Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Quartet	By : OracleObscured Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 128263 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 11
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters/things/places created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money from my fan-fiction.

Chapter List
- 21
- 22
- 23
A/N: My attempts to get this chapter out faster than usual were completely unsuccessful. I’ve been really tired lately and my brain isn’t firing on all cylinders. Hopefully there will be some chapters soon that I don’t have to rewrite, and I’ll be able to get ahead. (My notes tell me such chapters are soon approaching, but I don’t trust my previous interpretations about what’s “fine” since I’ve had to overhaul every single chapter from the start.) Hope you all are having a good Easter/spring break, and as always, I greatly appreciate all the reviews. Happy Reading :)
DS: Chapter 20--"I must admit I struggle with the submissive animal behaviours. I can’t quite conjure up the mindset for that. But Draco was similarly unsure of how to take it so I don’t feel like I’m alone ;)"
--I might be exploring this later.
Chapter21--"I keep wondering if Hermione will feel guilty for making all three hopeful that she will be theirs"-- *innocently smiles and looks away* That might be coming up soon.
"*snort* have you ever thought about dress robes?"--Yes. But the closest approximation I've come across in real life is choir robes, and somehow even someone with an ample rack such as myself looks almost boobless in choir robes (so I assumed wizard robes would be of a similar disadvantage).
"is this someone we know? Was he orange?"--Bahahaha! Nope, in my head he was more a John Cleese sort of fellow.
Snape is the coming chapter (and I don't know if that's going to clear up any of her choice confusion). Hope you enjoy :)
Lissa: Oh, you just caught me in time, you tricky devil. I was about to post this when I got your review. :) The dialogue in the last chapter seemed to be a favorite among the readers, and I’m glad everyone enjoyed the interaction. I agree with your comment about your “heart hurting for that blasted man.” He’s a conundrum—a little despicable but with enough good qualities to make you care. He has a ways to go in this story.
“The story is building and the crecendo is going to be either cataclysmic and stunning beyond belief - as I realize that's the only way you write.”—Hahahaha! I never thought of that, but it does sound like me. I wonder what that says about me psychologically. Your final comment was particularly excellent, and I can’t wait for you to see where the story goes. :)
22—Modulation
“I want to lay you down in a bed of roses.”—Bon Jovi
(Lucius) 
The elevator was paneled in dark wood, lit only by the glowing gold ceiling above their heads. Their lift-mates were a laughing bunch, two young couples—even younger than Granger. Lucius felt old despite the surreptitious glances from the female passengers. Age hadn’t dulled his appeal, but he no longer found the attention gratifying. There had been a time when he and Narcissa had engaged in a friendly duel of desirability when they went out for a night on the town. Whoever drew the most side-long glances was declared the winner—same sex stares were worth bonus points. It turned Lucius on to see men lusting after his wife, those sad saps just wishing they could get a taste of such beauty. Afterward, he'd be so pent up he could barely keep his hands off her, the need to prove how much he adored her too great to resist.
But now he just wanted to get Granger up to the room where it was quiet and they could be alone. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, ignoring the eyeballing from the looky-loos. It wasn’t clear if the steep age difference was the cause of their staring or if these strangers were thinking something less kind. They were an odd pair, and he could see why someone might think they didn’t belong together: he was handsome and polished, his wardrobe tailor-made, not a hair out of place; Granger was more bohemian librarian, her hair a bit wild even when pulled back, her dress robes flattering but inexpensive, and she projected a baffling aura of prissy fussiness mixed with animalistic sensuality, as if there was a sexual beast just lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
And while she was pretty witch, he wouldn’t describe her as striking. She didn’t have Narcissa’s cool elegance or smooth grace. But for some reason, Lucius could swear Hermione was a little more lovely each time he saw her. Perhaps good sex brought out her inner light. She had an untamed allure about her, tempestuous and primal. He didn’t want to tame her though . . . he wanted to feel her claws in his back. An icy finger of adrenaline ran up the underside of his balls, freezing him in place for several delicious moments.
The lift stopped at the twentieth floor, and their tipsy companions departed, leaving the air silent and still. As soon as the doors slid closed, he turned to her, his body hungry for her warmth. Their dinner conversation had left him feeling strangely light, but also unbalanced. Disoriented. It was difficult for him to discuss anything of a personal nature, and he found her ability to see through his carefully constructed facade disconcerting. He was grateful for her unyielding empathy, but that didn’t make confessing any easier. He needed to buffer the sharp edges she’d uncovered during dinner with the solid assurance of her touch, the soothing relief of her body wrapping around his.
