A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has been faithfully reading and reviewing this story. You're all so wonderful for doing so. Ii hope you enjoy this long, juicy chapter. Tell me what you think of it, ok? Much love! xx-Kitten.

Stripped Bare

By Kittenshift17

Chapter 21

Draco woke with a sleeping mudblood in his arms. He was spooned around the little swot in his bed and he no idea of the time. The world outside was dark, making him think it must be the middle of the night. He'd not slept so well in weeks. Perhaps years. He didn't think he'd slept so well since before the war.

And he fucking hated her for that.

How dare she be able to make him come and to make him sleep well? How dare she be the one to have unlocked his magic? Draco despised their situation. Oh he would admit he rather liked fucking her. It felt too fucking good not to enjoy that much, but he loathed having this entire mess involve the mudblood. Of all the people in all the world, why did it have to be Hermione fucking Granger? It could've been anyone in the sodding world and he'd wound up bound to Mudblood Granger.

More to the point, as a result of this mess his father had ordered him to woo the little swot into marrying him. The last thing Draco wanted to do was marry her. He wanted to throttle her. He wanted to shag her until they both died from how bloody good it felt. But he didn't want to spend his life putting up with her. Maybe he could just keep with this shagging arrangement. She'd agreed to that much back at the pub. Hell, she'd suggested that much.

It made sense of course; she was no fool. She knew as well as he did that they were stuck in this together and that shagging anyone else was a waste of time. Draco had learned that the hard way and he knew she'd done the same thing. He knew the little chit had been out shagging other blokes in the time she'd been away from him. He knew she wouldn't just come crawling back to him without first trying her other options. The only way she'd have crawled back into his bed was when she knew she didn't have any other choice.

Draco didn't know how he felt about that. He understood the urge to at least try to find a different solution. He'd done it himself, after all. The idea of her being with anyone else also made him insanely jealous, but at the end of the day it was neither here nor there. She was back with him, inside his arms and in his bed and Draco felt the most powerful urge to keep her there. He'd been craving her for weeks. For months. Since the last time he'd had her in this bed, snuggled next to him and trying to fight back the screams caused by her nightmares.

He didn't at all enjoy her company nor was he overly a fan of anything to do with her personality. They clicked about as well as Fiendfyre and, well, anything. Draco eyed the girl in his arms carefully, at least as well as he could in the dim light of his bedroom. They'd fallen asleep with the hearth fire of his suite still burning, so he was able to make out some of her features by the flickering flames the elves had obviously been feeding during the night.

She looked almost peaceful in sleep, he noticed, lifting his head enough to look down on her. Her long curls were tangled in a nest about her head, partially concealing her face from view. Draco glanced at his outstretched arm beneath her neck, noticing that in her sleep she'd strewn her arm across the bed beside his. He curled his lip at the sight of the scars they each bore on their inner forearms. On his own was the fading remainder of the Dark Mark branded into his skin. The blackness of the brand was fading slowly, though it was still currently dark. The skull and snake design was still clear against his pale flesh.

Her arm bore another reminder of the war. Where he bore the brand of a Death Eater, she bore a memento of his Aunt's terrible cruelty. The word Mudblood was red and angry on her skin in almost the exact same spot as his Dark Mark. The sight of the two scars in such close proximity gave him pause. There was something about the two things, so entirely different, so opposed to the other that brought into sharp focus the differences between the two of them.

He was a Death Eater. A pureblood. The sole heir of a long line of purebloods. He'd been on the losing side in the war and he'd done and said terrible things both in the lead up to the war and during the fighting. She was completely the opposite. She was a mudblood. The only witch in a long line of muggles. She was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. She'd fought for all that was good and right in the world. She stood up for others. She stood up for herself.

If she had to and had thought he deserved it, he'd bet the little swot would stand up for him if he needed it. He supposed in some way she already had. She'd refused to press charges for what he'd been forced to do to her in this very room the first time she'd been dragged into his home. She'd also clearly fought for him to some extent with Potter and the rest of the sodding Order, otherwise Draco knew he'd be rotting in a cell in Azkaban.

He probably deserved to be.

Not that he wanted to be incarcerated, of course, but he knew he deserved to be punished for his crimes. He'd committed murder. He'd assaulted others. He'd brutalized the girl currently sleeping in his arms. He might not have had much choice in the matter at the time, but then, Draco knew there were things he could've done to prevent all this. He could've gone to Dumbledore when his family was first threatened by the Dark Lord. He could've sought their protection.

