A/N: Sorry for the extended hiatus, it may be a while for me to crank out chapter 34, but here's the last chapter I had waiting in the wings. Hope you enjoy some sexy sexy consent. XD Happy new year. =)
Chapter 33: An Act of Desperation
By the time Blaise found her, she'd sobered up slightly, and had made up her mind.
She was confused as fuck and horny as hell, and she wanted – no, needed – to be touched.
She was standing at the corner of the little lounge area, where it met the main room, watching a couple going at it on the dance floor (no, she wasn't jealous, why ever would you think that) when his hand tugged at the edge of her apron, getting her attention and making it clear it was him before he slipped an arm around her waist. "Miss me?" His voice was like a purr, spoken just on the edge of her ear, tickling her skin and sending a delightful shiver through her. He'd turned her and pulled her toward him gently, and she'd taken the cue to press herself against him, but not before once again taking in all of his bare-torso-ed glory. Fuck Malfoy, she had the hottest boy at the party right here. And he was in her thrall.
Ginny's lips curved into a devious smile. "Yes," she admitted, eyes dropping coyly as her fingers teasingly skimmed along the waistband of his costume. He had abs. Subtle, yes, but like, countable abs. (So did Malfoy, her mind piped up, though it was hurriedly silenced.) How had she gotten so lucky, again?
He seemed surprised at her response (most likely expecting a 'you wish'), but the look passed quickly, replaced by wolfish delight. "Oh really?" He grinned, and ducked his head to nip at her earlobe, his breath passing down her neck in a hot whisper. "Care to prove that, Red?"
And actually… yes. Yes she did. She'd had enough of teasing and stolen snogging sessions in deserted classrooms. She may not be looking for a boyfriend, but her roommates had dressed her to get laid, dammit, and she wasn't about to disrespect their work by reigning herself in when all she wanted was some kind of contact.
He wouldn't believe her if she told him the truth.
She ran one hand up his chest, her nails just barely scratching his skin, and the other grabbed his that was around her waist. She didn't say a word as she interlaced his fingers with hers and shot him a seductive gaze, before turning on one heel and pulling him behind her, looking for a room where they could be alone.
Blaise, knowing the house better, gave her hand a soft tug, grabbing her attention. Looking amused (and slightly dazed at his own luck), he jerked his chin in the direction of a door just off the lounge area.
Ginny pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit by a small lamp in the corner, holding one queen sized bed (looking as though it hadn't been touched in months) and an assortment of free weights with a blue exercise mat beneath them.
As she led Blaise in, and he shut the door behind them, he quipped; "I see you've already been defloured – what a shame."
Surprised, she felt her cheeks warming as she stepped hurriedly away and shot him a glare.
He had the gall to laugh, and quickly slipped his arms around her waist, kissing her on the top of the head. "I meant your back, gorgeous," he murmured, the smile audible in his voice.
She felt her anger ebbing away. Of course. And she thought her friends had brainstormed all the possible innuendos to do with baked goods. "Very funny," she muttered wryly, pulling out of his arms and snapping his waistband, eyes still narrowed, as she stepped onto the blue mat at the end of the bed, crossing her arms. She made sure to cross them under her bust, though, knowing the accentuation of her curves would distract him.
And how right she was. It took Blaise a good few seconds to remember what he'd been saying. When he finally met her eyes he asked, vaguely, as though trying to drag his thoughts away from something else, "Who was the good Samaritan, anyway?"
She considered lying to him. Saying she'd gotten a girl to do it, or even some other boy, just anything but the truth. But in the end she shrugged, and kept her eyes trained on the black-haired boy as she said, causally, "Malfoy, actually. Someone had written 'slag' so he-" she faltered, eyes skittering away, but recovered quickly, "-he helped clean it off." He also managed to find just about every erogenous zone on my back, and I'm starting to believe that was entirely intentional, she thought, but said none of it. The memory was sending chills down her spine in the best way, but in a way that also troubled her.
Ginny didn't want to be thinking about him. About the way he'd spoken to her, the growl in his voice, how his skin had hummed against hers… nope, none of it. She put that all out of her mind and focused her attention on Blaise. He looked about to apologize for the graffiti incident, but she stopped that train dead in its tracks as she met his golden eyes with her frantically sparking chocolate gaze. Her look was slightly manic, maybe, perhaps belying some of the desperation she was feeling to get these thoughts out of her head because it was absolutely enthralling.
Blaise's voice was weak as he managed a quiet offhanded "Lucky bastard," at the same time as he reached for her.
She slipped her fingers into his, and let him pull her toward the bed, glad to have a new place for her thoughts to focus. Now it was all about the tactile sensation of Blaise.
She ducked her head as he drew her close, and she wrapped her arms around his waist, placing a chaste kiss just below his collarbone.
The intimacy of the move surprised him, and he seemed to hesitate. "If you don't want to-"
There would be none of that. This wasn't about feelings. This was about sensation.
Before he could utter another word, Ginny had grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down into an urgent kiss.
"I want to," she assured him, quietly. Moving her legs to place one between his, she moved forward, backing him toward the bed. She pressed a firm hand into his chest, nudging him backward, and he let himself fall onto the mattress, even as she kept approaching. He shifted up onto his elbows, moving back until just his ankles hung over the edge of the bed, and she crawled on top of him.
With one knee beside his hip and the other resting in the space between his legs, she had a hand on either side of his torso. She leaned forward to catch his lips again, briefly. Pulling back, she reiterated: "I want this."