But first . . . a kiss.
Hermione would be the only woman he’d kissed since Narcissa. Although Severus provided the sexual snogging Lucius needed to stay sane, lip-locking with the Potions master in the heat of the moment didn’t compare to the soft give and take of a receptive witch. He hoped Narcissa would approve of his decision. Her deathbed demand that he move on after she was gone eased his mind somewhat, but he was still hesitant to leave behind all those years of commitment and adoration. It wasn’t that he felt as if he was cheating on his wife, it was more that he was saddened by the thought of closing the book on such a huge part of his life.
But if he was blunt with himself, wallowing in his own loneliness wasn’t doing him any favors. The aching in his gut wasn’t all mourning. Some of it was longing. Longing to begin again. Longing for something meaningful. He missed sharing life’s ups and downs with someone who understood him.
And Hermione, despite her condemnation of his past, did seem to understand him. There was something special between them, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Even if they weren’t such an explosive match in bed, which they were, he’d still be interested in spending time with her: sharing an evening at the theatre, taking her out dancing, touring the local galleries. She was a beguiling girl.
But denying the physical chemistry they shared would be a slap in face of sensuality. Just the touch of her hand set his loins on fire. He wanted to taste every inch of her, to possess her body in the most intimate ways imaginable . . . and that succulent mouth was the gateway to her soul.
He’d been contemplating the magic of her lips since the first night in the library; they were soft and strong—much like the woman in question. And the most provoking words came from that perfect mouth, words that could hurt and heal all in the same breath. He was both terrified and desperate to hear her speak again. She might condemn his callousness, but garnering her praise was just as likely. Such risk, but such high rewards.
Placing his fingers on the petal soft skin of her cheek, he turned her face up to his and looked into her eyes. It was like being lost in the woods—deep hints of light dappled the oak and rosewood forest of her irises, sun-flecked shards of glimmering gold flashing from the bottomless brown depths, hypnotizing him with possibility.
She didn’t flinch or pull away, and when he leaned closer, his nose brushing hers, her lips parted ever so slightly, and the diameter of her pupils doubled in size. That was an invitation if ever he saw one. Touching his mouth to hers, Lucius sank into the downy welcome of her upper lip, mapping its hills and dales with testing kisses. Her hand found his chest, and she snagged the front of his robes to pull him closer. Lucius smiled and moved down to her lower lip, taking his time and sampling its juicy bounty.
The softest of sighs ghosted over his mouth, and Lucius slid his fingers into the wispy hair at the nape of her neck. When her head was cradled in his hands, she moaned and, with no warning, swiped her tongue along the seam of his lips as if she were delicately licking an envelope. Growling low in his throat, Lucius countered her brazen teasing by sneaking inside and seeking out that devilish little instigator.
Granger whimpered and gripped his robes tighter, her body melting against his. Lucius had to concur. His mind was blown, drunk on the mesmeric swirl of her tongue; and his body had gone completely haywire, unable to decide between teeth-chattering chills of excitement or the stomach-flipping heat of contentment. 
The door dinged and slid open, startling them from their snogging. Lucius pulled back, and her dilated eyes met his with such a scorching intensity that his heart stopped for a second before restarting at a frantic sprint. Cupping the side of her face, he caught his breath and kissed her forehead.  “I have so much in store for you tonight. Is my cum queen ready to rule?”
Her exhale rattled loose, and he felt its stuttery draught skim his chin and slip down his collar. “Yes, sir.”
He smirked. She’d forgotten to call him Lucius again, but he liked this sexually dazed side of her that was hungry for ravishment. “Then let’s get you out of those pretty robes. I’ve been imagining you naked all night.”
“That’s fair . . . considering I’ve been imagining your face between my thighs since I saw you on my doorstep.”
Lucius chuckled and took her hand, escorting her from the lift. “A woman after my own heart. I hope you like the room. I didn’t know if you’d ever been to Paris before, and I wanted you to have a good view.”
They walked to the end of the hall, and Lucius pulled out the key he’d gotten from Alphonse. The brass had only one tooth, but that was just for show; the locks didn’t function with tumblers. The key knew the password to break the wards and would only whisper it to the door when inserted in the lock. Lucius wondered if Granger’s pussy worked with similar magic. Would the correct whispered phrase open the vaginal floodgates?
