Vicious 24 (Patreon)

Author's note: Hello everyone, I hope you are all having a wonderful week. Here is a new chapter of vicious. Let me know what you think 😉

Y/N barely had a moment to catch her breath before Harry was on her again. His hands were firm on her waist, his lips crashing into hers with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. The sound of the waves faded into the background, the salty breeze mixing with the taste of him, whiskey and something darker, something undeniably him.

She responded instantly, her fingers gripping his damp hair, pulling him closer as if she could fuse them together. The water lapped at their bodies, but neither of them cared.

"You're playing a dangerous game, love," Harry murmured against her lips, his voice rough with restraint, though his grip on her said he had none left.

Y/N smirked, her breath shaky but teasing. "I think you like it."

Harry exhaled a low chuckle, but there was no amusement in it—just heat, just want. "You have no idea," he muttered before capturing her lips again.

His hands slid down to her thighs, lifting her effortlessly. Instinctively, her legs wrapped around his waist, pressing her body against his, feeling every firm inch of him. His hands gripped her tighter as he started walking, carrying her out of the water, his lips never leaving hers.

The contrast of his soaked skin against hers sent shivers down her spine, but she barely noticed. All she could focus on was the way his fingers dug into her flesh, the possessiveness in his hold, the way he moved with purpose—as if he had decided this moment was inevitable.

He carried her across the sand, up the steps of their private beach house, his breathing heavy but controlled. Y/N’s lips traced along his jaw, feeling the tension there, the way he was holding himself back.

"Harry," she whispered against his skin, her voice breathy, pleading.

He growled low in his throat, kicking the door open without a care, striding inside with her still clinging to him.

"I know" he murmured darkly, pressing her back against the nearest wall. His green eyes burned into hers, his pupils blown wide with want.

Her lips parted, chest rising and falling against his. "show me," she challenged, her fingers dragging down his back.

Harry's restraint snapped.

He kissed her fiercely, devouring her, his hands sliding under the thin fabric of her bikini top, pushing it up and over her head. He dropped it carelessly, his mouth instantly finding the newly exposed skin, his lips and tongue leaving a scorching path along her collarbone, down to the swell of her breasts.

Y/N gasped, her fingers gripping his shoulders, her nails digging in as he teased her, his touch possessive, claiming.

"Y/N" he muttered against her skin, his voice like gravel, filled with something raw and unfiltered.

He carried her to the bed, lowering her down with reverence before hovering over her, his body flush against hers, heat radiating between them. He took his time—exploring, learning, worshipping. And when he finally sank into her, they both let out a breath that neither of them had realized they'd been holding.

They moved together, no hesitation, no distance left between them. Just them, just this.

And when it was over, when the air was thick with their shared breaths and their bodies were tangled together beneath the sheets, Harry pressed a slow, lingering kiss to her shoulder.

No words were needed.

For the first time, they weren’t just two people bound by duty. They were something more. Something neither of them had expected.

The scent of something warm and rich pulled Y/N from sleep. Blinking against the golden afternoon light streaming through the windows, she stretched lazily, her body still thrumming from earlier. Her muscles ached in the best way possible, a reminder of how thoroughly Harry had claimed every inch of her.

The sheets beside her were empty, but still warm.

Curious, she pushed herself up, slipping out of bed and grabbing the silk robe that was carefully hung by the bathroom door. Tying it loosely around her waist, she padded barefoot through the villa, following the scent of food.

When she reached the kitchen, she froze.

Harry stood at the stove, stirring something in a pan, his broad back to her. He was shirtless, clad only in black swimming trunks that hung low on his hips, his tanned skin glistening slightly, evidence of a shower or a swim. His dark hair was slicked back, still damp, exposing the sharp angles of his face.

Her gaze drifted lower, taking in the subtle pinkish tint on his shoulders from the sun—and the faint red lines raked across his back.

Her doing.

Heat flushed through her at the sight.

Harry, seemingly aware of her presence, didn’t turn around. Instead, he spoke in that low, knowing tone.

