The woman stood proudly before Hermione.
"What can I do for ya?" Cherry asked her.
Hermione blinked at the woman who stood at least five inches taller than her because of her stilettos. Cherry's shimmering, generous chest was directly in Hermione's line of sight.
"Um," Hermione started timidly. Cherry just gave Hermione a knowing smile.
"You the wife of one of the fellas I'm seein' tonight, aren't ya?" she asked, placing all her weight on one hip and folding her arms. Hermione could help but notice she seemed to be all arms, legs and boobs.
"Fiancee," Hermione corrected her. Then inhaling deeply, she prepared to get the words out. Because it was a mad plan, and Hermione had no hope of pulling it off. Was surprising Ron really worth wearing four-inch stilettos and lingerie that left nothing to the imagination?
"Look honey," Cherry said with a sigh like she got this 'talk' from wives and fiancees all the time, "I can't not go, alright? They booked me, my boss would be mad if I didn't complete the contract, and I gotta pay my rent."
"What if I told you," Hermione said slowly, afraid she would lose her nerve, "that I want to take your place?"
A short bark of laughter startled Hermione. Cherry's red lips stretched wide as her eyes roamed Hermione's five-foot, seven inches frame and did what Hermione assumed was imagining Hermione taking her place.
"And give up my pay, honey?" Cherry asked, an eyebrow quirking high on her forehead, revealing her beautiful eyeshadow.
"No!" Hermione shook her head, aghast. "No, I will take your place and surprise my fiance, and you keep whatever money you get. They pay for you beforehand, right?"
"And my boss gives me my cut once the job is done," Cherry said with a roll of her eyes. She shifted her weight to the other hip and Hermione can't help but look at the curve of her waist to her hip and feel envious of her toned stomach and the lift of her arse.
"What happens when you back out and I lose the money, huh?" Cherry said after she thought about it.
"I won't back out," Hermione said confidently. Cherry laughed.
"It costs five hundred Galleons for a night with me," Cherry said proudly, "I ain't giving that up for some fiancee with a weird fetish. They don't call me Cherry Galleon for nothin'."
"It's not a fetish," Hermione insisted, confused on why it would be, and winded slightly at the sheer sum of money the men had forked together for a bachelor party's stripper. She had overheard the men say that they would be experiencing Cherry one at a time – something about the experience – and that Ron would be first.
Obviously, once Ron saw it was Hermione, not Cherry, he'd be surprised, and nobody else would have to see her almost naked.
"Whatever honey," Cherry said, finally her tone became dismissive, "I can't let ya go in there and then fuck this up for me-"
"I'll give you the money if I back out," Hermione said desperately. Cherry's eyes narrowed. "How's that sound?"
"Swear it with magic," Cherry gestured at Hermione's wand on her hip, "make a verbal contract."
A wave of triumph rocketed through Hermione. With shaking hands, she grabbed her wand and lifted it up, pointing the tip to the ceiling.
"I promise to fulfil the duties of Cherry Galleon on this night on pain of repayment of fees in the total sum of five hundred Galleons," Hermione said evenly as a warm blue thread tightened around her wrist. Cherry's eyes widened.
"Oh, you were serious," she said softly, a little dumbfounded.
"Of course, I was," Hermione laughed nervously. "Now do you believe me?"
"Well, honey," Cherry said, sounding impressed and a little bit odd, "Feel free to use any of my outfits. My shoes won't fit you, so you can go barefoot. Everything else you need is in the box."
"Merlin," Hermione said, suddenly nervous. She glanced at the rack of stringy, lacy, barely there clothing. "No, it's alright. I came dressed."
Hermione shifted uncomfortably as the lingerie beneath her jumper and jeans prickled at her freshly bare cunt, the bralette itching her back and breasts.
"You sure?" Cherry asked her, raising her eyebrows with genuine concern. "'Cause I ain't responsible for what happens when you go there. If you back out now and I go, your verbal contract will be void, and you don't gotta pay me nothin'."
"I'm ready," Hermione said confidently.
"Bear!" Cherry yelled, a smile on her face, and curiosity in her eyes. The door opened and the bouncer who had guided Hermione through the club to Cherry's room peered in. "Could you escort this lady here to my booth?"
Bear eyed Hermione. "Boss won't like it."
"Boss still gets paid," Cherry quickly fired back. Bear stared at Cherry, thinking. Then he opened the door and made a motion with his hand, beckoning her.
