Trussed

Ben’s kisses were gentle, exploring, testing the waters. Hermione felt impatient, her need bubbling up in her throat from a source she didn't know of.

She grasped the back of his neck and deepened the kiss, and he moaned, arms lightly running up and down her back.

She broke away and hopped up on the pool table, wrapping her legs around his waist. He lowered his mouth to her neck, and she braced herself for a bite. When she felt his soft lips instead, she growled, and dug her fingernails into his shoulders.

He groaned and pulled down the front of her tank top, lips moving over her cleavage. She arched her back, and he freed her breast from her bra and suckled at her.

Frustration overtook her in waves and she lay back on the green felt, shoving her jeans down her hips, taking her underwear with them. Ben watched, breathing heavy and eyes wide.

“Come on,” Hermione urged, reaching up to tug at the waistband of his jeans. He hurriedly shed them, and leaned down to lick her nipple again. He'd never met a girl that wasn't into foreplay, and wondered if he should marry her or be worried that she was some kind of crazed nympho.

When she felt his cock probing at her entrance, she hooked her legs behind his and pulled his body forward, sinking him into her in one fluid thrust. She was only partly wet, but it wasn't too uncomfortable considering his less than average size.

They moaned together, he in bliss and she in impatience, and she bucked against him.

“Fuck me,” she whined, and he started to move against her. She writhed against him, and he froze, looking down at her with alarm.

“Are you-”

“Yes!” She cried. “Just fuck me!” He started moving again and she met his thrusts as hard as she could, searching for the warmth in her guts. It didn't come.

She wanted to slap him, scratch him, force him to pin her wrists and slam into her. But she knew if she did that he wouldn't, he'd just stop. And she needed this. She needed something. Anything.

He grunted and pulled out of her, spurting onto the hardwood floor below. She lay there, eyes closed, trying to even out her breathing.

“Hermione?” Ben’s voice was small. “Hermione… are you okay?” He zipped up his pants and she sat up, wiping tears from her eyes. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, not sure how to deal with the crying girl he'd just had sex with.

Hermione jumped down and pulled her clothes back on hastily, ignoring Ben’s desperate pleas for her to talk to him. She grabbed her purse from the bar and drew her wand, turning on him abruptly.

“Obliviate.”