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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
- 54
- 55
- 56
A/N: Whoohoo! So here’s the last chapter of this group (and it’s a little lemony at the end). The next chapter will get released by itself. I have absolutely no idea how long it’ll take me. It needs some rewriting, but it’s not a long chapter. Happy reading!
55—Sextet
“Kisses of fire, sweet devotions; caught in a landslide of emotions. I've had my share of love affairs, and they were nothing compared to this. Oh, I'm riding higher than the sky, and there is fire in every kiss.”—ABBA
(Draco) 
Draco watched Hermione’s lips touch the rim of her glass, mesmerized by the pucker of her mouth. His own lips, desirous of her kiss, opened as if meeting hers, but when he realized what he was doing, and who might see, he hid the social slip by pretending to drink.
He’d kiss Hermione later, when Harry and Ron had gone. Surely she’d need some snogging therapy to fully recover.
Or maybe he was the one in need of that particular prescription.
Although her smile had chased away the majority of his anxiety, he wouldn’t feel completely at ease until they were joined at the lips and hips. Being inside her wasn’t a requirement, but he needed the pressure of her body against his—all that passion melting his fears to an insignificant puddle.
That was the Hermione who ruled his heart. His blazing goddess of love.
The Ministry might have thought they could snuff out her power and desire with their downsizing, but Draco knew his phoenix queen would rise from the ashes and begin her life anew. The spark was still there; he’d seen it in her eyes. The anger. The determination. She just needed a puff of oxygen and a little kindling to latch onto.
Draco didn’t know which ingredient he was in that scenario, but specifics weren’t all that important. What mattered was that he’d helped her. And bringing out that smile felt like the most important job in the world. Gone was the woe that had weighted the manor’s atmosphere with doom and gloom. Hermione had her light back, and they were all basking in her radiance. 
Or at least Draco was. 
And his father. Sweet Salazar, Lucius looked positively stoned. He’d never seen the old man so overjoyed about spending money.
Snape's mood was less clear. The present company seemed to have curtailed any burgeoning effusiveness that might have clarified his state of mind. The “Potions master” had returned, and Draco couldn’t help noticing the way Snape’s cheek twitched whenever he looked at Harry, as if he were fighting the urge to sneer. Just like the old days.
Draco didn’t totally understand what was going on between them. Snape despised Potter—yet he’d risked his life to save him? It didn’t make sense. While Severus did have a knack for contradiction and not playing by the rules, his ongoing hostility toward Harry struck Draco as strangely illogical. Which made even less sense, because if there was one thing Severus loved, it was logic.
Draco had to assume the friction had something to do with Potter’s mum. During the final battle, Harry had made it exceedingly clear to the Dark Lord that Snape’s loyalties lay with Lily—a truth bomb that had shattered everyone’s preconceptions about the saturnine man. Including Draco’s.
But he could see how losing the witch one loved might turn a man into a miserable bastard—especially if the man in question wasn’t all that nice to begin with. Love could drive any wizard mad.
But if Severus loved the witch, why did he hate her son? Was it some kind of survivor’s guilt? Did he blame Harry for Lily’s death? Did he blame Harry for his own death? Did he hate feeling obligated to save him?
Draco turned his eyes to Severus, searching for a glimpse of the man he’d come to know in the past couple of months, the one who smiled and sometimes even cracked a joke. But if that man was in there, “Professor Snape” had him well hidden. His eyes had gone hard as obsidian, and the wariness that radiated from his rigid body set Draco’s teeth on edge. Even Severus seemed uncomfortable with his irritability. He kept shifting about so Hermione buffered him from the group, as if he didn’t trust himself not to attack their visitors.
Hermione had to crane her head back and to the side just to see him. “Am I allowed to tell everyone what you’ve been working on in the lab?”
Draco perked up. Snape never talked about his experiments, and Draco was dying of curiosity.
Severus dipped his head in a stunted nod. “I suppose.”
Beaming at Harry and Ron, Hermione spilled Snape’s secrets in a breathless outpouring of delight, “Most recently Severus has been working on a salve to heal the traumatic scarring caused by dragon pox.”
Lucius spluttered, “You have?” through a mouthful of champagne. Obviously decades of fucking didn’t automatically make him privy to Snape’s activities.
When Severus didn’t respond, Hermione answered for him, “They’ve been using it at St. Mungo’s to great success.”
