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“Oh, hell,” he groaned. His head fell forward until his forehead rested on hers. “This is not going the way I planned.”
Magenta arched up as her hands stroked his hot flesh and her tongue licked along his bottom lip. “Your A-game sucks, Harry. You’re never going to get me to say what you want like this. You’re putty in my hands. Literally.” She gave him a squeeze to make her point.
Magenta loved the bewildered, yet desperate, look on his face. Poor Harry. He wasn’t going to win, and he didn’t know what to do about it. She was congratulating herself on a game well played when he suddenly moved backwards out of her grasp. Magenta let out a whine of complaint.
With a grin, he crawled back down her body and off the bed. Magenta frowned at him.
“Are you giving up? Do I win?”
“You’re about to.”
Before she could process his words, he fell to his knees at the side of the bed. Strong hands curved around her ankles as he yanked her down until her backside rested on the edge of the bed.
He looked up at her, his eyes skimmi
ng over her body. He licked his lips. “If you want to come, you need to say the magic words.”
He palmed her thighs wide.
“Bastard!” Magenta said. Her insult was way too breathless to be of any use.
“That’s not the magic word,” he admonished before his head descended.
At the first touch of his tongue, Magenta almost flew off the bed. Only his strength kept her in place. Her mind spun as her body writhed under him. She couldn’t think. She definitely couldn’t talk. All she could do was feel. And oh my goodness, what a feeling. Her hands clawed at the bedding as she panted her desire. Nearly there. Damn. Her muscles began to spasm, her head felt light, her breath caught in her throat. And then—nothing.
He stopped. She strained to open her eyes. He was sitting back on his heels, grinning at her.
“You want the prize, you need to tell me you love me.”
“Go to hell.” This wasn’t fun anymore. She’d been so close. It was mean to deny her. She almost pouted at the thought.
The evil genius laughed. “Ready for round two?”
Magenta wanted to smack him, but she honestly didn’t have the energy. Her body was wired, desperate for release. She decided to take matters into her own hands. Literally. As her hand moved down her stomach, Harry grabbed it.
“Uh-uh, that’s cheating.” He gathered both her wrists in one of his hands and held them tight on her stomach. “If you want that big O, you need to say the magic words.”
“You’re going to pay for this,” she said. It was pathetically weak.
“I hope so,” he said before his mouth moved back to teasing her.
He sucked, he licked, he nipped. Magenta fought to move her hips. Fought for the release that was just there, sitting out of reach.
He sat back again. At least he was breathing hard. It was good to know she wasn’t the only one affected.
“Magenta,” he growled.
“Fine. Do it. I’ll say the words.”
“Say them first.”
“I love…” She took a deep breath, ready to say it, but her sick sense of humour got the better of her. “I love Harry Potter,” she shouted.
Her giggle was cut short when his tongue touched her again. She honestly couldn’t take any more.
“Fine. Fine. I love you, Hairy Boil, I love you.”
The words released a pressure valve of emotion within her. Every feeling she’d had for him over the years burst forth. Everything she’d buried or denied. Oh how she loved this man.