Turning the knob, he opened the door and ushered her inside. The room had been prepared per his instructions, and a multitude of candles made the walls flicker and glow with dancing light.
Hermione froze when she saw the floor-to-ceiling windows, their reflective surface doubling the size of the room and bombarding her with both the grandeur of the accommodations and the vast expanse of the city. Moving into the center of the floor, she spun in a slow circle, taking in the surroundings with stark wonder. “Lucius, this is . . .”
Lavish. Staging has always been one of his greatest strengths, and he intended to make a good impression. The bed was huge. Not as big as his bed at home, but more than enough. Red rose petals had been strewn over the plush white comforter, and they stood out in sharp contrast, like crimson leaves on new-fallen snow.
Lucius slipped off his robes and laid them across the plush armchair to his right then slowly approached her, smiling slyly as he began to unbutton his waistcoat. When he was directly in front of her, he snaked one hand around to her lower back and pulled her against his body. “A room fit for a queen.”
“This is beautiful, Lucius. Did you have all this set up?”
He nodded and caressed the curve of her waist. “Of course.”
“You didn’t have to do all this,” she said, absently gesturing with one hand, but not taking her eyes off his. “I don’t need suites and rose petals—I was ready to shag you in the lift.”
He laughed and bent down to touch his lips to hers. “I don’t shag in lifts. The setting must measure up to my exacting specifications. And I know you don’t need this, but . . . I prefer to surround myself with beauty. It’s the same reason I don't eat off paper plates. Presentation makes for more pleasure.”
Her hand ran up the front of his dress shirt, and she traced one button with the edge of her nail. “I see what you mean.”
Spanning both hands over her lower back, he drew her hips to his, making sure she felt the stiff weight of his growing arousal. “Tell me what you want tonight,” he whispered. “What has my naughty little masturbating spy been thinking about this week?”
Her cheeks pinked, and she panted against his lips, her breath warm and sweet like chocolate covered oranges. “I’ve been thinking about how you fucked me on the patio.”
“Have you?” he purred with a grin. “What excited you most?”
While she debated her answer, he started on dessert, nuzzling his nose along the side of her cheek, inhaling her scent as he traversed the line of her jaw. She smelled vaguely of brown sugar, and his mouth began to water as if he were starving. His tongue flickered out, circling her earring and then dipping down to the sultry stretch of her neck.
“Um . . . I guess . . . the way you fucked me against the wall . . . and being—ah!—outside.”
Each word buzzed against his lips, and that nip had earned him a knee-quaking shudder. “Even though we were alone, you thought you might be seen out there, didn’t you?”
Clutching his shoulder, she whimpered. “Yes.”
Lucius knew exactly what that meant. “Then I think it’s time for you to go look out the window.”
“What?” she asked, completely baffled. “Look at what out the window?”
“I assume the city,” he replied and, grabbing her by the hips, spun her around for a little sightseeing. When he had her standing before the plate glass window, Lucius wrapped one arm around her waist and studied the twinkling lights over her shoulder. “Lovely, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Her hand slithered back between them in search of his crotch.
Catching her by the wrist, he gently wrestled her hand away from his trousers and pinned it to her front. His mouth brushed the edge of her ear, and he kissed the soft skin of her temple. “I know what would make the view even lovelier.”
She moaned and leaned into him, her bum grinding along his length. Soon, little princess. All in good time. With one hand, he unzipped her robes and drew down the top until it fell to the floor. He watched in the window as her mouth fell open in a silent gasp. She was the epitome of passion; the anticipation smoldered in her eyes like lit coals. As lightly as possible, Lucius trailed his fingers over her naked stomach and ventured south to the brunette V between her legs. She’d forgone knickers yet again, and while he applauded the easy access, he missed the fun of panty removal.
He’d rectify that in the future.
“Now the whole city can see how lovely you are,” he whispered in her ear. “Step closer to the window and spread your legs.”
“What if someone sees?”
“Then they’ll send you fan mail. Feet apart.”
She stepped out of her dress, and Lucius knelt down to pick it up for her, tossing it into the chair with his own robes. With a breezy twist, their clothing settled together, interlocked, foreshadowing what was to come.
His hand followed the curve of her hip as he rose, and when he reached her waist, he detoured around to the front to finger the breadth of her rib cage . . . tickling the groove that divided torso from breast. His other hand traveled the line of her spine, slipping beneath the catch of her bra. He had it open quickly, no magic required, and with his other hand, he drew it low, until the straps tumbled down her arms.