He could've turned to the Light sooner. Ironically, he knew he never would have at all if not for the little chit currently sleeping soundly against him. Had he not ended up shagging her, he knew he'd never have gone after her in the Room of Requirement. He'd never have sought her out, and so would never have learned of the Dark Lord's horcruxes.

Narrowing his eyes, Draco laid his cheek against hers. She was using his arm as a pillow, breathing deeply, sound asleep. Draco hated her for it. How dare she be so peaceful in his presence?

Tangling his fingers with hers where their arms rested together, Draco took stock of the rest of their entangled bodies. They were both still naked, having fallen asleep before redressing. She was much smaller than him, too thin from lack of sustenance both during the war and in her barely functioning state since then. Draco knew he was too thin as well. In fact he was hungry.

His entire body was spooned around hers snugly, he noticed, their legs tangled, one of his thighs trapped between both of hers. He had one arm wrapped around her middle, his elbow crooked over her hip, his hand splayed against her chest, his forearm snug between her breasts. His cock – which he suspected was what had woken him – was nestled intimately against her slit, snug against her folds.

Draco smirked.

Lifting his cheek from hers, he found himself entirely unable to resist the yearning for more of the fiery little witch. Nuzzling his nose against her neck, Draco peppered soft kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck. Licking and nipping the flesh hungrily. His cock was already rearing to go, but it throbbed painfully when she moaned in her sleep, stretching her neck to expose more of her flesh to his tongue. Draco would admit that he kind of liked that.

Dragging his fingertips over her right nipple, Draco trailed his hand to her hip, canting it back against him more firmly until her arse pressed against him. Her body – clearly attuned to his touch and receptive even in sleep – was wet for him when he nudged the head of his cock towards her snug sheath. He took his time entering her, withdrawing his thigh from between hers and using his knee to curl her further, to better angle her for his penetration.

She gasped, half-waking as he fed her inch by slow inch.

Draco smirked to himself as he did so. She was so tight and wet and warm and it made his eyes cross with pleasure. Blast it all for feeling so fucking good! He knew she was awake when her hand tightened around his. He'd entangled their fingers where his arm lay stretched out under her neck. He didn't know why he'd done it, really. He just had. Clearly she didn't know why he'd done it either, she simply reacted.

"This is how you wake me?" she asked, her voice husky with sleep.

Draco didn't answer her verbally. He simply began a slow pace, thrusting into her as deep as he could at this angle. He nipped her shoulder, refusing to let her turn her head to look at him. She arched her back as he took her slowly, drawing him deeper. Merlin, he hated how fucking good she felt.

Refusing to let her draw him into an argument or let her ruin what he'd begun, Draco took his time about shagging her. He knew, after all, that he could make her scream his name and curse the day he'd been born when he fucked her with every hateful thing he had inside of him. Draco wanted to see what he could do without forcing his anger and hatred on her. He wanted to find out what kinds of sounds she might make when she wasn't spitting venom at him.

She began to mewl softly as he continued, rolling her hips against him in time with his thrusts. Her fingers were entangled tightly with his, and Draco found himself curling both their arms around her, pressing her back against him more snugly. Gods, he hated how good she felt in his arms. What right did she have to fit so well against him?

"Malfoy," she mewled softly and Draco smirked at the sound of his name on her lips. He wondered what it would take to get her whimpering his first name. He didn't recall ever hearing her use it, but as he laid there in the dark, he found himself wanting to.

When she took up his free hand, which he's been using for leverage on her hip to pull her slowly onto each deep penetration, he thought she meant to stop him. Draco closed his eyes at the feeling that washed through him when she slipped his palm from her hip to her flat stomach. She pressed it, palm flat, low down on her abdomen and for a moment he thought she wanted him to play with her clit but when he tried, she held him firm. She canted her arse further back against him, twisting slightly and suddenly Draco felt it.

The nudge of his own cock against his palm from deep inside her.

He nearly lost it then.

"Fuck," he hissed, his eyes clenching tighter as he thrust a little harder. She whimpered at the feel of him holding his hand against her, feeling what he was doing to her. When she seemed sure he wasn't going to move his hand away, she curled her arm back around the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair while she arched deeper into his touch.

Merlin, he loathed that feeling. He loathed it because he suspected he loved it. He loved being able to feel himself so deep inside her, nudging at secretive places within her, claiming her. Marking her with his body.

