Disclaimer: JKR owns anything that is obviously hers. I own the rest. I do not make any money off this.
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Theodore Nott, Others
Genres: Angst, Drama, Humour, Romance
Story Warnings: Epilogue? What Epilogue?, Profanity, Smut
Overall Rating: NC-17
Summary: Hermione needs to get rid of her pesky virginity for her very own reasons. The solution to that is, of course, to make a list of the boys at Hogwarts to find out which one will suit her purpose best! Draco Malfoy is at first left off her list, but when he finds out and teases her about it, she realises that maybe he has a point--after all, who would be better to take her virginity than the most gossiped about skirt chaser at Hogwarts? He's not quite as willing as she thought he'd be, though. Written to fit a prompt.
Extra Note: Thank you to mazvn and cklls for the beta and dollfaced for the banner. :)
Chapter Length: 5,684
She was pouting again. Draco smothered a laugh. Whenever she was denied sex, Hermione really acted like a child denied sweets. It was almost cute. He couldn’t even be annoyed with it. In fact, the way she pushed her bottom lip out was nothing if not an invitation.
He ran his thumb over that lip. It was so lush and soft. He wanted to bite it. “If you don’t want me to snog you, all you have to do is say so,” he said.
“When did I ever say that?” she immediately objected.
“You act like it’s some kind of poor consolation prize.”
“It’s a consolation prize, but not a poor one,” she assured him. “I only wish...”
“Ah-ah. I told you not to keep pushing.”
She made a frustrated growl. “Why don’t you kiss me already?”
He laughed and did as asked, bending over to press his lips against hers. They were exactly as soft as they’d felt, but he already knew that. He tried to steel himself as best as he could—and it was considerably easier this time as he’d had the foresight to relieve some tension before coming here—but he still couldn’t help but react to her mere presence. She was such a sexual being that simply being around her drove him half out of his mind with lust.
She put her arms around his neck and tilted her head back, opening up to his probing tongue. He really liked the taste of her. But then again, he liked the taste of most girls. Once, he’d told Pansy she tasted sweet and she’d laughed at him, saying she most likely tasted like saliva. It had thrown him completely out of his tender mood and he hadn’t bothered saying any such thing again. Maybe sweet hadn’t been the right word, but he didn’t know what else was.
Hermione didn’t taste sweet. She tasted like sunshine and passion.
He let his hand run down her collarbone, across the side of her lovely, firm breast to her waist, and down her thigh. She moaned and arched into his touch. She was wearing a damned skirt again. She knew what those things did to him and that was probably why. He knew for a fact that she hadn’t worn one earlier in the day. He hesitated at the edge of the skirt with two fingers on her warm skin, but then he slowly slipped his whole hand up under it, feeling her smooth thigh under his palm.
Her grip on his head became firmer, her kiss more insistent. He willingly followed her lead, slowly edging his hand further up under her skirt and feeling his temperature rising with each inch.
Suddenly she made a frustrated sound and swung herself up on his lap.
Startled, he removed his hand. “This wasn’t part of the deal.”
“We’re still wearing clothes,” she muttered, trying to kiss him, but he turned his head away. He needed to have a clear enough head to think. Shrugging, she ran her lips over his cheek and neck, down to his shoulder instead.
Her legs were spread over his thighs. He could feel the warmth between them teasing him.
“You’re pushing it,” he groaned.
“I know... Please don’t be mad. I need to feel you...” She ran her hands up and down his chest outside his shirt. “Can I open this?”
He shook his head. “No...”
“Please... You know what it’s like to need to touch skin, otherwise you wouldn’t have touched me like that before.”
“Under the skirt. Against your own rules.”
“You could’ve stopped me.”
“I didn’t want to. You knew I wouldn’t stop you.”
He did. He also knew that if he flipped her over right now and took her right there on this old sofa, she wouldn’t stop him. It drove him insane. He swallowed. He wanted to touch her thigh again.
“Just your chest,” she whispered. “I’ll stay out of your trousers unless you ask me to do otherwise.”
But what if he did ask her? At the rate this was going, he wouldn’t hold out for much longer. “All right...”
He didn’t know why he’d said that. He’d meant to say no. At least he thought he’d meant to say no.
This was all so very confusing. He couldn’t seem to keep his head straight.