Hermione was beyond excited and nervous. She had succeeded! Now she got to strip for Ron and give him the best wedding present ever.
Hermione looked at Cherry, grinning. "Thank you," she said sincerely.
"Uh huh," Cherry said, waving her hand dismissively, but only half-heartedly.
Hermione followed Bear into the club, and for a brief moment, she thought she might have to walk past everyone to get to the booth. Bear, to her relief, guided her to a back corridor lined with doors. Finally, he knocked, entered, and then motioned for Hermione to enter the room.
The booth's downlighters were set to dim and had a blue hue. An indecipherable colour was used to upholster everything, dimpling in calculated distances to give a posh, plush visual. Hermione touched the walls and it felt like velvet. A door was on the far side of the room, nestled comfortably and almost seamlessly into the luxurious velvet walls.
"You need to get in there before they come in," Bear said, gesturing at a box in the centre of the room. The walls of it seemed to be frosted and every corner of it was lit, giving it a white, foggy appearance.
"Oh!" Hermione said, eyeing it carefully. She did need to strip and it would make a grand reveal if she burst out of it.
"If the clients get rowdy, there's a red button in there. Press it and I'll be here to get them out," Bear said, already at the door they had entered through. "Get in the box."
Hermione thanked him and carefully slid into the telephone booth-shaped box.
Inside it was strange.
There was a folding part of the wall, like a retractable ironing board, a seat, a place to tuck her clothing, containers of something, water, and towels. Why would she need towels? Oddest of all was the waist-height holes on two opposing walls of the box, which seemed to serve no purpose. Tips maybe? Then, as soon as she locked the door, the walls turned transparent.
Panic flooded her. Did that mean they could see her?
Hermione looked around, found a red button and rang the buzzer. Bear opened the door and peered in, lifting an annoyed eyebrow.
"The walls are clear!" she whispered loudly.
"It's for you, for your safety. They can't see you," Bear said with a huff. Hermione blinked.
"Magic?" Hermione asked.
"Yes, girly," Bear laughed. "Magic."
He left. Hermione shut the door and turned the lock. Standing in her lingerie, she kept her eyes focused on the velvet door, the dull pulse of the club's bass seeping through the room's walls and quickening her heartbeat to the music's rhythm.
Ron entered looking half terrified, and half excited. It reminded Hermione of how he had looked when Harry had faced the Horntail. She waited for him to approach her, his eyes dark and reflecting her silhouette on the surface.
"Hi," Ron said nervously, staring directly at her with a shy smile. Hermione grinned fondly at him. She was prepared to leave the box, not willing to respond which might ruin the surprise by having him recognise her voice. "So do I just, stick it in the hole?"
Hermione paused. Stick what in the hole? The tips?
Ron began undoing his zipper and Hermione was horrified to see his cock spring forward, already hard and at the ready.
It took Hermione a moment, but then it all hit her at once.
He had intended to fuck a woman tonight. A woman two nights before their wedding. That's why Cherry was so weird about it. And Bear.
Why did they let her come here?
Because all six Weasley men were going to share her holes…Hermione realised with dawning horror. One at a time, they were going to come into the booth and empty their balls into Cherry Galleon's throat, cunt, and whatever else they pleased.
The contract tightened on her wrist when her mind wavered. She'd be out five hundred Galleons if she backed out. She'd also be admitting to Ron she knew what he was doing; that she had overheard their conversations about the club and kept listening when she knew he wouldn't want her to be.
Hermione watched as Ron slipped his cock through the hole. The cock she had sucked and fucked for the past five years. Had he always been disloyal to her?
Then fury rippled through her and all the logic she had tried desperately to hold onto
Hermione had only ever slept with Ron. For her entire life, Ron was her only. And tonight, whether Ron had cheated before or not before, meant he was going to cheat on her now.
Revenge was what she wanted.
"Hello?" Ron said nervously. His cock was beginning to soften from Hermione's lack of response.
Hermione looked around and found a potion amongst the random assortment of things. She opened it and identified it for what it was. An Aphrodisiac Potion. Hermione downed it in one gulp.
Warmth erupted from her stomach and webbed through her entire body, dimming the edges of her anger, but not ridding her of it. All her thoughts were still her own. The only thing that had changed about her, was her ability to feel every pleasurable sensation against her skin and inside her body.