She let him pull it off, and he got a glimpse of her pert nipples speckled in the twinkling lights of Paris; but before he had time to really appreciate the spectacular lighting effects, she covered her chest with one arm as if she were embarrassed.
Oh, he couldn’t have that.
“Hands on the window,” he rumbled. “Keep them there.”
There was only a slight hesitation, but then she flattened her palms to the glass as if begging him to frisk her. Lucius bit his lips to keep from laughing, but his wayward libido insisted he pat her down for contraband. A cavity search might be required. Perhaps later. His lips had other ideas. As he mouthed the slope of her neck, his eyes slid to their reflection, which provided the most tantalizing portrait: her heaving chest, the suggestive arch of her back, those blasted black silk stockings.
Stifling his grunt of appreciation, he pulled away, reluctantly releasing her body.
She whimpered at the departure, but when she saw him unbuttoning his shirt in the window’s reflection, she went silent, her posture perking like a kitten who’d just spotted a mouse. Her eyes darted up and down, unable to decide which was more interesting, his face or hands. When he went for his belt, she whipped her head around to get a proper look over her shoulder.
“Uh, uh,” he chided. “No peeking. Eyes on the city.”
Hermione smiled and turned back to the window, not seeing the city at all. Lucius removed his waistcoat and shirt then sat down to take off his shoes and socks. He watched her from the corner of his eye. She was getting anxious, her hips rolling in anticipation, her pussy blindly searching for release. Just give me a second, love. I’ve got what you need right here. When he stood and began to unzip his trousers, her hips stilled—her focus keen. She was only getting glimpses in the low light of the candles, but she stared with the intensity of a stalker.
Malfoy stepped out of his trousers and casually took his place behind her, skimming his fingers over her naked buttocks. She pushed out her arse and met his eyes in the window’. 
“Are you wet for me, Miss Granger?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
“Let’s show Paris just how much.” He smoothed both palms down her flanks then, on the way up, dipped around to her curly thicket and carded his fingers through her fur, cupping her mound. Her hips thrust forward, trying to force the contact, and his middle finger grazed her slit. She wasn’t lying. She was wetter than the Medici Fountain. Using two slick fingers, Lucius spread her open. “Look at that sparkle.”
Hermione whimpered and writhed, no more articulate than a mime—yet her body made her desires perfectly clear.
“You must really love duck,” he teased, running his middle finger along her shining seam. “Or do you love showing the entire city how wet I can make you?”
“The duck was pretty good,” she muttered cheekily.
Lucius chuckled and nipped the back of her neck. So she wanted to play. Well . . . let the games begin. “Is that window cold?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. You’re getting overheated.” Using the weight of his body, he pressed her to the glass, and she gasped at the sudden temperature change. His finger continued to circle her clit, but it had become less teasing and more predatory.
“Isn’t that better?” he crooned. His forearm was pinned in front of her, but he found the cold bracing rather than shocking. The rest of her was still as hot as a bubbling cauldron, and he snuggled his semi-erect prick between her warm cheeks. “Are those nipples nice and hard? I didn’t get any dessert, and I’m ever so hungry.”
“Yes, sir!”
He grinned and increased the pressure of his fingertip. Her nub was stiff and distended, ready to explode. “I like this look on you. Stockings and heels. You should have just worn this to dinner. The service would have been record-breaking.”
She sputtered out a laugh. “I think Henri would have preferred to see you in the buff.”
“Possibly. But I know Paris prefers your dripping cunt over my throbbing cock. Let’s see if it’s ready for the spotlight yet.”
One finger slipped inside, and she shuddered in his arms, her groan echoing off the glass, “Mmm-m-m!”
“Yes, you are ready. Listen to that. It sounds as if you’re dying for the show to begin. Is this what you need?” He ground his erection into her rump.
“Yes, sir,” she whined, and her hand smacked the glass in a fit of frustration.
“Beg me. I need to make sure you really want it.”
“Oh gods,” she muttered, obviously unprepared to take over the dirty talk. “Um . . . please . . . give me your cock, sir. I need it so much. Please fuck me.”
“That’s it. My dirty little Gryffindor. You love being bad, don’t you?”
It wasn’t really a question, but she answered quickly, “I like being dirty for you, sir, but I don’t like being bad.”
