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The Floo roared green. Out came Mrs Malfoy with a bouquet of deep red roses and a radiant smile.
Draco straightened, awfully swaggery. “Oh? To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Valentine’s.”
“Who? Are you seeing another wizard?”
She flashed him a disbelieving look.
“Keep talking, darling,” he rumbled as he pulled her in.
As if he had pressed ‘on’, she embarked on a terribly swotty discourse on Valentine’s Day. Advent of spring, romantic gestures, celebration of love, yada yada. She looked so perfectly absorbed – gorgeous. Mouth-wateringly so.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“I’m not looking. I’m listening.”
Her eyebrows knitted. “You’re very intense when you listen.”
“I’m just being a good husband. I’ve heard they’re attentive.”
“Read it in The Wizard’s guide to husbanding?”
“No, in “Trophy husbands for Ministers — or was it Marry Smarter, Not Harder?”
The smile on her face was exactly the one he was angling for.
“Could you not look at me like I’m dinner served?”
“Mm, but I think you are,” he crooned. “Hang on, sweetheart.”
She cocked her head in question as he untangled himself from her. He dug into the cupboard and brandished the bouquet he’d been hiding there. The roses were a heavy crimson, and the bouquet was at least twice the size of hers.
“Happy Valentine’s, love.”
The smugness was untameable. He really shouldn’t.
“Did you have to best me, you dud?” she huffed. “Ten points to Slytherin.”
He lifted a sarcastic brow. “Ten points? Generous.”
“They smell nice.”
“Nice? What have I told you about adjectives, love? You need to expand your vocabulary.”
“They’re not going to explode in sex pollen, are they?” She eyed the flowers suspiciously, her lip twitching with suppressed mirth.
“What? No. Of course not. I mean… do I need that?” He wrapped his arms around her waist and dragged her closer, grinding his hips against her with lazy menace. “Are you trying to tell me something, love? Am I not… enough anymore?” He put on the best vexed tone he could portray. “Do we need artificial help for this? Am I not turning you on anymore? Darling, you wound me.”
She barked a laugh. Unrepentant.
The insolence.
Alright, game on.
“Tell me if this isn’t working.”
He bent down to kiss her.
“Meh.” Her face twisted in a blasé expression.
He arched a brow. “This?”
He trailed a series of open-mouthed kisses up her throat, ending at the one spot that always worked its magic.
“Nah,” she breathed. “I think you’ve lost it, dear.”
Her hands kneaded his neck and shoulder in that telling way. “Try again.”
“This?”
He closed his teeth on said spot, and this time her hand fisted his collar, a squeaky exhale leaving her throat.
Still, she shook her head and rasped out, “No. Nope. Nothing.”
Her thighs shifted against his.
“No? I think I’ll need to check.”
Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her, pressing her body to the counter, making her fold on top of it. She squirmed playfully, a low chuckle escaping her.
“Ah ah,” he tutted. “Be a good girl. Be still. I need to concentrate.”
He leaned in over her and let his hand travel up her thigh, teasingly slow, relishing every little twitch it drew from her when his hand snuck up beneath the hem of her skirt. Just the fingertips grazed her skin, goosebumps rising in reply. Always so responsive.
Unhurried, he drew meandering curves up until he met the gusset of her knickers.
Damp.
She sighed languidly.
“Oh? What was that? Is that what I think it is?” he mused as he rubbed his knuckle across the lace.
She jerked against him, the movement causing an uproar in his pants.
“Malfoy!”
“Mmhmm. That’s your name now,” he murmured, his lips ghosting her ear. “Like it, don’t you? Mrs Malfoy. Bent over for inspection. Suspected of crimes of passion.”
“I believe that would be you. This is criminal,” she ground out.
“No, government inspections cannot be questioned. You can direct your complaint at my office. I’ll be sure to look into it at some point.”
