Potters and The Next Generation; Furthermore Book 2

A Guest Unexpected

Disclaimer: THIS IS A PIECE OF FAN-FICTION, DERIVED FROM THE ORIGINAL WORKS OF HARRY POTTER SERIES BY J.K. ROWLING.

Ginny

When I said, I'd make it up however he wanted, I never thought that this man, that is Harry Potter would have me crying in bed. Kinks were my thing, when did he learn to pick up a bow and tie my hands together?!

"Harry!" I gasped. This was the third time he was ramming me in. No wonder he'd had that half bottle of firewhiskey. He couldn't have such a high libido sober. My tears were falling down the sides of my face and I would wipe them on the sheets. The positions changed often and the ones he loved were turning out to be endless. However, one did make him excited enough to move faster and harder and it was when he had full control over my legs. Having one over his shoulder and the other pressed down between his knees. He'd bite my toes and my feet, even leave marks on my ankles. My legs were more red than my actual complexion.

"You look beautiful when you cry..." He kissed me before starting the sixth round.

Did he just say I look good when I cry?

Who is this bastard and where is my Harry Potter?

I was scared at this point. He picked me up, sitting me on his knees and entering again. The smell of sweat, ecstasy and sounds of insanity had been crowded in the room and I didn't even know what the time was anymore. He held the back of my head and tilted it away for access and bit my shoulder and clavicle.

It wasn't that I wasn't enjoying this, I was just worried if I was having sex with my husband or some genie who was in that firewhiskey bottle.

"Move." He held my shins down, having me straddling him still. Angry and frustrated, I held his shoulder, letting my nails bite into his skin as I moved. He kissed every inch of my skin in access to him as I moved. Thirty years ago, if someone had told me that I would be getting into this position, ordered by Harry himself, I'd call them silly and probably get them help.

As I finished, I fell back, with him hovering above me. He started moving again and I wasn't only sensitive there, it was starting to hurt a bit as well.

"Harry, I'm dying... please..." He kissed my temple, increasing pace. His bending in made him hit a spot which made me cry in the pillow as I reached a dry climax with him finally reaching his third orgasm of the night. The man killed me, over and over but his third did seem to tire him out a bit.

But no. He didn't stop there.

The night went on and so did the ecstatic, drunk and crazy Harry Potter.

****

I groaned as the blinding red hit my head. As I blinked to remove that ache, bright light hit me like a stab until it numbed away. Having the calm shadow now, I managed to open my eyes.

"Morning." Harry was the one blocking the light, sitting in front of me.

"You bastard." Was what I wanted to say and he snorted.

"Punishment is supposed to satisfy the punisher." He chuckled.

"My back is broken, you arse." I groaned. He pecked my cheek, "Go die."

He lifted the sheet and kissed my back.

"I'm dying. Fix me!"

"I'm not satisfied. Endure the pain for the day."

"You're the worst husband."

"I love you too." After that, he went to take a shower and I pushed myself up. He'd closed the door so it gave me a chance to eye myself in the full body mirror. From my feet to my neck, I was covered in hickeys. Red, some growing darker, even a couple or three bite marks. Yanking the robe off the hook, I wore the red silk around me over the white t-shirt I'd thrown under it.