She lowered herself onto her knees, a cushion softened the floor and grasped his shaft in one fist. Ron's hips bucked at the contact and he swore, laughing.
"I was beginning to wonder if there was someone in there or not," he said nervously. Hermione didn't want to hear him talk anymore. She took the head of his cock into her mouth and swirled her tongue around it, taking care to press against the sensitive underside of his head until he was rock hard in her fist.
His precome was bitter and plentiful. Hermione watched him brace himself against the wall and looked up into her fiance's dazed eyes as she took him into her throat and gagged.
"Fuck- fuck," he swore, his hands going into tight fists.
Merlin, he was pathetic. He was about to come already.
Hermione stood, releasing him from her hand and turned around. He was hers, after all. And she would make him feel ashamed he came as quickly as she was about to make him.
Sliding her knickers to the side, she held him again and ignored his little groan of delight. Ron's cock slipped into her cunt like it always did, snug and pleasant, reaching the right places.
"Your pussy is so good," Ron said, moving his hips. Hermione let him for a few seconds before she worked her hips. She always hated the word pussy. Ron used it when he described someone as weak.
Using her wrath, Hermione built a rhythm until the wall slapped the flesh of her arse and Ron was swearing. He pressed himself fully against the wall and Hermione could just imagine the stupid blissed-out expression on his face.
The potion hadn't taken effect yet, or maybe she hated her soon-to-be husband that much, she didn't feel much pleasure from him slipping in and out of her.
Heat flooded against her walls, but Hermione didn't slow. She expected Ron to pull out at least, but he didn't. She never let him come inside her because the Weasley sperm was so strong, as evident by the many existing siblings.
Hopefully, her contraceptive potion worked tonight.
Ron slipped from her once she had slowed, leaving the mess of his come against her thighs and smearing against the walls around the hole.
That's why there were towels.
Hermione stood straight and let the mess drip to the floor. She watched Ron zip up his trousers looking pleased with himself. Hermione hadn't even moaned out of fear he'd recognise her, but Ron Weasley seemed as oblivious as ever. He didn't even recognise her cunt.
The club's lights and sounds came through the crack of the door as Ron exited, along with a loud, sharp smack. A high-five.
Then came Percy Weasley.
Hermione felt nerves rise in her chest when she realised what she was about to do.
"If you don't mind," Percy said pompously as he neatly unzipped his fly and presented his half-hard cock, "I'd like only oral, please. I'm not up for a shag."
Hermione thought rather aggressively, Penelope would murder you if she knew.
Hermione got to her knees, wiped Ron's come rimming the hole with a towel, ignored the scent of sex filling her lungs, and ignored the come settling in her knickers. Then she waited for Percy to slip his cock through the hole.
Hermione took him into her mouth and was surprised by how quickly his shaft firmed up. She couldn't help it; she looked up at Percy to find him biting his lip, looking down to where his cock disappeared through a hole and into Hermione's mouth.
How would he feel knowing Hermione was the one sucking him off?
Just like his younger brother, Percy's face turned red the closer his balls came to emptying into her.
"Swallow," Percy said, his words taut and broken just as his knees buckled. "And show me your tongue."
Percy was a little kinky, Hermione realised.
She did as he asked.
With her mouth open wide, just visible through the hole, and his come warming her stomach next to her potion, Hermione allowed Percy Weasley to slap his cock against her tongue. Then she watched him leave with a little more swagger than he had when he entered.
Charlie Weasley wasn't someone Hermione had seen very often. He was shorter than his brothers, but the width of his chest, shoulders, and the bulge of his biceps reflected his job working with dragons.
Eagerness and curiosity rose in her. There was something morbid about what she was doing and now, she wanted to come.
The potion had taken effect and her pulse was thundering, bursting with exposed fireworks as nerve endings. It wasn't fair that they got pleasure, and she got none.
"Get on the table," Charlie said, standing a few feet away and studying the box. Hermione stood, looking around for what he meant. The ironing board-like thing. Hermione pulled it free and found the platform was the height of the hole.
Before Hermione could get onto it, Charlie touched the outside in a series of taps and the hole widened. Hermione panicked, terrified that Charlie was about to peer in. He didn't.
"Come on then," Charlie instructed, "get on the table and slip your legs through."
Hermione froze. Would he recognise her legs?
