Chapter Three

That night the wind howled outside her poorly heated flat and she wrapped up in yet another threadbare blanket to conserve body heat. The tiny space was a room in the attic, made into a woefully inadequate efficiency apartment by the skinflint owner of the row of buildings which house different shops along Knockturn Alley. Madame Demelza moved here from Hogsmeade just after the War and had made a good living for herself. She was moving the shop to better lodgings in a week. Missing her already, for she'd become a dear friend as well as a landlady, Olivia was uneasy with the new owners of the shop. Although they seemed to be a nice couple, there was something strange about how the man stared at her, as though mentally undressing her…

She shook her head. 'For crying out loud, look at yourself! He was probably wondering if you were about to keel over and perish from malnutrition! No, you won't win any beauty pageants, Livvie, not like … her. She was exquisite, and just what Lord Malfoy, Lucius, wanted. If only … if only I could have someone look at me that way, hungrily, as though he could eat me whole and only I would be enough to sustain him…'

Sleep claimed her before her thought could be completed. Before long she began to dream…

Dream

The room was dark save for the light from the fireplace and a few well-placed candles. Before the fire was a sunken tub, both opulent and decadent with its different shades of brown and stylish copper fixtures. Built entirely of the most expensive marble, it would easily accommodate five adults, but tonight only two. She undressed, staring at herself in the shadowed mirrors surrounding the bath; her once emaciated form filled out to lush curves and silky skin, coppery curls cascading down ivory skin to kiss the backs of her knees. Steam rose fragrant with lavender and vanilla, his two favorite fragrances.

"Good enough to eat," he'd often say, before devouring her until she came, screaming his name.

A waft of cooler air distracted her from her thoughts. She turned abruptly, but nothing was amiss. Facing the mirrors once again, she began the ritualistic braiding of her hair. A disembodied arm suddenly wrapped around her middle and pulled her toward a hard, muscled chest. Gasping, she clutched the arm that held her tight as the other brought a warm hand to palm her breast, shape it, and mold it. A low moan filled the room, and she scarcely recognized her own voice. The disembodied hand moved downward and tangled in the ginger colored hair at the apex of her thighs. Gasping, she quivered as he parted the pearly pink petals of her softness and stroked it until her moans became cries.

"Watch, my love. Watch me while I make love to you as you deserve." His words and adoration, in combination with the sight of his fingers appearing and disappearing within her quivering sheath, brought her to a gasping orgasm…

He caught her up in his arms and carried her to the tub and gently lowered her into the warm water. Picking up his wand and flicking it over the surface of the water, jets began to circulate and she groaned with pleasure when the undulating water hit tired muscles. He joined her and settled his big body in the seat opposite hers, pulling her ankle up and grasping her tiny foot in his hands.

"Relax, my pet. I will take care of you tonight." His hooded blue gaze promised many delights to come and her blood sang merrily in her veins in response.

Leaning back against the padded headrest, she lowered her eyelids and watched him surreptitiously. He was beautiful, his blonde hair caught back in a leather band, deliciously muscled chest exposed to her lascivious gaze. And his eyes were so warm and tender as they drew hers in.

"I love you," she said with an earnest honesty, and her breath caught at the way those eyes lit up and at his genuine smile.

He wrapped his hands around her foot and stroked it, applying his thumbs in a circular motion to its delicate arch. She groaned in appreciation as he hit every sore spot, every strung-out nerve, and felt herself grow limp with pleasure. He put down that foot and pulled up the other, giving it his full attention, and making her boneless with contentment.

Without making her move, he grasped her wrists and gently turned her around, settling her astride his lap. "Let me rub your shoulders, my love," he whispered into her ear, making her shiver with longing.

He shifted his hips, and she felt his erection under her bottom. With a gasp, and a smile, she lightly ground her aching heat on his thickened shaft. His moan of approval gave way to nibbling kisses down the side of her neck, and she dropped her head back onto his shoulder to give him greater access.

"Hand me the soap, Liv," came his husky plea, "let me play with you." He took the soap from her hand and, palms slick with it, circled her breasts, brushed the nipples, then lightly plucked them between his fingers, brushed and flicked.

Her breathing became quicker, hungrier; and her body melted into his. Kissing her behind her ear, whispering sweet, bawdy love words, he stroked her chest and down her stomach, and then moving back to her breasts to pluck and brush the nipples until she was breathless and aching with desire.

Catching her earlobe in his lips, he suckled the diamond stud he'd just bought her, until she shuddered and moaned his name. Slowly, he spread his legs, and in the process, wedged hers open with his knees. His hands slid down to her inner thighs and pulled them taut, anchoring her to him as he shifted turning them both and moving them closer to the edge of the tub. She didn't quite understand what he was doing until the powerful jet gushed into her. Gasping, she nearly jumped off his lap and only the seductive siren call of the devil's laughter in her ear kept her tethered to reality.

"Relax, my dove, enjoy." His voice was pure sin, rich as double espresso, and twice as dark. So, may the gods forgive her … she did.

He played with her breasts, nipped at her neck and shoulders with strong teeth, and sucked at the tender flesh of her neck. He twisted their bodies so that the occasional surge of warm water pummeled her, sometimes him, and she lost herself in the sweet passion. He lifted her and pressed hard into her from behind, and let the water work on them both where they were joined. Each time she was about to go over the edge he eased them back, out of the path of the pulsing water. Desperately, she tried to move on him, but firm hands at her hips kept her from having that freedom.

"Please…" she sobbed, "let me … let me…"

"Do you want more Livvie? Do you want more of this, my sweet, dearest Olivia?" His gentle, loving croon added fuel to her excitement and he pressed deeply into her to emphasize his meaning.

"Yes … yes… gods, yes!" she cried.

"Then you shall have it, love. All of this and more." With these words, he surged into her as the jets pulsated against her clit; the combination stole the breath from her lungs.

Granting her freedom at last, he aided her movements as she rocked against him, kissing her neck and murmuring his enduring love into her ear until his breath hitched and he was as caught up as she in the sensations that swamped their systems. Catching her shoulder between his teeth and grasping her thighs, he spread her to her fullest as he arched her back against his chest, and pumped into her with powerful strokes. She tightened hard around him for an eternal moment, then broke, shattered and fractured into a thousand pieces of screaming satisfaction as, crying out her name, he spilled his seed within her. He remained inside her as they settled, holding her close as they floated in the euphoria of spent passion. He loved the thought of his semen remaining inside her, he longed to watch her grow plump with their child.

"I love you, Olivia Malfoy" he whispered, so achingly loving that she felt tears come to her eyes.

She turned to look at him, but she was alone again in the lonely flat atop a shop, on the outskirts of Knockturn Alley.