Fifty Shades of Grey paved the way, and now there's a new entertainment-inspired fan fiction that's not only hitting shelves as a bona fide novel but might also become a movie. After by Anna Todd began as One Direction fan fiction on Wattpad — an online community where writers post a chapter at a time — and 300 daily installments, three books, and one billion online reads later, it's becoming a revised and expanded book series, beginning with the first installment coming out in paperback on Oct. 21. Here's a little bit about the book:
"Tessa is a good girl with a sweet, reliable boyfriend back home. She's got direction, ambition, and a mother who's intent on keeping her that way. But she's barely moved into her freshman dorm when she runs into Hardin. With his tousled brown hair, cocky British accent, tattoos, and lip ring, Hardin is cute and different from what she's used to. But he's also rude — to the point of cruelty, even. For all his attitude, Tessa should hate Hardin . . . and she does — until she finds herself alone with him in his room. Something about his dark mood grabs her, and when they kiss it ignites within her a passion she's never known before."
Get a sneak peek inside the steamy new series with these two slightly NSFW excerpts below, and preorder it here!
Hardin's blazing eyes don't leave mine as I make my way to him. I prop my knee up on the bed and push myself onto it. At the same time, Hardin lifts himself up so his back is against the headboard and holds his hand out for mine. The second I place my small hand in his, he wraps his fingers around it and pulls me onto him. My knees go around his sides and I am straddling his lap. I've done this before with him, but never wearing so little clothing. I hold myself up using my knees so we aren't touching, but Hardin isn't having it. He positions his hands on my hips and gently pushes me down. His T-shirt bunches at my sides, baring my thighs completely, and I am suddenly glad that I shaved my legs this morning. The second our bodies touch my stomach begins to stir. I know this happiness that I feel isn't going to last, and feel like Cinderella, waiting for the clock to strike and end my blissful night.
"Much better," he says and gives me a crooked smile.
I know he's drunk and that's why he is being so nice — well, nice for him — but right now I will take it. If this is truly my last time around him, then this is how I want to spend it. I keep telling myself that. I can behave however I want tonight with Hardin because when the daylight comes, I am going to tell him never to come near me again, and he will oblige. It's for the best, and I know that is what he will want when he isn't intoxicated. In my defense, I am just as intoxicated by Hardin as he is by the bottle of scotch he consumed. I keep telling myself that, too.
As Hardin continues to stare into my eyes, I begin to feel nervous. What should I do next? I have no idea where he wants to take this and I don't want to make a fool out of myself by trying to do something first.
He seems to notice my uncomfortable expression.
"What's wrong?" he asks, and brings a hand to my face. His finger traces over my cheekbone and my eyes involuntarily closet his surprisingly gentle touch.
"Nothing . . . I just don't know what to do," I admit and look down.
"Do whatever you want to do, Tess. Don't overthink it."
I lean back a little to create about a foot of space between our torsos and bring my hand up to his bare chest. I look at him for permission and he nods. I press both hands against his chest softly and he closes his eyes. My fingers trace the birds on his chest and down to the dead tree on his stomach. His eyelashes flutter as I trace the scripture on his ribs. His expression is so calm, but his chest is moving up and down quicker than it was a few moments ago. I'm unable to control myself as I bring my hand down and run my index finger along the waistband of his boxers. His eyes shoot open and he looks nervous. Hardin, nervous?
"Can I . . . um . . . touch you?" I ask with the hope that he gets what I mean without me having to say it. I feel detached from myself. Who is this girl straddling this punk boy and asking to touch him . . . down there? I think back to what Hardin said earlier about me being my true self with him. Maybe he is right. I love the way I feel right now. I love the electricity shooting through my body when we're like this.
He nods. "Please."
My feet pad quietly across the soft grass until I'm only inches from Hardin. His hands immediately reach for the hem of the T‑shirt and he peels it upward off my body. The way he looks at me alone drives me crazy; my hormones are out of control. My pulse speeds up as he looks my body up and down one more time before taking my hand.
He spreads his shirt on the grass like a blanket of sorts. "Lie down," he says, guiding me to the ground with him. He lays me on the wet fabric and props himself up on his elbow, lying on his side, facing me on my back. No one has ever seen me this exposed before, and Hardin has seen so many girls, girls much better looking than me. My hands move up to cover my body, but Hardin sits up and grabs both of my wrists and pushes them down to my sides.
"Don't ever cover up, not for me," he says and looks into my eyes.
"It's just . . . " I begin to explain, but he cuts me off.
"No, you will not cover up, you have nothing to be ashamed of, Tess." Does he mean that? "I mean it, look at you," he continues, seeming to read my mind.
"You've been with so many girls," I blurt out, and he frowns.
"None like you." And I know I could take his answer many different ways, but I choose to let it go.
"Do you have a condom?" I ask him, trying to remember the few things I know about sex.
"A condom?" He chuckles. "I'm not going to have sex with you," he says and I begin to panic. Is this all a game to humiliate me?
"Oh," is all I say and begin to pull myself up. But he grabs my shoulders and gently pushes me back down. I'm sure I'm flush red, and I don't want to be exposed to his sarcastic eyes like this.
"Where are you going —" he starts, but then realization hits him. "Oh . . . No, Tess, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that you have never done anything . . . like at all, so I am not going to have sex with you." He stares at me for a moment. "Today," he adds, and I feel a little bit of the pressure in my chest dissolve.
"There are many other things I want to do to you first." He climbs on top of me, all of his weight supported on his hands. He is in a push-up position. His wet hair drips water droplets onto my face and I squirm.
"I can't believe no one has f*cked you before," he whispers and he shifts his body to lie on his side once again. He brings his hand to my neck and trails it down, touching me only with his fingertips, down the valley of my breasts, down my stomach until he stops just above my underwear. We are really doing this, me and Hardin. What is he going to do? Will it hurt? A hundred thoughts race through my mind but disappear as soon as his hand reaches into my panties. I hear him suck a breath through his teeth and he brings his mouth to mine.
His fingers move a little, and it shocks me.
"Does that feel good?" he asks into my mouth.
He's only rubbing me — how does it feel so good? I nod and he slows his fingers down.
"Does it feel better than when you do it?"
"Does it?" he asks again.
"Wh-what?" I manage, even though I have no control of my body or mind right now.
"When you touch yourself? Does it feel like this?"
I'm not sure what to say, and when I just stare at him, something behind his eyes snaps to. "Wait . . . you've never done that, either, have you?" His voice is full of surprise and something else . . . lust? He goes back to kissing me and his fingers keep moving up and down. "You're so responsive to me, so wet," he says and I moan. Why are these filthy words so hot when Hardin says them? I feel a gentle pinch and it sends a shock through my whole body.
"What? Was . . . that?" I half ask, half moan. He chuckles and doesn't answer, but I feel him do it again and my back arches off the grass. His mouth travels down to my neck, then my chest. His tongue dips down under the cup of my bra and his hand massages one of my breasts. I feel a pressure building in my stomach — and it is pure bliss. I pinch my eyes closed and bite down on my lip; my back lifts off the grass once again and my legs begin to shake.
"That's right, Tessa, come for me," he says, which makes me feel like I am spiraling out of control.