She slowly began unbuttoning his shirt, fumbling a bit and biting her lip. He was painfully aroused and knew she could tell from her current position, but he didn’t do anything to either aid or stop her. Finally, his shirt was completely open and she ran her hands up and down his naked chest, making him moan with the physical contact. He didn’t think he could get any more worked up, even if he tried.
“You have a nice chest,” she whispered, before kissing his neck and his collarbone.
He made a short laugh. “I doubt it’s that special.” In fact, he knew it wasn’t. He wasn’t really that athletic and he couldn’t be arsed to do much more than watch his weight and occasionally take a few more stairs than he had to.
“I don’t know if it’s special, but it’s appealing,” she muttered against his skin, making his entire being vibrate. This was nuts. Much more of this and he’d go off.
He gently pushed her far enough away for some of the fog in his brain to clear. “You need to slow things down,” he said, “or we’ll have to stop for today.”
“No,” she whimpered, squirming a little in his lap, making him dig his fingers into her thigh through her skirt. “I’ll be good.”
She was good. That was the problem. Every look, every touch, even every breath seemed designed to turn him on. He pulled her close for another kiss. It felt so different when she was sitting like this on his lap and his shirt was open. Much more intimate. It was so easy to let one’s hands roam and to press a hand against her bum so she’d press against him and give a bit of relief for the briefest second.
She gasped against his lips and then began squirming even more. It was torture, but he couldn’t for the life of him ask her to stop. It felt too good. She was slowly gyrating her hips, massaging him with her weight, driving him closer to the edge.
He found that his hand had moved under her skirt again and was moving dangerously close to somewhere warm and damp. He should end this now. Stop it before they reached the point of no return. He lightly brushed a couple of fingers across the front of her knickers and she cried out and grabbed onto his shoulders like she was in danger of falling.
He probably shouldn’t do that.
He did it again and she let her head fall down and whimpered against his neck whilst moving against him in a much more intense way. It felt so damn good.
“Stop,” he grunted, feeling the pressure build. “Hermione... no...”
“Please don’t make me stop,” she whispered. “Please... I need...”
“Kiss me,” he said. She complied. He grabbed her hip, forcing her movements to stop and then touched her between the legs again, this time more firmly, and she tensed and made a sound that sounded mostly like a broken sob and shivered. He could feel the muscles contracting under his hand and it was extremely hard to not imagine what it would feel like around him.
He tried to strangle his own moan. She only had to breathe on him right and he’d be completely gone. He needed to stop right here. He couldn’t believe how far out of hand things had got this time.
He carefully set her aside and began buttoning his shirt. “This was exactly what I was afraid of,” he said once her breathing had returned to normal.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
“I know, but what do you think will happen when you push for more and more and more all the time?”
He wasn’t really upset, only frustrated. The image, feel and sound of her climax would haunt him for a very, very long time. Not to mention the scent. Oh, god, the scent. It was on him. He tried his very best to ignore it to no avail.
“I don’t know what you want from me, Malfoy. I’d be more than happy to please you in any way you see fit, but for some reason you don’t want that at all, even though you like to play with the fire. I know you were close just now. I know you only touched me so you wouldn’t come yourself. Why is that?”
“I told you. I don’t want sex with you.”
“It was only a bit of rubbing. I’m certain that doesn’t qualify as sex for most people.”
“Then I’m not most people.”
“Is it pregnancy you’re afraid of? I know several very good spells and—”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Why won’t you tell me what it is, then?”
“Because it’s nothing you can fix.” Besides, the whole point was that he didn't want her to know.
“If that’s what you prefer to think.”
“It doesn’t fit.”
“It was your suggestion, not mine.”
“I mean, I understand why you wouldn’t want to be involved with me, but I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to use me.”
“That sounds so charming.”
“I’m serious, Draco. Use me. I want to be used.”
Why did she have to be the one to tell him this? Why? Almost any other witch and he’d be dragging her to bed right that minute. "You're one odd witch, Granger."
"I'm not odd. I simply know what I want. And I want to see the look on your face when you—"
"Not going to happen."
"It almost did happen, didn't it?"
He snorted. "No, are you kidding me? I'm too sore for that. What with all the grinding..." He was sore, but he would still have come. That didn't mean he wanted her to know it, though.
"Then let me soothe it." She got to her feet and went over to him.
"And how would you plan on doing that?"
