Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Come to Play	By : gee25 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 120 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: AI-Generated story. I do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter List
- 1-Relaxation
- 2-Goodness
- 3-Pleasant
- 4-Compulsion
- 5-Absolutely
- 6-James
- 7-Fade
- 8-Yours
- 9-Come
- 10-Relentless
- 11-Mirror
- 12-Pink
- 13-Date
- 14-Patience
- 15-Perfect
- 16-Belong
- 17-Gift
- 18-Magic
- 19-Everywhere
- 20-Shatter
- 15
- 16
- 17
He didn’t hesitate. He moved, a smooth glide forward on his knees, his hands settling on her thighs to part them even wider. His breath, still ragged from his own release, washed hot over her wet folds. He looked up at her, his green eyes dark with hunger, his lips swollen from her mouth.
“You look so beautiful like this, my good boy,” Hermione sighed, her head falling back against the chair. Her hands came up to cup her own breasts through her blouse, pinching her nipples.
Her words hit him like a physical caress. She felt him quiver, a fine tremor running through the hands on her thighs. Then he doubled his efforts, burying his face between her legs with a desperate, worshipping intensity.
His tongue was flat and broad, lapping through her slit, gathering her wetness. He moaned against her, the vibration making her hips jerk. “You taste so fucking good, Mistress,” he growled, his voice muffled by her flesh. “You taste like heaven and power and I want to drown in it.”
He licked her, long, slow strokes from her entrance all the way up to her clit. He circled that swollen bud with the very tip of his tongue, teasing, never quite giving her the pressure she craved.
“More,” she demanded, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Stop teasing. Fuck me with your tongue, Harry. Do it properly.”
A shudder of pure obedience went through him. He nodded against her, his nose nudging her clit. Then he pushed his tongue inside her.
Oh, god.
It was a slow, deliberate invasion. His tongue was thick and strong, and he fucked it into her, mimicking the thrust of a cock. In, out. In, out. The wet, slick sounds filled the quiet room. He curled his tongue inside her, searching, and found a spot that made her see stars.
“There! Right there, don’t stop!” she cried out, her back arching off the chair.
He obeyed, focusing his efforts, his tongue working that perfect, magical spot with relentless precision. One of his hands left her thigh. She felt his fingers, slick with her own arousal, slide down to circle her entrance alongside his driving tongue. One finger pushed in, joining the rhythm.
“I’m fucking you with my tongue,” he panted, lifting his head for just a second to speak, his chin glistening. “I’m fucking you with my finger. I can feel how tight you are. How you’re clenching around me. You’re sucking my tongue deeper.”
He plunged back in, his mouth sealed over her, sucking her clit into the heat of his mouth as his tongue and finger worked in tandem. The dual sensation was overwhelming. The rough-soft texture of his tongue inside her, the firm pressure of his finger, the insistent pull of his lips on her most sensitive nerve—it was a symphony of filthy, perfect pleasure.
Hermione moaned, long and loud, her hips rocking against his face. “I feel like I can make you into anything,” she gasped, the words tumbling out in time with his thrusts. “I can do anything I want you to… and you will thank me for it.”
He kept licking, fucking her with his mouth, but he hummed in deep, resonant agreement. The vibration shot straight through her core, making her toes curl. She felt it between her hips, a direct, electric connection to the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.
“Yes,” she hissed. “Yes. You are thanking me. With every lick. With every moan.” She guided his head, holding him to her. “I can take you deeper, Harry. I can make you realize everything you can be as my slave. I want you to be the best lover you can be to me. The most devoted. The most skilled. I want you to know my body better than you know your own magic.”
He whined, a high, needy sound, and his free hand came up to grip her hip, holding her steady as he ate her with a fervor that bordered on frantic. His finger curled again, and he added a second, stretching her beautifully. He was scissoring them, opening her up, and then his tongue was back, licking over her stretched entrance before plunging in again alongside his fingers.
“Tell me what you’re doing,” she commanded, her voice shaking.
“I’m… I’m opening your pussy with my fingers,” he groaned against her, his words hot and wet. “I’m stretching you. I can feel every ridge, every fold. You’re so soft inside. So hot. My tongue is right here, licking beside my fingers. I’m tasting how wet you are for me. I’m fucking you with three parts of me now. My tongue. My two fingers. I want to make you come so hard you forget your own name.”
“Make me,” she begged, abandoning all pretense of control. “Make your Mistress come.”
That was all he needed. His movements became ruthless, focused. His mouth locked onto her clit, sucking hard, applying a steady, rhythmic pressure. His fingers fucked into her, deep and fast, his palm slapping against her soaked flesh with each thrust. His tongue danced around her entrance, teasing, licking, driving her insane.
The orgasm built, a tsunami gathering force. It wasn’t a wave; it was a continent shifting. Her whole body tightened, every muscle straining. She was panting, gasping, her fingers clawing at the chair arms.
