Living with a Whore ch.3

Harry tried to focus on what he was doing, carefully flipping the pancake, but his body froze when Fleur suddenly approached him. Without hesitation, she slowly slid her hands under his armpits and wrapped them around his chest, pressing her heavy breasts against his back. Her lips suddenly found their way to his neck, her hot breath on his skin as she gently placed a kiss on his spine.

Harry felt Fleur's tone suddenly change, becoming alluring and tender. "Come on, darling," she encouraged, her hands sliding down his flat chest and reaching further down, slipping under his shirt. "What do I need to do to buy your silence?" she wondered innocently, her fingers now tracing his bare abdomen, surprisingly warm against his skin. "Maybe a little of this?" she pondered, planting delicate kisses on his neck. "What do I need to do to secure your cooperation?"

"Um," Harry managed, trying to catch his breath. What the hell was happening right now? And when did she become so audacious?

Her hands moved to his chest, briefly rubbing his nipples before sliding one hand back down to his abdomen. Then she leaned in closer to him and reached for his crotch.

Harry was so nervous and disoriented that he wasn't even fully erect.

"What the fuck?" she hissed, gripping him harder, causing him to wince slightly. "Damn, what's wrong, Harry? What, am I not hot enough for you?" Suddenly, she pulled away completely, taking a step back. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. Bastard."

Harry felt embarrassed and didn't even fully understand why. "I'm sorry," he said automatically, instinctively responding to her frustration. He turned to her, now seeing her arms crossed beneath her breasts. "You're hot, it's just..." His voice trailed off, and their eyes met. Suddenly, he felt like he had a lump in his throat, unable to believe that he had just admitted to that.

"If I'm so damn amazing," she began slowly, her bright green eyes narrowing, emphasizing each word. "Then what the hell is the problem? Is it because you're a fucking virgin?"

Harry immediately averted his gaze, now genuinely ashamed as hell.

"Fuck, that's it, isn't it?" she said in surprise. "I mean, there's no way you care about the fact that we grew up around each other, right?"

He tried to clear his throat, his voice barely a whisper. "No, it doesn't bother me." Of course, it fucking bothered him. Secretly, he had always hoped she would look at him.

Fleur just shook her head in disbelief, abruptly turning and starting to walk away. The bottom of her small, tight ass was clearly visible, with no underwear in sight.

She still sounded stunned. "The whole semester, and you're still a virgin," she said loudly. When she reached the stairs, she glanced over her shoulder, her tone flat. "Are you making chocolate chip pancakes for me?"

Harry cleared his throat again. "Yes."

"What time were you up last night?"

"About two."

"Did we wake you up?" she asked evenly.

He shook his head, unable to look at her again. "I set an alarm."

"To make me pancakes," she repeated.

He nodded once.

"Damn, dude. Next time, call. Or at least send me a message."

Harry scoffed, his tone sarcastic. "Sorry I didn't want to wake you up so late," he replied, now feeling annoyed, and he wasn't even sure why. Then he quickly explained, once again meeting her gaze. "I let my mom know because she's the one preparing everything, but I didn't think it mattered in your case. I thought you'd be with your boyfriend."

She pursed her lips for a moment, then took a deep breath. Then, without a word, she headed for the stairs. Harry relaxed slightly when he heard the shower running, knowing that when she came back downstairs, she would undoubtedly continue the conversation, at least in normal attire.

Because there was no way she would dump it. But he guessed that by then, she would have shaken off the shock enough to finally talk about it, not that there was much to discuss. I mean, she was apparently still with her boyfriend, and she apparently had a one-night stand with some random guy.

Not to mention that realistically, there was no way she would tell her mom and dad. Or him.

Damn, that would be the most awkward conversation ever.

And she probably knew that. She knew that she wouldn't say anything, between that and the fact that she literally financed a huge portion of his tuition.

Before Harry heard the hairdryer upstairs, easily imagining her combing her blond hair as she dried it because he had seen her a few times when she moved in - the perks of sharing the bathroom - he set the kitchen island with two pancakes on each of their plates, along with butter and syrup. He also took out peanut butter because he knew Fleur sometimes liked it on her chocolate chip pancakes too.

Thinking she'd be down in five minutes, he sat on one of the stools and pulled out his phone to pass the time, content to wait for her to come down and start eating. However, fifteen minutes later, hearing her go into and out of the bathroom a few times, he began to get impatient.