"Ungh!" she groaned when Draco found his face nuzzled against the back of her neck, his teeth biting down on her. He didn't break the skin, just nipped her hard enough to cause the slightest bite of pain.

She dissolved in his hold.

"Oh, God," she sobbed raggedly, her whole body tightening and shuddering against him. She clamped down hard on his cock and Draco saw stars as he held himself back. He wasn't nearly done shagging her yet.

"What have you done to me?" she mewled as her orgasm seemed to go on and on in time with his slow thrusts.

Draco still didn't speak to her. He didn't feel like it. He didn't know what to say. He just wanted to have his way with her. Laving his tongue over the sting of his bite, Draco loosened his hold as she went lax, her body turning boneless with her release. She didn't protest at all when he rolled them both until she was face down, his cock still embedded deep inside her clutching sheath. When she arched her back, hiking her arse into the air a bit, Draco groaned as he slid impossibly deeper inside her.

He'd never fucked her from behind, though he knew from experience with other witches that it took him deeper.

"Ah," she moaned, turning her head to peer at him over her shoulder. Their hands were still intertwined and Draco took great pleasure as he slipped his hand back under her, pressing it back to her abdomen. He thrust harder now, driving himself deeper. He met her gaze for a moment and he could see she was practically delirious with pleasure, her eyes desperate, fixed on his face needily. Draco smirked at her, rearing back a bit before driving into her. She braced for him, and Draco felt an unexpected jolt race up his spine as his pubic bone collided with her arse. The pressure was strange, but good.

More. He wanted more.

Draco supposed he could admit he might've lost control then. The feeling of driving into her so deep, of feeling himself, both with his cock and his hand on her abs, so far inside her, combined with the nerve-crackling tingles from pounding into her might've driven him over the edge. He never let go of her hand as he fucked her then. She didn't curse. Not like she usually did. But she did moan his surname loudly.

She cried out in pleasurable agony when he slipped his hand on her stomach lower, his fingers finding her clit and pressing it like a big red Explode button. She detonated under him hard as he shagged her until he could barely breathe. His lungs were burning, his whole body straining, aching to get even deeper inside her.

The fire in the fireplace roared, leaping high up the chimney as their magic meshed together, threatening to consume them both.

"Fuck… Granger… Bloody, Fuck!" Draco growled, thrusting faster, harder, his grip on her tightening as his bollocks tightened painfully before emptying into her. Merlin she had no right to feel so fucking good under him.

Their heavy pants intermingled as Draco collapsed on top of her. He was probably crushing her. He knew he should probably get off her.

"Don't move," she panted when he tensed, meaning to do just that.

"You sure?" he asked.

"Don't move yet," she tried again, clarifying and Draco got the feeling she liked the comforting weight of him on top of her, pressing her into the mattress, both of them utterly spent. He wondered if maybe she just wanted to keep him inside her a few minutes longer. He would admit he rather liked being there.

He moved his arm from beneath her when it began to tingle with loss of feeling. She hummed a strange, contented sort of purr when he used the now freed appendage to drag her nest of tangles to the side so he could nuzzle back into her neck. He breathed in the scent of her skin, slightly disgusted with himself when he realised it comforted him. He hated himself a little for the fact that he realised he'd been missing her scent as much as he'd missed the rest of her.

In fact, he loathed himself as he realised with a jolt that he'd bloody missed her.

He'd missed the scent of her skin. He'd missed that foul mouth of hers when he riled her up. He'd missed the feeling of her horrible hair tangling around his hands when he buried them in it. He'd missed the feel of her body shuddering and writhing against his as he inflicted pleasure upon her ruthlessly.

Draco lifted his head from her skin, glaring down at her in annoyance over his own flaws to learn he'd been missing a mudblood. She slanted sleepy eyes in his direction when she felt his gaze. He expected from the look on her face that she was suffering the same sudden realisation.

Merlin, they were so completely bollocksed.

Draco didn't want to deal with it. So he didn't. Instead he treated her like he would anyone else he'd just had mind blowing sex with in the middle of the night. He lifted himself enough that he could graze his teeth over her earlobe, enjoying the way her pussy clenched around his cock at the sensation.

"You hungry?" he murmured to her.

She lifted her head at that, looking surprised by his question and then thoughtful.

"Starving," she admitted as he pulled out of her and rolled to the side. He let go of her hand carefully.

"Come on then," he smirked at her, getting to his feet and searching for some pyjama bottoms, "Let's go get some food."