No, no he wouldn't. He had only met her three times, and that wasn't nearly enough to memorise her legs unclothed.
The platform, in spite of being solid to the touch, warped to the shape of her and made her comfortable. Charlie's calloused hands closed around her hips and pulled her forward to where he wanted her, pressing her legs back until the top of her thighs met the outside of the box's frosted walls.
Hermione's view was unobscured. Charlie looked at her cunt appreciatively, at where the come had soaked through her knickers and slicked the inside of her thighs. Charlie swiped his thick fingers against her, and Hermione shuddered.
Carefully, Charlie slid her knickers to the side and hummed, his eyes dark and enraptured by the sight before him. Hermione wondered for a moment how Charlie knew how to do any of what he had just done to the box, and she understood in a moment of clarity that Charlie had been the one to suggest the club. He had been here before.
Two fingers slipped into her and Hermione writhed away. Charlie smirked, curling his fingers and building a slow rhythm. Hermione couldn't help it. She moaned, then clasped a hand over her mouth to silence herself.
"Does that feel good?" Charlie asked. "Because you feel amazing."
Charlie used the slick from his fingers and smeared it along the length of his shaft.
Hermione held her breath.
Charlie slammed into her, his eyes all the while fixed on where he entered her. Hermione's eyes rolled back into her skull with the sweet friction of Charlie's cock, pressing into places Ron never tried to reach. Riding the pent-up pleasure Charlie had built from his fingers, Hermione touched herself to her own astonishment, her fingers finding her stiff clit and rubbing circles against the ball of nerves until she shattered.
Bright sparks followed the length of her body, curling her toes and stiffening her spine until she spasmed into a languid heap.
Charlie watched in fascination, slowing slightly to feel Hermione cunt rippling around him before he gradually built momentum again. Hermione wanted to thrash away from him. She felt delirious from overstimulation, but Charlie's wide palms held her steady as he slid into her again and again.
Just as Charlie's face began to redden, Hermione gasped and braced herself against the wall, craning her neck to look at Charlie's thumb pressing against her clit until she came just as Charlie's hips stuttered and he fought to keep going.
Heat spilt into her, her cunt clenching and unclenching, sucking him in and pushing him out of her in waves. Charlie swore, exhaling through his nose with the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Then with a slap of his cock against her clit, Charlie unceremoniously tucked his cock back into his trousers, did a once over to see that he was decent, and left.
Hermione was left dripping, Charlie's spend trickling to the floor and table beneath her, legs quivering in the aftermath of her first, followed closely by her second orgasm of the night.
There was time for her to pull herself back into the box when both Fred and George Weasley walked in. Fred's eyes roamed all that he could see, which was Hermione's already-filled hole and her shaking legs.
"What did Charlie say to do, again?" George asked, not slotting between her legs, but instead tapping on the wall as Charlie had done. Suddenly, the wall above her head where the second hole resided, came closer to her, narrowing the box so if she looked behind her, she had a perfect view through it.
"There we go," Fred said, grinning.
They meant to fuck her at the same time.
Did Angelina know? What about Katie?
The shrill sound of a zipper echoed two-fold. Then George's hands were turning her weakened body onto her stomach and his fingers slipped along her ruined slit through her soaked knickers, catching the remnants of his brothers and pushing it back into her.
"Merlin's tit," George whispered, laughing slightly, "Charlie did a number on her."
"Don't you think she resembles Hermione?" Fred asked. Hermione's heart thundered against the comfortable bench beneath her. She had spent more time with the twins. They could recognise her.
"Colour maybe," George agreed. "Maybe he hired a woman who looks like her to make it easier on Ron."
"He finished quick, didn't he?" Fred laughed. Hermione looked up at him and then the heady smell of his cock filled her nostrils with her deep breathing. He was already oozing precome and Hermione's mouth watered in anticipation of tasting it. Her body was buzzing with potion, craving to feel more, to be filled, to be used.
"Maybe he might want a round two?" George said, taking each one of Hermione's arse cheeks in a hand and spreading her open. He yanked her knickers off the side and left it pinching into the soft flesh of her left arse cheek.
Fred's cock twitched when the breath of her exhale hit his swollen pink head. Hermione opened her mouth and pressed her tongue against it.
Fred's eyes shut, a smile curled on his face. "Her mouth is so good," he said breathily, "I could imagine what her throat is like."