"I could kiss it better..."
A small jolt went through him and he couldn't help but imagine her, on her knees, taking him into her mouth and... "No, Granger! And until you learn a thing or two about boundaries, I'm calling this off." He was practically shaking with need.
She sighed. "You're right. I'm sorry. I simply don't... understand."
"You don't need to understand someone's decision to respect it."
She nodded. "Again, you're right."
Her agreement annoyed him to no end. Yes, she was pushy, but he was partaking quite a bit himself! Why didn't she point that out rather than shoulder all the blame? Why didn't she call attention to his double standard of wanting to feel up her legs and blaming her for wanting to feel up his chest? Why didn't she insist that they continue down this road to hell?
With a frustrated grunt, he turned away from her and walked out the door.
Hermione was still feeling a bit woozy from what had happened, so when Draco left, her first action was to sit back down.
Well, that was one confusing boy, to be sure.
He reacted to her, no doubt about it. He reacted to her touches and her kisses, and she was fairly certain he'd reacted to her surprise orgasm as well. She'd thought she'd felt him grab her tighter and heard him make a sound.
He was as out of his mind with lust as she was, and he clearly wanted more. Why else would he have touched her in that way, making it almost impossible for her to do anything but beg him to finish it?
Yet he remained adamant in his refusal to take the last step or, really, any step that would result in his own climax. Why was that? She was extremely certain that he was able to do the deed and, in fact, would very much enjoy it. She also knew that he was neither seeing anyone nor seemed very interested in any one particular witch.
It had to have something to do with her and she probably couldn't fix it. Maybe it was her blood or the power imbalance; she didn't know, but it was enough to make him dig in his heels.
It was too bad. Based on what had happened here today, she thought it would be quite the experience to take the last step.
Sighing, she got to her feet and began walking back to her room. She could probably use a shower, but she was tired and would probably go with a nap first. It wasn't every day she went for such a mental and physical rollercoaster ride.
"There you are!" Ginny seemed to appear out of thin air not far from Hermione’s room. "Whoa, and I can see what you were doing..."
Hermione didn't doubt that her lips were swollen, her hair and clothes were a mess, and that she was slightly stumbling. "What is it, Ginny?"
"I'll tell you right after you tell me what you're up to."
Hermione grinned. "I thought you said you could see that."
"But... am I right? Am I really right?" Ginny looked like her eyes would pop out of her skull any second.
"Relax, Ginny. It's nothing serious. Just a bit of fun."
"Uh-huh. With who?" Ginny was certainly nosy today.
"Now that is none of your business."
"I hate to ask you this but I really must know—what about Ron?"
Hermione sighed. So much for having fun tonight. "I don't know yet, Ginny. That's what I'm trying to find out."
"Ok. I was looking for you because I thought you might want to know Harry's latest reply."
"Well, do you?"
"Does it concern me?"
"A bit." Ginny stopped as if unsure if she should go on. Then she hesitantly resumed. "He said he told Ron what you'd said about seeing others and Ron kind of... shut off."
"Yeah, you know him. He's probably sulking."
"Oh..." Hermione felt a little guilty but then pushed the feeling away. Why should she feel guilty that he had hurt her? She was not obligated to forgive him merely because he was sorry! Right now, she was doing her best to forget the hurt and pursue something that actually felt good and she'd be damned if she'd feel guilty about that!
"I'm not saying this to make you feel bad."
"I simply thought you might want to know."
"Yes. Thank you." She tried her best not to be curt, but it was hard with all the emotions rolling around inside her.
"For what it's worth, I completely support your fun time,” Ginny continued. “I think everyone needs to have a fun time before settling down."
Hermione grinned. "Yeah? When was Harry's fun time?"
"Harry is the exception to an otherwise perfect rule," Ginny said without even blinking. "He'll get his fun time with me and nobody else."
Hermione laughed the rest of the way back to her room.
He was avoiding her. Hermione had to admit to some annoyance from that. So she’d climaxed when Draco had touched her between the legs—he honestly thought that was grounds to avoid her?
She wasn’t normally a violent person, but she could slap him right now.
Slapping him probably wouldn’t be very productive, though. She had to figure out a way to get what she wanted. Getting him alone would be the easy part, considering that they still had to go to the library together a couple of times.