He managed to stifle his snort just in time. The consummate good girl couldn’t bear to be bad. “I understand. In that case, are you ready to be my sweet little princess?”
Her breathing became erratic, steaming the window with each exhalation. “Yes, sir!”
Ah! He’d discovered at least one key to unlock her cunny combination. And he hadn’t even been trying—what luck. “Up on your tiptoes,” he purred, bending his knees to get a better angle. “Arch your back; show me that pussy.”
She complied immediately, and Lucius used two fingers to find the silky hollow of her entrance. Grabbing his dick, he followed his guiding fingers and slipped in the tip. The angle was odd due to her height, but his knob was perfectly positioned to pound her g-spot. Arching her back, she opened herself to him, and he slid in, smooth as butter. Firmly aligned with the track of her channel, he drew his wet fingers out of the way and, as he departed, trailed along the shadowed valley bisecting her bum.
Her entire body convulsed. “Oh gods!”
Well, wasn’t that interesting? He did it again, lingering on her twitching rosebud, watching her reaction closely. Her spine contorted as if she were auditioning for the sexual circus, and her thighs began to quiver.
A slow smile spread across his face. “Is that what you like?”
“Yes,” she breathed.
Lucius continued to gently fuck her as he traced the crinoline pleats of her pucker with one finger. “Is this how you touch yourself when you’re alone?”
“Yes, sir.” She sounded braver now.
“Have you had your naughty little fingers in here?”
“Yes, sir.”
Bloody hell. They’d found a keeper. Snape was going to flip when he found out. Putting a modicum of pressure right at the center of her swirl, he asked in his silkiest drawl, “Would you like me to do the honors tonight?”
“Fuck! Yes, sir. Please. I’m gonna come.”
“Yes, I can tell,” he commented blithely. Lucius brought his middle finger to his lips and lubed it thoroughly in his mouth then smeared it across her anal opening. As he wiggled the digit into her arse, his cock twitched with envy; that eager ring of muscle gave new meaning to the phrase “vice-like.”
She relaxed, and his finger disappeared to the knuckle. The steady in and out of his thrusting could be felt through the thin wall, and he teased himself for a moment, catching the crest of his glans for a little extra friction. When he went a fraction of an inch deeper, she shouted and began to treble so violently he was afraid she was going to collapse.
“Oh God, Lucius! I’m gonna come . . . right now.”
True to her word, her passages seized, her internal muscles grasping at both digit and dick. Satin liquid poured from her folds in a frenzied stream, and he groaned as his balls and thighs were spattered with the overflow.
“Ahhhhhhhhh!” Her hands scrabbled at the glass, searching for purchase as she spasmed with pleasure. “Ah! Uhhhh.”
Her pussy was still contracting, but her body unclenched as she tumbled into orgasmic free fall.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered into her hair. “Come for me.”
She gradually went slack, panting and shivering with aftershocks, and Lucius took his time extracting his finger and cock. There was an audible slurp of sticky suction as they disconnected, which left him smirking with glee. He spun her around by the hips and stared into her eyes. It looked as if she’d been shagged into a stupor. “Did you enjoy that?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes. Thank you, sir.”
Lucius chuckled at her blissful gratitude and kissed her sweaty forehead. “Are you ready for more?”
“Yes, sir.”
Sex dazed and raring for another round. What a witch. Lucius bent down and grabbed her arse, lifting her up and leaning her back against the window. She didn’t squeal, but she hissed and bridged off the glass, her legs tightening around his hips like Devils’ Snare. Lucius didn’t pull her away; the glass would cool her fevered body—she just needed time to adjust.
His cock slid right back inside as if they’d never parted, and the squishing recommenced. With a low moan, she rolled her head back and forth against the glass, her big brown eyes slitting to a half-lidded haze. Lucius couldn’t look away. She was bloody breathtaking. Her gaze drifted in and out of focus, sleepy with satisfaction, and the pink flush of her cheeks had spread all the way down her chest, painting her décolletage with a rosy glow.
He couldn’t decide if she was a portrait of debauchery or virtue. Although she was a playful little nymph who didn’t mind getting messy, there was something about her in the throes of passion that screamed purity. What a confounding observation to make a time like this. What was even more confounding was that he didn’t know which side of her he liked better, the naughty nymphette, or the wholesome humanitarian. Thank the Fates she was plenty of both.
Her back sank against the glass again, and she sighed in relief. Knew that would calm you down.