At the word ‘into’ he slipped his finger under the lace and dipped it inside her, feeling her clench instinctively around him. A delicious moan fell from her lips at the intrusion, and his cock jumped, ever the opportunist. He pumped his finger in and out a few times, her warm slick coating his finger.
“No, I think you’re right. It’s not working, is it?” He slid out his finger with a disappointed tut.
Just a taste.
Exquisite.
“Mm, try again,” she purred with a grin, her hands grabbing the countertop as if bracing.
“Oh?” he played along, schooling his voice to a rumble. “Yes, I might need to investigate further.”
Her skirt was flipped up to reveal her lush arse. Ripe for the taking. Next, he tugged the black lace down in a swift movement, leaving it mid-thigh. Crude and enticing.
Like the devil was on his heels, he unzipped his trousers and freed his weeping erection.
“I’m going to use a bigger tool, Mrs Malfoy.”
“How big?” she chuckled.
“Massive. This might hurt a bit.”
She laughed beneath him.
“Still not feeling it, are you?”
“I think you need to go hard.”
He rolled his eyes and slammed in. A beautiful keen ripped out of her.
“Feel that?”
“More.”
Insatiable.
“Oh? It’s working then?”
He drove back in.
“Yes!”
“Alright, I think this concludes my inspection.” He pulled out of her and flipped back her skirt. “Seems to me, we don’t need sex pollen after all.”
“Mr Granger, if you don’t put your cock back in this moment, I will have your inspection permit removed.”
He crowded her once more, caging her against the counter with his body. “So needy. Tell me what you want, pretty girl.
“I want you to fill me up with that massive tool.”
“Beg.”
He ran his hand up her back to fist her hair. She arched up from the surface — a pretty concave shape that made her arse pop out.
“Stop teasing, Draco.”
He fisted his cock, pressing it against her backside to catch some much-needed friction. For a moment, he thought about dragging her to the floor and finishing on her face or chest. But Mrs Malfoy deserved better. She had brought flowers after all. A smaller bouquet but, nevertheless.
“Beg, sweetheart. Be a good girl for me.”
She shuddered beneath him, still laughing a little too much.
“Please, fuck me.” It sounded perfectly slutty. A plea he really couldn’t deny.
He bunched up her skirt at the small of her back and shoved back inside her tight heat in one rough stroke.
She sobbed into the countertop, fingers curling around the edge.
“That’s so good,” she moaned.
“Good? Nice, wife?” he groaned, punctuating the words with his thrusts. “Your word choice is a little bland, darling.”
The minx clenched around him in response. “It’s bloody fantastic. Your tool is incredible. Magnificent. Unreal. Divine. Magical…”
“You’re far too cheeky for this,” he huffed a chuckle. “Back to the begging, love.”
He smacked her arse for good measure, smiling at the yelp it drew from her.
“Please, I need to come.”
He snaked his hand down her front, finding her swollen clit. She writhed beneath him, a row of dirty moans filling the kitchen.
It didn’t take many strokes before she teetered on the edge, her body tensing so beautifully beneath him.
“Good fucking girl,” he growled as she cried out, shaking through her release.
The way her voice fractured on his name still made him wonder how he had succeeded in reeling her in. Hermione Granger, well, Minister Hermione Malfoy coming so gloriously on his throbbing cock.
What a good girl. Always top of the class.
“You’re perfect, love,” he murmured, all pretence vanished from his voice.
“Fill me up,” she rasped, her face turned towards him. Eyes sparkling in that brilliant afterglow. Hair wilder than usual. She looked as if she had nearly melted.
His gorgeous mess.
Twenty-seven seconds later, he did fill her, his cock exploding inside her in savage spurts.
Still laughing, she flicked her wand, and her bouquet expanded — decidedly bigger than his now.
“You cheat.”
“I always win.”
“50 points to Gryffindor,” he groaned. “You should’ve been a Slytherin.”
“You wish.”
“I would. We would’ve started shagging sooner.”
“Mmhmm. Happy Valentine’s, love.”
“Happy Valentine’s.”