"Hey Fleur!" he finally called loudly over his shoulder. "Are you coming or what?"

He heard her come up the stairs, her tone annoyed. "Hold your horses, clown! Damn, you're impatient," she added, going back into the bathroom.

Harry just shook his head, knowing there was no point in arguing with her.

About five minutes later, he heard her come up the stairs again. However, his eyebrows furrowed at the sound of her footsteps - or rather, the sound of her clothing as she walked. It sounded almost like sticky plastic being squeezed and pulled with each step, noticeably loud.

Glancing over his shoulder, his eyes widened in shock as her legs came into view, followed by the rest of her, stopping just a few steps from the bottom. She was wearing bright red PVC pants, with a very visible silver zipper in the crotch area, as well as a similar top designed like a sports bra, with a front zipper. Her feet were bare, and her toned stomach was completely exposed, with a similar red vinyl bolero jacket with white fluffy trim covering her slim arms.

Between the mini-jacket and a regular Santa hat on her head, hiding part of her blonde hair, it was clear that it was supposed to be a holiday theme. Although, without those two elements, the pants and top themselves didn't exactly scream holidays, except for the vibrant red color.

They looked more like they were meant for a strip club. Or a porno.

And then there was her face. She had applied a ton of makeup around her bright blue eyes, including mascara, eyeliner, and eyeshadow, making them really pop and go from freaking hot to a freaking nuclear explosion. And then her lips were coated with clear gloss, looking ridiculously plump, shiny, and inviting. Her face alone looked like every man's wet dream. Like the literal embodiment of a blonde bombshell succubus or something.

Harry simply stared at her in disbelief, not entirely understanding what he was seeing.

His hot, seductive friend was dressed in an incredibly shiny material that looked like plastic, appearing like a stripper ready to come off the stage and screw like a whore.

Everything about her embodied desire in its purest form. When he finally met her emerald gaze, he realized that her expression was firm.

"You'd better be damn grateful, you clown," she said firmly. "This was supposed to be a Christmas gift for my boyfriend."

Harry cleared his throat, and his eyes widened even more as he refocused on her heavy breasts, still massive even when squeezed into her unforgiving top.

"So, do you like this shit, honey?" she wondered, her tone mocking. "Do you like this hot body in this slutty outfit?"

When he didn't respond, she rolled her emerald eyes, descending the stairs.

"Damn, you're such a virgin," she muttered, raising her voice as she approached. "Are you going to say something, or are you just going to gawk at me? Don't act like you don't want this."

He cleared his throat, shifting in his chair to look her in the eyes. "I don't know what to say," he managed to say.

"Say 'yes' or 'no,'" she snapped, stopping a few feet from where he sat at the island and placing her hands on her bony hips. "Do we have a deal? You'll keep your mouth shut, and I'll fulfill your twisted, wet dreams."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was this even real? Was he still asleep? Was this a wet, perverted dream?

And why did she assume that's what he wanted? Was it because of how he looked at her? Or maybe she wanted... you know, and just needed an excuse?

Or maybe because she had a guarantee that he would keep his mouth shut if... they did it?

If they had sex, there was no way he would tell his parents, especially since she apparently had no intention of seeing him again. Moreover, from now on, he would have to keep any secrets she wanted, without asking questions. It was like a binding agreement they could never back out of, even if they only did it once. A shared secret they could never share with anyone else, especially since she now lived there.

When he said nothing, she spoke again, dropping her hands and stepping closer to his stool. "Damn, you're so indecisive. Get up."

He slowly did as she asked, now feeling completely off-balance. She immediately pushed him onto the counter between the stools, pressing her body against his.

"Touch my ass," she demanded, her face just a few inches from his, her chin slightly tilted up to maintain his gaze.

Her lips were so close that he could feel her breath on his mouth.

His hands trembled as he slowly reached for her hips, then turned to feel the absurdly smooth vinyl on her tight ass. An uncontrolled, deep sigh escaped his chest, as if he were in pain and finally experiencing relief, and the movement caused her to press harder against him.

Focusing more on her blue gaze, he realized her cheeks were flushed, and her bright blue eyes looked passionate as her glossy lips gradually drew nearer. Finally, she closed her eyes, gently placing her soft, full lips on his, and the overwhelming scent of warm vanilla sugar from her lip gloss filled the space between them, and her own breath quickened as they kissed tenderly.