Hot for Teacher (A Harry Potter Fanfiction--Dramione)

The Prodigal Son Returns

"Fuck discreet. We suck at it anyway."

The resolve in his eyes was borderline animalistic and it sent a jolt of warmth straight to Hermione's lower region, reminding her of the price her sex life paid for this tiff with Draco. Her breathing picked up. "Does this mean—"

"—Oh, I'm shouting this from the rooftops."

Her mouth formed an "O" just before he grabbed the back of her neck and smashed their mouths together. He swallowed the squeal of surprise and smirked as he plundered her willing mouth.

"I've missed you—", kiss, "—so much," he whispered into her lips.

She moaned in response and her clever fingers began undoing the buttons on his shirt.

He growled in the back of this throat in recognition and his hands practically vibrated as he moved them all over her. "Mmm, mmm, mmm, not here," he reluctantly pulled back. "Hold onto me."

She narrowed her eyes questioningly, as her heart pounded far too hard for her to form words at the moment. She felt the familiar jolt in her naval as her fingers dug into Draco's arms. She looked around the palatial room. "You Apparated us to your bedroom?"

"Couldn't wait," he said as he pulled her flush against him and devoured her mouth again.

Hermione was in a daze as she and Draco divested one another of their clothes. When he picked her up and threw her on the bed, she momentarily found herself wondering if they actually ripped each other's clothes off because she had no real memory of the last minute and a half. Devil Hermione had taken over and right now the only thing that mattered was that she was about to shag the living daylights out of the blond man crawling over her right now.

He wasted no time and attacked her lips, grabbing handfuls of her, gliding his hands over the expanse of her body. He couldn't even think. His body was acting of its own accord with one goal in mind: fuck this witch's brains out.

He couldn't even stop to play with her like he usually did. There would be none of the usual methods of foreplay. Her body language told him everything he needed to know. She was ready for him.

"Please," she keened.

That one word rang in his ears like a prayer. Fuck my life, I love this witch so much.

He positioned himself at her entrance and pushed. Their simultaneous moan could have brought the house down.

"Oh-my-god-I-love-you-so-much-Hermione—"

"—Fuck-yes-Draco-please-God-fuck-me!"

He would have given her anything she asked for—the sky, the moon, her own private island—but all she asked for was that he fuck her into oblivion. So that's what he did.

He was out-of-his-mind, crazy with love and lust for this woman. He'd never felt so needy in his life. The compulsion to bury himself so deep inside her that she'd never not feel him there was driving him insane.

"Oh god, Draco, yes!", she screamed.

He growled as he snapped his hips even harder and faster. "That's right, Hermione," he locked eyes with hers. "You're mine. You're the brightest," thrust, "witch," thrust, "of your age," thrust, "and you're getting fucked into the mattress by Draco Malfoy."

She moaned like a well-paid whore at that. Gods, who knew she liked being talked to like this?

He ground his pelvis against her clit, sending shock waves of pleasure all throughout her body. Even her elbows seemed to rejoice at the primitive pounding she was receiving.