She couldn’t dress any sexier than she already did. If anyone saw her, she’d be in big trouble. She also couldn’t throw herself at him more, because he was right about one thing—she was becoming too pushy. No, she had to think of another way.
That was easier said than done, however, and the next library meeting was soon staring her in the face.
Not much to be done for it, though, so she went with no real plan about what to say or do.
Of course, Draco was late. He always tended to be. Like he was dragging his feet to be with her.
It really annoyed her.
He hardly even acknowledged her presence but merely went to work. She felt her temper flare.
“Be careful with those!” she snapped when he dropped a book.
He eyed her warily. “Yes, Madam Granger.”
“And you’re staying until midnight.”
He stared at her. “I have an essay—”
“That’s really not my problem, is it?” she cut him off. “You should’ve thought about that before you were late every single time.”
“It’s only been by a few minutes!”
“Last time it was a half hour.”
“I couldn’t help that! I told you, Slughorn wanted me to—”
“That’s really not my problem either.”
He looked at her for a few moments and then shook his head. “I knew this would happen.”
“You’re angry that I finished it and are using your position to take it out on me.”
“That’s not what’s happening! I haven’t hounded you to be here when you shouldn’t or written poorly about you even once! All I’m asking is that you make up for lost time.”
“Then why can’t it wait until the weekend?”
Yes, why couldn’t it? Because she was in a bad mood, damn it, and he was right! “Fine,” she grumbled. “Stay longer Friday or be here Saturday, I don’t care. Just do the bloody work!”
His lips twitched as if he were fighting a grin. “You’re pouting.”
She was, at that. She sighed. “I’m not feeling well, I think I’m going to go. You can do this alone for one night.”
“To my room, where else?”
“Well, I do have this essay, and since I haven’t got the faintest what to write, I was hoping you could be persuaded to help me...”
She stared at him. Was he serious? “Why?” And more importantly, how had he thought to persuade her through not even acknowledging her presence?
“Because you’re the smartest person I know, and I hoped you’d take the chance to lecture me on something.”
She snorted. “I’m not that bad!”
“I never said you were.”
“You’re really desperate, aren’t you?” she asked, feeling her annoyance seep away in the face of a chance to help someone gain knowledge.
He nodded, looking fairly displeased. “Yes, I am, actually. They’re saying they won’t let me take my exams if I don’t get better marks in this subject.”
“What subject is it?”
She stared at him. “What?”
“Hey, I didn’t choose it. They forced it on me. So, can you help me?”
She sighed. Her head was aching and she could barely think. “Fine, come to my room when you’re done.”
“Your... why not here?”
“Because I plan on lying down for a bit. If you don’t want to come to my room, then don’t. If you do choose to come to my room, however, I promise you that you’ll leave with your virtue intact.”
Then she left without checking his response. She honestly didn’t care what it was. He was the one who wanted her help, and if he couldn’t be arsed to do anything for it, then she couldn’t be arsed to help him.
Draco stood scowling at the door for a good five minutes before he managed to lift his hand and knock. He didn’t know why he’d asked for her help, it had sort of just happened. Not that he didn’t need it—he very much did—but he still hadn’t meant to ask for it.
He’d figured she’d say no.
Why hadn’t she said no? Any other witch he knew would’ve declined helping someone who’d rejected them like he had. But of course Hermione Granger had to be different, didn’t she? She had to constantly surprise him and turn him on with her unpredictable ways. She had to go from being this annoying geek girl to being a determined and very sexy seductress, and she had to not only forgive the unforgivable of what he’d done last year, but agree to tutor him after everything.
If she had an agenda, he was unable to see what it could be. Was it really all because she wanted to sleep with him? There had to be others she could go to. He didn’t understand her claim that she was attracted to him at all. Why would such a clever witch be attracted to someone who’d once made it his life’s mission to make her and her friends miserable?
He knocked again.
Maybe she’d changed her mind and wouldn’t answer the door. That would probably be the best thing that could happen, because suddenly he’d remembered what she’d said about stripping naked to please herself on her bed, and he couldn’t get rid of those images. Entering that room would be a really bad idea.
She finally opened the door, yawning. She looked sleepy and rumpled.
“Were you asleep?” he asked. Stupid question, but his mental capacities were somewhat limited at the moment.
“Yes,” she replied, stepping back to let him in. “But it’s fine. I feel better now.”
“I can go...”
