A Rake, A Spinster, And An Arrangement

Chapter 14 : When You Are Alone (Ep 3)

Hermione carefully turned the lock on her bedroom door, the first time she had done so in... years. She could not even remember the last time she had done so. There was no need. Harry always knocked on her door, as did the servants, and Ginny was always welcome, although she did knock before opening the door each time, with or without invitation.

Still, Hermione was taking no chances on this. She knew that, what she was about to do, the church frowned on it. It was one of those whispered things, something she shouldn't know, wasn't allowed. A part of Hermione almost wanted to run to Ginny, to ask her about it, but... whatever happened between a man and a woman... between a husband and a wife...

The feelings that the Duke made her feel, Hermione could only imagine that Ginny felt the same, and while she treasured her near sister's tidbits of wisdom and knowledge, Hermione did not want to know anything of what occurred with her brother.

Besides... the Duke had told her quite enough. In fact, he had given her instructions to follow...

You can touch yourself, he had whispered so softly, that he had sent goosebumps down her spine. When you are alone.

She was alone now.

Extinguishing all of the candles save for one, Hermione climbed into her bed, laying in the middle, trying to relax. It was not as though the feelings, the ones that brought warmth to her belly, were something that she thought about before sleeping. No, she woke up with them.

Should she wait, then? Should she try to sleep, then awaken and do as told?

She started on her back, then rolled to one side, and the other, before finally settling flat once more. It seemed useless. Time had completely slowed, and she was no closer to falling asleep, nor reaching this supposed peak.

Anywhere that gives you pleasure.

Her hands. She felt pleasure when he touched her hands.

Sitting up on the bed, Hermione touches one hand, then the other. Her eyes close, and she imagines it's him. His hands are a bit rougher, larger than hers, warmer. He always rubs his thumb over her skin, whether it's the back of her dress, her wrist, her cheek... It was always his thumb.

On a whim, she moved her hand to her mouth, and closed her eyes as she ran her thumb across her bottom lip. She gasped at the touch, a fluttering feeling bursting in her stomach.

Anywhere that... draws a gasp from you.

From there, she began to explore.

Her wrists, her lips, her clavicle, even the side of her neck. Everywhere she touched, with her eyes pinched closed, thoughts filled with only him, it all drew soft gasps and sighs from her lips. She imagined him, Draco, watching her as she slowly touched herself.

She imagined him urging her on, to touch more, to explore more.

Her hand went down, slowly, towards her breasts. She was only wearing a nightgown, and in the thin fabric, the tips were puckered. It often felt uncomfortable when they did that, but as she laid there, her fingertips running over her chest, she realized why they always felt so uncomfortable.

They were aching. Aching for warmth, or something to soothe them.

Her fingertips moved to one breast, and she trailed her fingers over top, her body immediately arching into it. A gasp escaped her parted lips, and she giggled slightly as both hands worked together, running around and around the firm mounds, fingernails barely catching on the tips.

She imagined Draco doing it.

She imagined him being rougher, running his thumb over the hardened nub. She imagined his mouth sucking at it, biting even?. She pinched one and a squeal escaped her - she would rather enjoy him doing that as well.