Riddle the Ripper
folder
HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
5,031
Reviews:
18
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
5
Views:
5,031
Reviews:
18
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Trap
(The next chapter will have a lot of sex, I promise and I'm writing it tonight. Please review this chapter)!!!!
CHAPTER TWO: THE TRAP
Ophelia Sinistra slid the robes off from behind her shoulders, draping them over the back of the chair. For it was pleasantly warm with the fire crackling merrily. She drank deeply with contentment.
Riddle’s eyes glinted with intense curiosity, his undivided attention on Ophelia, merely sipping his wine.
“So Ophelia…why would you feel obligated to steal? A beautiful witch like you, I’m sure can earn plenty of galleons for her services.”
The prostitute sighed and with a sinking feeling in her stomach confessed, “You’d think so. But there just isn’t enough coming in to find a place. The money only goes as far as my sustenance….”
Ashamed, Ophelia looked down at the stone floor, where she could not see the smile that had pursed the man’s full lips, full of a delight that was almost bestial. He knew he could pursue what he wanted now he’d gotten her to open up. It paved the way for a trap.
“I tried living in The Leaky Cauldron, but that Tom the barman kicked me out, soon as I didn’t pay! I even tried to get a place in Hogsmeade, but nobody wanted me there. They say I’m skum…So I’ve been living with my horrible pimp ever since.”
She meekly looked across at him and unexpectedly blushed profusely. Ophelia had not seen on the street what extraordinary good looks the man possessed. But now in the firelight, she saw his outline clearly. Ophelia doubted she would ever have the privilege to pleasure another man this desirable. Batting fake lashes, she opened her mouth to say more.
But before inquiring, he seemed to have read her thoughts “I don’t own Borgin and Burkes, obviously. I am only their unfortunate assistant, Ophelia.”
There was a long pause, as Riddle’s gaze locked hers. The chair creaked as he leaned closer. He was calculating just what he was going to do with this ‘thing’ he owned.
Ophelia calmly stared back, studying the Warlock's finely carved features. She adored his hollow cheeks, high forehead and thickly curved brows. She finally detected the momentary red gleam in his dark eyes, yet absentmindedly she glanced towards the dancing flames, thinking the light of the fire to be at cause.
Riddle drained the last of his goblet in one gulp and set it on the armrest negligently. He then stretched his hand out, massaging her right thigh hard like a vice.
Instinctively, Ophelia’s legs spread apart. Riddle’s eyes narrowed, giving him a delicious peek at the prostitute’s goods under the little black skirt.
He cupped his left hand around the small of her back, and with the other hand, traced his long fingers up from under her silken thighs. Riddle lifted the light woman from the armchair almost effortlessly and rose to his height of just over six foot three.
Ophelia’s prior worries washed away replaced by a sensation of great excitation. Despite having sex so often, it was sure to prove different from the typical routine.
Tom Riddle had a wild smile, as he placed the woman he was cradling in his arms, onto the iron bedstead, evincing tenderness that was in actuality false.
CHAPTER TWO: THE TRAP
Ophelia Sinistra slid the robes off from behind her shoulders, draping them over the back of the chair. For it was pleasantly warm with the fire crackling merrily. She drank deeply with contentment.
Riddle’s eyes glinted with intense curiosity, his undivided attention on Ophelia, merely sipping his wine.
“So Ophelia…why would you feel obligated to steal? A beautiful witch like you, I’m sure can earn plenty of galleons for her services.”
The prostitute sighed and with a sinking feeling in her stomach confessed, “You’d think so. But there just isn’t enough coming in to find a place. The money only goes as far as my sustenance….”
Ashamed, Ophelia looked down at the stone floor, where she could not see the smile that had pursed the man’s full lips, full of a delight that was almost bestial. He knew he could pursue what he wanted now he’d gotten her to open up. It paved the way for a trap.
“I tried living in The Leaky Cauldron, but that Tom the barman kicked me out, soon as I didn’t pay! I even tried to get a place in Hogsmeade, but nobody wanted me there. They say I’m skum…So I’ve been living with my horrible pimp ever since.”
She meekly looked across at him and unexpectedly blushed profusely. Ophelia had not seen on the street what extraordinary good looks the man possessed. But now in the firelight, she saw his outline clearly. Ophelia doubted she would ever have the privilege to pleasure another man this desirable. Batting fake lashes, she opened her mouth to say more.
But before inquiring, he seemed to have read her thoughts “I don’t own Borgin and Burkes, obviously. I am only their unfortunate assistant, Ophelia.”
There was a long pause, as Riddle’s gaze locked hers. The chair creaked as he leaned closer. He was calculating just what he was going to do with this ‘thing’ he owned.
Ophelia calmly stared back, studying the Warlock's finely carved features. She adored his hollow cheeks, high forehead and thickly curved brows. She finally detected the momentary red gleam in his dark eyes, yet absentmindedly she glanced towards the dancing flames, thinking the light of the fire to be at cause.
Riddle drained the last of his goblet in one gulp and set it on the armrest negligently. He then stretched his hand out, massaging her right thigh hard like a vice.
Instinctively, Ophelia’s legs spread apart. Riddle’s eyes narrowed, giving him a delicious peek at the prostitute’s goods under the little black skirt.
He cupped his left hand around the small of her back, and with the other hand, traced his long fingers up from under her silken thighs. Riddle lifted the light woman from the armchair almost effortlessly and rose to his height of just over six foot three.
Ophelia’s prior worries washed away replaced by a sensation of great excitation. Despite having sex so often, it was sure to prove different from the typical routine.
Tom Riddle had a wild smile, as he placed the woman he was cradling in his arms, onto the iron bedstead, evincing tenderness that was in actuality false.