“Really?” Ron asked, looking a bit puzzled, as if the idea of Snape doing anything philanthropic was too bizarre to wrap his head around.
“And that’s not all,” Hermione went on. “He’s been doing some fascinating experiments with Tentacula venom, and he’s hoping to come up with a more powerful cure for dragon pox.”
Draco choked on his drink. “Really?” he wheezed, sounding even more gormless than Weasley. “How’s it going?”
“It’s not going anywhere,” Snape muttered. “It’s a complete disaster.”
“You’ll figure it out,” Hermione assured him.
“Can it kill the super-strains?” Draco asked. The implications were staggering.
“Yes,” Severus replied. “Unfortunately it kills all the healthy cells as well, which rather defeats the purpose.”
Draco wondered what had inspired Severus to travel such a perilous road. Was it an ode to Narcissa? Did he miss her? Too consumed by his own despair, Draco had never pondered the possible grief of a longterm lover. He’d never even asked Severus how the loss had affected him.
“When he figures it out,” Hermione went on, her confidence unshakable, “the impact will felt the world over. Children and the elderly are hit the hardest, but even adults can find themselves overwhelmed by the virus if their immune systems have been compromised. Over the course of a lifetime, a cure could save millions of families untold suffering.”
Weaving her glass-filled hand through the crook of Lucius’s arm, she pulled him closer and then twined her fingers around Draco’s, making it clear whom she meant by suffering families. Severus stayed perfectly still as she tipped back her head and leaned into him, her grin deliriously proud.
"Okay," Ron growled. “That’s it! I believe you, all right? They’re different. Just please stop groping them in front of us. We get it—you’re in love. We don’t need to see how much.”
Erupting in bright laughter, Hermione shook her head. “Don’t be silly; I’m not groping anyone.” 
She nonchalantly let go of Draco and slipped her hand behind her back. From the of the corner of his his eye, he saw her cup Snape’s crotch, hiding her actions with the bulk of her body. 
“Trust me, I know groping, and handholding isn’t it. I just like to constantly remind them all how much I care about them.”
Snape continued to sip his champagne. He never even flinched.
If she'd done that to Draco, he would have been out of his trousers and humping her hand like a horny Kneazle. Which was probably why she’d done it to the one man who could play it cool through anything.
Harry gestured toward the clock on the mantel. “It’s getting late. I should head home; Ginny’ll be dying to know what’s happened.”
“Is she upset with me too?” Hermione asked quietly.
Scrunching up his face, Harry shook his head. “Not at all. For weeks now she’s been insisting you’d gotten yourself a new boyfriend, but I told her she was just mental from lack of sleep. Now I’ve got to go home to her gloating smile and impromptu victory dances. Thank you soooo much for that.” He flashed her a fondly disapproving smile.
Hermione grinned. “I doubt she guessed the correct number of boyfriends. Don’t let her dance too much.”
Chuckling, Harry nodded agreeably. “Come over this weekend. I’ll try to tell her what I can, but I have a feeling my brain is going to block out most of what I’ve seen here today.”
Hermione patted Snape's placket and smoothly returned her hand to her side—no one the wiser. “I’ll be over. And, not that I’m ashamed or anything, but maybe you shouldn’t tell any of our other friends about this yet. I don’t know if I’m ready to explain myself to the world.”
“Can I tell Janet?” Ron asked. “She’s gonna want to know what happened after all the ballyhoo at the house.”
“What ballyhoo?”
“Draco,” Ron explained.
“There was no ballyhoo,” Draco countered. “Ballyhoo would have upset the baby.”
Her eyes snapped to his, and she gave him a funny look before turning back to Ron. “Of course you can tell Janet. I just don’t want anything to go wrong with the charity.”
Leaning in, Harry kissed Hermione’s cheek. “We’ll keep it under wraps. I’ll see you this weekend—come over for lunch on Sunday. And for Merlin’s sake, we’re asking everyone to stop bringing James stuffed animals when they visit. We can barely spot him amongst the menagerie anymore.”
“What about books?” she asked in a panic.
“Yeah,” Harry laughed, “books are fine. But you do know he’s not even two months old, right? No more Chaucer for Children. Let’s stick with picture books for now.”
“The Canterbury Tales I gave him has etchings.”
Harry smiled and nodded as if she were charmingly unhinged. “He’s in more of a duckie and bunny kind of place at the moment.”
