Merry Christmas Mr. Malfoy (Book 1)

Chapter 18 : 15 Minutes

15 Minutes

He sat back on the couch, breathing deeply in an attempt to gather his emotions and bearings, trying to come up with a reason for Hermione's strange antics. He knew that she was modest, a girl who prided herself in her virginity and chastity, unlike most who notched their bedpost every time they shagged a man. He knew that she had not had any real male friends in her life; Harry and Ron did not completely count as comforting, kind friends. She had spent years comforting them, watching over them and ensuring that they were unharmed and safe.

He knew that they had rarely thought of her and the only times they showed true affection was when she was in serious trouble.

'That was, what, a total of two times?' he thought grimly. 'Maybe three.'

He wondered if he was being too harsh, that his extreme dislike for the pair was blinding his senses and causing his interpretations to be biased. But, as he thought it over, head in hands, trying to use anything as an excuse to distract him from his raging erection, he knew that it was impossible for his 'facts' to be biased. He was an outsider and, although his feelings towards Weasel and Potter may influence his view on them, he knew the difference between actual compassion and the selfish use of a person.

They used her day and night, for school, for help with girls, for just about anything and everything one could think of. They used her and showed no compassion towards her in the past nine years.

It was no wonder she was wary when it came to their relationship; she had a right to be distrustful towards any male professing care and love for her. No one else had ever done that without wanting something in return.

Letting his head flop back to land on the cushioned back of the couch, he shut his eyes and squirmed uncomfortably; no matter how much he thought about Potty, Weasel, and the depressing reality that they abused Hermione, he just couldn't get his damn hard on to go away.

The memory of her riding him, the warmth, the velvet softness that was her flesh, the liquid heat caressing his cock, it all consumed him. He could smell her, the scent of her aroused body permeating the air, latching onto his mind and controlling his every sense. He just couldn't get enough of her deliciously feminine scent, a fruity odour mixed with the sweetness of chocolate and the subtle hint of lavender. A strange combination nonetheless, but one that made his body go on overdrive.

If he tried hard enough, he could feel her breath against his ear; hear her breathy whispers, her gasping replies as he touched her intimately for the first time.

He could feel the heat of her center through his pants; feel the liquid seeping through the cloth to slowly drip onto his hardened cock.

He didn't even realize he was gripping his cock until his palm ran along the underside, pressing against the sensitive flesh, causing his body to jerk involuntarily.

Draco wanted to feel embarrassed, he wanted to feel guilty for sitting on the couch, in the midst of rubbing one off while she was only a few feet away, separated by an easy-to-break door.

He imagined himself tearing that door down, shredding her clothes, and taking her hard and passionately against the nearest solid surface. He saw himself throwing her onto the bed, separating her thighs and tasting her nectar with relish.

'How would you taste, Miss Granger? I bet you would be sweet, like chocolate covered strawberries, ripe and ready.'

He groaned, sliding his hand harder along his length, already nearing his orgasm.

She was sensitive, he recalled, so amazingly sensitive that she had come within seconds of grinding against his cock. He could just imagine sliding his fingers into her tight hole, crooking them just the right away, and in milliseconds she would be screaming his name as she covered his hand in her juices.