Quick as a flash, she leaned forward and captured his mouth with hers, her tongue plunging past his lips. Lucius inhaled sharply, almost losing the beat of his hips, but when he had gathered his wits, he gave it right back to her, repaying fervor with fervor. It was more a dance than a duel, and his body easily fell into step with her rhythm.
Her moan tickled his lips, echoing off the roof of his mouth and buzzing over tongue and tooth. He kept the same pace with his pelvis, but his hips snapped at the top to punctuate his thrusts with an exclamation mark. That frantic little muscle swirling through his mouth mirrored every move; she was penetrating him as he penetrated her. He didn’t mind the initiative—a man only had so much concentration on tap when buried balls deep in a juicy quim. Best to let her lead the oral rumba while he took care of the tango below.
Swinging her away from the window, he carried her over to the bed, still joined at the lips. The experience was so different from what he was used to he wasn’t ready to break the connection just yet. Severus, despite his caustic personality, was an oral genius, his kissing as skilled and calculated as his brewing. But he wasn’t a woman. He didn’t have Hermione’s abandon and receptivity. Snape plotted, Hermione consumed. She was all sweetness and fire—like scalded caramel.
Slowly, he laid her down in the petals, and she pulled back to look at him as they got settled.
“I’ve never had sex on rose petals,” she confessed with a small smile.
“Nice, isn’t it?”
She nodded. “It’s kind of weird, but I like it.”
Lucius knew what she meant. It tickled, as if something was accidentally touching you. But that just added to the wealth of sensations for the body to enjoy. “You look gorgeous like this.”
Hermione blushed. “So do you.”
Chuckling, he nuzzled her cheek. “And here I was beginning to think I didn’t need to hear that anymore. You’re very sweet.”
With a kiss to her brow, he withdrew until his glans just popped past her opening then he eased back in as if it were the first time. She made a garbled noise of pleasure and breathed deeply through her nose as if she could smell the approaching climax.
“I think it’s time for you to come again,” he murmured.
“I just came.”
“Is there a limit of which I’m unaware?”
She laughed. “No. I just need a little rest in between.”
“I beg to differ.”
He slapped his hips against her, and she keened loudly, bridging off the bed like a live wire.
“If I know one thing, it’s pussy, and yours is constantly at the starting gates ready to run.”
“Oh gods!”
“You’ve been underestimating this marvelous little cunt,” he grunted. Her walls were already starting to flutter. “She’s just been waiting to be set free.”
“Please, Lucius!”
He grinned. That please went straight to his balls. He heard it so seldom. “Tell me what you want, princess.”
“Kiss me again.”
He’d been expecting a request for harder or faster, but he adored her suggestion. Touching his lips to hers, he whispered, “You’re going to sleep in my seed tonight, princess. Tell me who rules this pussy now.”
“You, Lucius. Dammit! Please let me come!”
He sealed his mouth to hers and fucked her deep and fast, catching her cries on his tongue and feeding them back to her with a helping of his own heated grunts. Her sheath contracted once more, and he concentrated on pushing himself over with her. After running from the edge all night, it wasn't that difficult to just jump over the cliff.
His balls pulled taut, and he growled as the semen shot through his shaft. The pleasure throbbed in his veins, and he shouted once as the eruption hit. Fuck! He pumped all he had into her, grunting as the tingling in his balls spread throughout his body. It was as if she had zapped his sac with her magical pussy, and the residual charm needed to exit through every pore in his skin.
Although the pulsing eventually waned, the heady buzz continued. He pulled his lips from hers and stared into her eyes. Definitely scalded caramel.
“That was brilliant,” she breathed.
“I think I can go again in a bit. Would you like to get in the hot tub while we wait?”
She shook her head. “I don’t want you to wash away that cream. It’s mine now.”
Lucius smirked. “Spoken like a true cum queen. Very well. We’ll pick petals off each other until I’m recovered.”
Hermione smiled. “I’m really glad I came here with you, Lucius.”
His heart hammered, driven mad by the kindness in her eyes. He’d forgotten what it was like to be targeted by such warmth. Damn. I could get used to this. “I’m glad too. More than you can imagine.”
Modulation--To shift to another key; variation in the strength tone or pitch of one's voice.
"Bed of Roses" by Bon Jovi. Recorded in 1992. Written by Jon Bon Jovi. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=NvR60Wg9R7Q
(I’m too tired to do notes after the last chapter. Bleh.)
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