Sweet Torture
Rhythmic heat moving slowly, teasingly above him, he yearns for more but tonight it is she that is in control and so he must continue to suffer this sweet torment. His eyes closed his mind and body buried in the sheer bliss. The sound of her heavy breaths and sensual moans was as angelic a song as any yet wickedly naughty. This juxtaposition pleased him so, that an evil smirk and a deep, rumbling moan was coaxed from his throat.
His groan of pleasure had clearly pleased her as she quicken her pace which drew from her shallow, sharp breaths. Leaning down she placed a chaste kiss upon his lips, leaving her salty taste on his tongue a further torment, for how he wanted to taste her again, the smell of it was toying with his senses so.
Ah her smell, like jasmine on a warm summers evening. No orange blossom. But then no, the smell was not familiar to him, sweet, almost too sweet. Not like his dear Hermione at all. This will simply not do, he is after all a creature of habit and he liked to keep it that way. He will be having words, but for now he shall let her do the talking. God knows he can’t go on much longer…
Even with his eyes closed enjoying every movement of her, he could see her face. Biting her lip, her head thrown back and her hair, soaked in sweat spiralling down past her breasts. Tilting her head forward he found not brown but green eyes staring back into his, with that naughty sparkle that threatened to force him to the edge. Drawing from his lips yet another thundering moan, she was truly a goddess.
Her pace quickened, he knew this was it, he couldn’t hold on much longer. In one last chance to absorb all of her he shifted his gaze from her eyes to her stomach and back. To be met by hazel then green then hazel then green then hazel then green. Until finally he could no longer see and a rumbling moan of pleasure escaped his lips and his body jerked and quivered into her. He was content.
Opening his eyes to see her smiling face would make the paradise all the sweeter. He jumped to see not hazel, not green but blue eyes looking back. Dirty blonde hair draped over her shoulders. Quickly he pushed her aside his smile gone and his frown returned. Throwing on a dressing gown he tossed the money onto the bed.
Pouring himself a glass of firewhisky he watched it swirl in the glass before downing it in one. Another and then another, looking into the amber liquid his temper boiled and he threw the glass into the fire, watching the tiny fragments scatter across the room and the flames of the fire dance higher than before. It seems in death his love grew stronger as did the agony of keeping it hidden. He had let them die. It was his fault, all of it. So why should he grieve? What right did he have to mourn their loss? He deserved this eternal hell. It was he who helped Lilly to her death and Hermione…his dear Hermione, so young so beautiful, walked into her death to save him. Stupid girl.
Many times he’s thought of ending it …but no, he won’t allow himself to be so weak. He owes it to them to live, to suffer this nightmare as he should to pay for their loss, their suffering and heartache. His poison sent them to an early grave and it is this poison that shall bitter his life forever.
His groan of pleasure had clearly pleased her as she quicken her pace which drew from her shallow, sharp breaths. Leaning down she placed a chaste kiss upon his lips, leaving her salty taste on his tongue a further torment, for how he wanted to taste her again, the smell of it was toying with his senses so.
Ah her smell, like jasmine on a warm summers evening. No orange blossom. But then no, the smell was not familiar to him, sweet, almost too sweet. Not like his dear Hermione at all. This will simply not do, he is after all a creature of habit and he liked to keep it that way. He will be having words, but for now he shall let her do the talking. God knows he can’t go on much longer…
Even with his eyes closed enjoying every movement of her, he could see her face. Biting her lip, her head thrown back and her hair, soaked in sweat spiralling down past her breasts. Tilting her head forward he found not brown but green eyes staring back into his, with that naughty sparkle that threatened to force him to the edge. Drawing from his lips yet another thundering moan, she was truly a goddess.
Her pace quickened, he knew this was it, he couldn’t hold on much longer. In one last chance to absorb all of her he shifted his gaze from her eyes to her stomach and back. To be met by hazel then green then hazel then green then hazel then green. Until finally he could no longer see and a rumbling moan of pleasure escaped his lips and his body jerked and quivered into her. He was content.
Opening his eyes to see her smiling face would make the paradise all the sweeter. He jumped to see not hazel, not green but blue eyes looking back. Dirty blonde hair draped over her shoulders. Quickly he pushed her aside his smile gone and his frown returned. Throwing on a dressing gown he tossed the money onto the bed.
Pouring himself a glass of firewhisky he watched it swirl in the glass before downing it in one. Another and then another, looking into the amber liquid his temper boiled and he threw the glass into the fire, watching the tiny fragments scatter across the room and the flames of the fire dance higher than before. It seems in death his love grew stronger as did the agony of keeping it hidden. He had let them die. It was his fault, all of it. So why should he grieve? What right did he have to mourn their loss? He deserved this eternal hell. It was he who helped Lilly to her death and Hermione…his dear Hermione, so young so beautiful, walked into her death to save him. Stupid girl.
Many times he’s thought of ending it …but no, he won’t allow himself to be so weak. He owes it to them to live, to suffer this nightmare as he should to pay for their loss, their suffering and heartache. His poison sent them to an early grave and it is this poison that shall bitter his life forever.