AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, babies! xoxo

TWITTER: @styles_orama

SHERRY:

It's exciting to feel both arms on me fully since the cast just came off, and he easily pulls me in with hungry eyes. "I don't know which I want to nibble on first. Your yogurt, or those braless tits in that lousy excuse for a t-shirt."

"Eh, I figured a little pre-surgery entertainment might be in order?" I whisper against his ear with my cold yogurt lips.

Harry nuzzles his nose into my neck, slides his hand beneath the flimsy fabric of my t-shirt, his fingers trail across my stomach headed toward nipples that are already hardened and visible through the threadbare cotton fabric.

"Close the door and throw the key." Harry whispers, the corners of his mouth turning up into an easy smile, his hand reaching to swat my ass as I walk away.

HARRY

She takes her own sweet time crossing the room to close the door, and I'm pretty sure she's swaying that ass more than usual. Yep, the smirk on her face during the return walk reveals her playful intent. I tug on my bottom lip as my eyes dart back and forth between her beautiful face and the decadent sway of her tits beneath her tattered t-shirt. She tugs on the hem, and the motion shifts the fabric just enough so a hardened nipple is exposed through one of the holes. She's almost to the bed, when an idea crosses my mind from about nine and a half weeks ago.

"Bring your yogurt."

"Tsk, tsk. Such a greedy boy," Sherry chastises, scooping up her yogurt cup before taking a seat in my bed. I love the sound of that. In my bed.

My hands slide around her waist, but she makes no effort to close the gap between us, instead focusing on helping herself to another bite of her mango dessert.

Fuck this shit. "Kiss me," I demand.

She laughs as I gather fist fulls of t-shirt in my hand and use it to pull her to me, then gasps as my warm lips cover her cold ones, savoring the sweetness of fruit flavor on her lips. Her mouth opens eagerly, and I distract her with a skilled tongue while I slip the yogurt cup from her hand in one smooth, sneaky motion and place it on the opposite side of the bed. She's clueless.

She does this thing where she sucks on my tongue and it drives me wild, cause I expect soon she'll be using that same technique on my cock. Her hands travel around my neck and wander through my hair, tugging at it on occasion if I get too nippy with my lip biting. My fingers find the hem of her tee and venture beneath it, flitting butterfly-like over the soft flesh of her stomach. She whimpers when I reach upward and take a strong hold of her tits as if I own them. As far as I'm concerned, I do.

Tweaking her nipples not-so gently, I pull back and look at her lips – swollen and red from my aggression. I yank on her tee and she opens her eyes.

"Your shirt," I lift the fabric. "Take it off."

A light huff falls from her lips, "Harry – what if someone comes in?" She asks the question, yet there's a flick of light in her eyes that reveals she may very well be interested.

"So what if they do? It's a hospital, for fuck's sake." I'm not sure where this dominance is coming from, but for the first time since our phone-sex escapade, I'm actually feeling my cock stir.

With a wink, her arms are in the air. I pull the shirt over her head and drop my gaze to her tits; Sherry responds with a shy smile. I reach blindly to my hip and grab her cup of yogurt, spooning a heap of it into my mouth.

"Is this an elaborate ploy to pinch my yogurt? Unbelievable!" As soon as the words tumble from her lips, she realizes she's misspoken.

Swallowing the yogurt, I pull her to me, and swirl my cold tongue around the warm hardness of her nipple.

"Oh, fuck," she shivers and sighs. As the goosebumps rise on her flesh, I close my lips around her nipple and give it a hard suck, followed by a bite. I move quickly to give her other nipple the same treatment as her arms encircle my head and she presses her tits into my face. After a couple rounds, I pull away, and she pouts until she sees the yogurt cup in my hand once again.

This time, I place a spoonful of the mango goodness directly on each nipple, then bow my head to lick it up as it starts to liquefy soon after coming in contact with her warm flesh. She calls out my name as I clean her wet and sticky tits with my tongue. I imagine doing the same to her pussy, but this isn't the place for that.

"Harry . . . kiss me. Please." Sherry writhes and I toss the yogurt to the side somewhere and draw her lips between mine to nibble, before forcing them open with my tongue and penetrating the warmth of her mouth again and again.

Her hands travel down my chest to my stomach, and before I know it, she's at the waistband of my boxers and has discovered my sizeable boner. I'm beside myself with excitement because the thought of her hand (or mouth, or pussy) on my cock has been on my mind with some regularity.

I break our kiss and nuzzle her neck, as her hand slowly strokes my cock through the fabric of my underwear. "Oh, fuck. Sherry . . ."

She murmurs into my hair, "Does that feel good, baby?"

"Uh-huh," I manage to push out between breaths. I'm so eager, and so nervous, and so fucking hard beneath her palm – and then – I'm not.

My erection melts away like a snowflake on a warm tongue. It happens in the two seconds it takes her to get her hand inside my shorts, and by the time I'm fully aware of what's happened, I'm too late to stop her from touching my now flaccid penis.

"Sherry, don't –" I start, but it's too late. I'm useless and she knows it. She knows it.

My face is still buried in her neck, and although I want to pull away and scream for her to get out of my room, I don't want her to see my face. Not until I can make sure these tears aren't going to spill over.

"Harry? Baby?" She strokes my hair, kissing it, my ear too. I lie still and quiet, not giving her access to any other areas that might betray me. I'm supposed to be getting better, right?

She tries again. "Harry – my boobs are getting cold. So you either need to cuddle them or hand me my t-shirt." I hear optimism in her voice, even though she hasn't addressed the issue at hand. She's trying to lighten the mood, God bless her.

I pull back, scanning the covers for her shirt. "There it is." I gesture with a sniffle.

She reaches for it, drags it into her lap, but doesn't put it on yet. Her hands find my cheeks, tilting my head to hers, but I keep my eyes closed. She kisses my eyelids, then my lips. Her mouth moves softly over mine; I try to ignore her and remain still, but I cannot.

I want to tell her I love her, but I can't. Not like this. Not if I'm broken. She deserves better than this. As my tongue parts her lips, the tears slip from the corners of my eyes, wetting both my cheeks and hers.