Love [Tomione]

Chapter 10: Amour Fou

Steamy scene towards the end!

SONG CHOICE: LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO

He was watching. The subtle curves of her firm arse and breasts swaying with her frazzled movements had his eyes captured on their every haste movement. The splatter of freckles on her tanned olive skin rivalled the goddesses of Greek Myths. How her brown hair bounced off the curve of her shoulder, frizzled to the point where it could be considered as 'bushy'. Somehow, it had made her more alluring. He could just imagine himself pulling it on those locks of brown hair as he rammed into her hard from behind. A smile slowly crept upon his face.

"So?" she asked teasingly, giving a twirl. But his gaze was entranced by her lips, red and plump from the night before. "What do you think, Tom?"

That was when he realised he was staring at her once more, a habit that had grown too familiar for him. Snapping out of his thoughts, Tom stammered, "Uh...um...I...they're quite delicious, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart, huh?" The brunette raised an eyebrow, still grinning." Hmm, why are you smiling Tom?"

Tom swallowed quietly as he took in a deep breath.

This witch was capable of making him more less than a randy teenage boy with her sweet smiles and soft body. He was really letting himself go so easily, was he not? Had he turned into another of those simpering fools that weakened because of sickly love? No, he was not that. He should stop. Tell Hermione to go, push and shut the door behind her. Not even thinking where she would go next. But there was this quiet voice at the back of his mind, telling him to shut up and ravish her properly. This was what he wanted, was it not?

"Thank you." A crinkle of her dimpled cheek, the brunette's body had turned and had pronounced an open bottle coloured in gold. Her slim legs pranced around, liquid sloshing in the glass. The chair pulls out quietly. Another of her non-verbal theatrics, Tom's facial expression remained with knitted eyebrows,  half-smile plastered on his face. Only Hermione.

However, his attention is driven to those fingers grasping the bottle. He reads the greyed label. Beth's Rum in Superior golden spice. Hermione plonks down on the chair. It creaks. He lifts an eyebrow. Just then, his witch proceeds to tilt the mouth of the bottle to her pouty lips, staining the opening with a tinge of pink. A throaty swallow. He wished she was doing that to a particular part of him. Another swallow. Three more after that before the bottle landed on the table with a soft thud.

"Well," a gasp of delight comes from her as her distinct sweet smile returns. She looked at him, "Thank you again, I've been wanting to improve my culinary skills for a while, Tom."

Was it not obvious from the numerous times he had seen her with a burnt pie in that worn down apartment of hers? Well, he can remember that. Dressed in her skimpy lingerie, holding it in her tiny mitten covered hands. Pink lace. One of the prettier cuts she had worn.

"As you know I'm not the best of cooks." She glanced at him with the cheery Hermione look.

"No problem at all, Hermione." He bared his teeth, pulling his lips into his usual calculated smile.

She returned it with a small grin, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Her cheeks had worn the same shade of pinkness he remembered from their romp in the late night that he would deem as somewhat endearing.

While she took messy gulps of the drink as he internalised the sight of the petite brunette drinking her life merrily away with that bottle, not even looking him in the eye.

He interrupted, slowly saying. "Anyway, Hermione. Who was that earlier at the door?"

Did he want to reckon that she was going to deny Goldstein and her fiery confrontation from earlier? He hoped she was better than this. Hermione was a good girl and she would tell him everything.