Taste of Champagne

One

Draco Malfoy stood at the foot of the bed, pressing the crystal glass against his lips. A rush of sweet liquid rushed into his mouth, filling it was the third most delectable thing he has ever had the liberty of tasting. The second was a Muggle chocolate candy in the form of a small teardrop. He could not get enough of those delicious little things, but there was something he simply could not go without. The first delicacy was his wife, who lay sprawled beautifully on their king-sized bed. Not a single spot on the bed had gone untouched; he ravished her on every surface he could possibly think of: the bed, floor, pressed against the wall, and surprisingly in the open room, the balcony that overlooked the garden (not that anyone would see them), but she certainly protested. He had tried something entirely new and much to his wife's approval. It would definitely be something he would do again in the immediate future.

Pulling away from his reservations and the naughty recess of his mind, he watched his wife regain consciousness, softly breathing as she stirred awake. Carefully, he placed the empty glass upon the dark surface of her vanity, eyeing the beautiful witch. As modest as she was awake, she allowed herself to present herself in such an unflattering display. Holding back a growl, Draco circled the large bed, his eyes only on his wife. No one would be able to see her in a vulnerable state with the green duvet of their marital bed laced between her slender legs, wrapping around her petite waist, and pooling around her like a dark river. The duvet did little to conceal the contours of her body, much less to his rampant imagination. As he approached her, he observed that just the tiniest bit of skin of her apex was exposed, as well as both of her pert, rosy nipples. He licked his lips sensually, imagining all the cruel things he could do with just them.

"Draco," his witch gasped, her eyes opening slowly.

Without a word, he bent down and kissed her with all the undying love her had for her. Stunned, she opened her mouth, astonished but welcoming of the warm liquid her husband had been holding in his mouth. Greedily, she drank the substance of his mouth, moving her hands to tug on his platinum locks. Draco placing his palms to her ribcage, pressing his thumbs a little too painfully into the connective tissue beneath her breasts. She did not mind; she released his lips, panting as he ran a single digit underneath her left breast. It was a sensitive spot for her, one that made her instantly responsive and in his control. Grinning in satisfaction, he withdrew from her long enough to escape the pull of her arms. As he walked back to her vanity, he threw a glance over his shoulder, concentrating on the heaving of her chest, watching as her supple breasts bounced invitingly up and down. Soon, he reminded himself. Soon, he shall have her once again.

Draco ignored the protests of his witch as he fixed her favorite drink of strawberry champagne, a rare delegacy he allowed her to indulge in.

Turning, he carried the single crystal glass back to her, sitting down before handing her the glass.

She took it, but hesitated to ask something that has been clearly weighing on her mind.

"What is wrong?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

She shook her head, clearly not wanting to share her thoughts. He noticed immediately that she did not want to partake in the drink, either.

Growing concerned, maybe even a little impatient, he said," Tell me what is bothering you, Hermione."

Hermione bit her lip, nervous to speak what had been occupying her thoughts all evening. "I- it's just-"

"Just what?"

"I- I want to you to tell me something, and I want an honest opinion."

He quirked an eyebrow as he wondered where his wife was going with this." Very well. Tell me and I will do my best to answer truthfully."