“When is your essay due?”
“Any particular reason why you waited until the last minute?” When he hesitated too long, she grabbed his arm and dragged him the last step in, and then closed the door behind him.
He half-stumbled in and was then staring right at her bed. Her bed. Where she...
He cleared his throat and half-turned to face her. “I tried to write it on my own, I really did. I simply don’t understand these things.”
“What things?” she sauntered over to sit down on her bed, motioning at him to sit down at her desk. Right. He was supposed to write. And she was supposed to... uh... talk. Yes, talk. About... things.
“It’s supposed to be about what a Muggle uses in his day to day life where we might use magic. I have some of the things written down. Like...” He opened his bag and rummaged until he found his notes and then read. “Instead of brooms, they use cycles or motorcars.”
“They don’t call them that.”
“Call what what?”
“You can get away with ‘cycles’ but it’s not ‘motorcars’, just ‘cars’.”
“But my book says—”
“Forget your book. It sounds awfully outdated.”
He scowled at her. “If my teacher gives me any grief, I’m referring her to you.”
“You do that. What else?”
“Instead of Floo, they use te... tel... teléphonos. No, wait, sorry, teléphonés.”
“Ah. But this is one, right?” He got his book and showed her a picture of an old phone with a dial.
“Uh, technically, yes.”
“So, how does it really work? I’m afraid I don’t quite understand how someone’s voice will travel like that without magic.”
“Muggles don’t need magic. They have physics and science, not to mention electricity.”
He wrote that down. He didn’t quite understand what she meant by it, but it sounded clever and he had to write something. “Could you explain to me how science works?”
She made a sound that sounded like a cross between a groan and a laugh and fell back on her bed—curse her!—saying, “This is going to be a long night, isn’t it?”
It certainly was.
Hermione stretched, not caring what it looked like that she was squirming around in the middle of her bed. She was tired and had been answering questions and had pieces of this essay read back to her for a full hour now.
The time wasn’t completely wasted, though. For one thing, it was always amusing to experience how ignorant certain wizards and witches were about Muggles. For another, she’d caught him glancing at her more than once and he had that look in his eyes. He might not want to act on it, and that was perfectly fine, but she thrived on the knowledge that he did, in fact, want her.
It made her feel sexy. She liked feeling sexy.
“What are you looking so smug about?” he asked. He’d stopped writing and had turned all his attention to her.
The grin she hadn’t known she was wearing widened. “You did come to my room.”
“I don’t care why.”
“If I recall correctly, I only said there wouldn’t be any... pleasuring... here.”
“Oh, but this is pleasing my brains. And you do know what they say about the brain.”
“No, what do they say about the brain?”
“That it’s the largest erogenous zone.”
He stared at her. “You know, that actually makes sense. You’re completely warping the concept, of course, but unwarped, it makes sense.”
“That’s why they say it. And I don’t mind being warped.” She winked at him.
His lips twisted as if he were fighting a grin. “No, I think I figured that one out for myself.”
She laughed at his dry tone of voice. “Relax, Malfoy. I’m not out to get you.”
“Aren’t you?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her as he got to his feet. “Because, honestly, I don’t know why else you’d be showing yourself off like this.”
She smiled. “I’m comfortable, that’s all. You woke me from a very pleasant dream and I helped you with your essay. I don’t think it’s too much to ask that I’m allowed to be comfortable.”
“I am very grateful for your help.” He came closer to the bed.
She didn’t know what he was up to, but she felt disinclined to stop smiling. “And exactly how grateful would that be?”
“Uh-huh?” She didn’t have to look down his frame to know he wanted her very much right now. It was written all over his face. He was obviously waiting for her to make a move, but she wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. Not this time.
“Is there some way I can repay you?” he asked in a slightly hoarser voice when he realised she wasn't going to offer herself up without some effort on his part.
“If you were going to use snogging as an incentive for me to help you, you should probably have offered it before I volunteered,” she teased.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” he murmured, sitting down on the edge of the bed, slightly turned to still face her.
She wished he’d climb on top of her, but figured the odds of that happening were slim to none. She would simply have to make do with whatever she could get.
“What are you staring at?” she asked after a few moments of him contemplating her visage. Or, more plainly put, staring her in the face.
“You have the most stunning eyes I've ever seen,” he said.
She snorted. “You don’t have to do that, Draco. I have the handbook, remember?”