He handed her one of his jumpers, knowing she wouldn't be able to comfortably get back into those bloody jeans he'd had such trouble getting her out of. She was still wearing her knee high socks too, much to Draco's secret and perverted pleasure. She looked like a well ravished mess when she pulled his jumper on over her head. It fell to mid-thigh, concealing her body from view. Draco didn't bother with a shirt or a jumper for himself.

He was too busy eyeing the well-shagged little mudblood as she climbed out of his bed and began searching for her knickers. He smirked, toeing them further under the edge of the bed so she wouldn't be able to locate them until he wanted her to. She narrowed her eyes and huffed at him but said nothing when she gave up a few moments later.

Draco didn't say anything else, though he did flick his wand at her, muttering cleaning charms on both of them. He looked away for a moment, tossing up the idea of 'accidentally' forgetting the contraceptive charms. He knew that if he really wanted to he could knock her up and trick her into marrying him that way.

He dismissed the idea with a wave of his wand at her when he realised what a foolish one it was. His entire life thus far had been uprooted and hurled about like a weed in a hurricane and he wasn't about to let anything make it worse. Especially not anything like knocking up Hermione bloody Granger before he was good and ready for kids. Something he didn't expect to be until he'd completed his NEWTs and done whatever the bloody hell else he felt like doing.

Draco glanced back at her again, unable to supress a chuckle at the state of her hair. Having been out in the snow before he'd dragged her in to bed with him, it had gone completely wild. It curled madly, kinking at odd angles and making her look very much like a thickly maned lion.

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy," she hissed at him, clearly realising exactly what he was laughing at as he led her out of the room and away through the dark Manor, "And get used to it. You make me look like this, then you have to deal with it."

"I didn't say a word, Granger," he replied smoothly, still smirking.

"Your face did," she protested, "Don't you dare judge my messy hair when you're the one who made it messy."

"I can't be blamed for that atrocity," he argued, "You already had that nest going on."

"You made it worse," she insisted, "Merlin, I hate you. This isn't going to work. I want to kill you too much."

"Naw, you're such a sweet talker," Draco teased her, snagging hold of her elbow and tugging her down a step and into his arms.

"What are you doing?" she wanted to know, her arms going around his neck in surprise.

"Keeping you from hitting that trick step," he nodded his head at the second step she'd just barely brushed with her stockinged-foot. She glanced back at it and blanched at the sight of the wood splintering and giving way to what looked like a bed of nails.

"You could've warned me!" she hissed, and Draco smirked at the way her hands tangled in his hair at his nape. She wriggled a bit as though she couldn't decide if she wanted to thump him for nearly letting her impale her foot or if she wanted to climb him to make sure she didn't fall into any other traps.

"I did," Draco smirked, "By rescuing you. You should be thanking me."

He wasn't expecting it when she snogged him.

Her lips crashed against his hotly and Draco nearly forgot about his grumbling stomach at the feel of her tongue sweeping into his mouth. Merlin, how was it that even after being asleep for hours, she tasted like heaven instead of like horrible morning breath? He clutched her tighter to his chest as he tangled his tongue around hers. Bloody hell, he was going to have to shag her again. There was nothing else for it.

How could she be this much an aphrodisiac?

She was just a sodding Mudblood. Nothing special. Only he supposed she kind of was special. She was the lock to his key and the key to his lock. She was the one witch in all the world that the Fates who controlled the Old Magic had decided would be the one capable to unleash his true potential.

Draco detested that.

"Is that your way of expressing gratitude?" he asked huskily when they broke apart. She wriggled out of his hold and didn't answer, though she did level him a sly look. Draco smirked, knowing she wouldn't speak. Instead he continued leading her through the dark towards the kitchen.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

She waved her wand to light up the kitchen when he led her into it and Draco looked around the large space eagerly. All of the elves were sleeping it seemed.

"Master?" a very sleepy Tiggy asked, appearing with a quiet pop rubbing his enormous eyes and blinking at the harsh light of the well-lit kitchen.

"Go back to sleep Tiggy," Draco told the elf, eyeing him pityingly when he noticed the poor thing was practically still asleep.

"You is needing something to eat Master?" Tiggy asked, "Tiggy can makes it for you, sir."

"That's alright Tiggy," Granger interrupted before Draco could cave and ask the elf to cook them something, "You go back to sleep. We only wanted biscuits and I've found them."

She rattled the biscuit tin indicatively.

