle given. His gaze dances all over your face before he's tutting, "That's no way to talk to your boss."
"I'm sorry?" Your head cocks back in shock, convinced you've misheard him.
Harry grins hard, his eyes back to green now glittering like his smile does, "If you still want an internship- no, fuck that actually. If you still want a job working for me, then you've got one."
"I- I don't know what to say."
You're reeling, well and truly speechless, but then it hits you. There's something you need to make abundantly clear first.
"Hold on a sec." You start, eyeing him up suspiciously, "Are you just giving me a job for your company because we've fucked?"
"I'm not." He states sternly but sweetly, "I meant it when I said I liked your pitch. You should've been hired there and then. That was our mistake."
"I get it if you don't want the job now because of what we just did," he furthers, expression soft and smiley, "but I'm not gonna be some creepy boss who's gonna fuck you with my eyes every chance I can get."
Your lips form a playful pout, "Damn. That's a shame."
"You are trouble, I fucking knew it." Harry grins, shaking his head as he chuckles.
A laugh leaves your own now, with Harry's eyes brightening from the sight and sound, "Better get used to it, sir. You're gonna have your hands full with me."
You can't believe this is happening. You can't believe what you're about to say next is real.
"I'll take the job."
There's no doubt in your mind about accepting it. It's your dream job and you'd be mad not to. You've had fun working here as a cart girl, but you're more than ready for this new chapter.
What an amazing way to close this current one, too. Fucking on the golf course against your cart with the hottest man you've ever laid your eyes on, who just so happens to be your new boss, is insane. It's a story you reckon few can beat.
Now that one dream has been achieved, it doesn't hurt that you've suddenly found yourself with a new one. One in the form of the gorgeous CEO who, with his cock still inside of you, looks at you like you're his, too.
"Well, in that case..." Harry hums, giving you a professional nod and a not-so-professional wink, "Welcome to Pleasing, ma'am."