Fred carefully pressed forward, and with George holding her in place, Fred's cock had nowhere to go but into her throat. Hermione gagged, trying to breathe through her nose as tears sprung in her eyes and her stomach heaved.
"Her cunt tightens when you do that," George said, no doubt entertained at the sight of her.
Hermione started at the feel of George's cock pressing into her now, and unlike his twin, George was not gentle. He slammed into her, earning a moan from Hermione's throat which wrapped around Fred's cock. She gagged again.
Fred pulled away, leaving her coughing and gasping as her own saliva and tears wrapped under her chin. Hermione took hold of his shaft and held him away from her mouth to give her throat a break because George's hips were slamming into the flesh of her arse with loud echoing slaps that made her want to sob his name.
She couldn't sob his name.
Writhing, she focused on the length of him and the curve of his cock with every thrust. Her clit rubbed against the bench, and just then, it began to vibrate. Hermione moaned loudly, the sound escaping her throat before she could bite it back.
"Oh!" Fred grins. "She has a voice."
Hermione shattered. And nothing stopped the vibration, so she came again. George was swearing, and saying words Hermione couldn't hear over the sound of George's hips slamming against her wet skin or the sound of her desperate cries of euphoria.
"She's coming like crazy," George said, his voice strained just as his hips stuttered and slowed, come refilling her in place of what he had just fucked out of her.
"Leave the vibrator on," Fred said, "I want to feel her come, too."
A vibrator. George had turned on a feature of the box. Slowly and deliberately, George slid from her and swiped his head through the come seeping out of her hole because of her neverending clenching walls.
Then he sank back into her and groaned, low in his chest when she tightened and loosened around him in the waves of her orgasm. Her legs shook, struggling to hold her up. She let herself slump and that was even worse, the bench moulded to her clit and the thrum of its vibrations increased tenfold.
Hermione watched as Fred left her field of view and George entered, the entire length of his cock was creamy, and come was beading thickly from his head.
She opened her mouth greedily to taste him and the mess he had made. They were sweet and bitter together, smelling of sex and sweat and musk. She licked and sucked whatever she could reach with her tongue until he was clean, and watched George's eyelids shut in pleasure.
Fred positioned himself behind her, and slowly, but purposefully, he buried himself inside her to his hilt and moaned in relief.
"I could come just from the feel of her," Fred said hoarsely. Gradually, the pace of his hips grew until he was pounding into her and she was faced with George's still-hard cock. Did they take potions as she had?
Hermione steadied herself on her feet again, fighting the weakness of her knees to lift herself from the bench that had stolen all her coherent thoughts from her skull. Arching her back, Fred's cock sank into her at a mind-numbing angle until her body purred. She hadn't stopped coming. Her clit thrummed, almost numb from all the excruciating ecstasy she had fallen into.
"She's fighting the bench," Fred said, awe in his voice. "Oh, but your cunt is divine," he moaned softly.
At his words, Hermione's mind exploded into fireworks and she gripped the bench, arching her back as she came for him, on him, and finally, his hips stuttered to a stop and heat flooded her cunt.
"Fuck," Fred hissed, " fuck. "
"Do you want her to clean your cock off?" George asked, finally taking his shaft from her hands and tucking it back into his trousers. "She did a fantastic job on mine."
Fred didn't answer, instead, she found herself waiting, mouth open to lick him clean. Come still spilled onto her tongue from his oozing head and she sucked it eagerly, happy to empty what he had to give her.
"Bill is going to love her," Fred said happily.
"Our brother does love sloppy seconds," George laughed. He was out of sight, sounding far away from her. Fred's hips moved unconsciously before he sighed and tucked himself away.
"He's been waiting a while," Fred said. "Let's let him in."
Hermione had stopped thinking of all their wives. She was eager to find out what Bill felt like.
He was the eldest. And he was part werewolf. How lucky was Fleur, exactly? Hermione wanted to find out. She let her limp body lay on the bench, cool air meeting her come-slicked thighs while she waited for Bill Weasley; the last of the night.
Bill was silent in his approach.
Hermione swore she met his eyes when she looked over her shoulder to see him enter the room. He hadn't even looked at her cunt, ruined and creamed.
Bill's hands were large like Charlie's, but his fingers were slender with slightly thicker knuckles. In each hand, as George had done, Bill took her arse and kneaded the soft flesh. Hermione shivered in anticipation, already feeling needy and empty after Fred and George had left her.