“Didn’t take you for a scratcher.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, leaning against the counter. “I didn’t think you could cook”.

Harry smirked, finally turning to face her, a spatula in one hand, the other resting lazily on the counter. His green eyes flickered over her, lingering on the exposed skin of her legs beneath the robe.

“You looked like you’d sleep all day,” he remarked, voice edged with amusement. “Figured you’d be hungry when you finally decided to wake up.”

She glanced at the food he was preparing—something simple but good. Eggs, crispy bread, a pan of sizzling tomatoes, and what looked like fresh fruit on the side.

Y/N raised a brow. “Didn’t peg you for the domestic type.”

Harry scoffed, turning back to the stove. “Don’t get used to it.”

Y/N smirked, stepping closer. “Shame. You’re kind of attractive like this.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “You say that like you didn’t just spend hours proving you find me attractive.”

She hummed, settling onto one of the barstools. “Cocky.”

“Honest,” he corrected smoothly.

Y/N watched as he plated the food, moving with the same effortless control he always carried. Even here, in the warmth of the Maldives, in the temporary escape of their so-called honeymoon, Harry still exuded power. But here, like this, he was different. Less guarded.

When he finally placed a plate in front of her, he leaned down slightly, one hand resting on the counter beside her.

“Eat,” he murmured, his voice low, edged with something that made her stomach flip.

Y/N held his gaze, then picked up her fork, deciding she’d play his game.

But as she took a bite, she had to admit—whatever this was, whatever they were slowly becoming—she didn’t mind it. Not one bit.

The meal was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. There was something intimate about the silence, about the way Harry sat across from her, casually eating while his free hand rested lazily on the counter, fingers tapping against the cool surface.

Y/N found herself stealing glancing at him in between bites. The sun streaming through the open windows cast a golden glow on his already sun-kissed skin, highlighting the strong cut of his jaw, the way his collarbones dipped beneath his tanned chest, the faint sheen of moisture still clinging to him.

She traced a nail along the rim of her plate, her lips twitching. “So, is this your way of making up for leaving me alone in bed?”

Harry, mid-bite, arched a brow. “Thought feeding you would be the safer option.”

Y/N tilted her head, smirking. “You make it sound like I’m dangerous.”

Harry set his fork down, leaning back in his chair, his sharp eyes flickering over her. “I’ve woken up next to women before,” he mused, his voice slow, thoughtful. “But none of them have ever looked like they belonged there.”

Her stomach flipped, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing it affect her. Instead, she took another bite of food, raising a brow. “And do I?”

Harry studied her for a long moment. Then, ever so casually, he reached out, his fingers brushing against the silk lapel of her robe, barely touching her skin beneath it.

“Are you really asking me that?” he murmured, voice low, gravelly.

Y/N swallowed, suddenly feeling too warm despite the ocean breeze drifting through the open kitchen.

“And yet you left,” she managed, trying to regain control of the conversation.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Figured if I stayed, neither of us would’ve left that room all day.”

She rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her. “Well, I would’ve at least liked breakfast in bed, then.”

Harry let out a short laugh, shaking his head as he stood, grabbing both of their now-empty plates and moving to the sink. Y/N watched him, the way his muscles flexed subtly with every movement, the strong lines of his back, the evidence of their earlier rendezvous still faintly visible on his skin.

She bit her lip, heat curling in her stomach again.

Harry must have sensed it because, as he turned, he caught the look in her eyes. His expression darkened, something wicked flashing behind his gaze.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, drying his hands off with a towel, voice slow, teasing.

Y/N refused to look away. "Maybe."

Harry smirked, tossing the towel onto the counter before stalking toward her. He stopped just in front of her, placing his hands on either side of where she sat, caging her in. His damp hair was starting to dry now, stray strands falling forward onto his forehead.

"Care to share?" he murmured, tilting his head slightly.

Y/N licked her lips, feeling the space between them shrink. The heat from his body, the way his scent—clean but still unmistakably him—wrapped around her.

She leaned in slightly, just enough to let her breath brush his lips. "You were right about one thing," she whispered.

