Chapter 34
"Wrapped so Pretty"
The steam from his shower slowly filled the room, blanking him in a heated warmth steam, honey and lavender. He wanted to fight the temptation building in him. But the frustration of being without her was overwhelming.
He dropped the bar soap and began lowering his hand and allowed it to wander, tiny beads of water slamming against his skin mesmerizing his senses. The lather of the suds would aid his stroke, placing his hand around his erection he could feel he was hard. With a firm grip he pushed down and started the routine of pleasing himself. He wanted her so badly, he could almost see her, taste her, so hot, so wet as she shared his bath.
The vision of her skin filled his mind, her brown eyes, deep, trusting. They seemed to imprison his heart. Two women, two entirely different desires, Buttercup and Hermione somehow became one in the same. Still at times he would wonder how could he not see the similarities before, how could he not know? But that was the past. He thrust his hand against his cock releasing its tension with steady strokes.
He was so wrapped in the illusion of her, so caught in this crazy moment of hot sex. He didn't care if she heard him, if maybe Hermione was lurking just outside the bathroom door. He became bewitch by the erection growing in his hand, it throbbed. . .soaking deeply insideof her.
She was sopping and wet and it felt so good. He jacked off harder and he could feel himself getting close, his muscles tightened as he worked and leaned her forward completely, opening her more, and he tilted deep inside her. He moaned and spurts of thick cream release onto the bare shower floor. . .
Unreal and only a small fraction of what he wanted, it would have to do. He had enough of her screwing with his life. He cleaned up quickly.
Out of the shower and fully dressed. White button shirt and typical black cloak and trouser, Draco yanked his wand from the bedroom dresser and headed for the fireplace.
He wasn't going to just write to the president of the Leprechauns. He was going to straight to prosecute the whole damn company of those little green bastards. The whole damn business, right down to the last shamrock. He teach them not to ship out inferior cereal.
But first he would make a stop by the stadium. There was one thing he didn't want. He didn't want to seem desperate to the guys on the team, even if Quidditch had been the only thing major in his life since he had been eighteen; he didn't want it to show.
He walked past several players, he greeted them and kept on his way, passing the shower room unseen and pass the towel racks.
At last he reached the row that held his two lockers, and he jerked open the door to the one holding his jersey and quidditch uniform. A waterfall of tiny marshmallows spilled onto the room floor, hundreds of them, golden yellow nuggets, white unicorns, multiple colored gems and rubies, green clovers. They were flowing from his locker like a river, it was as if they were multiplying. He tried to stop them and tried to shove them back inside.
He managed to slam the locker shut, but this only made things worse. A force of rainbow puffs exploded from the other joining lockers like a cauldron over boiling and pushed their doors open.
They scattered everywhere. Across the benches, rolling past the towel racks into the shower rooms. A red veil descended over his eyes. . . . he was going to kill her! She did this!