"I can smell them on you," Bill said, his voice almost a growl. The pink scars on his face were almost grotesque in the low light, but Hermione only saw the darkness of his eyes and the wrinkle of his nose. He didn't look disgusted, only intrigued.
Bill undid his belt, and button, letting his trousers pool around his ankles. Then he slipped his boxers off and they slid down his muscular thighs to join his discarded clothing. With a final kick of his feet, he cleared the area between them and inhaled deeply.
"Did they polyjuice you into Hermione?" Bill muttered, sliding his palms along the inside of her thighs, spreading the come against her skin and staring at the shimmer of her skin before it dried.
Hermione stiffened. If she hadn't, she could have lied and said yes. The sweat pricking on her skin was that of nerves and Bill stopped skimming his fingers against her slit at her reaction.
"What did you do?" Bill asked, his voice hoarse and heavy.
Hermione swallowed, then tried to turn. Bill caught her leg and lifted it, spreading her open and forcing her to stand on one leg.
"You are Hermione," Bill said slowly, the grip of his fingers tightening slightly, "aren't you?"
"Don't tell Ron," Hermione whispered.
"Why would I?" Bill answered. "Do you plan on marrying him?" he asked her, curiosity in his voice.
"Do you plan on telling your brothers?" Hermione countered.
"If you can come on my cock, I won't tell a soul," Bill breathed. The press of his head against her clit made her softly moan.
"If you tell them," Hermione huffed, gripping the edge of her table, "I'll tell Fleur."
"Okay," Bill said, uncaring.
Then he thrust into her and Hermione yelped in surprise.
"You're a snug fit even after they had you," Bill growled. His cock throbbed inside her, but he didn't move. "Did they fuck you with this wall in the way? That's annoying."
Hermione watched Bill touch the box in a series of taps and the hole opened wider. Bill withdrew his cock from her, took her hips firmly in both hands and yanked her out.
"There you are," he grinned, his incisors looking particularly wolf-like. "You have come all over your face too. Bill reached into the booth and pulled out a towel, then wiped her face, all the while supporting her weight against his body.
Discarding the towel, he guided her to a velvet couch and sat, then tugged her onto his lap so she was straddling him.
Without Bill asking, Hermione guided him into her and sank onto him.
"I want to use you like a doll," Bill said, pushing her curls behind her shoulder and exposing her neck so he could wrap his long fingers around her throat. "Can I do that?"
Hermione nodded, feeling her pulse against his palm like a caged animal fighting to be released.
"You're leaving Ron," Bill said, his eyes piercing into her as he moved his hips beneath her, sinking further into her, further than any of his brothers had been in the angles the box had provided. Hermione nodded again.
"He didn't deserve you anyway," Bill said. Skimming his thumb down her throat to her sternum, to her stomach and then her hips, Bill gripped either side of her fleshy hips and rocked.
Using strength Hermione didn't know he had, Bill made good on his promise and used her like a doll. He lifted her easily off him and then lowered her slowly until she adjusted.
"Ready?" he asked shakily.
"Yes," Hermione said.
Holding onto his shoulders with one arm, and her fingers pressing into her clit with the other, Hermione let Bill slam into her while she tried to time his upward thrusts with her numbing legs.
"Be a good girl and come for me, Hermione," Bill said, breathless and strained. He was torn between looking at her blissed-out expression and to where his full length was disappearing into her again, and again.
All the come she had failed to push out of her was now pooling at his base, leaving sticky threads connecting her thighs and his pelvis. Bill's lips were parted from pleasure. Hermione could hear his breathing turn slowly into growls.
Unaware of what she was doing, Hermione leaned toward him and caught his mouth with hers. Hungrily, his tongue claimed hers. Her nipples rubbed against the fabric of his shirt, setting her body aflame again. She wanted to be held as she broke for him, because of him.
Everything crashed around her at the same time.
Splintering into a million pieces, her walls clenched and unclenched around Bill's cock until he let out a low growl and pressed Hermione onto his lap with all the strength his now trembling arms could muster.
"What was that?" he asked, dazed as his cock pulsed inside her, heat spilling into her and almost immediately trickling free as she tightened around him and shook from overexertion.
"A kiss?" Hermione said, shrugging. Moving her hips slowly, she watched Bill's eyes roll back into his head, feeling his come pool between them.
There was no going back, now.