Harry:

I love being the centre of attention. People eyeing me all the time, up and down, with lust in their eyes, give me such a thrill, no amount of heroin will ever compare to.

As I grind for the last time on stage, sticking my bum out towards the crowd of admirers, a bunch of groans, shouts and wows were heard, and I smirked at the satisfying sounds.

The song was finished and I flipped my hair, walking backstage. While I listented to the claps fading slowly.

"Harry, here's your money." The money collector, as I like to call him, brought me what crazy worshippers had thrown at me on stage.

"Five thousand dollars only? Is that it?" I asked him, pouting my pink lips. How in hell did I get just that?

"Oh it's three times more than any other dancer, Harry. Be grateful."

"Fuck grateful, I'm Harry Styles."

He smiled at me and bowed his head dramatically and I laughed as I passed him to my room, to take a quick shower and then go to the back rooms to see who requested a solo dance.

Just so you know, I don't mind fucking around if someone's hot came to see me dance and well, tried something on me. I don't mind any gender either. But my only condition, pay well and show respect.

I may sound arrogant, but you have to show these people whom come to strip clubs that you're not an easy target, and they are having the time of their lives, breathing the same air as you. Or they'd crush you and leave. Geez no thanks.

Shamlessly, I let many guys take me, but for one night only.

All of them, no exceptions, come back after asking for me again. They literally crawl, begging to touch me again, to run their hands through my locks, to taste my mouth, but no. I don't like romantic relationships. And I don't do one twice. Boring.

After I took my shower, I walked out to see Louis, the manger; the finest bum on earth, and the OG of this stripper club, sitting down and waiting for me.

"Louis, to what do I owe the pleasure?" I asked, drying my hair a bit with a small towel.

"It's him again, Styles."

My eyes widened.

"What? Again? What does he want this time?"

"As usual."

"Nothing is usual with him, he's a weirdo."

Louis frowned and automatically my heart sank.

Not a good sign.

"Harold, you do as I say. Now, be a good boy and go give him a private dance. Don't make me mad."

I gulped, "Yes, sir."

He turned around and left, as I cursed him under my breath.

Why does he have to come again? He's a fucking rich man who likes to torture me. I hate him. And I hate him more for using my boss against me.

He's such a creep. He touches me, but I have to never touch him.

He pays so much money, and yet he doesn't wanna fuck me.

Plus, he's handsome as hell.

And it's frustrating you know that he comes every night, doing anything he wants with me, and yet I'm not allowed to reach out and take a bite of what I see.

No one ever can resist me, but to my surprise, he can.

I swallowed my spite and pride; unwillingly taking my way to the back rooms.

...

I was wearing a black lace panties under my robe, and on my head, a black cowboy hat. With black sparkling boots covering my feet.

I opened the door, preparing a frown on my face.

He was sitting there, wearing a black dress pants,

Only.

He was shirtless.

My frown turned into wide eyes, with mouth wide open.

I've never seen his body before. So burly, full of tattoos, shining under the soft lights. Now, I'm kinda glad Louis sent me in tonight.

He was breathtaking.

"Are you done staring? I know I shouldn't have taken my shirt off!"
He rolled his eyes at me.

"Did you call for me to insult me as always? If so, I'm leaving." I muttered, and turned around again.

But his hand on my wrist stopped me.

"Oh darling, we both know you can't do that. Or you'd be jobless, homeless and other things we wouldn't want, right?"

He clapped his hands, and the music started playing. He took the robe off my shoulders, and it fell down over my boots.

"Dance for me." He whispered in my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

He sat down again, pulling me into his lap, and I got he wanted me to dance on his lap and so I did.

Bit by bit, I started to feel so hot, with his tongue licking a line from my ear to my neck and collarbone. And the way his hand palming and squeezing my bum.

He sucked just under my ear, my sweet spot, and I moaned loudly and reached to take a handful of his jet black hair.

"STOP!"

My eyes opened with surprise, and I fell off his lap. My hat flew across the room.

"What the hell is the matter with you??"

"I told you to NEVER touch me!" His eyes were dark, looking down at me.

I stood up, supporting a semi-hard, and crossed my arms over my chest.

"So you can touch me and kiss me and do whatever you want to my body, but I can't touch a strand of your hair?! How's that fair?"

"I'm paying." He calmly stated.

And I saw red.

"THEN I SUGGEST YOU GO AND PAY FOR ANOTHER MANIAC TO TOUCH BECAUSE THIS ONE IS DONE. YOU PSYCHO!"

I went to the door but he was quick to stand in front of me, closing it shut. And then he squeezed my cheeks with his left hand, making my lips pout, he held the back of my head with his right one, as he smacked his lips against mine.

It was a quick forced kiss that ended before I could understand what happened.

"That is not what I want," he mumbled, still holding my head hostage between his hands.

"Then what is that you want, Zayn Malik?" I let out. Trying not to sound so weak with just one kiss.

"I want to marry you," I laughed at his awful sense of humour.

But his face was serious when he continued,

"Will you marry me?"

Shit, he ain't kiddin.

...

A/N:

Hellllloooo a new story :)

I know I have two unfinished stories, but I wanted to write a new one :)

Hope you like the first chapter.

If something is confusing you just ask me :)

Updates gonna be weekly or twice a week. If you like it enough :)

Vote and comment plz..

Love y'all 💛