Bursting into a guffaw, Hermione threw her arms around him in a bear hug. “I’ll find something. Bye, you two.” She kissed Ron’s cheek and took his glass. “Tell George I said hi.”
Ron touched his forehead in a half-arsed salute. “Will do.”
“I'll show you out.”
Hermione escorted them toward the entrance hall, chattering away about baby books and what she was going to bring when she came over.
Without her, the room felt too quiet, and it took the three of them several seconds to decide what to do with themselves. Severus drifted over to the sofa, and Draco followed, wondering if he was safe to talk to now that Harry and Ron had gone. Sitting to his left, Draco casually crossed his leg so his foot rested an inch from Snape’s calf—and then waited to see if he’d pull away. 
He didn’t.
He didn’t really move at all.
Draco wasn’t sure how to interpret that. “So were you ever going to tell us about the dragon pox cure?” he asked carefully.
Snape’s black eyes flickered over to him. “There was nothing to tell.”
“What made you want to take on such a complex problem?”
Snape glanced at Lucius, who was across the room pouring himself another glass of champagne. “You already know the answer to that.”
Actually, Draco wasn’t sure if Snape was doing it out of love for Narcissa or Lucius. Or both. “You’re a bit late. It can’t help her now.”
Severus nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the floor. “And I don’t want it to happen again.” His face closed, and there was a hardness there that hadn’t been seen since the war. “My life has been filled with nothing but death and destruction. But a cure—that’s something wholly different. It’s . . . creation.” His hand flexed around his glass. “It’s something to aspire to. Something pure and untainted.” He turned and looked into Draco’s eyes. “Have you ever thought about how you’ll be remembered after you die?”
Draco nodded. That very question had been the cause of many sleepless nights.
Severus knowingly inclined his head. “If I’m remembered as a hero in a war I wanted no part of, if I’m remembered for killing and dying and acting as a double-agent, my life will have amounted to nothing more than mistakes and deception made virtuous by a sense of sentimental duty. I am not the hero of that tale. What I did, I did because it needed to be done.” Severus paused, and his eyes dropped to his boots. “But now I have the chance to be remembered for something of my choosing—something so good it could rewrite history.” Sighing deeply, he flicked his thumbnail against the edge of his glass. “And if it’s my history I plan to rewrite, I can’t shy away from complex problems.”
Draco understood. In fact, he understood all too well. It was one of the reasons he’d applied for a job at the Ministry. He didn’t want the name Malfoy to be associated with nothing but bigotry and violence; that wasn’t the legacy he intended to leave behind.
He’d experienced some fulfillment with his work, helping to bridge the divide between magical governments, but it wasn’t until Hermione had moved in that he’d felt truly successful. He could see himself devoting his life to her, and in doing so, bringing about real change through her unstoppable caring and kindness. “I know what you mean.” He gave Snape a cautious smile. “Hermione’s not tainted. She can be our good thing.”
Severus arched an eyebrow. “She has been tainted. By us. Her life will never be the same.”
Bloody hell. Snape had way of making reality seem even harsher than advertised. Draco slugged back the rest of his drink and set his glass on the end table. “True, but change isn’t always bad. You never know, we could make her life better.”
Severus’s frown was doubtful. “Perhaps.”
Hermione pranced back in, clapping her hands in an excited flutter of applause, raising the mood of the room from dreary to cheery with nothing more than her giddy excitement. “Well, that went well. I think we talked them down from ‘revolted’ to ‘squeamish.’”
“You’re a very convincing witch,” Lucius purred.
Hermione ran over to him and practically leapt into his arms for another kiss. Lucius caught her, only staggering back a step before finding his balance. When they came up for air, his voice took on an intoxicated slur, “But perhaps I’m biased.”
Snorting, Hermione rested her head on his chest. “Don’t sell yourself short. You three put on a pretty good show.”
“Are you feeling better now, princess? I don’t like seeing you so sad.”
“I feel better now that I know Harry and Ron aren’t mad at me. And I’m really excited about the charity. I’ll have to thank you for that profusely tonight. What would you like, pearls and buggery?”
“No, love. I don’t want to cheapen the gift by having you pay for it with sex. That wasn’t why I did it.”
Hermione beamed up at him like a loon. “I know why you did it.”
“Do you?” His brow rose imperiously, but his eyes danced with mirth.
“Mm-hm. You did it for the same reason Severus makes me dinner and gives me baths. And for the same reason Draco hugs me and brings me wildflowers.”