Harry’s gaze flickered to her mouth, his jaw clenching slightly. "Yeah?"

She smirked. "If you had stayed, we wouldn’t have left that bed all day."

The way his eyes darkened made her breath hitch. He didn't move right away—just watched her, studied her, as if he were calculating his next move.

Then, in a swift motion, he grabbed her waist, lifting her off the stool with ease. A gasp left her lips, but she barely had time to react before he was carrying her, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

His mouth found hers, claiming it in a kiss that left no room for misinterpretation. Slow, deep, deliberate.

"Guess that means I’ll just have to make up for lost time," he muttered against her lips before carrying her straight back to the bedroom.

And this time, neither of them had any intention of leaving.

Three days into the trip, Y/N had settled into the luxury of it all. The Maldives were stunning—crystal-clear waters, powdery sand, and a level of privacy she had never experienced before. It was the first time in a long time that she felt truly away from everything.

She had claimed a sun lounger by the pool, stretched out on her stomach, completely at ease. The villa’s high walls and tight security meant there was no one around but her and Harry, which was why she had abandoned her bikini top entirely, letting the sun kiss every inch of her bare back. A book was propped open in front of her, though she found herself getting lost in the warmth, the rhythmic sound of the waves crashing nearby almost lulling her to sleep.

Inside, Harry was only just waking up. He hadn’t meant to sleep in, but the late nights—spent entangled with Y/N in ways that left them both breathless—had caught up to him. He ran a hand over his face before sitting up, the bed already cold beside him.

Yawning, he stood, tugging on a pair of linen pants before making his way through the villa, pausing when he stepped onto the patio.

The sight before him had him arching a brow.

Y/N, stretched out, golden skin glistening under the sun, the curve of her back bare. She was on her stomach, book in hand, looking completely at peace.

Harry leaned against the doorframe, watching her for a moment before finally speaking.

“You planning on giving yourself sun poisoning, or is this some sort of strategic attempt to drive me insane?”

Y/N didn’t startle, already used to the sound of his voice breaking the silence. She turned her head just enough to glance at him, offering a smirk. “Good morning to you, too.”

Harry walked toward her slowly, his hands slipping into his pockets. “You do realize you’ve been out here for hours, yeah?”

Y/N hummed, flipping a page in her book. “I’m relaxing.”

Harry reached the lounger, his shadow casting over her. He took his time scanning her back, the way her skin was already looking slightly pink in certain spots. He tsked. “Hope you won’t regret this later.”

Y/N scoffed, still not looking up from her book. “I put on sunscreen.”

Harry crouched down beside her, and before she could react, his fingers brushed along her back—light, barely a touch, but enough to make her breath hitch. His palm was warm against her overheated skin as he traced over her shoulder blade.

“Not enough,” he murmured.

Y/N swallowed, still refusing to look at him, though her pulse quickened. “I’m fine.”

Harry let out a quiet chuckle, his fingers trailing down her spine before pulling away. He stood up, grabbing a nearby bottle of sunscreen, and without warning, he popped the cap open.

Before she could react, cool lotion drizzled onto her back.

“Harry!” she gasped, twisting to glare at him, but he simply smirked, unfazed.

“Don’t need you whining about sunburn later,” he said casually, rubbing the lotion into her skin with slow, methodical strokes.

Y/N exhaled sharply, her body betraying her by leaning into his touch, his strong hands working the lotion over her shoulders, down her back, along the delicate curve of her waist.

Her voice came out softer than she wanted when she muttered, “You’re an ass.”

Harry grinned, fingers pressing just a little firmer. “And yet, you’re not telling me to stop.”

Y/N bit her lip, eyes fluttering shut. No, she definitely wasn’t telling him to stop.

Harry's hands didn’t stop moving, the slow drag of his fingers spreading the sunscreen across her skin, rubbing it in with careful precision. It was a contradiction—rough hands treating her so delicately.

Y/N let out a quiet breath, the heat from the sun and his touch making her feel drowsy. “You’re surprisingly good at this,” she muttered.

