"Do you want a drink, honey, to make it go down," he muttered as Hermione took a deep breath, trying to come to her senses, which was far more difficult than she hoped to be possible.
She barely nodded, and he reached into his fridge, pulling out a bottle of butterbeer. She took a long sip, filling her mouth with another creamy taste to erase the first one, trying to get control of her mind — which was impossible with his fingers already pressing against her entrance, thrusting up repeatedly to slide between her legs.
With the pleasure hitting her hard, she found it hard to think. She felt like she was missing something really important, but with his other hand squeezing her tits and pinching her nipples, she soon found herself lost in more important tasks.
Like moaning repeatedly.
The vigorous pace of his fingers was enough to steal the urgency of the moment, she abandoned the half-formed thought about the significance of the drink he had passed her, and instead parted her legs open as he positioned between her legs, what was about to do not a mystery.
"Ready, Miss Granger," he whispered, and she found herself blushing. That blush didn't prevent her from nodding, ignoring the insult hidden in his words. It was just a couple hours, she reasoned. A couple hours of pleasure she would never enjoy again.
She earned that much for herself after working hard all her life.
Or, at least, she tried to convince herself of that. She knew that was not exactly true, but the pleasure made it much easier to believe that lie in the silence of her lie. She still thought that she was missing something really important … but as he replaced his fingers with his cock, she found it very easy to abandon that line of thought.
She could only stare in fascination as his shaft disappeared in her. She leaned against the backseat, leveraging the wide space granted by the limo. Unlike the limo, her space wasn't as wide, and his girth stretched her to the limit despite her wetness as he pushed forward.
The moment was surreal. Her heart skipped a beat, but it returned with a vengeance, thumping like a drum as he pulled back, only to slam harder. Yet, somehow, she paid just as much attention to his hand gently caressing her stomach… Even as he slammed inside her like a monster.
"Harder, sir," she found herself moaning helplessly.
"As you wish," he answered as he pulled her back and flipped her. She found her knees pressing on the limo floor, while her tits pressed against the expensive leather of the seat. Her legs opened to widen her entrance.
Before invading, he grabbed her hair, which made her moan even louder. Then the invasion hit, bringing a pleasure she would never forget, his hips moving forward with merciless aggression she liked.
No, she loved.
As she was lost in pleasure, it was very easy to believe everything was a dream. The only challenge was the occasional spanks, landing on her ass with a bite of pain to remind her she was not dreaming, but she found that detail was just as easy to ignore…
She felt him lean over her, his weight adding even more to the feeling of being dominated. She moaned as his tongue flickered across her shoulder, a surprisingly soft sensation to push her toward the edge.
Soon, she grabbed her legs, parting them more to leave her even more helpless against his invasion. She could do nothing but moan helplessly as she found herself locked in a helpless position, being taken from behind.
Time lost its meaning … until he whispered into her ear. "Ready for my cum?"
"N-not inside," she managed to stammer, with the last hint of control she possessed, depleting it in the process.
He chuckled. "Do you really want me to cum outside, or are you saying that because it's what you're supposed to say, beautiful," he whispered. Somehow, the word beautiful was enough to steal her confidence again, while her core continued to be invaded.
"I'm supposed to say that," she whispered, hating herself for that admission. She still remembered filling her throat with his seed, and she couldn't imagine how it would feel to take that into her most intimate location.
Soon, she learned, along with fireworks of pleasure that filled her mind completely. "A … minute," she found herself whispering after a long, explosive line of cries that filled the limo.
"Just a minute," he said. "We still have a lot of work to do…"
That brought Hermione the greatest and most ephemeral experience of her life. She just surrendered to his control. She found herself in many different positions, interrupted by occasional breaks to drink some much-needed water to replenish her — and occasionally washing her skin.
The clock on the corner was the only thing that allowed her to keep track of the time.
Soon, it was seven… Just an hour and a half until the meeting, one that she needed to prepare. Yet, as she found herself grabbing the roof of the limo while being drilled from behind, it found it very difficult to mention. Her attention wavered…
When she glanced once more, it was eight… Just half an hour into the meeting, but then, she was laying on the seat, prone, with his cock invading his core as mercilessly as his tongue was invading her mouth … and without her lips, she found it hard to speak. She was determined to remember that…
That determination died when he twisted her nipple, the pleasure stealing her thoughts once more…
When she had the presence of mind to check the clock once more, an alarm jolted through her. It was already past midnight, and not by a small margin.
"I-it's already two," she found herself whispering in shock.
Worse, she was not checking at the clock at the limo, but the one on the hotel wall. Why she was in a hotel, she remembered … in the form of some disjointed memories, which included putting on some kind of very thin robe, walking through a private entrance, and a long elevator ride that she spiced up with a blowjob.
"Yes, it is, beautiful," the answer came from next to her, before his lips pressed against her neck. "Eight hours since we started, and almost no break. Very close to my personal best."
His flirty tone wasn't enough to ruin her panic. They missed the meeting with Potter, the only reason she was here … debasing herself like a scarlet woman. Why had she done all of those, if not for a meeting with Potter?
For pleasure, a voice in her mind told her, but she ignored it.
"W-what about the meeting," she asked, trying to sound casual, but unable to prevent panic from invading her tone.
"Well, he was angry, but who cares about Harry Potter," he answered with a big smile, amusement she failed to decipher.
Hermione found herself unable to answer, her words deserting her. "R-right?" she whispered.
"Good," he said as he positioned himself on top of her, his green gaze pinning her down as much as his weight, or his arms next to her did. "Otherwise, I might have thought that you were here, giving me a very memorable night just because you wanted to meet with Potter. It would have hurt my fragile ego…"
Despite all, Hermione found herself chuckling. Him, defining himself as with a fragile ego was the most absurd thing she had ever heard.
And she had Lockhart as her defense teacher.
"Of course not," she answered. The pleasure aside, she still needed to work to complete her mission. She might have screwed up — or gotten screwed — at the first attempt, but the access would eventually prove invaluable.
His smile changed, and suddenly, she found herself restless. She wanted to focus on that, but before she could do so, he slipped inside her once more, the pleasure distracting her once more. "Good, I would hate to think that you infiltrated my business under a false name, just because you wanted to meet with that mysterious Mr. Potter. It would hurt my feeling."
Hermione froze, realizing what was going on. "You — you knew all along!" she gasped, though that was also about the way he pushed inside her, hard. "You tricked me."
"How, honey? You're the one that infiltrated my business and tricked me. Be glad that I'm very happy about the way you paid the price," he said, punctuating his sentence by leaning forward to bite her tits, leaving another bite mark.
Reminding her just how far she had fallen.
"No," she gasped has he pulled back to catch her gaze. She was about to find herself lost in his gaze once more, when she noticed something else. His forehead was looking weird, almost damaged. "No," she repeated as her mind finally ignored the weight of the attraction and started to put the pieces together.
She reached to his forehead. He didn't stop her, even when she found some kind of plastic, and pulled back, dragging away some kind of makeup.
Revealing a lightning-bolt shaped scar.
"You're Harry Potter," she gasped in shock.
"Yes, and it's a pleasure to meet you, Hermione Granger," he answered, his tone would have passed as genial if it wasn't for their position. "I would have shaken your hand, but…" he added with a chuckle. "Under the circumstances, maybe this is better."
And, he pushed forward again.