"Miss?" Tiggy asked, clearly confused by her interruption and by the way she so casually treated the elf like he was hers. Draco smirked to himself. He knew all about what a crazy little chit she'd been when they were at Hogwarts before the war. She'd started a sodding society for House Elf rights and he expected he would be getting a lecture from her about owning one the minute Tiggy was gone.

"She's right, Tiggy," Draco said, prying the tin from Granger's fingers and opening it to withdraw a biscuit to eat, "We're all set for a midnight snack. You go back to bed and get some sleep. I'll call for you when we want breakfast."

Tiggy nodded his head, looking relieved. His little shoulders sagged a bit, still rubbing one eye as he popped back out of the kitchen to wherever it was he slept. His mother had tried to offer the elves better living quarters when the war had finished, but most of them had refused to take actual quarters.

Draco turned back to Granger, expecting to find her fuming at him and ready to give him a tongue lashing. He choked on his bite of biscuit he was eating when he found her sitting on the corner counter of the nearest bench, her multi-coloured socks swinging with her legs as she nibbled one of the biscuits as well. She sat kitty-corner on the counter and Draco nearly had a coronary when he recalled she wasn't wearing any knickers – something he could plainly see thanks to the way her jumper had ridden up.

"Don't splutter at me," she chided without even bothering to glance at him as he tried to dislodge the hunk of biscuit from his windpipe. She glanced over when he gave a particular harsh cough, managing unsettle the cookie dough from his throat.

"That's unsanitary," he informed her, pointing at the way she was sitting bare-arsed on the kitchen counter.

"You were the one who hid my knickers," she argued, taking another biscuit from the tin and nibbling on it like a chipmunk.

"You can't sit on the kitchen counters without knickers, Granger. The elves prepare my food here."

"As though you haven't had your tongue down there?" she asked, flicking her eyes towards her exposed pussy.

"That's different," Draco argued, shocked by her behaviour. He'd never seen her seem so… forward. Or so blasé about anything.

"Is not," she argued, "Either way you end up with the taste of me on your tongue. Now stop gaping at me and make me a sandwich."

"Excuse me?" Draco managed, suspecting she was trying to rattle him.

"Did you not hear me?" she asked. Draco noticed that as she spoke, she was also wandlessly and nonverbally controlling the kettle into making a pot of tea. He watched with mild fascination as two cups and saucers arranged themselves. The sugar jar scuttled over and began dumping sugar into one of the cups when the water was poured.

"Do you take milk and sugar?" she asked, smirking at him in an uncanny replica of his signature expression when she noticed his attention.

"Two sugars," he nodded, "Dash of milk."

He would admit to being slightly mesmerized by the entire collection of china, including a now steaming teapot, all hopped themselves onto a tea tray which was then levitated over to where she was still sitting.

"Are you going to make me that sandwich or not?" she asked as she sipped her tea. He kind of liked the way she stuck her pinky out like a posh Lady even while sitting there bare-arsed and getting her juices all over his counter.

"Are you always this rude?" he wanted to know, recovering his equilibrium as best he could.

"Never," she replied, "But I can be worse. If you keep complaining."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, realising suddenly exactly what it was she was trying to do. She wanted to horrify him into forgetting all about the idea of them being a couple. He certainly didn't want to date her or bloody marry her. But he would. Draco knew he would. He didn't have a choice. Bothering with trying to find another witch who would have him would be a waste of time.

He was a disgraced Death Eater, for one. No one on the side of the Light wanted a bar of him thanks to his unsavoury actions and allegiances during the war. And none of the other purebloods wanted a piece of him thanks to the fact that his entire family had ratted out everyone who was a Death Eater and all those they'd known who'd been affiliated without taking the Mark. The Malfoy family was not currently a popular one, though Narcissa had been working to improve their standing once again. Draco knew his Father was having to grease a lot of palms with hefty amounts of gold to buy back some social standing.

Not that they couldn't afford it.

As though any of that wasn't troublesome enough for him to consider finding another witch but the one before him, there was also the problem of her. What witch in their right mind would want to be with a disgraced Death Eater and a Blood Traitor to boot, when he came with the added baggage of an in-built mistress for the rest of his days? He was stuck with Granger as surely as he was stuck with the brand on his forearm and the Puffeskin allergy he'd had since birth. He needed her like he needed sleep and sustenance.

She was practically a sodding medical condition and simultaneously the treatment for that condition all in one. And while there were certain families and traditions among the pureblood elite who would tolerate the idea of him having a Mistress, none would be so forgiving as to accept that Mistress being Hermione Granger.

Mudblood. War-Heroine. Know-it-all. Swotty chit.