“No. You do. I’ve always had a weakness for girls with brown eyes.”
In spite of telling herself that he was only using a line, Hermione felt her heartbeat speed up. What a silly thing to get affected by. “Oh. What about hair, then? Are you going to tell me you always had a preference for girls with brown, curly hair as well?”
“No. I don’t have a hair preference. And you need to learn how to take a compliment, Hermione.”
He almost purred her name, making her react again—this time she even felt a bit of heat in her cheeks. She scowled at him. “I’m very good at taking compliments, I’ll have you know.”
“Not this one.”
“Because you never spent a lot of time looking at my eyes. You much prefer my legs. Occasionally my mouth. And when you think I don’t notice, my breasts.”
“That’s because I spend a lot of time around you being randy.”
She couldn’t help but laugh at his bluntness.
“You also have a pretty smile,” he continued.
“See? You’re rubbish at taking compliments. I’ve called you pretty more than once and you always ignore it. I figured it was because you saw it as your due, but that’s not it, is it?”
“You really don’t have to feed me lines, Malfoy.”
“The truth is a line now?”
“You said it yourself—you’re randy. You’d never have called me pretty before I began trying to seduce you.”
“Not to your face, no. But do you really think your antics would’ve worked at all if I weren’t attracted to you?”
He sat back and gave her an odd look. “Really?”
She decided she might as well give him the whole speech. “We’re at a very hormonal stage of our physical development. If my sexual attributes were presented in an appealing way to you, you shouldn’t give a fig about the rest of the package, as long as I didn’t try to present that as appealing to you as well.”
She grinned. “If I showed off my boobs to the best of their advantage and didn’t try to act like girlfriend material, it should make you want to go for it.”
He laughed. “You really are something.”
“So you don’t think you’re pretty?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what did you say?”
“I’m proud of most of my attributes. I merely see no reason why you’d suddenly call me pretty after giving me grief about my looks for years.”
He pursed his lips. “Ah. That.”
“Would you believe me if I said I didn’t mean it?”
“Fair enough. I guess I did. Would you believe me if I said I merely never saw the potential?”
“I could believe that.”
“Would you believe me if I said that I’ve now seen the potential and it’s making it impossible to look away again?”
“Now you’re pushing it.”
He shook his head, his eyes smiling. “So defensive.”
“You’d have been better off merely telling me how much you enjoy kissing me. That’s an indisputable fact.”
He laughed again. “I do enjoy kissing you.”
“I know. That’s why you’re feeding me lines. So I’ll once more take the initiative, and you won’t have to take responsibility for the kiss.”
That seemed to take him aback. “Is that what you think?” he muttered. And then he bent down and kissed her. It was only a gentle touching of lips, but it still had her heart pounding in anticipation. Her breath caught and she felt his smile against her lips. Drat! But he didn't comment. Rather, his lips lingered and then moved, parting her lips, making her world buzz with electricity.
She'd have to amend the statement that only Muggles had electricity.
He was so good at this. Too good. Always such a tease.
She put her arms around his neck and tried to pull him down, but he was firmly braced above her. It was maddening. She'd all but given up when she felt his weight shift onto only one arm and his other hand glide up her hip and under her shirt to reach her belly and her chest.
Hermione approved. Hermione approved very much. She arched into his hand and he acknowledged it with a light squeeze but otherwise preferred to massage around any sensitive areas without actually touching them. It was driving her mad and she needed to feel skin now.
Without hesitation she reached down to pull up his shirt, making him break the kiss, undoubtedly to object.
"Shut up," she rasped. "I'll get at least this much."
He pursed his lips. "I was only going to say that I'm ticklish, so you should watch those fingertips of yours. Otherwise..." He kissed her again. "Carry on." He nipped at her lip and then stroked it with his tongue to soothe it, before deepening the kiss again.
She didn't need to have that repeated. She had his shirt open in no time. She then dragged him towards her, making him lose his balance and fall onto the bed, before she slung her leg around his hip and began greedily running her hands up and down his chest, trying very much to avoid tickling him in the spots that made him jump and twitch. She enjoyed feeling his heat, his heartbeat and his growing arousal very much. Right now, she wasn't alone in this and it felt wicked.
He moved his hand and she felt her bra give way to warm fingers, making all kinds of intense feelings rush forward.