“Because you’re a hungry, dirty, irresistible witch with a penchant for sniffing things?”
She grinned ruefully and pinched his nipple through his shirt. “You know very well what I mean.”
Draco’s stomach rolled into a tight ball and plowed into his gut. Buttering up Lucius in the hopes of squeezing out a drop of love was a waste of time. The man had the emotional capacity of a thimble. Granted, Draco had been impressed by that charity deal—but money wasn’t love.
Spreading his legs, Draco patted his knee and gave her his most disarming smile. “Why don’t you come over here and sit in my lap. I’ll tell you what you want to hear.”
When she saw his suggestive position, Hermione burst into riotous giggles. After pecking Lucius’s neck in a parting kiss, she slinked over and playfully nudged Draco’s thigh with her knee. “Why don’t you take off your trousers and show me how you really feel.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
"Hold on a second," Severus growled. “There will be no playing until you’ve apologized for molesting me in front of our guests.”
“You didn’t enjoy my public display of affection?” she asked coyly.
“That’s hardly the point. Cock grabbing is not something we do in front of company.”
“I wasn’t grabbing; I was caressing.”
“Semantics aren’t going to save you, Miss Granger. But since you’re so eager to go ‘public,’ why don’t you take down your shorts and knickers so everyone has a clear view of your bottom while you’re over my knee.”
“Are you serious? Right here? Now?”
“I am quite serious, little girl. I don’t want to add to your stressful day, so I’ll keep it brief; but you are getting a spanking. Why don’t you put your head in Draco’s lap so he can help keep you calm.”
Lucius slithered up behind her and ran one hand down her hip. “Do you need assistance?”
Although she looked a bit apprehensive about the spanking, her pupils blew wide, and she rolled her bum against his groin. "Yes, sir."
Smirking, Lucius slid both hands around to her flies and palmed the front of her shorts. Running his ring finger along the seam bisecting her sex, he pressed its stiff stitching into her slit as he teased down her zip. When both sides had been peeled open like unfurled leaves, he curled his fingers along her flanks and tugged her shorts over her hips.
Draco hardened at the sight of her—completely bare from the waist down. “No, knickers tonight, love?”
“I was in a hurry,” she panted, her eyes already half-lidded. “You told me to throw on some clothes and get downstairs before Harry and Ron changed their minds. Knickers weren’t a pressing concern.”
Lucius knelt down and helped her out of her clothes, absently tossing the discarded layer aside when she stepped out. “Well, I think you look lovely just the way you are.” With a chaste kiss to her left buttock, he patted her bum and urged her toward Snape.
"I agree,” Severus drawled. “But I think you'll look even lovelier with a red backside. What do you say to me?"
Her eyes darted between the three of them, and she swallowed hard, her face warming to a pretty pink. "I'm sorry for touching you in front of Harry and Ron."
"That was a good apology, but what do you say when you need a spanking?"
The pink flared to red. "Please spank my naughty bottom, sir."
Snape's thin lips curled in a devious smirk. "You're getting warmer."
Her eyes went wide, and she glanced at Draco and Lucius. "Out loud? With everyone here?"
"Draco and Lucius know perfectly well what we've been up to. They don't mind. Say it."
Hermione covered her face with both hands, but instead of crying as she had earlier, she heaved out a rough sigh and mumbled, "Pleasespankmynaughtybottom,Daddy."
Draco’s gaze shot to Lucius to gauge his reaction. His father appeared to be on the verge of laughter—not surprised in the least. And if the predatory slant of his posture was anything to go by, he found the dynamic markedly arousing. For a split second Draco was too shocked to think, but then his dick made its opinion painfully clear, and the matter was taken out of his hands. Naughty Little Hermione turned him on more than he could say. And Daddy Severus . . . that was all kinds of interesting.
"There’s my good girl.” Severus reached up and stroked her arm, which must have been a signal. Without being asked, she gave him her hand, and he used it to guide her to his side. "All right, are you ready to show everyone how wet you can get for Daddy?"
Keeping one hand over her eyes, she nodded vigorously.
Snape eased her across his lap, and when she’d wiggled into place, stretched over him like a bare-bummed dream, he reached over and used his fingertips to gently push her face into Draco’s throbbing crotch. Not being able to see must have relaxed her somewhat, because the rigidness of her back softened to an alluring curve, and she melted into them. Draco couldn't resist those flowing lines. Raking his fingers along her spine, he swept aside her hair and grazed the back of her neck. Hermione's remaining tension faded with his touch, and she purred against his cock.