“Harry… fuck… I’m going to…”
He redoubled his efforts, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration, utterly devoted to his task.
It broke. It shattered her.
A raw, screaming cry tore from her throat as the pleasure exploded. It ripped through her in violent, pulsing waves, centered on his mouth and his fingers. She bucked against his face, her hips lifting off the chair, but he held her down, drinking her in, lapping at her as she convulsed. The sensations were endless—the flick of his tongue on her oversensitive clit, the firm, full feeling of his fingers inside her, the hot rush of her own release. She sobbed his name, a broken litany, as the world dissolved into white-hot ecstasy.
Slowly, gradually, the tremors subsided. Her body went boneless, sinking back into the chair, spent and trembling. He gentled his mouth, licking her softly, cleaning her with tender, worshipful strokes until even that gentle touch became too much.
“Enough,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.
He immediately stilled, pulling his mouth and fingers from her with a soft, wet sound. He rested his forehead against her inner thigh, his breathing as ragged as hers. He was covered in her—his chin, his lips, his fingers glistening.
“Look at me.”
He lifted his head. His face was a beautiful, debauched mess. His eyes were hazy with satisfaction and devotion.
Hermione reached down, her own hand trembling slightly, and cupped his cheek. She swiped her thumb over his slick lower lip. “You did so well,” she murmured. “You made me feel incredible.”
He turned his head, pressing a kiss into her palm. “Thank you, Mistress.”
She smiled, a slow, deep curl of her lips. The power she felt was dizzying, intoxicating. He was here, on his knees, covered in the evidence of her pleasure, thanking her for the privilege.
“Stand up,” she said softly.
He rose, his body towering over her where she sat. His cock, which had softened after his earlier orgasm, was already filling again, thickening against his thigh. The sight sent a fresh, hungry pulse through her own spent body.
“You’re not finished,” she said, her eyes trailing over him with a mixture of possessiveness and desire. “I’m not finished with you.” She nodded towards the open space of the rug before the fireplace, the flickering flames casting a warm glow over their entangled bodies. “On your back. Now. I want to ride that cock. I want to feel you deep inside me while I look into your eyes and see exactly who you belong to.”
Hermione’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but it carried an authority that made Harry’s breath hitch. He hesitated for just a moment, his green eyes wide, before he slowly lowered himself onto the plush rug. The shift in position exposed more of his body to her gaze—his chest rising and falling with each breath, his cock already half-hard from the anticipation of what was to come.
She stepped forward, her movements deliberate, and knelt over him. Her hands found his chest, her fingers splaying out over his skin. She felt the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palm. “You belong to me,” she said, her voice firm but not unkind. “And tonight, you’re going to show me just how much.”
Harry’s lips parted, but no sound came out. His chest heaved as he sucked in a sharp breath, his hands trembling at his sides. He didn’t move to touch her, didn’t dare yet. He simply watched her, waiting for her next command.
She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered. “I want to feel every inch of you,” she murmured, her voice a mix of tenderness and dominance. “I want you to surrender completely to me. To let me take control. To let me own you.”
A shiver ran through him, and he nodded ever so slightly, his eyes never leaving hers. He was ready, willing, and desperate to give her what she wanted.
Hermione’s nails dragged lightly down his chest, leaving faint red trails in their wake. Her touch was electrifying, pulling a soft groan from his throat. She dipped her head lower, her mouth hovering just above where his neck met his shoulder, and pressed a gentle kiss there. “You’re going to give yourself to me,” she said, her words a promise. “Tonight, you’re mine.”
He inhaled sharply at her words, his body responding to her command even before she fully issued it. His hips shifted beneath her, his cock twitching as it hardened further under her gaze.
“Yes,” he breathed, the word barely audible. It was all he needed to say. It was enough to tell her that he was hers, completely and unequivocally.
Hermione smiled at his submission, a curl of her lips that spoke of both satisfaction and hunger. She moved over him with deliberate slowness, letting her body hover just above his. Her hips settled against his thighs, her heat radiating into him even through their clothes. Her hands continued their exploration of his chest, mapping every dip and curve as though she could memorize him by touch alone.
“You’re so perfect,” she murmured, her voice dropping lower. “Every part of you,” she said, her hand drifting lower to brush against the hardness between his legs. “But this—this is mine to take.”
He gasped at her touch, his hips jerking up into her hand as though seeking more friction. It was all the invitation she needed.
Her fingers wrapped around him, her grip firm and unyielding. She stroked him slowly, feeling him thicken in her hand with each pass of her fingers. His breathing grew ragged, but he didn’t try to stop her. He was giving himself over entirely.
“Good boy,” she said, the words full of praise and possession. She leaned over him once more, her lips brushing against his ear again. “Now,” she whispered, “let me show you just how much you belong to me.”
She shifted over him, her body aligning perfectly with his as she guided him inside her. A sharp inhale was all the response she needed before she took control completely.
- 15
- 16
- 17
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Come to Play