Chapter Twenty-One

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Hermione pushed herself closer into Draco's body, making him step back until he hit an armchair with the back of his legs. She didn't pull away even then, hungry for him, insatiable. He sat down on the armchair, breaking their kiss, and she rushed to straddle his hips, connecting their mouths again.

"Wait," Draco said. "I'll wash up first."

Hermione grabbed the collar of his bloodied shirt, pulling him closer. "No, I want you like this," was all she answered.

She continued kissing him and he finally answered, giving in fully. Draco grabbed a fistful of her hair and deepened the kiss. Hermione started grinding on his thighs, ripping his shirt open, making the buttons fly out and rattle through the ground. She let her hands wander down his scarred chest, feeling his muscles twitch under her fingers. He seized her by the hips, trying to stop her grinding, and she pulled away only to look down at the bulge in his trousers.

His eyes were half-lidded as she started to work his zipper while his mouth descended to her neck, biting and sucking and kissing, leaving bruises in his way. Hermione freed his cock and fisted it once, twice. Draco groaned and rushed to lift her hips up – and he did so with surprising ease – to tear apart her knickers because he had no patience left to undress her properly. They both looked at each other, the fire in their gazes matching in ferocity as he impaled her on his cock and they both moaned in unison at the contact – he was all inside of her and she was completely filled by him.

She started riding him, but she was too slow and too careful as she had never done it before. He stared at her with glazed eyes, one of his hands clutching her jaw to force her to look at him. His hips shifted, beginning to hit her from below faster. He groaned into her ear, his face buried in her neck and hair. She shifted as something curled deep in her belly. Draco stilled, breathing heavily, and pulled back to look back at her.

"Mine. You're mine," he said. His voice was low, shaking with power. His expression was distorted as if he was angry – or as if he was trying hard not to come.

Hermione nodded feverishly, mesmerized by the bloodied white hair of his falling across his face. She ran her fingers through it, and he kissed her again, setting her lips on fire, biting them, drawing more blood on his already blood-splashed face. He moved harder, her body jerking up with every one of his thrusts from below, but his ruthless hands – the same hands that just tortured her tormenter – were on her hips, holding her down.

His mouth was heavy against hers, his tongue invading her space as he pumped into her. She threaded her fingers deeper into his hair and angled his head, taking control of the kiss – he let her. His kisses got sloppier the faster his movements became, he was a beast let out of its cage, ready to devour everything in its' wake – and in Draco's way was Hermione.

He began groaning in her mouth, panting with every thrust. He pulled back and looked at her, his eyes skating over her breasts to watch them bounce with each roll of his hips. His breath became shallower, and he clenched his jaw. Hermione tried to widen her legs to give him more access and suddenly he slid deeper inside of her which she didn't know was possible. She gasped and he cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes closed. His hands closed around her waits more forcefully, and she knew he was holding back not to break her ribcage.

"Oh god," she moaned, stretched between the precipice of pleasure and pain.

A dark chuckle emanated from the depths of Draco – a laughter so villainous it made her shiver.

"I'm no god," he gritted through his teeth, the look on his face almost mocking. "Who am I?"

"Draco," Hermione moaned out, her face contorting in a pitifully pain-filled grimace.

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