Nope, there wasn't a witch alive who would be willing to think about competing with that. Draco wasn't above admitting that the little witch was brilliant. She wasn't that bad to look at either, when she tamed that wild mane of hers. Although Draco got the feeling as he eyed her that the hair would grow on him. He kind of liked the way she looked so well-shagged with it all in a mess like that. Any who might be willing to get past her smarts and her looks would surely object to her blood. Any who didn't object to the blood would undoubtedly know they could not match her. Even the prettiest witches in the world would not measure up for long.

Draco knew because he knew all about how a woman's beauty would fade, leaving only whatever substance she had as a person left behind. He'd seen a shining example of that in Aunt Bella. Her beauty had been irrefutable in her youth. He knew. He'd seen the pictures. But Azkaban and madness had destroyed that. Leaving only a psychotic bitch behind.

As such, he knew that even if he could find a witch with both unmatched beauty and brains, they would end up lacking. Granger would outshine them when beauty faded. None could be as clever as her. None would be as sharp as her either. Draco knew that. He despised her, but he wasn't above recognising her more favourable traits when considering marrying the chit. Besides, even if he did find a witch not only willing to be with him, allowing him a mistress and all. Even if he found a bright beauty with the most pleasant personality in the world. Even if by some miracle, those things were attainable, he would still wind up stuck with Granger.

She was the only witch he could get off with. Even being in her presence felt like a balm to long chapped skin. She got on his last damn nerve, but Draco couldn't deny that he craved her like a junkie craved a hit. And what witch would want to compete with that? No other would be able to bear him an heir to the Malfoy line. No other would be able to fall pregnant to him because no other could get him there. And he didn't imagine Granger would be willing to play at menage e tois.

He narrowed his eyes on the witch suddenly, a terrible dread filling his stomach. He couldn't knock anyone else up because he couldn't bloody come with anyone but her. But a witch didn't need to come herself to fall pregnant. Merlin's bollocks, if he didn't tie her to him in monogamy he might very have to suffer the indignity of raising some other bastard's brats. Or at the very least of being with the mother of some other bastard's brats every other night.

Draco Malfoy did not want to be that bloke. He wouldn't. He refused. He couldn't stand the thought of the drama that would ensue, for one thing, if the little bitch got herself knocked up with some other bastard's kids. He would either end up their pseudo-step-father, irrevocably warping their sense of right and wrong and what was proper, or he would be that creepy bloke who turned up and shagged their mother every night only to be gone again by dawn.

"Something bothering you, Malfoy?" Granger practically purred as the torches and the fireplace grew higher and higher, the fire leaping greedily at the rest of the house as though intent on devouring it. Draco fixed his eyes back on the little bitch where she was still swinging her legs on the counter.

She looked smug. As though she could tell he was thinking things that made him insanely jealous and utterly furious. Unable to stand the thoughts plaguing his mind, Draco stalked her across the kitchen, watching the way she tensed as he came closer. Before she could stop him or protest, Draco dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor, jerking her forwards on the edge of the bench until he could bury his face between her spread legs and spear his tongue between her folds.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed and Draco growled possessively when she dropped the tea cup she'd still been clutching, her head falling back at the feel of him tormenting her with his tongue.

Draco wasted no more time. He tasted her hungrily, forgetting his need for food with the taste of her on his tongue; the sweet flavour of her body bursting in his mouth and making him wild with lust.

"Bloody hell, Malfoy," she hissed between clenched teeth, one hand tangled in his hair, pressing his closer even as she writhed to escape his torment of her. She groaned like she was dying when Draco drove two fingers into her pussy, curling them against the spongy spot on the front wall of her passage and working it ruthlessly. He used his tongue and his teeth to twist and tease the bundle of nerves at the top of her slit. Her heels dug into his back, though whether she was trying to pull him closer or kick him away, Draco didn't even think she knew.

It didn't take long before Draco felt her burst around him, a low whine leaving her throat as her body spasmed with release. Before she could recover, Draco rose, capturing her lips with his and spearing his tongue into her mouth like he'd done to her dripping cunt. She tried to fight him off, clearly not approving of the taste of herself, but Draco refused to release her. He clamped one hand on the back of her neck, nipping her lips punishingly as he snogged her furiously. The other hand freed his cock from the pyjama bottoms he wore and guided the throbbing member into her still fluttering slit.

He wasn't going to stop. He didn't think he could stop. And he sure as fuck wasn't going to share!