"All right," Severus said, pushing apart her thighs so one leg fell to the front and her pussy rested crookedly against his knee. "Are you ready, baby?"
“Yes, Daddy."
"Then hold Draco’s hand. I don't want you to be tempted to cover yourself."
Blindly, Hermione reached for him, and he caught her in midair, twining his fingers through hers.
Snape gave him a small smile and, raising his hand, whipped it across her backside with a loud smack. When she jumped, Draco squeezed her fingers, but she made no attempt to escape. 
And he could see why. Merlin's balls! Who'd want to escape a spanking like that? An extravagant groping followed every slow slap, Snape’s long fingers alternately squeezing and swiping the sting from her glowing rump, possibly brushing her swollen lips as he passed. 
It wasn’t a punishment. Not even close. This was Snape’s version of a meditative retreat. Hermione had been reduced to a mindless writhing body, all thoughts of the Ministry obliterated by his patient hand.
Draco didn’t know which he found more enthralling, Hermione’s bobbing, red arse, or Snape’s enraptured face. The man seemed to have gone into an altered state, her bum the focal point of his worship.
It brought to mind what Hermione had said about Severus using sexual situations to express his feelings. The idea had startled Draco at first, but ever since then, he’d started to notice just how accurate that insight really was—how Severus couched his tenderness in arousal and sensation. Even now his black eyes roved the landscape of her body, observing, appreciating, analyzing every gasp and jump so the next hit provided exactly what she needed.
It was an act of devotion.
A lurch of sudden comprehension rippled through Draco’s heart. Snape really loved her. Just as much as Draco did. All that grumbling about impropriety had just been an excuse to get her over his knee and help her let go. It was all for her.
Draco’s softer side ached for the man’s emotional mutism—but his Slytherin side commiserated. A snake leaned to be judicious with the truth, especially when that truth involved his heart. But yet another side of him found Snape’s scheme brilliant. While Draco enjoyed proclaiming his love for Hermione whenever he pleased, he rather liked the idea of Severus sneaking his feelings into every slap and tickle.
When aware of the context, that hand job in the hot tub took on all new connotations. And the way Severus stroked his head at night—holy fuck! That was affection outside the realm of sex. Although . . . they were all naked in a bed together. Maybe Severus considered that borderline erotic. Even so, Draco felt he could safely put it in the cuddling column. And that made him smile. Snape cared about him. A lot. And the feeling was definitely mutual.
But confusing. All his past experiences with men had been strictly sexual, and Draco had always been the more dominant one. There was some part of him that didn’t trust his male partners, and that mistrust brought out his inner aggressor. He usually wound up pinning Blaise to the mattress and choking him to orgasm, growling the whole time about who was in charge. Blaise loved it, but once the adrenaline wore off and Draco’s cock deflated, his own feelings were mixed. He liked the raw power and animal dominance, but those things scared him as much as they thrilled him.
He didn’t like losing himself in aggression, which was part of the reason he hated arguing with his father. It made him feel out of control.
But for some reason, purposefully losing control to Hermione was something he craved. There was no fight there, just acceptance. Trust. He felt safe with her—even when she had him strung up in restraints or smothered in her pussy.
Strangely, Severus made him feel something similar, but Draco didn’t know how to deal with feeling that way about a man. It wasn’t something he had any experience with.
But he was open to seeing where it might go. It felt good when they touched—not combative at all. And that kiss had been phenomenal. Instead of working Draco to a frenzied attack, it had liquified his insides to pure desire. He’d never felt that way with any other wizard.
It begged the question what else could Severus make him feel?
What if the answer was love? Would that complicate things with Hermione? She clearly didn’t mind that his father and Snape shared their own intimate relationship. Would she mind if Draco became close to him too?
His heart said no; she’d bloody well encourage him to take it further, to care for Severus as much as he cared for her—and then prove how much he cared with a naked demonstration. That sounded good. Except Draco didn’t know if he could ever love anyone as much as he loved Hermione. But when he thought about Severus loving him, his heart skipped a beat.
That was a whole lot of love. If he had both Hermione and Severus coming at him with all they had, he might die of an affection overload.
But what a way to go.
“Please, Daddy. I need to come!”