Harry huffed out a short laugh. “You sound shocked.”

She smirked, finally turning her head to glance at him. “I didn’t take you for the nurturing type.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t respond right away. Instead, he finished rubbing the lotion down her back before finally settling beside her on the lounger, leaning back on his elbows. The ocean breeze tousled his already messy hair, the sun catching in his green eyes as he gazed out toward the water.

For a moment, there was only silence, the waves crashing in the distance, the occasional cry of a seagull overhead.

Then, quietly, he said, “Had to learn, I suppose.”

Y/N turned onto her side, propping her head up with her hand as she studied him. “What do you mean?”

Harry didn’t look at her right away, but she could see the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

“My mum,” he finally said, voice steady but quieter than usual. “She died when I was a kid. Too young to remember much, but I remember my dad after. How he changed.” He exhaled through his nose, gaze still fixed on the horizon. “He wasn’t the kind of man who knew how to take care of anyone, let alone himself. Silas and I had to figure it out on our own.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his honesty. Harry didn’t talk about his past—not like this. It was rare to hear him offer up pieces of himself so openly, without the usual guarded edge in his voice.

She hesitated for a moment before reaching out, fingers brushing against his forearm. “I didn’t know.”

Harry finally looked at her then, something unreadable in his eyes. “Not many do.”

She searched his face, the way he seemed both distant and present all at once. She wondered how much of himself he had buried over the years, how much weight he carried that he never let anyone see.

She thought about his hands, the same ones that had done unspeakable things in the name of business, now moving so gently over her skin. She thought about the way he carried himself—so controlled, so untouchable—yet here he was, sitting beside her, telling her something real.

Y/N ran her thumb over his wrist before pulling back, giving him space. “For what it’s worth, I think you turned out alright.”

Harry smirked, shaking his head. “That right?”

She hummed, leaning back on the lounger again. “You’re still an ass, though.”

His laughter was soft, but genuine. “Wouldn’t want to disappoint you.”

Arthur had been a cold man—she had gathered that much. But Harry rarely spoke about his father, and when he did, it was never with warmth. It was as if Arthur had been nothing more than a shadow that loomed over his past, shaping him into the man he was now.

Harry exhaled through his nose, leaning back further. "He was the kind of man who didn’t believe in softness. Thought it made you weak. He had expectations—ones that didn’t leave room for mistakes. You either met them, or you learned the hard way."

Y/N’s fingers twitched against the cushion beneath her. She could picture it—the boy Harry once was, growing up under the weight of a man like that. She wondered how many times he had to pick himself up after being knocked down, how much of that hardness had been forced into him rather than chosen.

She didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she reached for her drink—one she had brought outside but hadn’t touched—and took a small sip. The condensation dripped onto her fingers as she set it back down.

Then, she said, “Well, you put sunscreen on me, so I’d say he’d be disappointed.”

Harry let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah?”

She smirked, nudging his foot with hers. “You’re practically coddling me.”

Harry turned his head, looking at her in that way that made her stomach twist. Like he was seeing through her, past the teasing, straight into whatever was beneath it.

He reached over suddenly, fingers brushing along her sun-warmed cheek, the touch so light she barely felt it. “Don’t mistake me for something I’m not, Y/N.”

She swallowed, her heartbeat picking up at the shift in his voice. "And what are you?"

Harry’s thumb grazed over her bottom lip, his smirk returning—slower this time.

“Dangerous,” he murmured.

Y/N held his gaze, unblinking. Then, deliberately, she leaned into his touch just enough for him to notice.

She tilted her head. “And yet, here you are… rubbing sunscreen on your wife.”

Harry let out a quiet chuckle, dropping his hand as he leaned back once more. He picked up her drink, taking a sip before setting it back down beside her book.

“You should eat something,” he said, changing the subject effortlessly. “Before you get lightheaded.”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. “And you say you’re not soft.”

Harry didn’t reply. He only smirked, stood up, and walked back toward the villa, leaving Y/N watching him, her book long forgotten.