Chapter Thirteen.-2

He's a few steps away when I hear the unmistakable start to 'Pour Some Sugar On Me' by Def Leppard and my brows shoot up. I don't have a good feeling about this... Harry lowers his eyes at me with a mischievous slow smile pulling on his lips, and his hips start swaying to the tune of the song as he walks towards me. Well, prowls towards me, because he looks like a fucking tiger stalking it's food. He stops in front of me, but before I can ask what's going on here places his hands on my hips and pushes me backwards with his hold on them until I lose my footing and fall back into the chair. "Harry what the fuck are you-" My words die in my throat when he places a leg either side of mine, so my thighs are between his legs and he grins as he starts to slide his jacket off of his shoulders while he rolls his hips in tune with the music. My jaw damn near flies out the building it drops to fast. He is not doing what I think he's doing... Harry bites down on his lip, raising his brows at me while he slips his jacket down off of his arms to then only grasp it in one hand and lift it above his head and twirl it around like a bloody lasoo; then tossing at the empty table behind us. Oh god... Now people are staring. "Dance with me" he dares, giving me a warning look that says this is only going to get worse if I don't agree. I'm just staring at him frozen in shock, I can't even speak. Is this asshole really going try and give me a fucking lap dance to 80's glam metal? This is literally a stripper anthem and he's going to do this shit to me in public? "Dance with me, or get a show Drew - it's up to  you" he says, straddling my lap and placing his hands on my shoulders as he basically fucking dry humps me to the beat of the chorus while he leans backwards arching his back. He'd actually quite good at this and I do not want to know why. I have never in my entire life been as mortified as I am right now. Oh god now people have stopped dancing to watch - oh for fuck sake now they're cheering him on and whistling! Stop encouraging him! He suddenly shoots back up to stand, only to turn around and sit back in my lap with his back to my chest and rests the back of his head on my shoulder next to my face; grasping both my hands and runs them down his chest to his stomach, then slowly runs them down his spread thighs and back up again while he gyrates to the music. My face is on fire, I can literally feel it burning - but I have no idea what to fucking do, I'm just completely fucking paralysed with embarrassment. I'm having a stroke. I'm actually having a fucking stroke. My stomach is about to fall out of my ass, if it doesnt fly up out of my throat first and I'm still trying to register that this crazy son of a bitch is actually doing this. I think I'm going to faint from stress. It's only being made worse by the fact it's obvious he's loving absolutely every single second of this and has no shame whatsoever. Harry pushes himself back up to stand, with my thighs between his legs and his crotch at my chest level continuing his Magic Mike moment. I was correct. I am actually in hell. I glance to the bar to see even the bar staff are clapping and cheering him on, and I officially pray for a sudden brain hemorrhage. I smack my hands to my cheeks, trying to cover how red as a beetroot I am, wishing I could shrink back and disappear. Harry hasn't taken his eyes off me, when he's been facing me they've been locked on my face the entire time and I'm awful at eye contact at the best of times so this is absolute torture. There's no where to look, if I look up it's his eyes, if I look straight ahead or down all I see is his damn hips or crotch swaying way too close to my face for my liking. Please god make it stop. Harry cocks a brow at me before biting down on his lower lip, rolling his body to the music and slides his large hands slowly down the front of his torso all the way to the hem of his shirt and starts to lift it up. I see his defined carved hips start to expose themselves with that damn snail trail making a path into his pants and as his shirt goes higher his stomach muscles tense and contract with the movements of his pelvis. He gets the shirt up to his chest, exposing all the tattoos on his lean torso and he smiles at me "Pants are next after the shirt Drew, and I'm not wearing underwear" I smack my hands over my face, and shout "Fine! Fine! I'll fucking dance with you, you smirky psycho - just keep your clothes on for the love of god!" Harry pauses with a triumphant grin, dropping the material of his shirt down and you can hear the audible devastated 'awe' from the people watching. He leans down and grasps my wrists to pull them away from my face, looking smug as ever "I don't know if I should be insulted or not that you're so against seeing me naked" "I'd rather cut my leg off and beat myself to death with it" I throw back, wishing I had way more alcohol in my system so I wouldn't remember this. I'm definitely past tipsy now thanks to those shots, which I'm thanking god for because if I wasn't partially drunk I don't think I would have survived that stunt he just pulled. Harry pulls a feigned hurt expression like I just punched him in the stomach "Oooo, ouch. My poor ego" I lift my brows, with a sarcastic squint "I'm sure your ego will be just fine with how big it is, I'm shocked you were able to fit it through the front door" He presses his lips together trying to hide his smile at my insults, looking nothing but entertained by them. His hands slide from my wrists to take hold of my hands, and he stands up straight pulling me with him so I stand to my feet. "C'mon, you wanted to dance, so let's go" he says with a coy tilt of his head.