"I can't believe you did that," Hermione gasped the moment the door to Ginny's room closed. "What if she woke up and saw us."
"You can just explain to her that your new boss is a bit handsy but you're working on it," he answered, but his hand didn't move away from her ass. Instead, he squeezed again. "And, it's not like the biggest risk we took. The last night in the shower was much more dangerous. She could have easily woken up and got an eyeful."
"Yes, and whose fault is that," Hermione answered. "You were the one that dragged me to the shower."
"I did, I needed some help to wash my back … and after that, it would be rude not to pay you back. A massage felt appropriate."
"That's what we calling that now," Hermione bit back. "I didn't know my throat needed massaging."
He smirked, and squeezed her ass once more, reminding her that his hand was still on her ass, and they were still in front of Ginny's room. "Of course, I can always refer to it by its true name. Hot, explosive sex—" he started, but Hermione pressed her finger on his lips.
"No, massage is fine, she corrected, feeling the blush creeping in. "You … you promised that we would stop."
"Once we arrive at Hogwarts," Harry said as he started walking, dragging her along, his hand still on her ass.
"That was not the promise," Hermione corrected. "We were supposed to stop after leaving Vegas."
"Yes, but that was under the assumption that your fiancee would be here with us as well. Since he's not here, what's the harm in extending the deal a bit. You were certainly not complaining the previous night."
"That …" Hermione muttered, but soon stopped. He was right. She didn't work particularly hard to stop what had been going on. She was very quick to join in the shower, despite knowing his excuse was complete nonsense.
"Anyway, we have a lot of work to do. Let's go to the corner I had arranged for us," he said.
"Business lounge?" Hermione offered immediately, glad that they were not going to her room. She knew what would have happened if that was the case.
"In a manner of speaking," he said. "More of a nice corner we could work without being disturbed. We have a lot of magical things to be discussed, and I don't want things to be interrupted by random people, so I arranged a private table for us."
"Not in an enclosed space, right!" Hermione said, aware that how it would end. She didn't want that. No, she was drawing a line.
"Don't worry about it, I'm not going to miss the sun, not when I'm about to spend the next couple of years in Scotland," he answered. "I developed an appreciation for the sun in Vegas."
"Good," Hermione said. She was about to argue more, but his mention of his long-term plans dissuaded her. He had uprooted his life for them. That much she should do for him. And, a public space under the sun was certainly safe.
She even didn't say anything when he reached for her shirt and unbuttoned it twice, creating a cleavage. "Better. I like the tomboy look on you, but you need more than those tight jeans to underline your femininity," he said.
Hermione could have explained, of course, but that would require giving even more details about their stupid plan, and her inept implementation of it. She was supposed to be disguised as a man for his safety, but after last night, stumbling out of his room, impaired with pleasure, she failed to find that strength. Yet, she failed to find the courage to go to the gift shop and buy some new outfits.
Instead, she magically altered the clothes she was supposed to wear, making them tighter. It seemed like a nice compromise, but he seemed to enjoy them if the way his hand was on her hips was any indicator.
More focused on his fingers than the path, she didn't care much where they were going even as they climbed upstairs… but maybe she should have focused on their destination, as soon, they ended in a small opening. A nice veranda, with two sunbeds, a table, and a bubbling pool … and most importantly, with a door to be closed behind them.
They were alone.
"Harry," Hermione said as she turned, panic growing, only to see him already undressing, revealing his swim shorts underneath.
"Oh, yes, I didn't forget to get one to you," he said as he pointed to a package sitting on one of the sunbeds. "That's your swimsuit. Put it on."
"I don't think—" she started.
"I don't appreciate my secretary talking back, or dressing inappropriately. Put it on," he said.
Hermione found herself unable to reject his order. She turned her back to him, and opened the box. What she found was a blue bikini. A tiny one.
The cups were a little bigger than eye patches and the bottom was just strings. Hermione was horrified at the thought of wearing something that skimpy in public. "Don't worry, it's a private spot," he told her, which felt her more relaxed. She wanted to refuse wearing it, but looking at his torso, already glistening, she found it hard to reject the temptation…
After all, whatever this was … it would stop once they were at Hogwarts, just a couple days later. She decided to enjoy it in the meanwhile. "Don't look back," she said as she started undressing.
It wasn't like she didn't understand his derisive chuckle. After everything that happened, he was rather familiar with the contours of her naked body. Still, she found herself unable to say anything. Instead, she just accepted it, stepping into the blue string thong, pulling them up, and feeling the string slide between her legs.
She paused a moment as she looked at the top, and decided to rebel. If she was going to be treated like this, she was going to turn it on her own terms. She lay on the sun bed. "Since you're forcing me to dress like this, come put on some sunscreen on me. I don't want to be burned," she said.
She wasn't looking at him, but his chuckle was enough to convey his feelings … while also making her body rumble in anticipation. It was a special moment.
"Surprising choice," he murmured once he sat at the edge of the bed, and she felt his hands on her back, slowly caressing, covering her with another creamy liquid that she was slowly getting used to. An alarming thought, one that she ignored as his fingers dragged down her spine, making her shiver, as he continued to move toward her bottom.
"You have a really nice ass," he whispered as he focused on her hips.
"Thanks," Hermione found herself muttering. Worse, she found herself pushing her ass out like she was inviting his touch for more. Well, she admonished herself. By dressing and acting like this, she was clearly asking for more.
She feared he would give her right in the open. She doubted she could handle it.
"I mean it. When we open the Club, I'm going to make sure you have a tiny skirt. Those legs need to be displayed."
That sent a hint of alarm through her. "No, I can't go around like that," she gasped.
"Don't worry about it, sweetheart," he said, patting her ass as he did so, giving her the most patronizing attitude of her life. "I will make sure that you have a robe for the public. But I don't enjoy seeing them, so you won't be wearing them in my office while alone."
Hermione opened her mouth, ready to argue by saying that run against her promise, but that argument suffered a quick death as his fingers sank into her ass, drenching it with more than necessary sunscreen.
She bit her lips, trying to contain her moans as she trembled under his touch. The location didn't make it any easier. Yet, they were alone, but it was still open enough for her to feel like it was a public location, and she wore next to nothing. She shivered in excitement.
"Is something wrong, sweetie," he whispered.
She wanted to curse him for his mocking tone, but her voice rebelled. "It's just … the location," she admitted as she shuffled a bit, her nipples rubbing against the sun bed. The weather was hot, but that didn't prevent her from trembling.
"Don't worry about it, sweetie. No one else but the waitress would come here, so we're practically alone," he said.
Hermione gasped in shock as she raised her head, just enough to see over the sunbed, only to catch the gaze of a shocked waitress.
Shame jolted through her as she tried to come up with something to say, but she failed. His hands, still working on her ass, didn't help. Nor did his words. "That's enough for your back, sweetie. Now, turn and face me. I don't want my secretary to have sunburns…"
She was tempted to accept that, but the realization that they had an observer was enough to overwhelm her. With a whimper, she stood up and grabbed a towel.
And escaped…