Draco blinked, jangled from his wandering thoughts by Hermione’s shout.
Her grip had become vice-like, and she squirmed against Snape as if she wanted to climb him. Draco could tell by the trembling roll of her hips that she was right on the edge.
"But Lucius and Draco are enjoying the show, love. Are you sure you want to end it now?"
"I don’t think I can hold back!”
"That's because you've been riding Daddy's leg like it’s the pretty white pony upstairs."
We have a pony upstairs?
"Do you think you've learned your lesson?"
"Yes, Daddy! Please!"
"Okay, baby. Go ahead. Get my trousers as wet as you can."
Moaning, Hermione ground her pussy into Snape's thigh, unabashedly humping him as he rained down a constant hail storm of sharp smacks.
Draco snaked his free hand beneath her chest and caught the fleshy stub of her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Just as her body began to quake with release, he pinched hard, and she cried out, spilling a slurry of names into his lap. He thought he caught the hard D of a Draco and possibly both “sir” and “daddy” melded into one garbled wail. Whatever it was, it was sexy as hell.
When her pussy had given all it could, Hermione slumped against them and groaned her thanks, the mumbled accolades skipping each time an aftershock wracked her limp body. 
Severus continued to rub her arse, but his lips pulled into a genuine smile—his first of the night. “See? You can be good girl when you put your mind to it. Just look how wet you’ve gotten my trousers. I like a witch who takes it upon herself to surpass my expectations. But you are rather messy now. Why don't you take Draco upstairs and give him that shower you suggested earlier. Would you like that?"
"Yes, Daddy."
Severus swiped his fingers along the cleft of her sex and brought them to his mouth, sampling her juices like a chef tasting his newest culinary masterpiece. "Don't wash that pussy, baby girl. I like the way you taste."
"Yes, Daddy."
Draco started to help her up, but halfway to her feet, she drifted into a slight detour and curled into Snape for one last snog. 
Between mouthfuls, he heard her whisper, “Thank you for correcting me, Daddy,” and Draco had to bite his tongue to keep from moaning. Little Hermione was definitely a welcome addition to the house. Maybe he could schedule a play date with her and Severus so he could watch them in action. Or maybe even get in on the action.
Her hand slid between Snape’s legs, and as she skimmed her palm over his bound erection, Draco’s fingers went to his own zip to match her movements, too turned on to separate their pleasure from his. 
Severus grunted and grabbed her wrist. "All right," he murmured, patting her arse. "I’ll still be here when you get out. Go on. And remember what we talked about before. Do unto others . . .”
Hermione nodded eagerly and scrambled out of Snape’s lap, her hand finding Draco’s once more. He didn't know what the hell “do unto others” meant, but he was ready to have just about anything done unto him after watching all that.
Before he could ask what was up, Hermione grabbed him by the collar and pulled him down. Sealing her mouth to his, she hit him full blast with a flood of unrestrained love, and Draco almost dropped to his knees, overcome by the deluge of feelings. The day had been fraught with so much fear and relief and dread and joy, his head spun as it all crashed into him again, knocking him flat and then lifting him up, twisting and turning as wave after wave rolled him to a peak.
Hermione nipped his lower lip and whispered, “I love you, Draco. Thank you for bringing Harry and Ron back to me.”
Swallowing hard, Draco blinked a few times, the edges of his vision blurring as his cock withheld a dangerous amount of his blood supply. “You’re welcome.”
“Mmmmm, I think it’s time Nanny Granger showed you how she takes care of thoughtful little boys. We’ll make a game of it. If you last through two hundred kisses without coming, I’ll give you a special reward. And winner gets to pick the next game.”
Two hundred kisses! That sounded like . . . wait, why wouldn’t he be able to make it through two hundred kisses? Would his skin wear off? Or was she just setting him up for success?
Tugging on his hand, she pulled him toward the door, the smile on her face too gentle to arouse suspicion.
But just as they crossed the threshold and passed into the hall, she glanced back at him, and her eyes flared with gold-plated desire.
He knew that look. Nanny Granger planned to teach him something new. 
He’d be lucky if he lasted through two kisses let alone two hundred.
Losing had never sounded so sweet.
Sextet—A group of six people signing or playing music together.
“Kisses of Fire” by ABBA. Written by Benny Andersson, Björn Ulvaeus and released on their 1979 album Voulez-Vous.
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=q2d69hh7hwE
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